"When I would have given all I had—any day—for a look or a word! But you mean—you think—" Jem could hardly speak—"you mean, you could give up—you think you could learn to love me?"
"I think I have learnt that already," she answered softly. "And the giving up would be no giving up—because of what I should have in exchange."
The engines had been started again, as they talked, and now so terrific a clamour of sound burst from the damaged wheel, as it began slowly to revolve, that Jem's reply was lost. What matter? Enough had been said!
[CHAPTER V.]
SUCCEEDING CALM.
"She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd:
She's a woman, and therefore to be won."
SHAKESPEARE.
THE dreaded peril did not develop into fact. Those massive loose floats, made of steel and weighing between two and three tons, though they struck heavily, with a frightful crash, against the framework, did little injury to the side of the vessel. The steamer drew gradually away from the threatening line of breakers; and thenceforward the worst was over. So often the thing which we most fear does not come upon us.
Jem had telegraphed home before starting; and he well knew what his mother's anxiety would be, at this long delay in their arrival; but nothing could be done. Until they should reach port, no word could be sent. They were cut off from communication with the civilised world.
Progress homeward had to be of the most tardy description, since the Captain dared only to use the engines at their slowest rate. It was a matter of snail-like creeping, inch by inch, little more than a mile an hour; and another dreary night had to be lived through by the suffering passengers. Only Evelyn and Jem seemed none the worse—nay, rather, much the better—for their uncomfortable experience.
Jean gazed wonderingly at them both many times in the course of the evening; but she asked no questions, and they would not thrust their new-found joy into her burden of fear and sorrow.