In the effort to subdue by dint of talking and to keep in check the

mysterious, the profound attraction he felt already for that delicate

being of flesh and blood, with pale cheeks, with darkened eyelids and

eyes scalded with hot tears, he went on speaking of himself as a

confirmed enemy of life on shore--a perfect terror to a simple man, what

with the fads and proprieties and the ceremonies and affectations. He

hated all that. He wasn't fit for it. There was no rest and peace and

security but on the sea.

This gave one a view of Captain Anthony as a hermit withdrawn from a

wicked world. It was amusingly unexpected to me and nothing more. But

it must have appealed straight to that bruised and battered young soul.

Still shrinking from his nearness she had ended by listening to him with

avidity. His deep murmuring voice soothed her. And she thought suddenly

that there was peace and rest in the grave too.

She heard him say: "Look at my sister. She isn't a bad woman by any

means. She asks me here because it's right and proper, I suppose, but

she has no use for me. There you have your shore people. I quite

understand anybody crying. I would have been gone already, only, truth

to say, I haven't any friends to go to." He added brusquely: "And you?"

She made a slight negative sign. He must have been observing her,

putting two and two together. After a pause he said simply: "When I

first came here I thought you were governess to these girls. My sister

didn't say a word about you to me."

Then Flora spoke for the first time.

"Mrs. Fyne is my best friend."

"So she is mine," he said without the slightest irony or bitterness, but

added with conviction: "That shows you what life ashore is. Much better

be out of it."

As they were approaching the cottage he was heard again as though a long

silent walk had not intervened: "But anyhow I shan't ask her anything

about you."

He stopped short and she went on alone. His last words had impressed

her. Everything he had said seemed somehow to have a special meaning

under its obvious conversational sense. Till she went in at the door of

the cottage she felt his eyes resting on her.

That is it. He had made himself felt. That girl was, one may say,

washing about with slack limbs in the ugly surf of life with no

opportunity to strike out for herself, when suddenly she had been made to

feel that there was somebody beside her in the bitter water. A most

considerable moral event for her; whether she was aware of it or not.

They met again at the one o'clock dinner. I am inclined to think that,

being a healthy girl under her frail appearance, and fast walking and

what I may call relief-crying (there are many kinds of crying) making one

hungry, she made a good meal. It was Captain Anthony who had no

appetite. His sister commented on it in a curt, businesslike manner, and

the eldest of his delightful nieces said mockingly: "You have been taking

too much exercise this morning, Uncle Roderick." The mild Uncle Roderick

turned upon her with a "What do you know about it, young lady?" so

charged with suppressed savagery that the whole round table gave one gasp

and went dumb for the rest of the meal. He took no notice whatever of

Flora de Barral. I don't think it was from prudence or any calculated

motive. I believe he was so full of her aspects that he did not want to

look in her direction when there were other people to hamper his

imagination.




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