The downpour continued, and the pool still rose. I could feel the water creeping, creeping, like a snake of ice about my feet.
I found myself wondering what the process of drowning would be like. Should I just fade away into a peaceful unconsciousness, or would there be struggling and oppression? Two or three descriptions which I had read came to me, written by some who had gone through the actual experience, so far as all loss of sense. "Not worse in any case than what many have to bear in their own beds," I thought.
And—"When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee!" was as if whispered to my mind.
"Why, I am passing through them now," I said aloud.
Yet how far I realised danger, I do not know. For in the midst of all this, I tried to reckon how many hours must pass before I could hope to be rescued. Then I wondered again whether—perhaps—Arthur Lenox might come. And I seemed to see him and Maggie wandering together, out of my reach.
Consciousness must have been a little vague at times. Somehow it did not occur to me to try again to move. I had quite ceased to call for help, and the very wish to be saved faded gradually away. I hardly even observed that by-and-bye the rain came to an end, and the pool was no longer rising. All this must have taken much time: how much I cannot tell.
There were cries at last,—shouts,—and I saw lanterns above, gleaming through the darkness. I tried to call, but could not, for my voice seemed gone; and I thought, "It does not matter; they will find my cloak;" which indeed came to pass.
Then I knew that somebody was descending the path, followed by somebody else. I have been told since that I was lying half in water, and my remembrance of the exclamations around confirms this.
Some one drew me back gently,—so gently, that I believed it must be Arthur. I did not say his name, but I managed to look up, and I saw—not Captain Lenox, but Sir Keith Denham.
For a moment, I could hardly believe that it was Sir Keith,—his face was so stern and grieved and pale. I felt no surprise at seeing him. There was one sharp stab of disappointment; and then all other thoughts were lost in the pain of being moved.