About her was the waving foliage of the forest.
From tree to tree swung the giant figure which bore her,
and it seemed to Jane that she was living over in a dream the
experience that had been hers in that far African jungle.
Oh, if it were but the same man who had borne her so
swiftly through the tangled verdure on that other day! but
that was impossible! Yet who else in all the world was there
with the strength and agility to do what this man was now doing?
She stole a sudden glance at the face close to hers, and
then she gave a little frightened gasp. It was he!
"My forest man!" she murmured, "No, I must be delerious!"
"Yes, your man, Jane Porter. Your savage, primeval man
come out of the jungle to claim his mate--the woman who
ran away from him," he added almost fiercely.
"I did not run away," she whispered. "I would only consent
to leave when they had waited a week for you to return."
They had come to a point beyond the fire now, and he had
turned back to the clearing.
Side by side they were walking toward the cottage. The
wind had changed once more and the fire was burning back
upon itself--another hour like that and it would be burned out.
"Why did you not return?" she asked.
"I was nursing D'Arnot. He was badly wounded."
"Ah, I knew it!" she exclaimed.
"They said you had gone to join the blacks--that they
were your people.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339