"Try to calm yourself, Louise," he said kindly. "We do not know certainly yet, though there is reason to fear it may be so."
"Horrible!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I can't die! I've never made any preparations for death. Oh save me, Horace, if you can! No, no save my girls, my poor dear girls, and never mind me."
"Louise, my poor sister," he said, deeply moved, "we will not despair yet of all being saved; but try to prepare for the worst, turn now to him who has said, Look unto me and be ye saved all ye ends of the earth."
Virginia had thrown herself upon a sofa, in strong hysterics, and Isadore stood over her with smelling salts and fan.
Mrs. Conly hurried back to them with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Oh what is to be done?" she sighed, taking the fan from Isa's hand. "If Cal and Art were but here to look after us! Your uncle has his hands full with his daughter and her children."
"Mamma let us ask God for help; he and he only can give it," whispered Isadore.
"Yes, yes, ask him! you know how and he will hear you. Virgy, my child, try to calm yourself."
Isa knelt by her sister's side; there were many on their knees crying for succor in this hour of terrible danger.
The storm was abating, the rain had nearly ceased to fall, and the wind to lash the waves into fury; the flashes of lightning were fewer and fainter and the heavy claps of thunder had given place to distant mutterings; they would not be wrecked by the fury of the tempest, yet alas, there still remained the more fearful danger of devouring fire.