But she recovered after awhile, and feeling stronger, satisfied herself that Murad was still sleeping heavily, and then stood gazing out at the darkness of the night. The dense foliage made it seem blacker; but here and there the rays of a star penetrated to where she was, and seemed like a promise of hope. The faint perfume of flower and leaf made the soft, moist air odorous and sweet, and there was a delicious coolness that seemed to give strength to her enervated frame. Every now and then came the ominous cry of some wandering tiger following the narrow jungle paths, and at times there were strange, mysterious sounds, evidently arising from the forest depths, and to which she could give no name, but which sent a shudder through her frame, as she thought that ere long she might be wandering there in the darkness, running the risk of an attack from one or other of the fierce beasts that haunted these shades. But as these thoughts crossed her mind, she glanced back at where the sleeping figure of Murad lay full in the light of the lamp, and she felt that she would sooner risk the danger to be incurred by wandering through the jungle than remain another hour beneath that roof. It must, from the time that seemed to have elapsed, have been near morning when, as she stood there with her weary head pressed against the bamboo barn, the cry of a tiger sounded very close at hand, followed a few minutes later by a low, rustling noise, as if the creature were forcing its way through the dense undergrowth towards the house. This ceased, and then went on again and again, till, forgetting the peril that threatened her in the room, Helen strained her eyes to try and make out the long, lithe, striped form of the advancing tiger, which appeared to be approaching with the greatest caution the window where she stood. It was so unmistakably making for where she stood that Helen felt a chill of horror run through her, thinking that sooner or later the fierce beast would make a tremendous spring, and perhaps force its paws through between the bars and seize her as its prey. So horrible was the impression that once more she felt fascinated, and gazed down with starting eyes, her enlaced fingers clutching more tightly, and her whole being as if under the influence of a nightmare. Then, all at once, the rustling noise ceased, and she stood listening intently for the next approach or for the final spring. But even if she had known that the next moment the approaching tiger would launch itself through the air and seize her with its claws, she could not have stirred, for it seemed to be her fate. The silence was awful: so perfectly still seemed everything that the breathing of Murad grew painfully loud, and the throbbing of her own heart more pronounced.