by his love of telling stories about those days of struggle.

time:2023-12-02 00:24:46 source:Accumulated network author:method

"Rima," I cried again, "come to me here, for I know not where to step, and cannot move until you are at my side and I can feel your hand."

by his love of telling stories about those days of struggle.

There came no response, and after some moments, becoming alarmed, I called to her again.

by his love of telling stories about those days of struggle.

Then close by me, in a low, trembling voice, she returned: "I am here."

by his love of telling stories about those days of struggle.

I put out my hand and touched something soft and wet; it was her breast, and moving my hand higher up, I felt her hair, hanging now and streaming with water. She was trembling, and I thought the rain had chilled her.

"Rime--poor child! How wet you are! How strange to meet you in such a place! Tell me, dear Rima, how did you find me?"

"I was waiting--watching--all day. I saw you coming across the savannah, and followed at a distance through the wood."

"And I had treated you so unkindly! Ah, my guardian angel, my light in the darkness, how I hate myself for giving you pain! Tell me, sweet, did you wish me to come back and live with you again?" She made no reply. Then, running my fingers down her arm, I took her hand in mine. It was hot, like the hand of one in a fever. I raised it to my lips and then attempted to draw her to me, but she slipped down and out of my arms to my feet. I felt her there, on her knees, with head bowed low. Stooping and putting my arm round her body, I drew her up and held her against my breast, and felt her heart throbbing wildly. With many endearing words I begged her to speak to me; but her only reply was: "Come--come," as she slipped again out of my arms and, holding my hand in hers, guided me through the bushes.

Before long we came to an open path or glade, where the darkness was not profound; and releasing my hand, she began walking rapidly before me, always keeping at such a distance as just enabled me to distinguish her grey, shadowy figure, and with frequent doublings to follow the natural paths and openings which she knew so well. In this way we kept on nearly to the end, without exchanging a word, and hearing no sound except the continuous rush of rain, which to our accustomed ears had ceased to have the effect of sound, and the various gurgling noises of innumerable runners. All at once, as we came to a more open place, a strip of bright firelight appeared before us, shining from the half-open door of Nuflo's lodge. She turned round as much as to say: "Now you know where you are," then hurried on, leaving me to follow as best I could.


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