But though their hatred appalled, spite of that spell, again the sweet dream of Yillah stole over me, with all the mysterious things by her narrated, but left unexplained.  And now, before me were those who might reveal the lost maiden’s whole history, previous to the fatal affray.

Thus impelled, I besought them to disclose what they knew.

But, “Where now is your Yillah?” they cried.  “Is the murderer wedded and merry?  Bring forth the maiden!”

Yet, though they tore out my heart’s core, I told them not of my loss.

Then, anxious, to learn the history of Yillah, all present commanded them to divulge it; and breathlessly I heard what follows.

“Of Yillah, we know only this:—­that many moons ago, a mighty canoe, full of beings, white, like this murderer Taji, touched at our island of Amma.  Received with wonder, they were worshiped as gods; were feasted all over the land.  Their chief was a tower to behold; and with him, was a being, whose cheeks were of the color of the red coral; her eye, tender as the blue of the sky.  Every day our people brought her offerings of fruit and flowers; which last she would not retain for herself; but hung them round the neck of her child, Yillah; then only an infant in her mother’s arms; a bud, nestling close to a flower, full-blown.  All went well between our people and the gods, till at last they slew three of our countrymen, charged with stealing from their great canoe.  Our warriors retired to the hills, brooding over revenge.  Three days went by; when by night, descending to the plain, in silence they embarked; gained the great vessel, and slaughtered every soul but Yillah.  The bud was torn from the flower; and, by our father Aleema, was carried to the Valley of Ardair; there set apart as a sacred offering for Apo, our deity.  Many moons passed; and there arose a tumult, hostile to our sire’s longer holding custody of Yillah; when, foreseeing that the holy glen would ere long be burst open, he embarked the maiden in yonder canoe, to accelerate her sacri flee at the great shrine of Apo, in Tedaidee.—­The rest thou knowest, murderer!”

“Yillah!  Yillah!” now hunted again that sound through my soul.  “Oh, Yillah! too late, too late have I learned what thou art!”

Apprised of the disappearance of their former captive, the meager strangers exulted; declaring that Apo had taken her to himself.  For me, ere long, my blood they would quaff from my skull.

But though I shrunk from their horrible threats, I dissembled anew; and turning, again swore that they raved.

“Ay!” they retorted, “we rave and raven for you; and your white heart will we have!”

Perceiving the violence of their rage, and persuaded from what I said, that much suffering at sea must have maddened them; Borabolla thought fit to confine them for the present; so that they could not molest me.

CHAPTER CI The Iris