“Thank you, dear, kind uncle,” she said with tears in her eyes, “but leave me to the last, my life is worth so much less than theirs,” glancing toward her cousins; “there would be only Dick to mourn its loss——­”

“No, no, Molly, we all love you!” he interrupted.

She smiled a little sadly, but went on, “and it would be more difficult to save me than two others.”

“Still, do not despair,” he said, “I will not leave you to perish alone; and I have hope that in the good providence of God, we shall all be saved.”

Gradually the screaming, sobbing, fainting, gave place to a dull despairing waiting, waiting, with a trembling, sickening dread, for the confirmation of their worst fears.

Rosie had fallen asleep upon a sofa with her head in her eldest sister’s lap, Vi on an ottoman beside them, tightly clasping a hand of each.

Elsie had her babe in her arms; he was sleeping sweetly, and laying her head back, she closed her eyes while her thoughts flew to Ion, to the husband and father who would perhaps learn to-morrow of the loss of all his treasures.

Her heart bled for him, as she seemed to see him bowed down with heart-breaking sorrow.

Then arose the question “what should the end bring to them—­herself and her beloved children?”

For herself she could say, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I will fear no evil; for thou art with me.”  Elsie, Vi and Eddie she had good reasons to hope were true Christians; but Harold and Herbert?—­A pang shot through her heart.  Good, obedient children though they were, she yet knew not that they had ever experienced that new birth without which none can enter heaven.

Jesus said, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

“Mamma, what is it?” Eddie asked, seeing her glance anxiously from side to side.

“Your brothers!  I do not see them.  Where are they?”

“They went into their state-room a moment since;—­right here, you know.  Shall I call them?”

“Yes, yes; I must speak to them.”

They came hand in hand, in answer to Eddie’s summons.

Herbert’s eyes were full of tears, not of terror or grief; there seemed a new happy light in each boyish face.

“Mamma,” whispered Harold, putting his arm round her neck, his lips to her ear, “we went away to be alone, Herbie and I; we knew what made you look so sorry at us;—­because you were afraid we didn’t love Jesus; but we do, mamma, and we went away to give ourselves to him; and we mean to be his always, whether we live or die.”

Glad tears rolled down her cheeks as she silently embraced first one, then the other.

And so slowly the night wore away, a reign of terror for hours, while every moment they were watching with despairing hearts for the smell of fire or the bursting out of flames from the hold; their fears gave way to a faint hope as time passed on and the catastrophe was still delayed; a hope that grew gradually stronger and brighter, till at last it was lost in glad certainty.