Volume Three—Chapter Seven.
Light in Darkness.
When Helen Perowne came to her senses it was some minutes before she could realise what had taken place, and she lay there motionless, staring up at the bamboo and palm-leaf roof that looked dim, and weird, and strange, as she saw it softly illumined by the rays of the lamp; while there above her was one soft round patch of light glowing amidst the darkness, and reminding her of the nights when she had been ill at Miss Twettenhams’, and a night-light had been set to burn in a shade.
“Where am I?” she asked herself: for the past seemed gone.
Then all at once she seemed to hear, coming, as it were, out of the mental mist wherein she wandered, a dull, low, long-drawn breathing, and she rose to her elbow, to see there, lying with his face turned to the lamp, and not two yards away, Murad, apparently watching her, for his eyes were widely opened and staring in her direction.
Her heart began to throb violently, and, cautiously watchful, she rose slowly to her knees, supporting herself with her hands, as she felt how horror-stricken and weak she was; and it was only by a great effort that she found herself able to stand.
She was glad, however, to sit down again, to allow the sensation of giddiness that oppressed her to pass away. And now she fully realised the fact that the staring eyes before her, in which the light of the lamp was strangely reflected, were fixed and blind to what passed around, their owner being plunged in a deep stupor-like sleep.
It was some time before she could really believe this to be a fact; but when she did realise her position it gave her courage; while, as she tried to recall what had passed, she wondered how it had all come about.