MAROONED
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
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