Barbara looked no more. She had seated herself upon the gratings at the bottom of the craft, her arms resting upon the stern thwart. But now that all immediate danger had passed and she sat safe and at peace, the wonderful spirit and courage to which she had nerved herself in a moment failed her. Her head fell forward upon her arms and she sank inert and prone at the feet of the Frenchman. Scarce realizing what had happened, yet fearful that some dreadful fate had intervened to take his love from him, he dropped the tiller and fell upon his knees by her side, his mind shaken by the agony of the moment; for her face had taken a kind of waxen, leaden color more terrifying than mere pallor, and the lips, save for a faint-blue tinge, became under his very eyes of the same deathly hue. He dashed handful after handful of the sea-water into her face and rubbed her chill arms and hands. He poured a draught of the rum between her cold lips. But she moved not. Beseech her as he might, there was no response to his petitions. He sought the pulse; he could feel nothing. The breath had ceased. Oh, God! Had the cup of happiness been placed at their lips only to sip? Was it to be poured out before his very eyes? He cried aloud in his agony and raised the face to his own, kissing it again and again, as if by the warmth of his own passion he could awaken it to life. “My love! my love!” he cried. “Come back to me! Come back to me again! Open thine eyes! Breathe but my name! Come back to me, my love!” He had waited an eternity. At last, as he put his ear to her breast, a sound, ever so faint, but still a sound, told him that the heart was pulsing anew. He forced a generous draught of the rum through her lips and madly renewed his efforts to arouse the blood. Several moments more he struggled in pitiful suspense, and then a gentle color flowed under the marble skin, a touch of pink rose to the blue lips, the eyelids quivered a moment and then opened. He hauled the sail to shield her from the glare of the sun, and held a cup of fresh water to her lips. She looked at him, but no words came from her lips. Instead, she breathed a sigh and with a faint smile relinquished herself and fell back peacefully into his arms. Once or twice she opened her eyes in an effort to speak, but each time he soothed her and bade her rest. He was but a man, and it needed a gentler hand to cope with such an emergency; but now that the danger was past he felt instinctively that nature would seek in her own ways to restore, and he let her lie quiet, pillowed in the curve of his arm against his breast. And so, presently, her breathing was regular, and she slept.