CHAPTER VIII

THE FORBIDDEN PARADISE


Looking back later upon that fateful night, it seemed to Stella that she
must indeed have slept the sleep of the lotus-eater, for no misgivings
pierced the numb unconsciousness that held her through the still hours.
She lay as one in a trance, wholly insensible of the fact that she was
alone, aware only of the perpetual rush and fall of the torrent below,
which seemed to act like a narcotic upon her brain.

When she awoke at length broad daylight was all about her, and above the
roar of the stream there was rising a hubbub of voices like the buzzing
of a swarm of bees. She lay for awhile listening to it, lazily wondering
why the coolies should bring their breakfast so much nearer to the tent
than usually, and then, suddenly and terribly, there came a cry that
seemed to transfix her, stabbing her heavy senses to full consciousness.

For a second or two she lay as if petrified, every limb struck
powerless, every nerve strained to listen. Who had uttered that dreadful
wail? What did it portend? Then, her strength returning, she started
up, and knew that she was alone. The camp-bed by her side was empty. It
had not been touched. Fear, nameless and chill, swept through her. She
felt her very heart turn cold.