and Mrs. Markham were possibly preceding her as captives in the vanguard.  She felt the breath of the sea, and knew they were traveling along the shore; the monotonous chant and jogging motion gradually dulled her active terror to an apathetic resignation, in which occasionally her senses seemed to swoon and swim in the dreamy radiance through which they passed; at times it seemed a dream or nightmare with which she was hopelessly struggling; at times she was taking part in an unhallowed pageant, or some heathen sacrificial procession of which she was the destined victim.

She had no consciousness of how long the hideous journey lasted.  Her benumbed senses were suddenly awakened by a shock; the chant had ceased, the moving mass in which she was imbedded rolled forward once more as if by its own elasticity, and then receded again with a jar that almost unseated her.  Then the inarticulate murmur was overborne by a voice.  It was his!  She turned blindly towards it; but before she could utter the cry that rose to her lips, she was again lifted from the saddle, carried forward, and gently placed upon what seemed to be a moss-grown bank.  Opening her half swimming eyes she recognized the Indian cross.  The crowd seemed to recede before her.  Her eyes closed again as a strong arm passed around her waist.

“Speak to me, Miss Keene—­Eleanor—­my darling!” said Hurlstone’s voice.  “O my God! they have killed her!”

With an effort she moved her head and tried to smile.  Their eyes, and then their lips met; she fainted.

When she struggled to her senses again, she was lying in the stern-sheets of the Excelsior’s boat, supported on Mrs. Markham’s shoulder.  For an instant the floating veil of fog around her, and the rhythmical movement of the boat, seemed a part of her mysterious ride, and she raised her head with a faint cry for Hurlstone.

“It’s all right, my dear,” said Mrs. Markham, soothingly; “he’s ashore with the Padre, and everything else is all right too.  But it’s rather ridiculous to think that those idiotic Indians believed the only way they could show Mr. Hurlstone that they meant us no harm was to drag us all up to their Mission, as they call that half heathen cross of theirs—­for safety against—­who do you think, dear?—­the dreadful Americans!  And imagine all the while the Padre and I were just behind you, bringing up the rear of the procession—­only they wouldn’t let us join you because they wanted to show you special honor as”—­she sank her voice to a whisper in Eleanor’s ear—­“as the future Mrs. Hurlstone!  It appears they must have noticed something about you two, the last time you were there, my dear.  And—­to think—­you never told me anything about it!”

When they reached the Excelsior, they found that Mrs. Brimmer, having already settled herself in the best cabin, was inclined to extend the hospitalities of the ship with the air of a hostess.  But the arrival of Hurlstone at midnight with some delegated authority from Senor Perkins, and the unexpected getting under way of the ship, disturbed her complacency.