I stood thunderstruck and motionless, for I knew what she meant even before she put up her hands and took me round the neck. "Kiss me once, just once, and I will die—for now I could not live, and would not! Kiss me!" And I did kiss her. Why, I know not, whether out of pity (it was not love—no, not love of any kind, I swear) or from the strong constraint of her force of mind, I cannot say; and as I lifted my head from hers, I saw Elsie, the woman I did love, looking at me with shame at my fall, as she thought, and with scorn. I freed myself from Helen, who sank down on her knees without seeing that she had been observed, and I went toward Elsie. She, too, was pale, though not with fear, for perhaps she was ignorant of her danger, but as I thought with a little feeling of triumph even then, for we are strange beings, with jealousy and anger.
"You are a coward and a traitor!" she said, when I reached her.
"No, no, I am not, Elsie," I answered sharply; "but perhaps you will never know that I am speaking the truth. But let that be; are you a brave woman? For—— But where is your father?"
"With Fanny," she answered, disdainfully even then.
I called him, and he came out.
"Mr. Fleming," I said; "you know our position; in a few minutes we shall be safe or—ashore. Get your daughters dressed warmly; stay at the foot of the companion with them, and, if it is necessary, come up when I call you."
The old man shook hands with me and pointed to Will's wife. I had forgotten her!
"Look after her, too," I said, and went to Will's cabin. He was fast asleep and snoring hard. I could hardly keep from striking him, but I let him lie. Was it a wonder that a woman ceased to love him? And I went on deck.
I had not been absent five minutes, but in that time the wind had increased even more, the seas seemed to have grown heavier, the decks were full of water, and the fatal wake was yet broader on the weather-quarter. All the men were aft under the break of the poop, and most of them, thinking that we must go ashore, had taken off their oilskins and sea-boots ready for an effort to save themselves at the last. Even in the state of mind that I was in then, I saw clearly, and the strange picture they presented—wet through, some with no hats on, up to their knees in water, for the decks could not clear themselves, though some of the main deck ports were stove in and some out in the bulwarks—remains vividly with me now. Among them stood Matthias, with a red handkerchief over his head, and a swelled cheek, where Will had struck him. By his side was Walker, the only man in the crowd who seemed cheerful, and he actually smiled. Perhaps he was what the Scotch called "fey."
Suddenly Mackenzie called me loudly.