But his absolute
confidence wove a spell about her that no terror could penetrate. The
close holding of his arms was infinitely comforting to her. She knew
with complete certainty that he was not afraid.
"It's very dark," she whispered to him once; and he pressed her head
down upon his breast and told her not to look. Through the tumult she
heard the strong, quiet beating of his heart, and was ashamed of her own
mortal fear.
It seemed to her that hours passed while she crouched there, listening,
as the water rose and rose. She caught the gleam of it now and then, and
once her face was wet with spray. She clung closer and closer to her
companion, but she kept down her panic. She felt that he expected it of
her, and she would have died there in the dark, sooner than have
disappointed him.
At last, after an eternity of quiet waiting, he spoke.
"The tide has turned," he said. And his tone carried conviction with it.
She raised her head to look.
A dim, silvery light shone mysteriously in revealing the black walls
above them, the tossing water below. It had been within a foot of their
resting-place, but it had dropped fully six inches.
Evelyn felt a great throb of relief pass through her. Only then did she
fully realise how great her fear had been.
"Is that the moon?" she asked wonderingly.
"Yes," said Cheveril. He spoke in a low voice, even with reverence, she
thought.
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