This done, she began to talk to Alan about many matters, however little he might answer her.  Indeed it seemed almost as though she feared to let him leave her side; as though some presentiment of loss oppressed her.

At length, to Alan’s great relief, the time came when they must part, since it was necessary for her to attend a secret ceremony of preparation or purification that was called “Putting-off-the-Past.”  Although she had been thrice summoned, still she would not let him go.

“They call you, Asika,” said Alan.

“Yes, yes, they call me,” she replied, springing up.  “Leave me, Vernoon, till we meet to-morrow to part no more.  Oh! why is my heart so heavy in me?  That black dog of yours read the visions that I summoned but might not look on, and they were good visions.  They showed that the woman who loved you is dead; they showed us wedded, and other deeper things.  Surely he would not dare to lie to me, knowing that if he did I would flay him living and throw him to the vultures.  Why, then, is my heart so heavy in me?  Would you escape me, Vernoon?  Nay, you are not so cruel, nor could you do it except by death.  Moreover, man, know that even in death you cannot escape me, for there be sure I shall follow you and claim you, to whose side my spirit has toiled for ages, and what is there so strong that it can snatch you from my hand?”

She looked at him a moment, and seizing his hand burst into a flood of tears, and seizing his hand threw herself upon her knees and kissed it again and again.

“Go now,” she said, “go, and let my love go with you, through lives and deaths, and all the dreams beyond, oh! let my love go with you, as it shall, Vernoon.”

So he went, leaving her weeping on her knees.

During the dark hours that followed Alan and madness were not far apart.  What could he do?  Escape was utterly impossible.  For weeks he and Jeekie had considered it in vain.  Even if they could win out of the Gold House fortress, what hope had they of making their way through the crowded, tortuous town where, after the African fashion, peopled walked about all night, every one of whom would recognize the white man, whether he were masked or no?  Besides, beyond the town were the river and the guarded walls and gates and beyond them open country where they would be cut off or run down.  No, to attempt escape was suicide.  Suicide!  That gave him an idea, why should he not kill himself?  It would be easy enough, for he still had his revolver and a few cartridges, and surely it was better than to enter on such a life as awaited him as the plaything of a priestess of a tribe of fetish-worshipping savages.

But if he killed himself, how about Barbara and how about poor old Jeekie, who would certainly be killed also?  Besides, it was not the right thing to do, and while there is life there is always hope.

Alan paused in his walk up and down the room and looked at Jeekie, who sat upon the floor with his back resting against the stone altar, reflectively pulling down his thick under-lip and letting it fly back, negro-fashion.