"It is morning," said Ella at length; "see, it grows light in spite of the storm; and I hear voices in the saloon. Shall I open the door?"
"Yes," said Mary, "let us learn the worst, and try to be prepared for it."
The three young men were in the saloon, and the girls joined them, Amy looking like the ghost of herself.
Charlie, who had stationed himself near her door, instantly gave her the support of his arm, putting it about her waist, while he held fast to the furniture with the other hand, and her head dropped on his shoulder.
With death staring them in the face they did not care for the eyes of their companions in peril: who, indeed, were too full of the danger and solemnity of their own position to pay any attention to the matter.
"O darling," Charlie said hoarsely, "if I could only put you safe on shore!"
"Never mind," she answered, looking lovingly into his eyes, "if we die, we shall die together; and O Charlie, as we both trust in Jesus, it will only be going home together to be 'forever with the Lord,' never, never to part again!"
"Yes, there's comfort in that," he said; "and if you are to go, I'm glad I'm here to go with you. But life is sweet, Amy, and we will not give up hope yet."
Mary and Edward had clasped hands, each gazing silently into the sad and anxious face of the other.
She was thinking of her invalid mother, her father, brothers and sisters, and how they would miss her loving ministrations.