Suddenly he freed himself, and dashed down the slope into the darkness.

He was pursued and brought back, and the cries of his pursuers mingled with an appalling scream for help which seemed to float down the mountain side to where she lay, filling the silent air with echoes.
This scene, too, faded away, and the beams of the rising moon, now beginning to show over the hill-tops, formed in her mind the mirage of a beautiful day--one of those exquisite days which Nature produces at long intervals.

Sisily saw a blue sky, sunlight like burnished silver, green fields and clear pools in which everything was reflected ...

a slumbrous perfect day, with drowsy cattle knee-deep in grass, bees, and floating butterflies, and the shrill notes of happy birds.
Once more the tangled loom of her fevered brain wove a new picture.

She was back in her bedroom at Flint House, looking down at the graven face of the Moon Rock.