An Unknown Lover Part 28

"You are going to be amused this morning," he announced breezily. "Talk is forbidden, so I've borrowed a toy. A jig-saw in four hundred pieces.

How's that for high? You and I are going to get it out before lunch?"

Katrine's aspect was not enthusiastic.

"Jig-saw! A puzzle, isn't it? I have never tried. Isn't it rather a f.a.g?"

"You wait and see!" The brown fingers rained the wooden morsels upon the table. "You _think_ it a f.a.g, until you begin--then it's a possession! There's a man in the regiment who has 'em sent up from Bombay, and we have a sweepstake for the quickest solutions. I once sat up half the night, over three horses in a meadow; brown beggars, all of 'em, as like as three pins. Everybody's bits belonged to everybody else, as much as to himself, and the rest was a ma.s.s of green stuff, cut in points, diabolically alike. This is a locked fellow; all the better for shipboard. It's the d.i.c.kens when they joggle. Plenty of colour, too. That's good for a start."

"Where is the picture?" asked Katrine innocently. She was bored at the prospect of the jig-saw, but relieved at the geniality of Bedford's manner, and anxious to respond to his efforts towards amus.e.m.e.nt. It was a shock to hear that there was _no_ picture, and that the ma.s.s of pieces before her were to be sorted with no clue whatever as to their meaning.

"How does one begin?" was the awed question, and at that Bedford's smile deepened.

"_Cela depend_! I am rather interested to see. There are two ways, and you shall choose between them. You can look out all the edges, straight, you see, like this; study the grain of the wood, make up your frame, and gradually work towards the centre--that's one way, and perhaps the most common. On the other hand you can abandon method, and dash for the colours, make up little blocks here and there, half a dozen at a time perhaps, and look out for a chance of fitting them together, leaving the frame to look after itself. You take your choice. Which will you do?"

Katrine bent over the pieces, turning them right side up with rapid fingers. She saw a ma.s.s of dull grey green, a second of baffling white and grey, a third of a p.r.o.nounced white, and dotted among them welcome patches of blue and red.

"Colour, please!" she cried quickly. "Let's dash for the colours, and trust to luck for the rest."

"Right ho!" he said, sweeping the pieces towards him. Katrine had an intuition that he approved of her choice, but he made no comment, and together they bent over the detached fragments of blue and red, which appeared at this stage so dishearteningly alike. Katrine was utterly at sea, but Bedford's greater experience soon scented a clew.

"The blue is sky, which goes on top; the light beggars are clouds.

Here's a quaint hunchback little chap. Look out for a scoop for him as a start."

"Here's a scoop!" cried Katrine, picking out another fragment, and wonder of wonders! it fitted,--absolutely, unmistakably fitted into every curve, so that there could be no doubt as to its right to be there. To fit a piece at the very first effort,--here was success indeed! Bedford cheered, Katrine hitched her chair nearer the table, rubbing her hands with an altogether ridiculous sense of elation. "How fine! _And_ easy! Much easier than I imagined. Where's the next?"

"The next is probably at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, or will pretend to be, until we've exhausted ourselves looking for it, and have gone on to something else, when it will jump out and, figuratively speaking, hit us in the face. It's a way they have. What about this person?"

"Certainly not; you want a jagged edge. Nor that, it's too square. I'm afraid you have not much eye for contour!"

"Nor you for colour! That shade's too light... Here's a fellow like a b.u.t.ton-hook. Where's his b.u.t.ton? I knew an old maid who used to try each blessed bit in turn, until she'd gone through the whole fandango.

If it shows a well-regulated mind to work at the rim, what does _that_ mean in the way of perseverance?"

Katrine's quest for the b.u.t.ton was disturbed by the reflection that she had evidently proved herself devoid of a well-regulated mind. Regarded as a test of character, her "dash for the colours" would seem to prove a predisposition towards impulse and daring, the last qualities of which she was usually accused. Friends at home had agreed in p.r.o.nouncing Katrine Beverley all that was prudent and cautious, and she herself had agreed in their verdict, yet surely those qualities had been upon the surface only, since it was this very prudent and cautious maid who had exchanged love letters with an unknown man--who was even now on her way across the world to meet him!

"I think," said a small voice suddenly, "the other way is better after all. I think, if you don't mind, I'll try the frame!"

Bedford lifted his face. It was nearer to Katrine than it had ever been before; startlingly near; in the momentary glance she discovered wrinkles. .h.i.therto unnoticed, a fleck of brown in the iris of one eye.

Bedford saw a wave of colour mounting to the roots of soft brown hair, eyes of dark blue, their beauty heightened by the contrast of that flush.

"Now I wonder," he said thoughtfully, "I wonder just what mental excursion brought you to that decision! A moment ago you were so violently on the other track! Is it a journey that one might share?"

Katrine shook her head, stretching her hand to grope for the first straight edge, but the brown fingers swept them away, and a masterful voice cried:

"No, you don't! You've made your choice, and you'll stick to it. We'll see this thing through as we've begun," He studied her with twinkling, curious eyes, taking no pity on her embarra.s.sment. "I'd like to follow that journey! What started your travels? Something I said? What _did_ I say? Blessed if I remember. You take yourself very seriously, don't you? It's not a matter of life and death how one works out a jig-saw.

Here's the b.u.t.ton! He's been staring us in the face all the time. Now it's a fork!"

Katrine was fumbling industriously at another corner of the table.

"I've fitted two bits of the red, but I haven't an _idea_ what it's about. It seems divided into small squares."

"A wall perhaps. Bricks." Bedford examined the pieces with a practised eye. "Yes! evidently bricks. There was a bit somewhere with a rim of blue. That must be the junction with the sky. Let's work at that."

Katrine worked for ten minutes on end, resorted in desperation to the old maid's expedient, and affixed each blue bit in turns to the obstinate red. When each persistently refused to fit, impatience seized her, and an impulse to dash her hands wildly over the board, when suddenly, inexplicably, a piece which had hitherto obstinately refused to fit, repented itself after the manner of jig-saw pieces, and slid meekly into its place, exhibiting thereby an enlightening boundary of brick wall against blue sky. The tingling eagerness to continue that line, to discover whereto it led, was a revelation of the inherent childishness of the human heart. Katrine jumped on her seat, scuffled among the pieces with claw-like fingers, breathed loud and deep, while Bedford looked on, smiling to himself, and flicking likely pieces towards her, so that to her might fall the satisfaction of continuing the chain. Above all things he was anxious to keep her amused, and to prevent her thoughts from turning to the tragic event of the day before.

Last evening she had looked pitifully shaken. Mrs Mannering had reported a distressed night; he dreaded each fresh happening of the monotonous life which would link it with the day that had gone.

The first jar came with the partaking of the eleven o'clock deck lunch.

Katrine's face blanched suddenly as she raised it from the table to confront a steward, bearing the gla.s.s of milk and soda, and the bars of chocolate which were her own chosen refreshment. A shake of the head dismissed the man, but the mischief had been done. Impossible now not to recall how, twenty-four hours ago, she had beckoned a gaunt figure to her side, and insisted upon sharing with him her feast, goaded by his suffering air to put forth little womanly wiles, which he should be unable to refuse. Involuntarily she turned her head to glance along the deck. It was incredible that he should not be there! The tears rose slowly in her eyes.

"I say, I've made a discovery! This motley grey stuff is a ma.s.s of lilies! I've put three pieces together, and there it is as plain as a pikestaff--a lily complete, and others in the background. They'll grow against the wall."

"Do you believe in prayers for the dead?"

Bedford started, met deep, pleading eyes and realised that for the moment the jig-saw must wait.

"I don't believe in the dead! Does that help you at all? Any prayers or thoughts which you have used here, with the intent of helping a fellow creature, can hardly be limited by the one sense of sight. I believe in prayers for the _living_."

The distress in Katrine's eyes changed into a soft radiance.

"Oh, I am _glad_ you said that, I'm glad!" she cried. "That smooths out everything. I'm so grateful to you. It would be a comfort to me to feel I could go on--"

"Helping that poor soul? Of course it would. Send out your sweet thoughts, then they'll reach him right enough, but for pity's sake _don't_ cry! _That_ doesn't help him, and it seriously disturbs another man, on a lower plane. As a pure religious duty now, don't you think you could range these lilies against the wall?"

"I'll--try!" Katrine answered between a sob and a laugh. Veritably that puzzle was a G.o.dsend this morning, claiming her interest in absurd disproportion. There were periods of fruitless searchings when _ennui_ and impatience hovered at hand, but inevitably at that very moment success intervened, and brought with it a renewal of zest.

Half a dozen blocks of substantial sizes were strewn about the table, but so far each remained separate and distinct, and seemed to have no connection with the other. Katrine, eyeing them impatiently, was once more inclined to regret her earlier decision.

"I wonder if this is really the best way! We don't seem to get on. The background _has_ to be fitted in some time, and it might be better to get it over. Slow and sure wins the race!"

Bedford lifted a jagged fragment in his hand, examined it carefully, and bent over the table as if looking for a place into which it might fit.

"The theory," he said thoughtfully, "is correct. Like many theories!

But the prizes of life are not for the prudent. If we worked out our problems step by step, you and I, we might avoid some difficulties; incidentally, also, we should miss something else!" He tilted his head, lifting narrowed eyes. "The _thrill_!" he said deeply. "We should miss the thrill."

The unexpectedness of the word, the tone in which it was uttered, the expression on the face so close to her own, smote Katrine with the force of a blow. Literally she could not speak; her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited for his next word.

"People who choose the surer way have no doubt their own reward. The pattern works out before their eyes, bit by bit, step by step, each moment bringing with it the same satisfaction--no more, and no less.

When one dashes for the colours, as you and I have agreed to do to-day, there is a time of blur and confusion, when the future is chaos, but that time pa.s.ses, and gives place to a moment when suddenly, unexpectedly, the link is found... One link, an insignificant trifle, such as I hold in my hand, and presto! all is made plain... The pieces fit, chaos gives place to order, the picture is revealed. Then one can work confidently at the background. It is no longer uninteresting. It has its reason, its place."

His voice had still that new, deep tone; the sound of it, the look in his eyes had a significance which could surely not refer only to a toy.

For one long, tingling moment the blue eyes and the grey held each other, in a thrilling gaze, then they fell, and with swift, dramatic touches Bedford proceeded to ill.u.s.trate his words. The jagged fragment held between finger and thumb fell into its rightful place, the great block of pieces to the right turned upside down beneath a flattened hand revealed an outline which fitted line for line, curve for curve, into the block to the left; the combined ma.s.s showed unmistakable anchorages for the small blocks scattered around. There revealed before Katrine's eyes was the patch of sky, the line of the long red wall, the tangled bank of lilies; there also was a long sweep of unbroken white which now showed as a dress; a woman's dress, with a delicate hand half hidden among the folds. More marvellous still, a glimpse of a delicate face looked out from the enveloping folds of veil. Where in the name of magic had that face managed to hide?

"It is a nun walking in a garden of lilies! What a pity she is a nun.

She looks too sweet to live alone!" said Bedford carelessly, "Now the excitement is over, and we have all the grey bits to fill in. How dull!" cried Katrine in her turn. If _he_ could be cool and calm, pride forbade that she should lag behind. She took an early opportunity of summoning Mrs Mannering to help in the construction of the picture, and for the rest of the morning the conversation was strictly impersonal.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

"We have had bright weather and dull, we have had smooth seas and rough, and now at last we have fog! It's experience," p.r.o.nounced 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?"