The rock surface of the Sun Island was of the dazzling color and radiance of most brilliant polished sea shell. Spots of pink, blue, green and shades of emerald, gold, bronze, carmine and rose, chocolate-brown, dull yellow and purple—all these hues were so mingled as to produce an exquisite harmony.
In the deep ravines of the great riven cliffs there were forests of silver-bodied trees, whose leaves seemed metallic. They shone like diamonds and tinkled like glass. The shadow of their foliage was a pinkish hue, and the grass of the valleys was like the white waxen petals of the tuberose.
Beds of roses and lilies were in large banks and on mountain sides; there were other jewel-like blooms everywhere. The rivulets of liquid pearl flowed ’neath banks shadowed by silken reeds, which swayed like stray moonlight lost in the fields.
In the air was a musical thrill, which made a continual chord of harmony around her.
The stranger seemed gone. At least, he was nowhere to be seen.
Under the shadow of the magnificent trees Rondah sat to rest, and there was nothing in the whole heavenly sight which could even calm her grief. The island was beautiful, but Regan was not there!
The music of air and trees was supremely ethereal, but she was miserable because she could not hear Regan’s voice!
“Regan! Regan!” she called. “He laughed—that strange man—he laughed! I am certain! I do not believe he thought he could bring Regan here. I do not believe that Regan ever trusted him. I was so foolish as that!”
And along the paths where never woman had trod before, Rondah ran and searched, seeing nothing of the beauty, only searching for Regan.
She overlooked a valley which surpassed all dreams of beauty; beside the lakes was set a fairy-like palace built from the amber rocks, its decorations being only pillars of pale blue pearl.