Calm now as she was, she was not long in striking on the only means whereby she could preserve her life a little longer, perhaps for a long time longer.
Throwing her head backward, she let it rest against one of the floor-beams, and thrust her face upward close to the floor.
She could now breathe again.
But she had played her last card, so to speak, and did the water rise another three inches her fate was unalterably sealed.
The position she had assumed was an uncomfortable one, but she did not allow her resolution to waver even though the tide continued to creep higher and higher, although not so rapidly as before.
At last—what a fervent prayer of thanks Helen uttered—at last she knew that the water had ceased to rise.
And then presently it began slowly falling.
At the expiration of a quarter of an hour she was able to move her head from the unnatural position in which she had placed it.
Lower and lower the water now went, in just the same regular, even pace with which it had arisen in the cellar.
Lower and lower—lower and lower—until Helen sank on her knees, her head remaining above the surface, and then she prayed as perhaps she had never prayed before.