Never had she
experienced so keen an intoxication of joy as now, while Esteban
was leading her toward the treasure and wooing her with youthful
ardor.
Then of a sudden Isabel's whole dream-world dissolved. She awoke,
or thought she did, at hearing her name shouted. But although she
underwent the mental and the physical shock of being startled from
slumber, although she felt the first swift fright of a person
aroused to strange surroundings, she knew on the instant that she
must still be asleep; for everything about her was dim and dark,
the air was cold and damp, wet grass rose to her knees. It flashed
through her mind that she had simply been whirled from a pleasant
dream into one of terror. As she fought with herself to throw off
the illusion of this nightmare its reality became overwhelming.
Warring, incongruous sensations, far too swift for her mind to
compass, were crowded into the minutest fraction of time. Before
she could half realize her own condition she felt herself plunged
into space. Now the sensation of falling was not strange to
Isabel--it is common to all sufferers from nightmare--
nevertheless, she experienced the dawn of a horror such as she had
never guessed. She heard herself scream hoarsely, fearfully, and
knew, too late, that she was indeed awake. Then--whirling chaos--A
sudden, blinding crash of lights and sounds--Nothing more!
Esteban Varona sat until a late hour that night over a letter
which required the utmost care in its composition.
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