Every thought of herself was gone now; she
became absorbed between alternate hope and dread. He was alive still;
slowly the death-like pallor was passing away, faint tokens of returning
circulation tingled through his benumbed veins. The beating of his heart
was stronger, and his hands seemed less icily cold. But so slowly, and
with so many intermissions, did the change creep on, that she did not
dare to assure herself that he was reviving. Now and then the scent made
her feel sick with terror; for she knew that his life depended upon her
unceasing attention, and the tempter was still beside her, though thrust
back for the time by her newly-awakened will. "I will not let him die!"
she cried to herself; yet she was inwardly fearful of failing in her
resolution, and leaving him to die. Would the daylight never come? Would
the storm never cease?
It was raging more wildly than ever; and Captain Scott found it
impossible to go below, even though his friend was probably dying. Sophy
was left absolutely alone. It seemed to her like an eternity, as she
knelt beside her husband, desperately, fighting against sin, and
intently watching for some sure sign of life in him.
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