There were most certainly actual little points of light in places--not enough to see details by, but quite sufficient to relieve the utter gloom.

I thought--though it may have been a mingling of recollection and imagination--that I could distinguish the outlines of the church; certainly the great altar-screen was dimly visible.

Instinctively I looked up--and thrilled.

There, hung high above me, was, surely enough, a great Greek Cross, outlined by tiny points of light.
I lost myself in wonder, and stood still, in a purely receptive mood, unantagonistic to aught, willing for whatever might come, ready for all things, in rather a negative than a positive mood--a mood which has an aspect of spiritual meekness.

This is the true spirit of the neophyte, and, though I did not think of it at the time, the proper attitude for what is called by the Church in whose temple I stood a "neo-nymph." As the light grew a little in power, though never increasing enough for distinctness, I saw dimly before me a table on which rested a great open book, whereon were laid two rings--one of sliver, the other of gold--and two crowns wrought of flowers, bound at the joining of their stems with tissue--one of gold, the other of silver.