“Still, Evie, we may find her dear body. Oh no, Evie, we must not give up the search; we must seek on,” answers Flora. She dare not buoy him up with the fresh hope that Gloria may be alive. The sight of Léonie has told her this cannot be; yet still she is resolved more than ever to search on for the body of her friend. The boatswain is standing near. She sends him with instructions to the captain, to put the yacht’s head about and run for Moidart’s Loch, and then she resumes her watch by Evie Ravensdale. Time flies, but he does not notice her; his eyes are staring out over the ocean wave. As they near the Loch, Nigel Estcourt comes up.
“A moment, Flora,” he says, motioning her to come apart. “The doctor is trying to bring Léonie round. He says life is not extinct. If he can only succeed, we may be able to extract from her what has happened. Will you go and see her? I will keep Ravensdale company while you go down?”
“You must be very gentle, Estcourt. You must watch him closely, too; I am terribly afraid for his reason. He seems turned to stone since he set eyes on Léonie. It is a bad sign. If tears would come they would relieve him. Ah! God help him. It is terrible.”
She sighs deeply as she turns from him. Heavy at heart, yet is Flora’s heart heavier still when it thinks of the agony which Evie Ravensdale is suffering. What would she not endure to bring comfort and peace to his tortured soul!
She makes her way down to the cabin where Léonie is lying; the doctor, with the stewardess and her assistant, are busy treating her. He looks up hopefully as Flora enters.
“She has moved; she has struggled for breath,” he observes quickly. “Lady Flora, she will live. She seems to me a mere child. I wonder who she is.”
But Flora does not answer, only she moves over to the couch, and looks down on the motionless girl.
It is strange, but as she looks she sees the same remarkable resemblance in this girl to Bernie Fontenoy, which Gloria had remarked the previous night. Certainly it is strange, very strange.
There is a long-drawn sigh, and then a struggle for breath. Léonie clutches the air with her hands, and her lips move.
“I am stifling,” she gasps; “don’t choke me, don’t, please don’t! Let me breathe, please let me breathe!” The doctor raises her up slightly, and again Léonie sighs. Then she draws a long breath. “I love you,” she says softly; “I love you, Gloria. I love God, too. I wish I hadn’t betrayed you now. But you have forgiven me, you have been kind to me, you have kissed me. Oh! those waves, those dreadful waves! They will kill you; you have given me the life-belt, and you have not got one. Take it off, Gloria. Put it on yourself and leave me. I don’t mind drowning. I would like to drown for you. Let me kiss you first. Let me sleep now; let me die.”