He felt himself unbound and carried roughly along down some dark passage, as he fancied.

There was a grating noise, as if a door had turned on its hinges, and then he was flung down on what seemed like a heap of straw, and left alone in pitchy darkness.
For a time he lay just as he had been thrown, in the same trance of semi-consciousness; but after what had appeared to him a very long time, he beheld as if a long way off a glimmering light, which approached nearer and nearer, though he was too dizzy and faint to heed its movements much.

But it certainly approached quite close to him--he saw as much through his half-closed eyelids--and then a voice addressed him, a soft, sweet voice, strangely unlike those he had just been hearing.
"Are you indeed Paul Stukely ?" asked the voice.
The sound of his name aroused him, and he made a great effort to see through the mists that seemed to hang over his eyes.

A sweet and very lovely face was hanging over him.

He thought he must be dreaming, and he asked faintly, hardly knowing what he said: "Is it an angel ?" "Oh no, I am no angel, but only the daughter of the Chief; and I want to help you, because I have heard of you before, and I cannot bear that they should kill you by inches, as I know they will do if you stay here.