In short, the effect of this holy shrine and its occupants was superb yet overwhelming, at least I know that it filled me with a feeling akin to fear.
Oros waited till the last priest had reached his appointed place.

Then he turned and said, in his gentle, reverent tones--"Draw nigh, now, O Wanderers well-beloved, and give greeting to the Mother," and he pointed towards the statue.
"Where is she ?" asked Leo, in a whisper, for here we scarcely dared to speak aloud.

"I see no one." "The Hesea dwells yonder," he answered, and, taking each of us by the hand, he led us forward across the great emptiness of the apse to the altar at its head.
As we drew near the distant chant of the priests gathered in volume, assuming a glad, triumphant note, and it seemed to me--though this, perhaps was fancy--that the light from the twisted columns of flame grew even brighter.
At length we were there, and, Oros, loosing our hands, prostrated himself thrice before the altar.

Then he rose again, and, falling behind us, stood in silence with bent head and folded fingers.

We stood silent also, our hearts filled with mingled hope and fear like a cup with wine.
Were our labours ended?
Had we found her whom we sought, or were we, perchance, but enmeshed in the web of some marvellous mummery and about to make acquaintance with the secret of another new and mystical worship?
For years and years we had searched, enduring every hardness of flesh and spirit that man can suffer, and now we were to learn whether we had endured in vain.