There was nothing to
do but to wait.
The very helplessness of his situation was, to a man of his
peculiar temperament, an element of patient strength. The instinct
of self-preservation was still strong in him, but he had no fear of
death, nor, indeed, any presentiment of it; yet if it came, it was
an easy solution of the problem that had been troubling him, and it
wiped off the slate! He thought of the sarcastic prediction of his
cousin, and death in the form that threatened him was the
obliteration of his home and even the ground upon which it stood.
There would be nothing to record, no stain could come upon the
living. The instinct that kept him true to HER would tell her how
he died; if it did not, it was equally well. And with this simple
fatalism his only belief, this strange man groped his way to his
bed, lay down, and in a few moments was asleep. The storm still
roared without. Once again the surges leaped against the cabin,
but it was evident that the wind was abating with the tide.
When he awoke it was high noon, and the sun was shining brightly.
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