“If ever you do, though, dear old Jack,” Leonard burst in impulsively, “if ever circumstances should arise to make you wish to communicate with me, you can always do so by the heliograph, you know, or perhaps by balloon, if I’m still alive.”
But, though Leonard put on a cheerful tone, it was easy to see that both he and his friend felt deeply the severance that too clearly lay before them. Yet, after Monella’s argument, they saw no alternative.
“I am as sorry as you can be,” Monella wound up kindly; “but your duties call you away from us, even as Leonard’s call upon him to stay. And now I must leave you, for many are waiting to see me. First, however”—this to Leonard—“I will lead you to the princess.”
Leonard followed him from the apartment into another, where Monella left him; and presently Ulama entered, looking radiant, lovely, beautiful—so Leonard thought—beyond belief.
At the sight of Leonard, she threw herself upon him with a joyous cry; with her face upon his shoulder, she sobbed and laughed by turns.
“Oh, my darling! my darling!” she murmured in gentle accents, “if you only knew how glad I am to see you! I’ve had such dreams—dreams about you—dreams that frightened me so! They were only dreams, were they not?”
She looked up anxiously, and fixed her glorious eyes upon his face, and closely scanned it. Then she gave a sigh, the token of relief, and once more she nestled her face upon his shoulder.
“Yes!” she said softly, “after all ’twas but a dream! For you look well, and your eyes are bright and happy-looking; and in my dream you were looking dreadful! Your poor face looked so thin, and so different, and your eyes so sunken, and they had dark rings around them, and oh! their terrible, despairing look! But it was only a dream, or you could not look well again so soon, as now you do. Yes, ’twas but a dream, my darling! But oh! an awful dream. I thought there was a great tree—like that you said you saw one day; and it was a tree that fed on human beings, and you were lying bound and they were going to give you to that dreadful tree! Oh, Leonard, my love, think what a dream that was for me! Think, for a moment, what I felt! And there were other dreadful, awful things!” She shivered and cried softly for a space.
“Yes, my darling,” Leonard answered soothingly. “But, as you say, ‘twas but a dream!”
“Ah, yes! And now it seems far off; for, after it, came other dreams, that were happy and delightful, so that the bad one receded ever farther. Just when I seemed even at the very point of death from horror, a cool hand pressed tenderly on my brow, and brought me peace. It seemed to cool the fever that had made me think my very brain would burst; and a voice said—oh so kindly—‘Be at rest, my daughter, I bring thee peace, and surcease of thy sorrow.’ Then I opened my eyes and saw a strange form leaning over me. It was dressed in a warrior dress, just like that which stands in our museum and which is called Mellenda’s. Helmet, sword, everything the same. Then I felt secure and happy, for I thought the great Mellenda had come to deliver me in my trouble. But—and this seems so strange—when I looked up at his face, who do you think he was? Ah! you would never guess! But the countenance was Monella’s—your friend Monella’s! Was not my dream a strange one?”