Reminiscences In resecuing the gentle Yillah from the hands of the Islanders, a design seemed accomplished.

But what was now to be done?
Here, in our adventurous Chamois, was a damsel more lovely than the flushes of morning; and for companions, whom had she but me and my comrades?
Besides, her bosom still throbbed with alarms, her fancies all roving through mazes.
How subdue these dangerous imaginings?
How gently dispel them?
But one way there was: to lead her thoughts toward me, as her friend and preserver; and a better and wiser than Aleema the priest.

Yet could not this be effected but by still maintaining my assumption of a divine origin in the blessed isle of Oroolia; and thus fostering in her heart the mysterious interest, with which from the first she had regarded me.

But if punctilious reserve on the part of her deliverer should teach her to regard him as some frigid stranger from the Arctic Zone, what sympathy could she have for him?
and hence, what peace of mind, having no one else to cling to?
Now re-entering the tent, she again inquired where tarried Aleema.
"Think not of him, sweet Yillah," I cried.

"Look on me.