Powell, the onlooker, affirms that at these incomprehensible words Mrs.
Anthony stiffened into the very image of astonishment, with a frightened
stare and frozen lips. But next minute a cry came out from her heart,
not very loud but of a quality which made not only Captain Anthony (he
was not looking at her), not only him but also the more distant (and
equally unprepared) young man, catch their breath: "But I don't want to
be let off," she cried.
She was so still that one asked oneself whether the cry had come from
her. The restless shuffle behind Powell's back stopped short, the
intermittent shadowy chuckling ceased too. Young Powell, glancing round,
saw Mr. Smith raise his head with his faded eyes very still, puckered at
the corners, like a man perceiving something coming at him from a great
distance. And Mrs. Anthony's voice reached Powell's ears, entreating and
indignant.
"You can't cast me off like this, Roderick. I won't go away from you. I
won't--"
Powell turned about and discovered then that what Mr. Smith was puckering
his eyes at, was the sight of his daughter clinging round Captain
Anthony's neck--a sight not in itself improper, but which had the power
to move young Powell with a bashfully profound emotion. It was different
from his emotion while spying at the revelations of the skylight, but in
this case too he felt the discomfort, if not the guilt, of an unseen
beholder. Experience was being piled up on his young shoulders. Mrs.
Anthony's hair hung back in a dark mass like the hair of a drowned woman.
She looked as if she would let go and sink to the floor if the captain
were to withhold his sustaining arm. But the captain obviously had no
such intention. Standing firm and still he gazed with sombre eyes at Mr.
Smith. For a time the low convulsive sobbing of Mr. Smith's daughter was
the only sound to trouble the silence. The strength of Anthony's clasp
pressing Flora to his breast could not be doubted even at that distance,
and suddenly, awakening to his opportunity, he began to partly support
her, partly carry her in the direction of her cabin. His head was bent
over her solicitously, then recollecting himself, with a glance full of
unwonted fire, his voice ringing in a note unknown to Mr. Powell, he
cried to him, "Don't you go on deck yet. I want you to stay down here
till I come back. There are some instructions I want to give you."
And before the young man could answer, Anthony had disappeared in the
stern-cabin, burdened and exulting.