She turned and left me, vanishing like a fair specter; but, although the verdict was against me, strange to say, I was not overwhelmed. Instead, I experienced a glow of animation, of holy fervor, so to speak; and leaning there over the rail in the spot hallowed by her recent presence, I made a vow that since I knew she loved me still, no obstacle on the whole earth should prevent me from capturing the citadel of her heart, and that the day and hour must soon come when, resting in my arms, she would look up into my eyes and tell me that in life or death she was mine forevermore.
CHAPTER XXI.
IN THE GRASP OF A HURRICANE.
I smoked no more that night.
Somehow my nerves seemed to have become quiet to a degree that was most extraordinary.
It was the calm of confidence.
I seemed to know that the game rested in my hands, and that with a fair degree of good luck my market was made.
Looking back now I marvel that I found such peace—that I could go to my little den and turning in, lose myself in slumber.
It was as if I had reached harbor after two long years of tossing upon the stormy seas, and, utterly wearied, my frame sought sweet rest, when the knowledge came that I was safe.
Hildegarde was still mine—she wore the ring I had placed upon her finger when I first called her by that precious name of wife, and my unworthy image still reigned in her heart.