The waves surged up now with every heaving of the boat, so as to reach their breasts, and, sometimes striking on the weather-side, broke in great sheets of water over them.
“Oh, can you save us, Harry—can you save us?” cried she.
“Yes, if there’s aught worth saving,” said he, sternly. “It is not safety that I am thinking of; it is what is to come after. Have I your promise? Are you mine?”
“Oh! do not ask me this; have pity on me.”
“Where is your pity for me? Be quick, or it will be too late. Answer me—mine or his?”
“His to the last!” cried she, with a wild shriek; and clasping both her hands above her head, she would have fallen had he not held her.
“One chance more. Refuse me, and I leave you to your fate!” cried he, sternly.
She could not speak, but in the agony of her terror she threw her arms around and clasped him wildly. The dark dense cloud that rested on the lake was rent asunder by a flash of lightning at the instant, and a sound like a thousand great guns shook the air. The wind skimming the sea, carried sheets of water along and almost submerged the boat as they passed.
“Yes or no!” shouted Calvert, madly, as he struggled to disengage himself from her grasp.
“No!” she cried, with a wild yell that rung above all the din of the storm, and as she said it he threw her arms wide and flung her from him. Then, tearing off his coat, plunged into the lake.