"No; I will wait for a while."
"Oh, leave me! Save yourself! Or go ashore, and bring help!"
"No; I will go ashore with you, or not at all."
She sighed, and clung to me.
After a time, she revived a little, and insisted on going onward. This time she walked for some distance. She did this with a stolid, heavy step, and mechanically, like an automaton moved by machinery. Then she stopped again.
"I am dizzy," said she, faintly.
I made her sit down on the ice, and put myself between her and the wind. That rest did much for her. But I was afraid to let her sit more than five minutes. Her feet were saturated, and, in spite of my overcoat, she was still shivering.
"Come," said I; "if we stay any longer, you will die."
She staggered up. She clung to me, and I dragged her on. Then, again, she stopped.
I now tried a last resort, and gave her some brandy from my flask. I had thought of it often, but did not wish to give this until other things were exhausted; for, though the stimulus is an immediate remedy for weakness, yet on the ice and in the snow the reaction is dangerous to the last degree. The draught revived her wonderfully.