I would have given much to have reassured Hildegarde, to have told her how my heart was filled with a yearning love for her in this dread hour of peril; but that must have consumed words, and the circumstances were against speech.
I did take her hand on leaving, and looking in her eyes, managed to say:
“Keep up a brave heart, and pray for us all, Hildegarde. You can depend upon me at the worst—always remember that I live or die with you.”
Such a strange look she gave me—I could not fathom its meaning; there was yearning in it, and at the same time distrust. The barrier had not yet been removed, in spite of my service in her behalf.
That was no time to worry over such things, with life and death hanging in the balance.
All through the wretched morning the yacht labored heavily in the grasp of the wild tempest.
Surely such a fearful gale had not visited the great gulf at this season for years.
Many times hope was dashed down and despair took its place, as some unusually drastic punishment was dealt out to the struggling yacht, and the danger seemed at a grand climax.
Again and again we won out by a bare neck, as it were, and as the day wore on I began to think we might fight the gale to a successful conclusion.
I believe I lived years in that morning, and that gray hairs would mark the experience, such was the awful strain on our nerves.