"Helen!"
"Where is my father?"
The words burst from Helen's lips in agonized entreaty.
Mrs. Desmond shook her head.
"I do not know," she answered feebly. "He left me safe, as he thought. I only went back to fetch a few things that I was trying to preserve, and that he had taken from me and thrown on the deck. There was plenty of time, everyone said. And when I returned my place was taken. It was wicked, cowardly. And I have been alone ever since."
"But my father, my father?" repeated Helen impatiently.
"How can I tell? He went in search of you. It was a terrible risk; I told him so. You should have been with us."
A pang smote Helen's heart. She had been unlucky again. But for that profound sleep that had fallen upon her on deck she might easily have found her father at the first alarm.
"He cannot be far away. He would never forsake us," she said, wrenching her hand from her stepmother's grasp. "I must find him."
"O, Helen, do not leave me!" moaned Mrs. Desmond, raising herself and clinging to the girl's drenched skirts, "it is so terrible to be alone, and I am so weak. If any help came I might be passed over and forgotten. I cannot scream as some people do. Stay with me, Helen, stay with me."