"_Oh, Nance! Nance! God keep you! God keep you! God keep you! Dear one,
God keep you! God keep you! God keep you, and bring you safe to land_!"
He was numb with kneeling. If one had come behind him and cut off his
feet above the ankles, he would have felt no pain. He felt no bodily
sensation whatever. His body was there on the rock, but his heart was
out upon the black waters alongside Nance, struggling with her through
the belching coils, nerving her through the treacherous swirls. And his
soul--all that was most really and truly him--was agonizing in prayer
for her before the God to whom he had prayed at his mother's knee, and
whom she had taught him to look to as a friend and helper in all times
of need.
He did not even stop--as he well might have done--to think that the
friend sought only in time of need might have reasonable ground for
complaint of neglect at other times.
He thought of nothing but that Nance was out there battling with the
black waters--that he could not lift a finger to help her--that all he
could do was to pray for her safety with all his heart and soul.
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