She was standing near the second-cabin barrier thinking this, the first time she saw the passenger with the red hair.
She had paused by mere chance, and while her eyes were stormy with her thought, she suddenly became conscious that she was looking directly into other eyes as darkling as her own.They were those of a man on the wrong side of the barrier.He had a troubled, brooding face, and, as their gaze met, each of them started slightly and turned away with the sense of having unconsciously intruded and having been intruded upon.
"That rough-looking man," she commented to herself, "is as anxious and disturbed as I am."Salter did look rough, it was true.His well-worn clothes had suffered somewhat from the restrictions of a second-class cabin shared with two other men.But the aspect which had presented itself to her brief glance had been not so much roughness of clothing as of mood expressing itself in his countenance.He was thinking harshly and angrily of the life ahead of him.
These looks of theirs which had so inadvertently encountered each other were of that order which sometimes startles one when in passing a stranger one finds one's eyes entangled for a second in his or hers, as the case may be.At such times it seems for that instant difficult to disentangle one's gaze.
But neither of these two thought of the other much, after hurrying away.Each was too fully mastered by personal mood.
There would, indeed, have been no reason for their encountering each other further but for "the accident," as it was called when spoken of afterwards, the accident which might so easily have been a catastrophe.It occurred that night.This was two nights before they were to land.
Everybody had begun to come under the influence of that cheerfulness of humour, the sense of relief bordering on gaiety, which generally elates people when a voyage is drawing to a close.If one has been dull, one begins to gather one's self together, rejoiced that the boredom is over.In any case, there are plans to be made, thought of, or discussed.
"You wish to go to Stornham at once?" Mrs.Worthington said to Bettina."How pleased Lady Anstruthers and Sir Nigel must be at the idea of seeing you with them after so long.""I can scarcely tell you how I am looking forward to it,"Betty answered.
She sat in her corner among her cushions looking at the dark water which seemed to sweep past the ship, and listening to the throb of the engines.She was not gay.She was wondering how far the plans she had made would prove feasible.
Mrs.Worthington was not aware that her visit to Stornham Court was to be unannounced.It had not been necessary to explain the matter.The whole affair was simple and decorous enough.Miss Vanderpoel was to bid good-bye to her friends and go at once to her sister, Lady Anstruthers, whose husband's country seat was but a short journey from London.
Bettina and her father had arranged that the fact should be kept from the society paragraphist.This had required some adroit management, but had actually been accomplished.
As the waves swished past her, Bettina was saying to herself, "What will Rosy say when she sees me! What shall I say when I see Rosy? We are drawing nearer to each other with every wave that passes."A fog which swept up suddenly sent them all below rather early.The Worthingtons laughed and talked a little in their staterooms, but presently became quiet and had evidently gone to bed.Bettina was restless and moved about her room alone after she had sent away her maid.She at last sat down and finished a letter she had been writing to her father.
"As I near the land," she wrote, "I feel a sort of excitement.
Several times to-day I have recalled so distinctly the picture of Rosy as I saw her last, when we all stood crowded upon the wharf at New York to see her off.She and Nigel were leaning upon the rail of the upper deck.She looked such a delicate, airy little creature, quite like a pretty schoolgirl with tears in her eyes.She was laughing and crying at the same time, and kissing both her hands to us again and again.I was crying passionately myself, though I tried to conceal the fact, and I remember that each time I looked from Rosy to Nigel's heavy face the poignancy of my anguish made me break forth again.I wonder if it was because I was a child, that he looked such a contemptuous brute, even when he pretended to smile.
It is twelve years since then.I wonder--how I wonder, what I shall find."She stopped writing and sat a few moments, her chin upon her hand, thinking.Suddenly she sprang to her feet in alarm.
The stillness of the night was broken by wild shouts, a running of feet outside, a tumult of mingled sounds and motion, a dash and rush of surging water, a strange thumping and straining of engines, and a moment later she was hurled from one side of her stateroom to the other by a crashing shock which seemed to heave the ship out of the sea, shuddering as if the end of all things had come.
It was so sudden and horrible a thing that, though she had only been flung upon a pile of rugs and cushions and was unhurt, she felt as if she had been struck on the head and plunged into wild delirium.Above the sound of the dashing and rocking waves, the straining and roaring of hacking engines and the pandemonium of voices rose from one end of the ship to the other, one wild, despairing, long-drawn shriek of women and children.Bettina turned sick at the mad terror in it--the insensate, awful horror.
"Something has run into us!" she gasped, getting up with her heart leaping in her throat.
