remained in shadow appeared of a dimmer white, and the underlying
colour varied from dim, rosy purple to dim blue. With the skin

the colour of the eyes harmonized perfectly. At first, when lit
with anger, they had appeared flame-like; now the iris was of a

peculiar soft or dim and tender red, a shade sometimes seen in
flowers. But only when looked closely at could this delicate hue

be discerned, the pupils being large, as in some grey eyes, and
the long, dark, shading lashes at a short distance made the whole

eye appear dark. Think not, then, of the red flower, exposed to
the light and sun in conjunction with the vivid green of the

foliage; think only of such a hue in the half-hidden iris,
brilliant and moist with the eye's moisture, deep with the eye's

depth, glorified by the outward look of a bright, beautiful soul.
Most variable of all in colour was the hair, this being due to

its extremefineness and glossiness, and to its elasticity, which
made it lie fleecy and loose on head, shoulders, and back; a

cloud with a brightness on its surface made by the freer outer
hairs, a fit setting and crown for a countenance of such rare

changeful loveliness. In the shade, viewed closely, the general
colour appeared a slate, deepening in places to purple; but even

in the shade the nimbus of free flossy hairs half veiled the
darker tints with a downy pallor; and at a distance of a few

yards it gave the whole hair a vague, misty appearance. In the
sunlight the colour varied more, looking now dark, sometimes

intensely black, now of a light uncertain hue, with a play of
iridescent colour on the loose surface, as we see on the glossed

plumage of some birds; and at a short distance, with the sun
shining full on her head, it sometimes looked white as a noonday

cloud. So changeful was it and ethereal in appearance with its
cloud colours that all other human hair, even of the most

beautiful golden shades, pale or red, seemed heavy and dull and
dead-looking by comparison.

But more than form and colour and that enchanting variability was
the look of intelligence, which at the same time seemed

complementary to and one with the all-seeing, all-hearing
alertness appearing in her face; the alertness one remarks in a

wild creature, even when in repose and fearing nothing; but
seldom in man, never perhaps in intellectual or studious man.

She was a wild, solitary girl of the woods, and did not
understand the language of the country in which I had addressed

her. What inner or mind life could such a one have more than
that of any wild animal existing in the same conditions? Yet

looking at her face it was not possible to doubt its
intelligence. This union in her of two opposite qualities,

which, with us, cannot or do not exist together, although so
novel, yet struck me as the girl's principal charm. Why had

Nature not done this before--why in all others does the
brightness of the mind dim that beautiful physicalbrightness

which the wild animals have? But enough for me that that which
no man had ever looked for or hoped to find existed here; that

through that unfamiliar lustre of the wild life shone the
spiritualizing light of mind that made us kin.

These thoughts passed swiftly through my brain as I stood
feasting my sight on her bright, piquant face; while she on her

part gazed back into my eyes, not only with fearless curiosity,
but with a look of recognition and pleasure at the encounter so

unmistakably friendly that, encouraged by it, I took her arm in
my hand, moving at the same time a little nearer to her. At that

moment a swift, startled expression came into her eyes; she
glanced down and up again into my face; her lips trembled and

slightly parted as she murmured some sorrowful sounds in a tone
so low as to be only just audible.

Thinking she had become alarmed and was on the point of escaping
out of my hands, and fearing, above all things, to lose sight of

her again so soon, I slipped my arm around her slender body to
detain her, moving one foot at the same time to balance myself;

and at that moment I felt a slight blow and a sharp burning
sensation shoot into my leg, so sudden and intense that I dropped

my arm, at the same time uttering a cry of pain, and recoiled one
or two paces from her. But she stirred not when I released her;

her eyes followed my movements; then she glanced down at her
feet. I followed her look, and figure to yourself my horror when

I saw there the serpent I had so completely forgotten, and which
even that sting of sharp pain had not brought back to

remembrance! There it lay, a coil of its own thrown round one of
her ankles, and its head, raised nearly a foot high, swaying

slowly from side to side, while the swift forked tongue flickered
continuously. Then--only then--I knew what had happened, and at

the same time I understood the reason of that sudden look of
alarm in her face, the murmuring sounds she had uttered, and the

downward startled glance. Her fears had been solely for my
safety, and she had warned me! Too late! too late! In moving I

had trodden on or touched the serpent with my foot, and it had
bitten me just above the ankle. In a few moments I began to

realize the horror of my position. "Must I die! must I die!
Oh, my God, is there nothing that can save me?" I cried in my

heart.
She was still standingmotionless in the same place: her eyes

wandered back from me to the snake; gradually its swaying head
was lowered again, and the coil unwound from her ankle; then it

began to move away, slowly at first, and with the head a little
raised, then faster, and in the end it glided out of sight.

Gone!--but it had left its venom in my blood--O cursed reptile!
Back from watching its retreat, my eyes returned to her face, now

strangely clouded with trouble; her eyes dropped before mine,
while the palms of her hands were pressed together, and the

fingers clasped and unclasped alternately. How different she
seemed now; the brilliant face grown so pallid and vague-looking!

But not only because this tragic end to our meeting had pierced
her with pain: that cloud in the west had grown up and now

covered half the sky with vast lurid masses of vapour, blotting
out the sun, and a great gloom had fallen on the earth.

That sudden twilight and a long roll of approaching thunder,
reverberating from the hills, increased my anguish and

desperation. Death at that moment looked unutterably terrible.
The remembrance of all that made life dear pierced me to the

core--all that nature was to me, all the pleasures of sense and
intellect, the hopes I had cherished--all was revealed to me as

by a flash of lightning. Bitterest of all was the thought that I
must now bid everlastingfarewell to this beautiful being I had

found in the solitude this lustrous daughter of the Didi--just
when I had won her from her shyness--that I must go away into the

cursed blackness of death and never know the mystery of her life!
It was that which utterly unnerved me, and made my legs tremble

under me, and brought great drops of sweat to my forehead, until
I thought that the venom was already doing its swift, fatal work

in my veins.
With uncertain steps I moved to a stone a yard or two away and

sat down upon it. As I did so the hope came to me that this
girl, so intimate with nature, might know of some antidote to

save me. Touching my leg, and using other signs, I addressed her
again in the Indian language.

"The snake has bitten me," I said. "What shall I do? Is there
no leaf, no root you know that would save me from death? Help

me! help me!" I cried in despair.
My signs she probably understood if not my words, but she made no

reply; and still she remained standingmotionless, twisting and