Could it be that just as I was about to claim Paradise again, it would be but to die with this loved one in my arms; or would a kinder fate allow us to live through the horror of storm and wreck, saved for each other as by a miracle.
As Hildegarde so gravely said, only God knew.
She called my attention to the child, who had become very ill from the violent motion of the plunging boat.
There was no relief at such a time, though I felt sorry for little Carmencita—her affection for Hildegarde endeared her to me, and I spoke a few words to cheer her as she lay there, ghastly yellow, her great black eyes seeming to almost start out of her head with mingled nausea and fright.
“We will try and have some breakfast, though it must be a cold one,” I said, knowing the cook, if able to stand on his pins at all, which was doubtful, would never get a fire started.
She shook her head as if to declare she had no appetite; but I felt it was wise to force ourselves to eat something, since the time might be close at hand when we would need all the strength we could muster.
I busied myself about this; there are times when a little work serves to dissipate the awful chill of despair.
Diana had changed her mood, or at least it seemed to have reached another stage—her whole appearance indicated hopelessness, and she turned with loathing from the wine and biscuit I offered—I believe she hated me because I had, with the heartiest intentions in the world, invited them to join me on a winter cruise.
Gustavus accepted gladly, evidently feeling the need of some staying quality inside; if the worst came, I knew I could depend upon him to do all that lay in the power of a man for his wife, and the result must rest in higher hands than ours.
I ate more to encourage Hildegarde than because I had any desire for food; indeed, who could feel hungry while the awful churning motion of the vessel continued; and we were fearful with each dip that our time had come?