She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at that supreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while she wondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her hand in both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both father and mother are awaiting me--and, Annie," he whispered, tenderly, "you, too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors,' soon." Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words? "O God! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but was not. "Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently. Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking toward the bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave came rolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized faces and struggling forms. Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turned heavenward, in calm and noble trust. Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others, but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters. CHAPTER XXXIV UNMASKED It seemed that they passed through miles of water that roared around them like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other in their strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise with her to the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near; Gregory swam for it, and pushing it to Annie helped her upon it. Hunting also grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of all three, especially as Gregory had no preserver on. One must leave it that the other two might escape. "Good-by, Annie, darling," said Gregory. "We will meet again in heaven if not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boat may pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you." "What are you going to do?" gasped Annie. "Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to find something else." "No, no," cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you go I will too." "I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself; but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reach home first, I'll watch and wait till you come." She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, and then he disappeared in the darkness. "Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have a preserver on?" "O God, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man. Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. She was almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best-loved ones were in heaven. She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense of duty to live until God took her life kept her firm. But every moment it seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbed hands loosen their hold. "But," she murmured in the noblest triumph of faith, "I shall sink, not in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms."