In the sitting-room they were all quietly intent upon their several occupations. Carl was pretending to read a book; but he threw her a stolen, tenderly anxious look over the top of it when she entered.
Supper was brought in, and everything went on as quietly as usual, even to his customary banter. To Elizabeth it seemed as if there was a mist over them all; and when Mina once asked if there was anything the matter with her, she could only answer mechanically, 'No.' The question was repeated later on, and received the same answer. She brought the supper things in and took them out, as usual, and it seemed as if she could not feel the floor under her feet, or what she carried in her hand.
The evening passed, and they went to bed without anything happening. But in the partial darkness of the stair-landing, he seized her hand passionately, and said—"Good-night, my Elizabeth, my—my Elizabeth!"
She was not in a condition to return the pressure of his hand, and when he approached his lips to her forehead, she hastily drew herself away.
"I came out here alone to tell you this, dear, dearest Elizabeth," he whispered, with passion trembling in his voice, and making an effort to draw her to him. "I must be on land again to-morrow. Must I go without one sign that you care for me?"
She bent her forehead slowly towards him, and he kissed it, and she then immediately left him.
"Good-night, my beloved one!" he whispered after her.
Elizabeth lay for a long while awake. She would have given anything to have been able to cry, but the tears would not come; and she felt as if she was freezing internally. When at last she did fall asleep, it was not of him she dreamt, but of Salvé—the whole time of Salvé. She saw him gazing at her with that earnest face—it was so heavy with grief, and she stood like a criminal before him. He said something that she could not hear, but she understood that he condemned her, and that he had thrown the dress overboard.
She rose early, and tried to occupy her thoughts with other dreams—with her future as an officer's lady. But it was as if all that had before seemed to be pure gold was now changed to brass. She felt unhappy and restless; and it was a long time before she could make up her mind to go into the sitting-room.
Carl Beck did not leave that morning. He had perceived that there was something on Elizabeth's mind.