I am positive that was the first time in my life I ever exerted myself so forcibly upon the panel of a door to attract the attention of the occupant, a guest on board my boat; but surely the conditions warranted such an expenditure of muscular power, for with the howling of the wind, the creaking of bulkheads, and all woodwork about the boat, together with the mighty roar of the billows that caused the yacht to stagger like a drunken thing, there was almost as much commotion in the air as during a battle, and ordinary sounds could not be heard at all.
My summons were at once heeded, for immediately the door opened.
Hildegarde, fully dressed, stood there.
She was deathly pale, but, to my infinite satisfaction, exhibited none of the hysterical emotions which Diana had shown, and which were in their way apt to demoralize the strongest man.
No matter what peril faced us, she would be brave—I had never before seen her face to face with deadly danger, and this unsuspected but very welcome phase of her nature gratified me immensely. I stepped inside, because talking, unless at very close range, was very difficult.
There was no need of reassuring her—words would have been useless.
In answer to her questions I told her that the storm was unusually severe, but the yacht had passed through many fully as bad, and there was no reason to expect a different result on the present occasion, though it was always the part of wisdom to be prepared for the worst.
“Yes, we are in God’s hands, Morgan,” she said, and I felt as though drawn nearer to Heaven by such sublime faith as this.
Strange what thoughts will flash athwart the mind even when on the brink of eternity.
Standing there and looking in her heavenly eyes, now filled with such womanly fear, I wondered what fate had in store for us—we who had separated through pique and been brought together again in this wonderful, this almost miraculous manner.