Part 27 (1/2)

But Katrine thrust out her arm, pus.h.i.+ng him away once more, shaking her head. How could she sit down? How think of herself? She leaned her elbows on the rail, and buried her head in her hands. Her brain was racing, she was shuddering with suspense, yet through all her misery her perceptions had grasped one word, and photographed it in lasting remembrance. ”Dear!” Bedford had called her ”Dear!”

For a minute there was silence. Then she spoke a few words in so low and trembling a voice that he had to bend to catch them.

”How? How did he--”

He caught his breath: she heard the sound, and divined that for this man the worst sting of the tidings lay in the necessity for telling it to her.

”He ... jumped! There were people about. They saw it. He was walking about, began to cough, leaned over the rail... Before they grasped what he was about--”

He stopped short, and Katrine answered with unexpected composure:

”I understand! It overwhelmed him suddenly,--a frenzy of impatience.

He could bear no more. I understand--I think now, I could almost hope--” She turned suddenly and laid her hand on his arm. The hysteria of the last minutes had disappeared, she was weak and spent, and breathlessly subdued. ”Take me away, please, where I can't see!”

Bedford half led, half carried. Katrine found herself extended on a long chair drawn for'ard, to a spot where the bridge cut off all view of what was happening astern. She was cold, and he was rubbing her hands; his touch had a magnetic warmth, to which she surrendered with a vague content. The hands which she had noticed and admired had a beauty of touch, as well as line. She watched their movements with a mechanical interest. For the moment there appeared nothing strange in the fact that this comparative stranger was performing so intimate a task. She needed comfort, and he gave it; that was the simple, natural fact.

Presently he raised his eyes to hers with an enquiring glance, and she made a pitiful attempt at a smile.

”I was his only friend on board. Was I--kind enough? Do you think if I had been kinder--?”

”You were an angel!” he a.s.sured her warmly, ”and, humanly speaking, nothing could have helped! His brain was diseased. It was not deliberate intent, one is sure of that--just the impulse of a tortured animal, to end it all, and be at peace.”

Katrine nodded.

”He told me that at best it was only a question of months. We are well and strong. We can't judge!” Katrine caught her breath on that last word, her brain pierced by the memory of that death in life which threatened her companion's life. ”At least,” she continued in a lower note, ”you _can_! You have been tried, but you are stronger, more patient...”

Bedford's face set; he turned aside, not answering, and they sat in silence during an interminable hour of waiting.

Nothing could be seen of the rescue party, but the sounds from the s.h.i.+p, above all, the _lack_ of sound, told its own tale. There came no quick, acclaiming cry, no ringing cheer; only at last the dull splash of the oars, and the creak of the ropes as the returning boat was hoisted to the davits.

Bedford roused himself, crept silently away, and returning five minutes later seated himself as silently on the floor by Katrine's side. She did not turn her head, nor question him by so much as a glance, but when once more the s.h.i.+p s.h.i.+vered beneath the throbs of the engine, and the waters raced back from the prow, the tears streamed down her face.

”I'm... _not_ sorry I... I didn't want him to be brought back to more suffering and--shame! But it seems cruel to go on as if nothing had happened,--nothing mattered! The only comfort is that for him, it must have been--_quick_... He was so weak. He rose only once. Say it was quick!”

”Very quick!” Bedford a.s.sured her. Not for his life would he have hinted at the awful explanation of that solitary rising, which was now generally accepted on board. He prayed that no one would enlighten her ignorance. Once again he stole away, and returned in a few minutes, carrying a cup of tea. Life must go on for the living, though death hovers at hand, and already the saloon was filled with a pallid crowd, who seemed to find unusual refreshment in the postponed meal. A cup of tea, a rest, a bath, then the pa.s.sengers would dress for dinner, and brus.h.i.+ng aside the cloud, declare that, poor beggar! he had not much to lose. By the morrow the incident would be discreetly banned...

Katrine drank her tea, grateful for it like the rest, her face white and disfigured by tears. During that long hour of silent waiting she had looked into life with a terrifying insight. So one could suffer at the fate of a stranger! How would it be for the _one_ individuality which made the world? She shrank at the thought, telling herself, as the untried are pitifully wont to do, that such a possibility was beyond endurance, and therefore could not be; knowing full well in her heart that a time must surely come when she in her turn must feel the rack...

Vernon Keith had been the acquaintance of a week; for a week to come she would look involuntarily for the gaunt form; another week, and in the glamour of new surroundings his image would fade into obscurity; in a few months his very name might be forgotten. What she was suffering now was but shock and regret, impersonal, pitiful regret, but, if it had been another man--_this_ man, for example, with the brown face, and the grey eyes, who now sat at her feet--?

Katrine sat up hurriedly, and pushed the hair from her brow. The hand which held the cup was shaking so violently that Bedford heard, and took it from her, to place upon the deck.

”Don't you think you could lie down, and get a rest? Shall I bring Mrs Mannering? You ought to be perfectly quiet and away from the crowd--”

Katrine looked at him vaguely as though only half understanding the purport of his words.

”Perhaps. Yes. Later on. There was something I wanted to say...” She was silent for a moment, and then added with the simple inconsequence of a child, ”I'm engaged, you know! Not definitely, but virtually.

Engaged to be married to--a good man! You are good too. I wanted you to know.”

Bedford twisted the teaspoon in his fingers, laid it down at a new angle, lifted it again. His face was hidden, but Katrine saw the brown neck flame darkly red against the flannel coat. When he spoke, however, it was the most calm and level of voices.