She sat listening, but all was very still. The sun had sunk, and the darkness was coming on so rapidly that she felt thankful for the lamp; and then she turned longingly towards the water and wine that had been brought to her, but which she shrank from touching lest they should happen to contain some drug.
Her thirst seemed to increase at the very sight of the drinking-vessels; and the more she tried wrench away her eyes, the more they sought the large native bottles and cups.
“I cannot bear it!” she panted at last, and bending down, she took the vessel containing the water, poured some out, and after tasting it suspiciously, with her throat growing parched with intense longing, she felt satisfied that the water was pure, and drank a long and hearty draught.
She set the cup down with a sigh of pleasure; and then her blood ran cold, for her sigh seemed to be echoed from out of the gloom near the door.
Murad was standing there, leaning against the doorpost, and it was evident to her now that he had entered when the woman brought in the lamp, and that he had been watching her ever since.
Volume Three—Chapter Five.
Trying for a Change.
The days glided rapidly by, and still Hilton and Chumbley remained prisoners. They were well attended to; their diet, though Eastern in character, was admirably prepared: they had wine and cigars, capital coffee, and an abundance of fruit, but no liberty.