the expiring glow
of the torch she had thrown away and the sombre shimmer of the lagoon
bordering the opaque darkness of the shore. Her strained eyeballs seemed
to detect mysterious movements in the darkness and she gave way to
irresistible terror, to a shrinking agony of apprehension. Was she to be
transfixed by a broad blade, to the high, immovable wall of wood against
which she was flattening herself desperately, as though she could hope
to penetrate it by the mere force of her fear? She had no idea where
she was, but as a matter of fact she was a little to the left of the
principal gate and almost exactly under one of the loopholes of the
stockade. Her excessive anguish passed into insensibility. She ceased to
hear, to see, and even to feel the contact of the surface to which
she clung. Lingard's voice somewhere from the sky above her head was
directing her, distinct, very close, full of concern.

"You must stoop low. Lower yet."

The stagnant blood of her body began to pulsate languidly. She stooped
low--lower yet--so low that she had to sink on her knees, and then
became aware of a faint smell of wood smoke mingled with the confused
murmur of agitated voices. This came to her through an opening no higher
than her head in her kneeling posture, and no wider than the breadth of
two stakes. Lingard was saying in a tone of distress:

"I couldn't get any of them to unbar the gate."

She was unable to make a sound.--"Are you there?" Lingard asked,
anxiously, so close to her now that she seemed to feel the very breath
of his words on her face. It revived her completely; she understood what
she had to do. She put her head and shoulders through the opening, was
at once seized under the arms by an eager grip and felt herself pulled
through with an irresistible force and with such haste that her scarf
was dragged off her head, its fringes having caught in the rough timber.
The same eager grip lifted her up, stood her on her feet without her
having to make any exertion toward that end. She became aware that
Lingard was trying to say something, but she heard only a confused
stammering expressive of wonder and delight in which she caught the
words "You . . . you . . ." deliriously repeated. He didn't release his
hold of her; his helpful and irresistible grip had changed into a close
clasp, a crushing embrace, the violent taking possession by an embodied
force that had broken loose and was not to be controlled any longer.
As