“I suppose you thought you were forgotten,” he cried with a pleasant smile, for Christobal would have a smile for a woman even on his death-bed. “There, now! Don’t try to explain your feelings. You have had a very trying time, and I want you to oblige me by drinking this.”
“This” was a glass of champagne, which he hurriedly poured out of a small bottle he was carrying into a glass which he produced from a pocket. The trivial action, no less than Dr. Christobal’s manner, suggested that they were engaged in some fantastic picnic. The outer horrors were not for them, apparently. They were as secure as sight-seers in the Cave of the Winds, awe-smitten tourists who cling to a rail while mighty Niagara thunders harmlessly overhead.
The mere sight of the wine caused Elsie to realize that her lips and palate were on fire with salt. At one moment she had not the slightest cognizance of her suffering; at the next, she felt that speech was impossible until she drank. Never before had she known what thirst was. A somewhat inferior vintage suddenly assumed a bouquet which surpassed the finest cru ever dreamt of by Marne valley vigneron.
“Ah, that is better,” said the doctor. “Now, if you don’t mind, we shall have the door closed.”
With peace suddenly restored to the room, and her faculties helped more than she suspected, Elsie began to wonder what had happened.
“Where are the others?” she asked; “and why are you taking things so coolly? Captain Courtenay said—”
“Captain Courtenay said exactly what he meant. But circumstances proved too strong for him. We shall not be able to leave the ship just yet.”
“Can’t they lower any of the boats?”
“Most decidedly. Two boats have been gone some time. I imagined you knew that. Did not the captain tell you?”
At another time Elsie would have laughed at the prevalent delusion that she enjoyed Courtenay’s confidence so thoroughly. But she felt that her companion’s glib tone was artificial. Something had occurred which he was keeping from her. She believed that he had gone to the saloon to procure the wine so that she might have what men called Dutch courage when bad news came.