At last he stepped forward noiselessly and began to make the half circuit of the tent toward Elizabeth. Nancy, pre-occupied, passed by him without speaking.
Elizabeth had sent for fresh water to moisten the lips of the dying soldier whom she had told Archdale about. She had just filled her cup a second time, and was on her way toward her especial charge for that night, when Edmonson asked her for water. Ashamed of her impatience at the simple request, she turned toward him, walking carefully with her eyes upon her mug, not to waste a refreshment that had to be brought from a distance. Suddenly, she found herself almost running against the intruder. She looked up.
But the apology froze upon her lips. She retreated hastily several steps, the water splashed unheeded over her trembling fingers. Edmonson, who was always watching her, called to Nancy, "Your mistress, girl! Quick!" and turned to look for her.
Nancy had gone to her patients in the next tent. But his voice helped Elizabeth to recover herself. She stood firm again, but her rigid expression did not change. With a bow, the intruder began:—
"May I venture—"
She interrupted him. "Do not speak to me, or stay here. Go!" She was like marble, only that her eyes blazed. Her hand pointed toward the door emphasizing her repulsion. Edmonson looked in amazement at this new power, to him a new attraction.
The other drew back precipitately a few steps. Then he stopped and stood looking at her, the questions that he had meant to put so boldly struggling with something not unlike fear. For Elizabeth's look and tone were terrible. She was an embodied indignation. At the moment he believed her Archdale's wife. Her hand pointing toward the door was turning him beyond the reach of all that was dearest to him. Yet for a moment it seemed as if he could not resist her, as if he were forever to be in exile. But he remembered that it was Katie Archdale's world that was looking at him out of those pitiless eyes, and condemning him. He had tried so hard to get news of Katie; he had even written her father a business letter, and had ended it by a covert inquiry for news of her. Not one word but business had come in the answer. Then, learning that Elizabeth was here, he had contrived to be sent ashore, for he had been with Commodore Warren through the siege, had risked meeting Archdale, had risked everything for this chance of the news he hungered for. He had been sure that the person whom he recollected as Mistress Royal must answer whatever questions he might choose to put to her. And now must he go away starving within sight of food? In desperation he tried to summon back his assurance.
"Only let me ask you if Katie—Mistress—," he began again, taking a hasty step toward her. But again she stopped him, and this time without a word. As he tried to meet her look, gradually his eyes fell. He made no further effort to speak. Step by step he fell backward, until at a distance from her he stood still looking at her as if strength failed him, even to retreat. Elizabeth turned to Edmonson, and gave him the water left in her cup.
"Is that Harwin?" he asked hoarsely, holding it back from his lips until she had answered him.
"Yes," she said, as if to end the subject. "Drink. I must go."