Saying that, he seized her by the arm, and with furious eagerness and surprising strength dragged her to the rear door, giving her little time to seize her crutch. He unlocked the door and threw it open, but before he could open the door at the further end of the passage she heard a heavy roar and felt the great mountain tremble. Wholly ignorant of the meaning of it all, but seeing that her host was moved by an intelligent purpose, and feeling profound confidence and comfort in the protection that he was throwing about her, she placed herself completely under his guidance.
The rear door was opened, and they entered a dark, cold chamber. With every moment the roaring increased and the trembling of the mountain was augmented. Then came a tremendous, stupefying crash, and the cataclysm gradually died away in silence, leaving an impenetrable, oppressive blackness.
The two prisoners stood in breathless silence, held tightly in each other’s arms. The young woman asked no questions; her sense of security and comfort in this man’s arms filled the whole want of her hour. She felt vaguely that something more dreadful than all their past misfortunes had befallen them; but that feeling brought no chill to the strong warm blood that swept rhythmically through her heart. She was at peace with her fate. If this was death, it was death for them both, it was death with him.
Her keen sympathy made her intensely attentive to every sign that he gave; and thus it was that she accepted, without surprise or dismay, the realization that he was not rallying, and that, on the contrary, he was sinking under the nameless blow that had fallen upon them. It was not anxiety for that, but for him, that now gave her every conscious quality a redoubled alertness. His grasp upon her tightened, and by this she knew that he felt the need of her, and was clinging to her. He trembled in every member, and swayed as he stood. With little effort she bore him to the ground, where, kneeling beside him and holding his hands, she softly spoke,—
“My friend, we are together; and so long as each is the stay of the other, we shall have strength and courage for all things. Now tell me what I may do for you.” She knew by the pressure of his hand upon hers that her words had found good ground. She gently pressed her advantage. “Tell me what I may do for you. You are weak. You know how strong and healthy and willing I am; then, imagine how much pleasure it would give me to help you! You need a stimulant. Is there one in the cabin? Tell me where it is, and I will bring it.”
“You are kind,” he said, tremulously.
“But do you know what has happened?” As he asked this question he rose to a sitting posture, she assisting him.
“No,” she calmly answered; “but no matter what has happened, we are together, and thus we have strength and courage for it.”
“Ah,” he said, hopelessly, “but this is the end! An avalanche has buried us and the cabin is destroyed!”
Terrible as was this declaration, it had no weakening effect upon his companion.