A wave of the hand, and an indistinct rumbling in the coarse tones of
the mate, were the only answers given to her appeal. A long, deep, and
breathing silence followed among the deserted. The grim countenances of
the seamen in the pinnace soon became confused and indistinct; and then
the boat itself began to lessen on the eye, until it seemed no more
than a dark and distant speck, rising and falling with the flow and
reflux of the blue waters. During all this time, not even a whispered
word was spoken. Each of the party gazed, until sight grew dim, at the
receding object; and it was only when his organs refused to convey the
tiny image to his brain, that Wilder himself shook off the impression
of the sort of trance into which he had fallen. His look became bent on
his companions, and he pressed his hand upon his forehead, as though
his brain were bewildered by the deep responsibility he had assumed in
advising them to remain. But the sickening apprehension quickly passed
away, leaving in its place a firmer mind, and a resolution too often
tried in scenes of doubtful issue, to be long or easily shaken from its
calmness and self-possession.
“They are gone!” he exclaimed, breathing long and heavily, like one
whose respiration had been unnaturally suspended.
“They are gone!” echoed the governess, turning an eye, that was
contracting with the intensity or her care, on the marble-like and
motionless form of her pupil “There is no longer any hope.”
The look that Wilder bestowed, on the same silent out lovely statue,
was scarcely less expressive than “he gaze of her who had nurtured the
infancy of the Southern Heiress, in innocence and love. His brow grew
thoughtful, and his lips became compressed, while all the resources of
his fertile imagination and long experience gathered in his mind, in
engrossing intense reflection.
“Is there hope?” demanded the governess, who was watching the change of
his working countenance, with an attention that never swerved.
The gloom passed away from his swarthy features, and the smile that
lighted them was like the radiance of the sun, as it breaks through the
blackest vapours of the drifting gust.
“There is!” he said with firmness; “our case is far from desperate.”
“Then, may He who rules the ocean and the land receive the praise!”
cried the grateful governess giving vent to her long-suppressed agony
in a flood of tears.
Gertrude cast herself upon the neck of Mrs Wyllys, and for a minute
their unrestrained emotions were mingled.
“And now, my dearest Madam,” said Gertrude, leaving the arms of her
governess, “let us trust to the skill of Mr Wilder; he has foreseen and
foretold this danger; equally well may he predict our safety.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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