"No, no, Helen; you must not leave me," cried Mrs. Desmond; and again she clutched the girl's hand, those strong young fingers that had closed so appealingly on hers once, but that were irresponsive now. Did a recollection of that day, when Helen had appealed to her in vain, return to Mrs. Desmond? Perhaps so, for there was a real ring of sorrow in her voice as she said: "I daresay I have been hard upon you, Helen; but I meant to do my duty by you. And if at first--" For once Mrs. Desmond had touched the right chord in Helen's breast. There was no need for more words. The past flashed back upon the girl's mind. Here was the chance for which she had longed, and she had been going to throw it away. "Of course I will stay with you," she cried impulsively, flinging herself down beside her stepmother. "Don't be so sad, mamma," she went on soothingly. "Father is sure to come to us. We shall be saved, I am sure." "Do you really think so, Helen?" moaned Mrs. Desmond. "I wish I could believe it. Couldn't you say a prayer, child? I can't remember one, although I have always said my prayers, night and morning; and I have always tried to do my duty--always." Tenderly supporting her stepmother's head on her poor, drenched lap, Helen whispered our Lord's prayer, and then Mrs. Desmond wandered on again, wondering about this and that, and chiefly why such a terrible crisis should have come into her tranquil life. "It has been all sorrow and trouble," she said, remembering the troubled course of the past year. "I couldn't bear you, Helen. You must forgive me. We must forgive everyone now." With tears in her eyes Helen gave the required forgiveness. How strange it all seemed! She and her stepmother alone together, with an awful death creeping close up to them, and the understanding that would have sweetened both their lives coming too late. Presently Mrs. Desmond's mind began to wander. Helen listened to her disjointed talk, soothing her as well as she was able; raising her voice occasionally to call imploringly on her father, little dreaming that he, having left his wife as he believed in safety, and having received an assurance from a ship's officer that Helen had been placed in the first boat that left the ship, had provided himself with a life-buoy, and was now battling with the waves, trusting to the chance of keeping himself afloat and of being eventually picked up by a passing vessel. The desire of life was strong in Helen. It was terrible to her to remain inactive and to watch the water gradually engulfing the ship. Sometimes she felt almost unable to endure it longer; but at her least movement Mrs. Desmond would start up, imploring her to remain. "I would come back," she said once or twice. "I only want to find another place where we might be a little safer. The water is coming in upon us so fast."