“Stay here!  Do not move!”

Sabina stood still, but she trembled a little, as he dashed up through the swift, shallow stream, not ankle deep, but steady as fate.  In a moment he had disappeared from her sight, and she was all alone in the dismal place, in darkness, save for a little light that forced its way up from below through the hole.  It seemed five minutes before his plashing footsteps stopped, up there in the passage; then came instantly the noise of stones thrown aside into the water, and of heavy pieces of board grating and bumping, as they floated for a moment.  Almost instantly a loud roar came from the same direction, as the inflowing stream from the well thundered down the shaft.  Sabina heard Malipieri’s voice calling to her, and his approaching footsteps.

“The water cannot reach you now!” he cried.

It had already stopped running down the passage, when Malipieri emerged, dripping and holding out the lantern in front of him, as his feet slipped on the wet stones.  Sabina was very pale, but quite quiet.

“What has happened?” she asked mechanically.

“The water has risen suddenly,” he said, paler than she, for he knew the whole danger.  “We cannot get out till it goes down.”

“How soon will that be?” Sabina asked steadily.

“I do not know.”

They looked at each other, and neither spoke for a moment.

“Do you think it may be several hours?” asked Sabina.

“Yes, perhaps several hours.”

Something in his tone told her that matters might be worse than that.

“Tell me the truth,” she said.  “It may be days before the water goes down.  We may die here.  Is that what you mean?”

“Unless I can make another way out, that is what may happen.  We may starve here.”

“You will find the other way out,” Sabina said quietly.  “I know you will.”

She would rather have died that moment than have let him think her a coward; and she was really brave, and was vaguely conscious that she was, and that she could trust her nerves, as long as her bodily strength lasted.  But it would be very horrible to die of hunger, and in such a place.  It was better not to think of it.  He stood before her, with his lantern, a pale, courageous, strong man, whom she could not help trusting; he would find that other way.

“You had better get down again,” he said, after a little reflection.  “It is dry below, and the lamp is there.”

“I can help you.”

Malipieri looked at the slight figure and the little gloved hands and smiled.

“I am very strong,” Sabina said, “much stronger than you think.  Besides, I could not sit all alone down there while you are groping about.  The water might come down and drown me, you know.”

“It cannot run down, now.  If it could, I should be drowned first.”

“That would not exactly be a consolation,” answered Sabina.  “What are you going to do?  I suppose we cannot break through the roof where we are, can we?”