I was overwhelmed by the dreadful fear that the end had come, and Hildegarde was alone and unprotected.
Down went the buoy and I whirled through the rocked doorway to the deck, all my nerves wrought up to the utmost pitch; but, Heaven be praised! that shiver was not her last, and another chance remained. Hildegarde still crouched where I had left her, and I could go back for the buoy upon which my hopes depended.
So I brought it forth.
Had I been alone, it should have been for Diana—I would have scorned taking advantage of its floating powers; but Hildegarde came first, since she was all the world to me.
Gustavus was doing what he could under the directions of Robbins; the night had brought out all that was grand in his disposition, and he stood there a hero, shorn of all the petty foppish ways in which he delighted to masquerade.
When I came to her again, the little woman gave a cry of pleasure that struck to my heart. She had the utmost faith in me and my ability to save her. Alas! I realized when I looked out upon that churning sea what a broken reed it was upon which she leaned.
Quickly I secured her to the buoy.
It would sustain her weight and might be the happiest thought of my life. Little did I think when carelessly purchasing it in a French maritime town to what blessed use it would eventually be put.
Then a portion of the rope was used to secure me to my precious charge.
I took off my shoes and tied them to my belt, that I might be the better able to exert my whole powers in the water.