"We have had bright weather and dull, we have had smooth seas and rough,
and now at last we have fog! It's experience," pronounced Katrine
reflectively, "but," she shuddered, "it's an experience I'd as soon be
without! There's something eerie and gruesome about sailing through an
invisible sea, where there's not even enough air to breathe. One feels
shut in! I think I'm a little afraid. Do _you_ like it?"
"I have never met any one who _liked_ a fog at sea, but I am not afraid.
There's no need for fear."
Bedford smiled. He had discarded white clothing in favour of a grey
suit, a cap to match was pressed down over his head, he was all grey to
match the mist, even his skin seemed tinged with the same shade.
Katrine shuddered again as she looked him over.
"And you are a mist man. You look unreal, like everything else. I
think I am afraid of you, too! I shall go into the ladies' room, and
turn on the light, and read."
"No!" Bedford laid his hand on her arm. "You will not! You will sit
out here with me in the fog. You can sit in the glare of electric light
every day of your life, but a fog on the Indian Ocean is an experience
by itself... We are going to share it together. I'm quite real, I
assure you, very real. I can take care of you. Come with me!"
His hand slid through her arm, and drew her along; his head was bent
over hers, she met his eyes, and felt the protest die upon her lips.
Without a word she followed where he led, took the seat pointed out,
watched him draw up another, and place himself sideways before her, so
as to form a shield between herself and the outer world. His face
seemed startlingly near to her own; his hand on the side of his chair
almost touched her knees. Katrine fixed her eyes upon it with a
fascinated attention. A moment ago it had rested on her arm, the
electric warmth of the contact still lingered; for a reckless moment she
longed to clasp it, to put it back in its place; then remembrance
dawned, and she shuddered again. The world was grey, without and
within, nothing but mist and gloom. Seated as they were, she and her
companion seemed solitary atoms in a world of fog; to right and left
nothing could be seen but dense grey walls which seemed with every
moment to press more nearly. The wide deck was empty; instead of the
usual babble of talk and laughter there was silence save for the regular
thud of the engines, and from time to time the sound of the horn. The
effect of that silence was irresistible. Involuntarily the man and
woman lowered their voices, and bent nearer; pale face to pale face.
"Are you afraid still?" Bedford whispered, and Katrine shook her head.
"Not afraid. Dazed--a little, I think. It's so unreal. A world of
dreams..."
"A world of dreams, and no one in it, but you and me."
His hand was still there, and once again the mad, unreasoning impulse
seized her to touch it, to grasp its support. So overmastering was the
desire, that the physical effort at restraint left her faint and weak.
She leaned back in her seat, and turned her head aside, her cheeks
flaming with shame. To what had she come, the reserved,
well-disciplined Katrine Beverley, that she should be capable of such a
thought! What had become of her modesty, her pride; had she no decency
left, no loyalty towards the man who had given her his heart?
Katrine's brain formed bitter reproaches, but the vagrant heart brushed
them aside. His hand! His arm! Compared to them all else was as
dross. To lay her head for one hour on that broad shoulder, seemed the
summit of all that life could give. She felt his eyes following her,
searching her face, but dared not meet them. There had been music in
the way in which he had spoken those last words; his voice had dropped
to a lower note. So had Grizel's beautiful voice deepened, when she had
spoken to Martin. To one who had once heard those accents, their
meaning was unmistakable. He loved her, and, God help her! she loved
him in return with a passion which frightened her by its intensity. She
had imagined that she was cold, that for her the raptures of love would
be exchanged for a calm and moderate content; for twenty-six years she
had preserved an unbroken front, and now all the stored-up forces of her
nature arose and clamoured. Katrine realised with horror that her life
had passed out of her own control, and lay in the hollow of this man's
hand. What he asked of her, she would grant; when he commanded, she
would obey. There was no force in her to say him nay. If he claimed
her, Jim Blair might go to the winds; all the world might stand on one
side, and if this man beckoned from the other she would leave all to
follow him... The time of self-deception was past, and with a desperate
candour she faced the situation, and considered her own course of
action. The only chance of safety lay in flight. Two days more, and
the voyage would be over; if she could avoid Bedford for two days, there
would be no more _tete-a-tetes_. Dorothea would be present, Jack, Jim
Blair--all the little world of the station. Jim had promised a truce of
three months. If she could avoid Bedford during that period, her
instinct of loyalty would in some sort be appeased. She had promised
Jim to keep an open mind for three months, and though his doom was
already sealed, she shrank from the thought of putting another man in
his place.