The Evil Genius...................................................................................................................................................1

Their foreman was a person doubly distinguished among his colleagues. He had the clearest head, and the

Of the seven remaining members, one was a little drowsy man who gave no trouble; one was an irritable

invalid who served under protest; and five represented that vast majority of the populationeasily governed,

The foreman took his place at the head of the table. His colleagues seated themselves on either side of him.

Then there fell upon that assembly of men a silence, never known among an assembly of womenthe

silence which proceeds from a general reluctance to be the person who speaks first.

It was the foreman's duty, under these circumstances, to treat his deliberative brethren as we treat our watches

"Gentlemen," he began, "have you formed any decided opinion on the casethus far?"

Some of them said "Yes," and some of them said "No." The little drowsy man said nothing. The fretful

invalid cried, "Go on!" The nervous juryman suddenly rose. His brethren all looked at him, inspired by the

same fear of having got an orator among them. He was an essentially polite man; and he hastened to relieve

their minds. "Pray don't be alarmed, gentlemen: I am not going to make a speech. I suffer from fidgets.

Excuse me if I occasionally change my position." The hungry juryman (who dined early) looked at his watch.

"Halfpast four," he said. "For Heaven's sake cut it short." He was the fattest person present; and he

suggested a subject to the inattentive juryman who drew pictures on his blottingpaper. Deeply interested in

the progress of the likeness, his neighbors on either side looked over his shoulders. The little drowsy man

woke with a start, and begged pardon of everybody. The fretful invalid said to himself, "Damned fools, all of

"The prisoner waiting our verdict, gentlemen, is the Honorable Roderick Westerfield, younger brother of the

present Lord Le Basque. He is charged with willfully casting away the British bark John Jerniman, under his

command, for the purpose of fraudulently obtaining a share of the insurance money; and further of possessing

himself of certain Brazilian diamonds, which formed part of the cargo. In plain words, here is a gentleman

born in the higher ranks of life accused of being a thief. Before we attempt to arrive at a decision, we shall

only be doing him justice if we try to form some general estimate of his character, based on the

evidenceand we may fairly begin by inquiring into his relations with the noble family to which he belongs.

The evidence, so far, is not altogether creditable to him. Being at the time an officer of the Royal Navy, he

appears to have outraged the feelings of his family by marrying a barmaid at a publichouse."

The drowsy juryman, happening to be awake at that moment, surprised the foreman by interposing a

statement. "Talking of barmaids," he said, "I know a curate's daughter. She's in distressed circumstances, poor

thing; and she's a barmaid somewhere in the north of England. Curiously enough, the name of the town has

escaped my memory. If we had a map of England" There he was interrupted, cruelly interrupted, by one of

"And by what right," cried the greedy juryman, speaking under the exasperating influence of hunger"by

what right does Mr. Westerfield's family dare to suppose that a barmaid may not be a perfectly virtuous

Hearing this, the restless gentleman (in the act of changing his position) was suddenly inspired with interest

in the proceedings. "Pardon me for putting myself forward," he said, with his customary politeness.

"Speaking as an abstainer from fermented liquors, I must really protest against these allusions to barmaids."

"Speaking as a consumer of fermented liquors," the invalid remarked, "I wish I had a barmaid and a bottle of

"Whatever you may think, gentlemen, of the prisoner's marriage, we have it in evidence that his relatives

turned their backs on him from that momentwith the one merciful exception of the head of the family.

Lord Le Basque exerted his influence with the Admiralty, and obtained for his brother (then out of

employment) an appointment to a ship. All the witnesses agree that Mr. Westerfield thoroughly understood

his profession. If he could have controlled himself, he might have risen to high rank in the Navy. His temper

"Under strong provocation," the foreman admitted. But provocation is not an excuse, judged by the rules of

discipline. The prisoner challenged the officer on duty to fight a duel, at the first opportunity, on shore; and,

receiving a contemptuous refusal, struck him on the quarterdeck. As a matter of course, Mr. Westerfield was

tried by courtmartial, and was dismissed the service. Lord Le Basque's patience was not exhausted yet. The

Merchant Service offered a last chance to the prisoner of retrieving his position, to some extent at least. He

was fit for the sea, and fit for nothing else. At my lord's earnest request the owners of the John Jerniman,

trading between Liverpool and Rio, took Mr. Westerfield on trial as first mate, and, to his credit be it said, he

justified his brother's faith in him. In a tempest off the coast of Africa the captain was washed overboard and

the first mate succeeded to the command. His seamanship and courage saved the vessel, under circumstances

of danger which paralyzed the efforts of the other officers.. He was confirmed, rightly confirmed, in the

command of the ship. And, so far, we shall certainly not be wrong if we view his character on the favorable

Certain members of the assemblyled by the juryman who wanted his dinner, and supported by his

inattentive colleague, then engaged in drawing a ship in a storm, and a captain falling overboardproposed

the acquittal of the prisoner without further consideration. But the fretful invalid cried "Stuff!" and the five

jurymen who had no opinions of their own, struck by the admirable brevity with which he expressed his

sentiments, sang out in chorus, "Hear! hear! hear!" The silent juryman, hitherto overlooked, now attracted

attention. He was a baldheaded person of uncertain age, buttoned up tight in a long frockcoat, and wearing

his gloves all through the proceedings. When the chorus of five cheered, he smiled mysteriously. Everybody

wondered what that smile meant. The silent juryman kept his opinion to himself. From that moment he began

to exercise a furtive influence over the jury. Even the foreman looked at him, on resuming the narrative.

"After a certain term of service, gentlemen, during which we learn nothing to his disadvantage, the prisoner's

merits appear to have received their reward. He was presented with a share in the ship which he commanded,

in addition to his regular salary as master. With these improved prospects he sailed from Liverpool on his last

voyage to Brazil; and no one, his wife included, had the faintest suspicion that he left England under

circumstances of serious pecuniary embarrassment. The testimony of his creditors, and of other persons with

whom he associated distinctly proves that his leisure hours on shore had been employed in cardplaying and

in betting on horse races. After an unusually long run of luck, his good fortune seems to have deserted him.

He suffered considerable losses, and was at last driven to borrowing at a high rate of interest, without any

reasonable prospect of being able to repay the moneylenders into whose hands he had fallen. When he left

Rio on the homeward voyage, there is no sort of doubt that he was returning to England to face creditors

whom he was unable to pay. There, gentlemen, is a noticeable side to his character which we may call the

He evidently intended to add a word or two more. But the disagreeable invalid insisted on being heard.

"You have been trying to influence the verdict, sir, ever since you entered this room. I appeal to all the

The patience of the longsuffering foreman failed him at last. "Not another word shall pass my lips," he said,

"until you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty among yourselvesand then I'll tell you if I agree to your

He folded his arms, and looked like the image of a man who intended to keep his word.

The hungry juryman laid himself back in his chair, and groaned. The amateur artist, who had thus far found a

fund of amusement in his blottingpaper, yawned discontentedly and dropped his pen. The courteous

gentleman who suffered from fidgets requested leave to walk up and down the room; and at the first turn he

took woke the drowsy little man, and maddened the irritable invalid by the creaking of his boots. The chorus

of five, further than ever from arriving at an opinion of their own, looked at the silent juryman. Once more he

smiled mysteriously; and once more he offered an explanation of what was passing in his mindexcept that

he turned his bald head slowly in the direction of the foreman. Was he in sympathy with a man who had

In the meantime, nothing was said or done. Helpless silence prevailed in every part of the room.

"Why the devil doesn't somebody begin?" cried the invalid. "Have you all forgotten the evidence?"

This startling question roused the jury to a sense of what was due to their oaths, if not to themselves. Some of

them recollected the evidence in one way, and some of them recollected it in another; and each man insisted

on doing justice to his own excellent memory, and on stating his own unanswerable view of the case.

The first man who spoke began at the middle of the story told by the witnesses in court. "I am for acquitting

the captain, gentlemen; he ordered out the boats, and saved the lives of the crew.""And I am for finding

him guilty, because the ship struck on a rock in broad daylight, and in moderate weather.""I agree with

you, sir. The evidence shows that the vessel was steered dangerously near to the land, by direction of the

captain, who gave the course.""Come, come, gentlemen! let us do the captain justice. The defense declares

that he gave the customary course, and that it was not followed when he left the deck. As for his leaving the

ship in moderate weather, the evidence proves that he believed he saw signs of a storm brewing.""Yes,

yes, all very well, but what were the facts? When the loss of the ship was reported, the Brazilian authorities

sent men to the wreck, on the chance of saving the cargo; and, days afterward, there the ship was found, just

as the captain and the crew had left her.""Don't forget, sir, that the diamonds were missing when the

salvors examined the wreck.""All right, but that's no proof that the captain stole the diamonds; and, before

they had saved half the cargo, a storm did come on and break the vessel up; so the poor man was only wrong

in the matter of time, after all.""Allow me to remind you, gentlemen that the prisoner was deeply in debt,

and therefore had an interest in stealing the diamonds."Wait a little, sir. Fair play's a jewel. Who was in

charge of the deck when the ship struck? The second mate. And what did the second mate do, when he heard

that his owners had decided to prosecute? He committed suicide! Is there no proof of guilt in that

act?""You are going a little too fast, sir. The coroner's jury declared that the second mate killed himself in

a state of temporary insanity.""Gently! gently! we have nothing to do with what the coroner's jury said.

What did the judge say when he summed up?""Bother the judge! He said what they all say: 'Find the

prisoner guilty, if you think he did it; and find him not guilty, if you think he didn't.' And then he went away

to his comfortable cup of tea in his private room. And here are We perishing of hunger, and our families

dining without us.""Speak for yourself, sir, I haven't got a family.""Consider yourself lucky, sir; I have

got twelve, and my life is a burden to me, owing to the difficulty of making both ends meet.""Gentlemen!

gentlemen! we are wandering again. Is the captain guilty or not? Mr. Foreman, we none of us intended to

No; the foreman kept his word. "Decide for yourselves first," was his only reply.

In this emergency, the member afflicted with fidgets suddenly assumed a position of importance. He started a

"Suppose we try a show of hands," he suggested. "Gentlemen who find the prisoner guilty will please hold up

Three votes were at once registered in this way, including the vote of the foreman. After a moment of doubt,

the chorus of five decided on following the opinion which happened to be the first opinion expressed in point

of time. Thereupon, the show of hands for the condemnation of the prisoner rose to eight. Would this result

have an effect on the undecided minority of four? In any case, they were invited to declare themselves next.

Only three hands were held up. One incomprehensible man abstained from expressing his sentiments even by

a sign. Is it necessary to say who that man was? A mysterious change had now presented itself in his

appearance, which made him an object of greater interest than ever. His inexplicable smile had vanished. He

sat immovable, with closed eyes. Was he meditating profoundly? or was he only asleep? The quickwitted

foreman had long since suspected him of being simply the stupidest person presentwith just cunning

enough to conceal his own dullness by holding his tongue. The jury arrived at no such sensible conclusion.

Impressed by the intense solemnity of his countenance, they believed him to be absorbed in reflections of the

utmost importance to the verdict. After a heated conference among themselves, they decided on inviting the

one independent member presentthe member who had taken no part in their proceedingsto declare his

opinion in the plainest possible form. "Which way does your view of the verdict incline, sir? Guilty or not

The eyes of the silent juryman opened with the slow and solemn dilation of the eyes of an owl. Placed

between the alternatives of declaring himself in one word or in two, his taciturn wisdom chose the shortest

form of speech. "Guilty," he answeredand shut his eyes again, as if he had had enough of it already.

An unutterable sense of relief pervaded the meeting. Enmities were forgotten and friendly looks were

exchanged. With one accord, the jury rose to return to court. The prisoner's fate was sealed. The verdict was

The low hum of talk among the persons in court ceased when the jury returned to their places. Curiosity now

found its center of attraction in the prisoner's wifewho had been present throughout the trial. The question

of the moment was: How will she bear the interval of delay which precedes the giving of the verdict?

In the popular phrase, Mrs. Westerfield was a showy woman. Her commanding figure was finely robed in

dark colors; her profuse light hair hung over her forehead in little clusters of ringlets; her features, firmly but

not delicately shaped, were on a large scale. No outward betrayal of the wife's emotion rewarded the public

curiosity: her bold lightgray eyes sustained the general gaze without flinching. To the surprise of the women

present, she had brought her two young children with her to the trial. The eldest was a pretty little girl of ten

years old; the second child (a boy) sat on his mother's knee. It was generally observed that Mrs. Westerfield

took no notice of her eldest child. When she whispered a word from time to time, it was always addressed to

her son. She fondled him when he grew restless; but she never looked round to see if the girl at her side was

The judge took his seat, and the order was given to bring the prisoner up for judgment.

There was a long pause. The audienceremembering his ghastly face when he first appeared before

themwhispered to each other, "He's taken ill"; and the audience proved to be right.

The surgeon of the prison entered the witnessbox, and, being duly sworn, made his medical statement

The prisoner's heart had been diseased for some time past, and the malady had been neglected. He had fainted

under the prolonged suspense of waiting for the verdict. The swoon had proved to be of such a serious nature

that the witness refused to answer for consequences if a second faintingfit was produced by the excitement

Under these circumstances, the verdict was formally recorded, and sentence was deferred. Once more, the

She had risen to leave the court. In the event of an adverse verdict, her husband had asked for a farewell

interview; and the governor of the prison, after consultation with the surgeon, had granted the request. It was

observed, when she retired, that she held her boy by the hand, and left the girl to follow. A compassionate

lady near her offered to take care of the children while she was absent. Mrs. Westerfield answered quietly and

His eyes opened wearily, when his wife and children approached the bed on which he lay helplessthe

wreck of a grandlymade man. He struggled for breath, but he could still speak a word or two at a time. "I

don't ask you what the verdict is," he said to his wife; "I see it in your face."

Tearless and silent, she waited by her husband's side. He had only noticed her for a moment. All his interest

seemed to be centered in his children. The girl stood nearest to him, he looked at her with a faint smile.

The poor child understood him. Crying piteously, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Dear

The surgeon, watching the father's face, saw a change in him which the other persons present had not

observed. The failing heart felt that parting moment, and sank under it. "Take the child away," the surgeon

whispered to the mother. Brandy was near him; he administered it while he spoke, and touched the fluttering

pulse. It felt, just felt, the stimulant. He revived for a moment, and looked wistfully for his son. "The boy," he

murmured; "I want my boy." As his wife brought the child to him, the surgeon whispered to her again. "If

you have anything to say to him be quick about it!" She shuddered; she took his cold hand. Her touch seemed

to nerve him with new strength; he asked her to stoop over him. "They won't let me write here," he

whispered, "unless they see my letter." He paused to get his breath again. "Lift up my left arm," he gasped.

She detached the stud which closed the wristband of the shirt. On the inner side of the linen there was a line

written in red lettersred of the color of blood. She saw these words: Look in the lining of my trunk.

The fading light in his eyes flashed on her a dreadful look of doubt. His lips fell apart in the vain effort to

answer. His last sigh fluttered the light ringlets of her hair as she bent over him.

The surgeon pointed to her children. "Take the poor things home," he said; "they have seen the last of their

Mrs. Westerfield obeyed in silence. She had her own reasons for being in a hurry to get home. Leaving the

children under the servant's care, she locked herself up in the dead man's room, and emptied his trunk of the

The lining which she was now to examine was of the customary material, and of the usual striped pattern in

blue and white. Her fingers were not sufficiently sensitive to feel anything under the surface, when she tried it

with her hand. Turning the empty trunk with the inner side of the lid toward the light, she discovered, on one

of the blue stripes of the lining, a thin little shining stain which looked like a stain of dried gum. After a

moment's consideration, she cut the gummed line with a penknife. Something of a white color appeared

It proved to be a letter in her husband's handwriting. An inclosure dropped to the floor when she opened it,

in the shape of a small slip of paper. She picked it up. The morsel of paper presented letters, figures, and

crosses arranged in lines, and mingled together in what looked like hopeless confusion.

Mrs. Westerfield laid the incomprehensible slip of paper aside, and, in search of an explanation, returned to

the letter. Here again she found herself in a state of perplexity. Directed to "Mrs. Roderick Westerfield," the

letter began abruptly, without the customary form of address. Did it mean that her husband was angry with

"I write to you before my trial takes place. If the verdict goes in my favor, I shall destroy what I have written.

If I am found guilty, I must leave it to you to do what I should otherwise have done for myself.

"The undeserved misfortune that has overtaken me began with the arrival of my ship in the port of Rio. Our

second mate (his duty for the day being done) asked leave to go on shoreand never returned. What motive

determined him on deserting, I am not able to say. It was my own wish to supply his place by promoting the

best seaman on board. My owners' agents overruled me, and appointed a man of their own choosing.

"What nation he belonged to I don't know. The name he gave me was Beljames, and he was reported to be a

brokendown gentleman. Whoever he might be, his manner and his talk were captivating. Everybody liked

"After the two calamities of the loss of the ship and the disappearance of the diamondsthese last being

valued at five thousand poundsI returned to England by the first opportunity that offered, having Beljames

"Shortly after getting back to my house in London, I was privately warned by a good friend that my owners

had decided to prosecute me for willfully casting away the ship, and (crueler still) for having stolen the

missing diamonds. The second mate, who had been in command of the vessel when she struck on the rock,

was similarly charged along with me. Knowing myself to be innocent, I determined, of course, to stand my

trial. My wonder was, what Beljames would do. Would he follow my example? or, if he got the chance,

"I might have thought it only friendly to give this person a word of warning, if I had known where to find

him. We had separated when the ship reached the port of Falmouth, in Cornwall, and had not met since. I

"On the voyage home, Beljames told me that a legacy had been left to him; being a small freehold house and

garden in St. John's Wood, London. His agent, writing to him on the subject, had reported the place to be

sadly out of repair, and had advised him to find somebody who would take it off his hands on reasonable

terms. This seemed to point to a likelihood of his being still in London, trying to sell his house.

"While my mind was running on these recollections, I was told that a decent elderly woman wanted to see

me. She proved to be the landlady of the house in which Beljames lodged; and she brought an alarming

"Beljames had heard of the intended prosecution. How he had been made aware of it, death left him no time

to tell me. The miserable wretch had poisoned himselfwhether in terror of standing his trial, or in remorse

of conscience, it is not any business of mine to decide. Most unluckily for me, he first ordered the doctor and

the landlady out of the room; and then, when we two were alone, owned that he had purposely altered the

"Having eased his mind by confession, he gave me the slip of paper (written in cipher) which you will find

inclosed in this. 'There is my note of the place where the diamonds are hidden,' he said. Among the many

ignorant people who know nothing of ciphers, I am oneand I told him so. 'That's how I keep my secret,' he

said; 'write from my dictation, and you shall know what it means. Lift me up first.' As I did it, he rolled his

head to and fro, evidently in pain. But he managed to point to pen, ink, and paper, on a table hard by, on

which his doctor had been writing. I left him for a moment, to pull the table nearer to the bedand in that

moment he groaned, and cried out for help. I ran to the room downstairs where the doctor was waiting. When

"The lawyers who are to defend me have tried to get Experts, as they call them, to interpret the cipher. The

Experts have all failed. They will declare, if they are called as witnesses, that the signs on the paper are not

"As for any statement, on my part, of the confession made to me, the law refuses to hear it, except from the

mouth of a witness. I might prove that the ship's course was changed, contrary to my directions, after I had

gone below to rest, if I could find the man who was steering at the time. God only knows where that man is.

"On the other hand, the errors of my past life, and my being in debt, are circumstances dead against me. The

lawyers seem to trust almost entirely in a famous counsel, whom they have engaged to defend me. For my

"If the verdict is guilty, and if you have any regard left for my character, never rest until you have found

somebody who can interpret these cursed signs. Do for me, I say, what I cannot do for myself. Recover the

"Kiss the children for me. I wish them, when they are old enough, to read this defense of myself and to know

that their father, who loved them dearly, was an innocent man. My good brother will take care of you, for my

Mrs. Westerfield took up the cipher once more. She looked at it as if it were a living thing that defied her.

"If I am able to read this gibberish," she decided, "I know what I'll do with the diamonds!"

One year exactly after the fatal day of the trial, Mrs. Westerfield (secluded in the sanctuary of her bedroom)

The conventional graduations in the outward expression of grief, which lead from black clothing to gray,

formed no part of this afflicted lady's system of mourning. She laid her best blue walking dress and her new

bonnet to match on the bed, and admired them to her heart's content. Her discarded garments were left on the

floor. "Thank Heaven, I've done with you!" she saidand kicked her rusty mourning out of the way as she

"He's down with me in the kitchen, ma'am; I'm teaching him to make a plum cake for himself. He's so happy!

"Not the least in the world. I want you to take care of him while I am away. Bytheby, where's Syd?"

The elder child (the girl) had been christened Sydney, in compliment to one of her father's female relatives.

The name was not liked by her motherwho had shortened it to Syd, by way of leaving as little of it as

possible. With a look at Mrs. Westerfield which expressed illconcealed aversion, the landlady answered:

"She's up in the lumberroom, poor child. She says you sent her there to be out of the way."

"There's no fireplace in the garret, ma'am. I'm afraid the little girl must be cold and lonely."

It was useless to plead for SydMrs. Westerfield was not listening. Her attention was absorbed by her own

plump and pretty hands. She took a tiny file from the dressingtable, and put a few finishing touches to her

The servant girl who carried the hot water upstairs was new to the ways of the house. After having waited on

Mrs. Westerfield, she had been instructed by the kindhearted landlady to go on to the top floor. "You will

find a pretty little girl in the garret, all by herself. Say you are to bring her down to my room, as soon as her

Mrs. Westerfield's habitual neglect of her eldest child was known to every person in the house. Even the new

servant had heard of it. Interested by what she saw, on opening the garret door, she stopped on the threshold

The lumber in the room consisted of two rotten old trunks, a broken chair, and a dirty volume of sermons of

the oldfashioned quarto size. The grimy ceiling, slanting downward to a cracked window, was stained with

rain that had found its way through the roof. The faded wallpaper, loosened by damp, was torn away in

some places, and bulged loose in others. There were holes in the skirtingboard; and from one of them

peeped the brightly timid eyes of the child's only living companion in the garreta mouse, feeding on

Syd looked up when the mouse darted back into its hole, on the opening of the door. "Lizzie! Lizzie!" she

said, gravely, "you ought to have come in without making a noise. You have frightened away my youngest

The goodnatured servant burst out laughing. "Have you got a large family, miss?" she inquired, humoring

Syd failed to see the joke. "Only two more," she answered as gravely as everand lifted up from the floor

two miserable dolls, reduced to the last extremity of dirt and dilapidation. "My two eldest," this strange child

resumed, setting up the dolls against one of the empty trunks. "The eldest is a girl, and her name is Syd. The

other is a boy, untidy in his clothes, as you see. Their kind mamma forgives them when they are naughty, and

buys ponies for them to ride on, and always has something nice for them to eat when they are hungry. Have

Those innocent allusions to the neglect which was the one sad experience of Syd's young life touched the

servant's heart. A bygone time was present to her memory, when she too had been left without a playfellow to

"Oh, my dear," she said, "your poor little arms are red with cold. Come to me and let me rub them."

But Syd's bright imagination was a better protection against the cold than all the rubbing that the hands of a

merciful woman could offer. "You are very kind, Lizzie," she answered. "I don't feel the cold when I am

playing with my children. I am very careful to give them plenty of exercise, we are going to walk in the

She gave a hand to each of the dolls, and walked slowly round and round the miserable room, pointing out

visionary persons of distinction and objects of interest. "Here's the queen, my dears, in her gilt coach, drawn

by six horses. Do you see her scepter poking out of the carriage window? She governs the nation with that.

Bow to the queen. And now look at the beautiful bright water. There's the island where the ducks live. Ducks

are happy creatures. They have their own way in everything, and they're good to eat when they're dead. At

least they used to be good, when we had nice dinners in papa's time. I try to amuse the poor little things,

Lizzie. Their papa is dead. I'm obliged to be papa and mamma to them, both in one. Do you feel the cold, my

dears?" She shivered as she questioned her imaginary children. "Now we are at home again," she said, and

led the dolls to the empty fireplace. "Roaring fires always in my house," cried the resolute little creature,

"If the child would only make some complaint," she burst out, "it wouldn't be so dreadful! Oh, what a shame!

what a shame!" she cried, to the astonishment of little Syd. "Come down, my dear, to the nice warm room

where your brother is. Oh, your mother? I don't care if your mother sees us; I should like to give your mother

a piece of my mind. There! I don't mean to frighten you; I'm one of your bad childrenI fly into a passion.

Sympathy which expressed itself in this way was new to Syd. Her eyes opened wide in childish wonderand

suddenly closed again in childish terror, when her good friend the servant passed Mrs. Westerfield's door on

the way downstairs. "If mamma bounces out on us," she whispered, "pretend we don't see her." The nice

warm room received them in safety. Under no stress of circumstances had Mrs. Westerfield ever been known

to dress herself in a hurry. A good halfhour more had passed before the house door was heard to bangand

the pleasant landlady, peeping through the window, said: "There she goes. Now, we'll enjoy ourselves!"

Mrs. Westerfield's destination was the publichouse in which she had been once employed as a barmaid.

Entering the place without hesitation, she sent in her card to the landlord. He opened the parlor door himself

"You wear well," he said, admiring her. "Have you come back here to be my barmaid again?"

"Well, my dear, more unlikely things have happened. They tell me you depend for your income on Lord Le

Having smartly set the landlord right in those words, she had not thought it necessary to add that Lady Le

Basque, continuing the allowance at her husband's request, had also notified that it would cease if Mrs.

"You're a lucky woman," the landlord remarked. "Well, I'm glad to see you. What will you take to drink?"

"Nothing, thank you. I want to know if you have heard anything lately of James Bellbridge?"

The landlord was a popular person in his own circlenot accustomed to restrain himself when he saw his

way to a joke. "Here's constancy!" he said. "She's sweet on James, after having jilted him twelve years ago!"

Mrs. Westerfield replied with dignity. "I am accustomed to be treated respectfully," she replied. "I wish you

The easy landlord pressed her back into her chair. "Don't be a fool," he said; "James is in LondonJames is

Mrs. Westerfield's bold gray eyes expressed eager curiosity and interest. "You don't mean that he is going to

"Not he! James Bellbridge is going back to New York, to open a saloon (as they call it) in partnership with

another man. He's in England, he says, on business. It's my belief that he wants money for this new venture

on bad security. They're smart people in New York. His only chance of getting his bills discounted is to

"Aha! now we're coming to the point. Make your mind easy. Plenty of women have set the trap for him, but

"Hullo! Your language reminds me of the time when you were a barmaid. You don't mean to say you have

"Tell him to come and drink tea with his old sweetheart tomorrow, at six o'clock."

Tomorrow cameand Mrs. Westerfield's faithful James justified her confidence in him.

"Oh, Jemmy, how glad I am to see you! You dear, dear fellow. I'm yours at last."

The man who entered this protest against imprisonment in the arms of a fine woman, was one of the human

beings who are grown to perfection on English soil He had the fat face, the pink complexion, the hard blue

eyes, the scanty yellow hair, the smile with no meaning in it, the tremendous neck and shoulders, the mighty

fists and feet, which are seen in complete combination in England only. Men of this breed possess a nervous

system without being aware of it; suffer affliction without feeling it; exercise courage without a sense of

danger; marry without love; eat and drink without limit; and sink (big as they are), when disease attacks

Mrs. Westerfield released her guest's bullneck at the word of command. It was impossible not to submit to

He took the reproof goodhumoredly. "Love?" he repeated. "Come! I like thatafter throwing me over for a

"Call me your own. What is there to laugh at, Jemmy? You used to be fond of me; you would never have

gone to America, when I married Westerfield, if I hadn't been dear to you. Oh, if I'm sure of anything, I'm

sure of that! You wouldn't bear malice, dear, if you only knew how cruelly I have been disappointed."

He suddenly showed an interest in what she was saying: the brute became cheery and confidential. "So he

made you a bad husband, did he? Up with his fist and knocked you down, I daresay, if the truth was known?"

"You're all in the wrong, dear. He would have been a good husband if I had cared about him. I never cared

"When I married him, Jemmy, there was a prospectoh, how could I resist it? Think of being one of the Le

Basques! Held in honor, to the end of my life, by that noble family, whether my husband lived or died!"

To the barman's ears, this sounded like sheer nonsense. His experience in the publichouse suggested an

Mrs. Westerfield's first impulse led her to rise and point indignantly to the door. He had only to look at

herand she sat down again a tamed woman. "You don't understand how the chance tempted me," she

He was still puzzled, but he lowered his tone. The trueborn Briton bowed by instinct before the woman who

had jilted him, when she presented herself in the character of a lord's mother. "How do you make that out,

She drew her chair nearer to him, when he called her by her Christian name for the first time.

"When Westerfield was courting me," she said, "his brother (my lord) was a bachelor. A ladyif one can

call such a creature a lady!was living under his protection. He told Westerfield he was very fond of her,

and he hated the idea of getting married. 'If your wife's first child turns out to be a son,' he said, 'there is an

heir to the title and estates, and I may go on as I am now.' We were married a month afterwardand when

my first child was born it was a girl. I leave you to judge what the disappointment was! My lord (persuaded,

as I suspect, by the woman I mentioned just now) ran the risk of waiting another year, and a year afterward,

rather than be married. Through all that time, I had no other child or prospect of a child. His lordship was

fairly driven into taking a wife. Ah, how I hate her! Their first child was a boya big, bouncing, healthy

brute of a boy! And six months afterward, my poor little fellow was born. Only think of it! And tell me,

Jemmy, don't I deserve to be a happy woman, after suffering such a dreadful disappointment as that? Is it true

"No. Only with one. I can dispose of the other in England. Wait a little before you say No. Do you want

He eyed her attentively and saw that she was in earnest. "What do you call a fortune?" he asked.

His eyes opened; his mouth opened; he scratched his head. Even his impenetrable nature proved to be capable

of receiving a shock. Five thousand pounds! He asked faintly for "a drop of brandy."

He was too deeply interested in the restorative influence of the brandy to take any notice of this remark.

When he had recovered himself he was not disposed to believe in the five thousand pounds.

She produced her husband's letter. "Did you read the Trial of Westerfield for casting away his ship?" she

He listened with the closest attention while she read. The question of stealing the diamonds (if they could

only be found) did not trouble either of them. It was a settled question, by tacit consent on both sides. But the

value in money of the precious stones suggested a doubt that still weighed on his mind.

She read it again: "After the two calamities of the loss of the ship, and the disappearance of the

Satisfied so far, he wanted to look at the cipher next. She handed it to him with a stipulation: "Yours, Jemmy,

He put the slip of paper into his pocket. "Now I've got it," he said, "suppose I keep it?"

A woman who has been barmaid at a publichouse is a woman not easily found at the end of her resources.

"In that case," she curtly remarked, "I should first call in the police, and then telegraph to my husband's

They looked at each other. They were made for each otherand they both felt it. At the same time, James

kept his own interests steadily in view. He stated the obvious objection to the cipher. Experts had already

He burst out laughing. "It mightn't be much amiss," he said, "if I took you back with me to America; you're

As he rose to go, there was a soft knock at the door. A little girl, in a shabby frock, ventured to show herself

Syd held out a small thin hand, with a letter in it, which represented her only excuse. Mrs. Westerfield read

the letter, and crumpled it up in her pocket. "One of your secrets?" James asked. "Anything about the

"Wait till you are my husband," she said, and then you may be as inquisitive as you please." Her amiable

sweetheart's guess had actually hit the mark. During the year that had passed, she too had tried her luck

among the Experts, and had failed. Having recently heard of a foreign interpreter of ciphers, she had written

to ask his terms. The reply (just received) not only estimated his services at an extravagantly high rate, but

asked cautious questions which it was not convenient to answer. Another attempt had been made to discover

James Bellbridge had his moments of goodhumor, and was on those rare occasions easily amused. He eyed

the child with condescending curiosity. "Looks half starved," he saidas if he were considering the case of a

stray cat. "Hollo, there! Buy a bit of bread." He tossed a penny to Syd as she left the room; and took the

opportunity of binding his bargain with Syd's mother. "Mind! if I take you to New York, I'm not going to be

An advertisement in the newspapers, addressed to persons skilled in the interpretation of ciphers, now

represented Mrs. Westerfield's only chance of discovering where the diamonds were hidden. The first answer

that she received made some amends for previous disappointment. It offered references to gentlemen, whose

names were in themselves a sufficient guarantee. She verified the references nevertheless, and paid a visit to

His personal appearance was not in his favorhe was old and dirty, infirm and poor. His mean room was

littered with shabby books. None of the ordinary courtesies of life seemed to be known to him; he neither

wished Mrs. Westerfield goodmorning nor asked her to take a seat. When she attempted to enter into

"Show me your cipher," he said; "I don't promise to study it unless I find it worth my while."

He examined itfirst with his bleared redrimmed eyes; then with a magnifyingglass. The only expression

of opinion that escaped him was indicated by his actions. He shut up his book, and gloated over the signs and

characters before him. On a sudden he looked at Mrs. Westerfield. "How did you come by this?" he asked.

Drawing his own inferences from that reply, he showed his three lastleft yellow teeth in a horrid grin. "I

understand!" he said, speaking to himself. He looked at the cipher once more, and put another question:

It had not occurred to her to take a copy. He rose and pointed to his empty chair. His opinion of the cipher

was, to all appearance, forced to express itself by the discovery that there was no copy.

"Do you know what might happen?" he asked. "The only cipher that has puzzled me for the last ten years

might be lostor stolenor burned if there was a fire in the house. You deserve to be punished for your

This desirable suggestion (uncivilly as it was expressed) had its effect upon Mrs. Westerfield. Her marriage

depended on that precious slip of paper. She was confirmed in her opinion that this very disagreeable man

"Shall you be long in finding out what it means?" she asked when her task was completed.

"Days may pass before I can find the clew; I won't attempt it unless you give me a week."

She pleaded for a shorter interval. He coolly handed back her papers; the original and the copy.

"Try somebody else," he suggestedand opened his book again. Mrs. Westerfield yielded with the worst

possible grace. In granting him the week of delay, she approached the subject of his fee for the second time.

He handed her back her papers for the second time. Mrs. Westerfield's experience of poverty had never been

the experience of such independence as this. In sheer bewilderment, she yielded again. He took back the

original cipher, and locked it up in his desk. "Call here this day week," he saidand returned to his book.

Repeating her visit, Mrs. Westerfield found him still seated at his desk, still surrounded by his books, still

He went on impenetrably with what he had to say. "But there are some minor combinations, which I have still

She positively refused to comply with this request. "Write down the substance of it," she repeated, "and tell

The woman who could have kept her temper, under such provocation as this, may be found when the

mathematician is found who can square the circle, or the inventor who can discover perpetual motion. With a

furious look, Mrs. Westerfield expressed her opinion of the philosopher in two words: "You brute!" She

"My work," he proceeded, "must be well done or not done at all. This is Saturday, eleventh of the month. We

Mrs. Westerfield sufficiently controlled herself to be able to review her engagements for the coming week.

On Thursday, the delay exacted by the marriage license would expire, and the wedding might take place. On

Friday, the express train conveyed passengers to Liverpool, to be in time for the departure of the steamer for

New York on Saturday morning. Having made these calculations, she asked, with sulky submission, if she

"No. Leave me your name and address. I will send you the cipher, interpreted, at eight o'clock."

On the Monday morning, Mrs. Westerfield and her faithful James had their first quarrel. She took the liberty

of reminding him that it was time to give notice of the marriage at the church, and to secure berths in the

steamer for herself and her son. Instead of answering one way or another, James asked how the Expert was

This was an insult; Mrs. Westerfield expressed her sense of it. She rose, and pointed to the door. "Go back to

America, as soon as you please," she said; "and find the money you wantif you can."

As a proof that she was in earnest she took her copy of the cipher out of the bosom of her dress, and threw it

into the fire. "The original is safe in my old man's keeping," she added. "Leave the room."

James rose with suspicious docility, and walked out, having his own private ends in view.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Westerfield's old man was interrupted over his work by a person of bulky and

The stranger introduced himself as a gentleman who was engaged to marry Mrs. Westerfield: he requested

(not at all politely) to be permitted to look at the cipher. He was asked if he had brought a written order to

that effect, signed by the lady herself. Mr. Bellbridge, resting his fists on the writingtable, answered that he

had come to look at the cipher on his own sole responsibility, and that he insisted on seeing it immediately.

"Allow me to show you something else first," was the reply he received to this assertion of his will and

pleasure. "Do you know a loaded pistol, sir, when you see it?" The barrel of the pistol approached within

three inches of the barman's big head as he leaned over the writingtable. For once in his life he was taken by

surprise. It had never occurred to him that a professed interpreter of ciphers might sometimes be trusted with

secrets which placed him in a position of danger, and might therefore have wisely taken measures to protect

himself. No power of persuasion is comparable to the power possessed by a loaded pistol. James left the

room; and expressed his sentiments in language which has not yet found its way into any English Dictionary.

But he had two merits, when his temper was in a state of repose. He knew when he was beaten; and he

thoroughly appreciated the value of the diamonds. When Mrs. Westerfield saw him again, on the next day, he

appeared with undeniable claims on her mercy. Notice of the marriage had been received at the church; and a

Her prospects being thus settled, to her own satisfaction, Mrs. Westerfield was at liberty to make her

The person on whose assistance she could rely was an unmarried elder sister, distinguished as proprietor of a

cheap girls' school in one of the suburbs of London. This ladyknown to local fame as Miss Wiggerhad

already proposed to take Syd into training as a pupil teacher. "I'll force the child on," Miss Wigger promised,

"till she can earn her board and lodging by taking my lowest class. When she gets older she will replace my

With this proposal waiting for a reply, Mrs. Westerfield had only to inform her sister that it was accepted.

"Come here," she wrote, "on Friday next, at any time before two o'clock, and Syd shall be ready for you.

P.S.I am to be married again on Thursday, and start for America with my husband and my boy by next

The letter was posted; and the mother's anxious mind was, to use her own phrase, relieved of another worry.

As the hour of eight drew near on Wednesday evening, Mrs. Westerfield's anxiety forced her to find relief in

action of some kind. She opened the door of her sittingroom and listened on the stairs. It still wanted for a

few minutes to eight o'clock, when there was a ring at the housebell. She ran down to open the door. The

servant happened to be in the hall, and answered the bell. The next moment, the door was suddenly closed

This seemed strange. Had the old wretch deceived her, after all? "Look in the letterbox," she called out. The

servant obeyed, and found a letter. Mrs. Westerfield tore it open, standing on the stairs. It contained half a

sheet of common notepaper. The interpretation of the cipher was written on it in these words:

"Remember Number 12, Purbeck Road, St. John's Wood. Go to the summerhouse in the back garden. Count

to the fourth plank in the floor, reckoning from the side wall on the right as you enter the summerhouse.

Not a word of explanation accompanied these lines. Neither had the original cipher been returned. The

strange old man had earned his money, and had not attended to receive ithad not even sent word where or

how it might be paid! Had he delivered his letter himself? He (or his messenger) had gone before the

A sudden suspicion of him turned her cold. Had he stolen the diamonds? She was on the point of sending for

a cab, and driving it to his lodgings, when James came in, eager to know if the interpretation had arrived.

Keeping her suspicions to herself, she merely informed him that the interpretation was in her hands. He at

once asked to see it. She refused to show it to him until he had made her his wife. "Put a chisel in your

pocket, when we go to church, tomorrow morning," was the one hint she gave him. As thoroughly worthy of

At eleven o'clock the next morning they were united in the bonds of wedlock; the landlord and the landlady

of the publichouse in which they had both served being the only witnesses present. The children were not

permitted to see the ceremony. On leaving the church door, the married pair began their honeymoon by

A dirty printed notice, in a broken window, announced that the House was To Let; and a sourtempered

The bride was in the best of humors. She set the bridegroom the example of keeping up appearances by

examining the dilapidated house first. This done, she said sweetly to the person in charge, "May we look at

"Among all the idle people who have come here, at one time or another, to see this house." the woman said,

James turned on his heel, and made for the summerhouse, leaving it to his wife to pursue the subject or not

"A brute!" The very words which the new Mrs. Bellbridge had herself used when the Expert had irritated her.

With serious misgivings, she, too, turned her steps in the direction of the garden.

James had already followed her instructions and used his chisel. The plank lay loose on the floor. With both

his big hands he rapidly cleared away the mould and the rubbish. In a few minutes the hidingplace was laid

They looked into it. They looked at each other. There was the empty hole, telling its own story. The

Mrs. Bellbridge eyed her husband, prepared for a furious outbreak of rage. He stood silent, staring stupidly

straight before him. The shock that had fallen on his dull brain had stunned it. For the time, he was a big

She put back the rubbish, and replaced the plank, and picked up the chisel. "Come, James," she said; "pull

yourself together." It was useless to speak to him. She took his arm and led him out to the cab that was

The driver, helping him to get in, noticed a piece of paper lying on the front seat. Advertisements, seeking

publicity under all possible circumstances, are occasionally sent flying into the open windows of vehicles.

The driver was about to throw the paper away, when Mrs. Bellbridge (seeing it on the other side) took it out

of his hand. "It isn't print," she said; "it's writing." A closer examination showed that the writing was

addressed to herself. Her correspondent must have followed her to the church, as well as to the house in St.

John's Wood. He distinguished her by the name which she had changed that morning, under the sanction of

This was what she read: "Don't trouble yourself, madam, about the diamonds. You have made a

Those wordsand no more. Enough, surely, to justify the conclusion that he had stolen the diamonds. Was it

worth while to drive to his lodgings? They tried the experiment. The Expert had gone away on

The newspaper came as usual on Friday morning. To Mrs. Bellbridge's amazement it set the question of the

theft at rest, on the highest authority. An article appeared, in a conspicuous position, thus expressed:

"Another of the many proofs that truth is stranger than fiction has just occurred at Liverpool. A highly

respected firm of shipwreckers in that city received a strange letter at the beginning of the present week.

Premising that he had some remarkable circumstances to communicate, the writer of the letter entered

abruptly on the narrative which follows: A friend of hisconnected with literaturehad, it appeared,

noticed a lady's visiting card on his desk, and had been reminded by it (in what way it was not necessary to

explain) of a criminal case which had excited considerable public interest at the time; viz., the trial of Captain

Westerfield for willfully casting away a ship under his command. Never having heard of the trial, the writer,

at his friend's suggestion, consulted a file of newspapersdiscovered the reportand became aware, for the

first time, that a collection of Brazilian diamonds, consigned to the Liverpool firm, was missing from the

wrecked vessel when she had been boarded by the salvage party, and had not been found since. Events, which

it was impossible for him to mention (seeing that doing so would involve a breach of confidence placed in

him in his professional capacity), had revealed to his knowledge a hidingplace in which these same

diamonds, in all probability, were concealed. This circumstance had left him no alternative, as an honest man,

but to be beforehand with the persons, who (as he believed) contemplated stealing the precious stones. He

had, accordingly, taken them under his protection, until they were identified and claimed by the rightful

owners. In now appealing to these gentlemen, he stipulated that the claim should be set forth in writing,

addressed to him under initials at a postoffice in London. If the lost property was identified to his

satisfaction, he would meetat a specified place and on a certain day and houra person accredited by the

firm and would personally restore the diamonds, without claiming (or consenting to receive) a reward. The

conditions being complied with, this remarkable interview took place; the writer of the letter, described as an

infirm old man very poorly dressed, fulfilled his engagement, took his receipt, and walked away without even

waiting to be thanked. It is only an act of justice to add that the diamonds were afterward counted, and not

Miserable, deservedlymiserable married pair. The stolen fortune, on which they had counted, had slipped

through their fingers. The berths in the steamer for New York had been taken and paid for. James had married

a woman with nothing besides herself to bestow on him, except an incumbrance in the shape of a boy.

Late on the fatal weddingday his first idea, when he was himself again after the discovery in the

summerhouse, was to get back his passagemoney, to abandon his wife and his stepson, and to escape to

America in a French steamer. He went to the office of the English company, and offered the places which he

had taken for sale. The season of the year was against him; the passengertraffic to America was at its lowest

ebb, and profits depended upon freights alone. If he still contemplated deserting his wife, he must also submit

to sacrifice his money. The other alternative was (as he expressed it himself) to "have his pennyworth for his

penny, and to turn his family to good account in New York." He had not quite decided what to do when he

At that critical moment in her life the bride was equal to the demand on her resources.

If she was foolish enough to allow James to act on his natural impulses, there were probably two prospects

before her. In one state of his temper, he might knock her down. In another state of his temper, he might leave

her behind him. Her only hope of protecting herself, in either case, was to tame the bridegroom. In his

absence, she wisely armed herself with the most irresistible fascinations of her sex. Never yet had he seen her

dressed as she was dressed when he came home. Never yet had her magnificent eyes looked at him as they

looked now. Emotions for which he was not prepared overcame this much injured man; he stared at the bride

in helpless surprise. That inestimable moment of weakness was all Mrs. Bellbridge asked for. Bewildered by

his own transformation, James found himself reading the newspaper the next morning sentimentally, with his

By a refinement of cruelty, not one word had been said to prepare little Syd for the dreary change that was

now close at hand in her young life. The poor child had seen the preparations for departure, and had tried to

imitate her mother in packing up. She had collected her few morsels of darned and ragged clothing, and had

gone upstairs to put them into one of the dilapidated old trunks in the garret play ground, when the servant

was sent to bring her back to the sittingroom. There, enthroned in an easychair, sat a strange lady; and

there, hiding behind the chair in undisguised dislike of the visitor, was her little brother Roderick. Syd looked

The personal appearance of Miss Wigger might have suggested a modest distrust of his own abilities to

Lavater, when that selfsufficient man wrote his famous work on Physiognomy. Whatever betrayal of her

inner self her face might have presented, in the distant time when she was young, was now completely

overlaid by a surface of a flabby fat which, assisted by green spectacles, kept the virtues (or vices) of this

woman's nature a profound secret until she opened her lips. When she used her voice, she let out the truth.

Nobody could hear her speak, and doubt for a moment that she was an inveterately illnatured woman.

"Make your curtsey, child!" said Miss Wigger. Nature had so toned her voice as to make it worthy of the

terrors of her face. But for her petticoats, it would have been certainly taken for the voice of a man.

"You are to go away with me," the schoolmistress proceeded, "and to be taught to make yourself useful

Syd seemed to be incapable of understanding the fate that was in store for her. She sheltered herself behind

her merciless mother. "I'm going away with you, mamma," she said"with you and Rick."

Her mother took her by the shoulders, and pushed her across the room to her aunt.

The child looked at the formidable female creature with the man's voice and the green spectacles.

"You belong to me," said Miss Wigger, by way of encouragement, "and I have come to take you away." At

those dreadful words, terror shook little Syd from head to foot. She fell on her knees with a cry of misery that

might have melted the heart of a savage. "Oh, mamma, mamma, don't leave me behind! What have I done to

Her mother was as selfish and as cruel a woman as ever lived. But even her hard heart felt faintly the

influence of the most intimate and most sacred of all human relationships. Her florid cheeks turned pale. She

Miss Wigger marked (through her own green medium) that moment of maternal indecisionand saw that it

"Leave it to me," she said to her sister. "You never did know, and you never will know, how to manage

She advanced. The child threw herself shrieking on the floor. Miss Wigger's long arms caught her upheld

hershook her. "Be quiet, you imp!" It was needless to tell her to be quiet. Syd's little curly head sank on the

schoolmistress's shoulder. She was carried into exile without a word or a cryshe had fainted.

Dating from one unkempt and unacknowledged birthday to another, Sydney Westerfield had attained the

sixth year of her martyrdom at School. In that long interval no news of her mother, her brother, or her

stepfather had reached England; she had received no letter, she had not even heard a report. Without friends,

and without prospects, Roderick Westerfield's daughter was, in the saddest sense of the word, alone in the

The hands of the ugly old clock in the schoolroom were approaching the time when the studies of the

morning would come to an end. Wearily waiting for their release, the scholars saw an event happen which

was a novelty in their domestic experience. The maidofallwork audaciously put her head in at the door,

Having uttered these introductory words, she was reduced to silence by the tremendous voice of her mistress.

Hardened by a life of drudgery, under conditions of perpetual scolding, the servant stood her ground, and

"There's a gentleman in the drawingroom," she persisted. Miss Wigger tried to interrupt her again. "And

Being a mortal creature, the schoolmistress was accessible to the promptings of curiosity. She snatched the

Mr. Herbert Linley, Mount Morven, Perthshire. "I don't know this person," Miss Wigger declared. "You

Miss Wigger referred to the card again, and discovered (faintly traced in pencil) these words: "To see Miss

The schoolmistress instantly looked at Miss Westerfield. Miss Westerfield rose from her place at the head of

The pupils, astonished at this daring act, all looked at the teachertheir natural enemy, appointed to supply

them with undesired information derived from hated books. They saw one of Mother Nature's favorite

daughters; designed to be the darling of her family, and the conqueror of hearts among men of all tastes and

ages. But Sydney Westerfield had lived for six weary years in the place of earthly torment, kept by Miss

Wigger under the name of a school. Every budding beauty, except the unassailable beauty of her eyes and her

hair, had been nipped under the frosty superintendence of her maternal aunt. Her cheeks were hollow, her

delicate lips were pale; her shabby dress lay flat over her bosom. Observant people, meeting her when she

was out walking with the girls, were struck by her darkly gentle eyes, and by the patient sadness of her

expression. "What a pity!" they said to each other. "She would be a pretty girl, if she didn't look so wretched

At a loss to understand the audacity of her teacher in rising before the class was dismissed, Miss Wigger

"Sydney Westerfield, you are setting the worst possible example to your class. I shall see this man myself.

Pale already, Sydney turned paler still. She obeyed the word of commandto the delight of the girls of her

class. It was then within ten minutes of the half hour after twelvewhen the pupils were dismissed to the

playground while the cloth was laid for dinner. What use would the teacher make of that half hour of

In the meanwhile Miss Wigger had entered her drawingroom. With the slightest possible inclination of her

head, she eyed the stranger through her green spectacles. Even under that disadvantage his appearance spoke

for itself. The servant's estimate of him was beyond dispute. Mr. Herbert Linley's good breeding was even

capable of suppressing all outward expression of the dismay that he felt, on finding himself face to face with

Men, animals, and buildings wear out with years, and submit to their hard lot. Time only meets with flat

contradiction when he ventures to tell a woman that she is growing old. Herbert Linley had rashly anticipated

that the "young lady," whom it was the object of his visit to see, would prove to be young in the literal sense

of the word. When he and Miss Wigger stood face to face, if the door had been set open for him, he would

"I have taken the liberty of calling," he said, "in answer to an advertisement. May I ask"he paused, and

took out a newspaper from the pocket of his overcoat"If I have the honor of speaking to the lady who is

Miss Wigger's eyes restednot on the passage indicated, but on the visitor's glove. It fitted him to such

perfection that it suggested the enviable position in life which has gloves made to order. He politely pointed

again. Still inaccessible to the newspaper, Miss Wigger turned her spectacles next to the front window of the

room, and discovered a handsome carriage waiting at the door. (Money evidently in the pockets of those

beautiful trousers, worthy of the gloves!) As patiently as ever, Linley pointed for the third time, and drew

Miss Wigger's attention in the right direction at last. She read the advertisement.

"A Young Lady wishes to be employed in the education of a little girl. Possessing but few accomplishments,

and having been only a junior teacher at a school, she offers her services on trial, leaving it to her employer to

pay whatever salary she may be considered to deserve, if she obtains a permanent engagement. Apply by

Mr. Linley attempted to pacify this terrible woman. "It's very stupid of me," he said; "I am afraid I don't quite

"One of my teachers has issued an advertisement, and has referred to My address, without first consulting

Me. Have I made myself understood, sir?" She looked at the carriage again, when she called him "sir."

Not even Linley's capacity for selfrestraint could repress the expression of relief, visible in his brightening

face, when he discovered that the lady of the advertisement and the lady who terrified him were two different

"Perfectly, madam. At the same time, I am afraid I must own that the advertisement has produced a favorable

"There is surely," Linley repeated, "something straightforwardI might almost say, something innocentin

the manner in which the writer expresses herself. She seems to be singularly modest on the subject of her

own attainments, and unusually considerate of the interests of others. I hope you will permit me?"

Before he could add, "to see the young lady," the door was opened: a young lady entered the room.

Was she the writer of the advertisement? He felt sure of it, for no better reason than this: the moment he

looked at her she interested him. It was an interest new to Linley, in his experience of himself There was

nothing to appeal to his admiration (by way of his senses) in the pale, worn young creature who stood near

the door, resigned beforehand to whatever reception she might meet with. The poor teacher made him think

of his happy young wife at homeof his pretty little girl, the spoiled child of the household. He looked at

She answered gently, but not timidly. The tone in which the mistress had spoken had evidently not shaken her

"I wish to know," she said, "if this gentleman desires to see me on the subject of my advertisement?"

"Your advertisement?" Miss Wigger repeated. "Miss Westerfield! how dare you beg for employment in a

"I only waited to tell you what I had done, till I knew whether my advertisement would be answered or not."

She spoke as calmly as before, still submitting to the insolent authority of the schoolmistress with a steady

fortitude very remarkable in any girland especially in a girl whose face revealed a sensitive nature. Linley

approached her, and said his few kind words before Miss Wigger could assert herself for the third time.

"I am afraid I have taken a liberty in answering you personally, when I ought to have answered by letter. My

only excuse is that I have no time to arrange for an interview, in London, by correspondence. I live in

She understood him only too well. For the first time, poor soul, in the miserable years of her school life, she

saw eyes that rested on her with the sympathy that is too truly felt to be uttered in words. The admirable

resignation which had learned its first hard lesson under her mother's neglectwhich had endured, in

afteryears, the daily persecution that heartless companionship so well knows how to inflictfailed to

sustain her, when one kind look from a stranger poured its balm into the girl's sore heart. Her head sank; her

wasted figure trembled; a few tears dropped slowly on the bosom of her shabby dress. She tried, desperately

tried, to control herself. "I beg your pardon, sir," was all she could say; "I am not very well."

Miss Wigger tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the door. "Are you well enough to see your way out?"

Linley turned on the wretch with a mind divided between wonder and disgust. "Good God, what has she done

Miss Wigger's mouth widened; Miss Wigger's forehead developed new wrinkles. To own it plainly, the

When it is of serious importance to a man to become acquainted with a woman's true naturesay, when he

contemplates marriagehis one poor chance of arriving at a right conclusion is to find himself provoked by

exasperating circumstances, and to fly into a passion. If the lady flies into a passion on her side, he may rely

on it that her faults are more than balanced by her good qualities. If, on the other hand, she exhibits the most

admirable selfcontrol, and sets him an example which ought to make him ashamed of himself, he has seen a

Miss Wigger's selfcontrol put Herbert Linley in the wrong, before she took the trouble of noticing what he

"If you were not out of temper," she replied, "I might have told you that I don't allow my house to be made an

office for the engagement of governesses. As it is, I merely remind you that your carriage is at the door."

Sydney turned away to leave the room. Linley opened the door for her. "Don't be discouraged," he whispered

as she passed him; "you shall hear from me." Having said this, he made his parting bow to the schoolmistress.

Miss Wigger held up a peremptory forefinger, and stopped him on his way out. He waited, wondering what

"You are in the house of a gentlewoman," Miss Wigger explained. "My servant attends visitors, when they

leave me." A faint smell of soap made itself felt in the room; the maid appeared, wiping her smoking arms on

Leaving the house, Linley slipped a bribe into the servant's hand. "I am going to write to Miss Westerfield,"

He was surprised by the fervor with which the girl answered him. Absolutely without vanity, he had no

suspicion of the value which his winning manner, his kind brown eyes, and his sunny smile had conferred on

his little gift of money. A handsome man was an eighth wonder of the world, at Miss Wigger's school.

At the first stationer's shop that he passed, he stopped the carriage and wrote his letter.

"I shall be glad indeed if I can offer you a happier life than the life you are leading now. It rests with you to

help me do this. Will you send me the address of your parents, if they are in London, or the name of any

friend with whom I can arrange to give you a trial as governess to my little girl? I am waiting your answer in

the neighborhood. If any hinderance should prevent you from replying at once, I add the name of the hotel at

which I am stayingso that you may telegraph to me, before I leave London tonight."

The stationer's boy, inspired by a private view of halfacrown, set off at a runand returned at a run with a

"I have neither parents nor friends, and I have just been dismissed from my employment at the school.

Without references to speak for me, I must not take advantage of your generous offer. Will you help me to

bear my disappointment, permitting me to see you, for a few minutes only, at your hotel? Indeed, indeed, sir,

I am not forgetful of what I owe to my respect for you, and my respect for myself. I only ask leave to satisfy

you that I am not quite unworthy of the interest which you have been pleased to feel inS.W."

In those sad words, Sydney Westerfield announced that she had completed her education.

NOT far from the source of the famous river, which rises in the mountains between Loch Katrine and Loch

Lornond, and divides the Highlands and the Lowlands of Scotland, travelers arrive at the venerable gray

walls of Mount Morven; and, after consulting their guide books, ask permission to see the house.

What would be called, in a modern place of residence, the first floor, is reserved for the occupation of the

family. The great hall of entrance, and its quaint old fireplace; the ancient rooms on the same level opening

out of it, are freely shown to strangers. Cultivated travelers express various opinions relating to the family

portraits, and the elaborately carved ceilings. The uninstructed public declines to trouble itself with criticism.

It looks up at the towers and the loopholes, the battlements and the rusty old guns, which still bear witness to

the perils of past times when the place was a fortressit enters the gloomy hall, walks through the

stonepaved rooms, stares at the faded pictures, and wonders at the lofty chimneypieces hopelessly out of

reach. Sometimes it sits on chairs which are as cold and as hard as iron, or timidly feels the legs of

immovable tables which might be legs of elephants so far as size is concerned. When these marvels have

been duly admired, and the guide books are shut up, the emancipated tourists, emerging into the light and air,

all find the same social problem presented by a visit to Mount Morven: "How can the family live in such a

If these strangers on their travels had been permitted to ascend to the first floor, and had been invited (for

example) to say goodnight to Mrs. Linley's pretty little daughter, they would have seen the stone walls of

Kitty's bedchamber snugly covered with velvet hangings which kept out the cold; they would have trod on a

doublylaid carpet, which set the chilly influences of the pavement beneath it at defiance; they would have

looked at a bright little bed, of the last new pattern, worthy of a child's delicious sleep; and they would only

have discovered that the room was three hundred years old when they had drawn aside the window curtains,

and had revealed the adamantine solidity of the outer walls. Or, if they had been allowed to pursue their

investigations a little further, and had found their way next into Mrs. Linley's sitting room, here again a

transformation scene would have revealed more modern luxury, presented in the perfection which implies

restraint within the limits of good taste. But on this occasion, instead of seeing the head of a lively little child

on the pillow, side by side with the head of her doll, they would have encountered an elderly lady of

considerable size, fast asleep and snoring in a vast armchair, with a book on her lap. The married men among

the tourists would have recognized a motherinlaw, and would have set an excellent example to the rest;

The lady composed under the soporific influence of literature was a person of importance in the

householding rank as Mrs. Linley's mother; and being otherwise noticeable for having married two

The first of these gentlementhe Right Honorable Joseph Normanhad been a member of Parliament, and

had taken office under Government. Mrs. Linley was his one surviving child. He died at an advanced age;

leaving his handsome widow (young enough, as she was always ready to mention, to be his daughter) well

provided for, and an object of matrimonial aspiration to single gentlemen who admired size in a woman, set

off by money. After hesitating for some little time, Mrs. Norman accepted the proposal of the ugliest and

dullest man among the ranks of her admirers. Why she became the wife of Mr. Presty (known in commercial

circles as a merchant enriched by the sale of vinegar) she was never able to explain. Why she lamented him,

with tears of sincere sorrow, when he died after two years of married life, was a mystery which puzzled her

nearest and dearest friends. And why when she indulged (a little too frequently) in recollections of her

married life, she persisted in putting obscure Mr. Presty on a level with distinguished Mr. Norman, was a

secret which this remarkable woman had never been known to reveal. Presented by their widow with the

strictest impartiality to the general view, the characters of these two husbands combined, by force of contrast,

the ideal of manly perfection. That is to say, the vices of Mr. Norman were the virtues of Mr. Presty; and the

Returning to the sittingroom after bidding Kitty goodnight, Mrs. Linley discovered the old lady asleep, and

saw that the book on her mother's lap was sliding off. Before she could check the downward movement, the

"It doesn't matter, my dear. I daresay I should go to sleep again, if I went on with my novel."

"Dull?" Mrs. Presty repeated. "You are evidently not aware of what the new school of novel writing is doing.

"Seriously, Catherineand gratefully. These new writers are so good to old women. No story to excite our

poor nerves; no improper characters to cheat us out of our sympathies, no dramatic situations to frighten us;

exquisite management of details (as the reviews say), and a masterly anatomy of human motives whichI

"I think I understand, mamma. A masterly anatomy of human motives which is in itself a motive of human

sleep. No; I won't borrow your novel just now. I don't want to go to sleep; I am thinking of Herbert in

"Your husband is no longer in London," she announced; "he has begun his journey home. Give me the

railway guide, and I'll tell you when he will be here tomorrow. You may trust me, Catherine, to make no

mistakes. Mr. Presty's wonderful knowledge of figures has been of the greatest use to me in later life. Thanks

to his instructions, I am the only person in the house who can grapple with the intricacies of our railway

system. Your poor father, Mr. Norman, could never understand timetables and never attempted to conceal

his deficiencies. He had none of the vanity (harmless vanity, perhaps) which led poor Mr. Presty to express

positive opinions on matters of which he knew nothing, such as pictures and music. What do you want,

The servant to whom this question was addressed answered: "A telegram, ma'am, for the mistress."

Mrs. Linley recoiled from the message when the man offered it to her. Not usually a very demonstrative

person, the feeling of alarm which had seized on her only expressed itself in a sudden change of color. "An

"If you had been the wife of a Cabinet Minister," she said to her daughter, "you would have been too well

used to telegrams to let them frighten you. Mr. Presty (who received his telegrams at his office) was not quite

just to the memory of my first husband. He used to blame Mr. Norman for letting me see his telegrams. But

Mr. Presty's nature had all the poetry in which Mr. Norman's nature was deficient. He saw the angelic side of

womenand thought telegrams and business, and all that sort of thing, unworthy of our mission. I don't

Hitherto, Mrs. Presty had only looked at the message. She now read it through attentively to the end. Her face

"Read it yourself," she answered; "and remember what I told you, when you trusted your husband to find a

governess for my grandchild. I said: 'You do not know men as I do.' I hope you may not live to repent it."

Mrs. Linley was too fond of her husband to let this pass. "Why shouldn't I trust him?" she asked. "He was

Mrs. Presty disposed of this weak defense of her daughter's conduct by waving her hand. "Read your

"I have engaged a governess. She will travel in the same train with me. I think I ought to prepare you to

receive a person whom you may be surprised to see. She is very young, and very inexperienced; quite unlike

the ordinary run of governesses. When you hear how cruelly the poor girl has been used, I am sure you will

"Poor dear Herbert!" she said tenderly. "After we have been eight years married, is he really afraid that I shall

Mrs. Presty took the telegram from her daughter and read extracts from it with indignant emphasis of voice

"Travels in the same train with him. Very young, and very inexperienced. And he sympathizes with her. Ha! I

Mr. Herbert Linley arrived at his own house in the forenoon of the next day. Mrs. Linley, running out to the

head of the stairs to meet her husband, saw him approaching her without a traveling companion. "Where is

the governess?" she askedwhen the first salutes allowed her the opportunity of speaking.

"On her way to bed, poor soul, under the care of the housekeeper," Linley answered.

"Anything infectious, my dear Herbert?" Mrs. Presty inquired appearing at the breakfastroom door.

"Nothing more serious, Catherine, than want of strength. She was in such a state of fatigue, after our long

Mrs. Presty listened with an appearance of the deepest interest. "Quite a novelty in the way of a governess,"

"My dear, I haven't a doubt that it is. May I ask another question?" the old lady continued, turning to Linley.

Mrs. Presty rose with the alacrity of a young woman, and hurried to the door. "Follow my example," she said

Linley drew a deep breath of relief when he was left alone with his wife. "What makes your mother so

"She doesn't approve, dear, of my leaving it to you to choose a governess for Kitty."

"Out on her pony for a ride over the hills. Why did you send a telegram, Herbert, to prepare me for the

Linley burst out laughing. "No such idea entered my head," he answered. "It isn't in you, my dear, to be

Mrs. Linley was not quite satisfied with this view of her character. Her husband's wellintended compliment

reminded her that there are occasions when any woman may be jealous, no matter how generous and how

gentle she may be. "We won't go quite so far as that," she said to him, "because" She stopped, unwilling to

dwell too long on a delicate subject. He jocosely finished the sentence for her. "Because we don't know what

may happen in the future?" he suggested; making another mistake by making a joke.

"I don't at all say what my mother says," she resumed; "but was it not just a little indiscreet to engage Miss

"Unless I am utterly mistaken," Linley replied, "you would have been quite as indiscreet, in my place. If you

His wife interrupted him. "How did all this happen, Herbert? Who first introduced you to Miss Westerfield?"

Linley mentioned the advertisement, and described his interview with the schoolmistress. Having next

acknowledged that he had received a visit from Miss Westerfield herself, he repeated all that she had been

able to tell him of her father's wasted life and melancholy end. Really interested by this time, Mrs. Linley was

eager for more information. Her husband hesitated. "I would rather you heard the rest of it from Miss

"Because she can speak to you more freely, when I am not present. Hear her tell her own story, and then let

me know whether you think I have made a mistake. I submit to your decision beforehand, whichever way it

Mrs. Linley rewarded him with a kiss. If a married stranger had seen them, at that moment, he would have

"And now," Linley resumed, "suppose we talk a little about ourselves. I haven't seen any brother yet. Where

"Staying at the farm to look after your interests. We expect him to come back today. Ah, Herbert, what do

we not all owe to that dear good brother of yours? There is really no end to his kindness. The last of our poor

Highland families who have emigrated to America have had their expenses privately paid by Randal The wife

has written to me, and has let out the secret. There is an American newspaper, among the letters that are

waiting your brother's return, sent to him as a little mark of attention by these good grateful people." Having

alluded to the neighbors who had left Scotland, Mrs. Linley was reminded of other neighbors who had

remained. She was still relating events of local interest, when the clock interrupted her by striking the hour of

the nursery dinner. What had become of Kitty? Mrs. Linley rose and rang the bell to make inquiries.

On the point of answering, the servant looked round at the open door behind him. He drew aside, and

revealed Kitty, in the corridor, hand in hand with Sydney Westerfieldwho timidly hesitated at entering the

room. "Here she is mamma," cried the child. "I think she's afraid of you; help me to pull her in."

Mrs. Linley advanced to receive the new member of her household, with the irresistible grace and kindness

which charmed every stranger who approached her. "Oh, it's all right," said Kitty. "Syd likes me, and I like

Syd. What do you think? She lived in London with a cruel woman who never gave her enough to eat. See

what a good girl I am? I'm beginning to feed her already." Kitty pulled a box of sweetmeats out of her pocket,

and handed it to the governess with a tap on the lid, suggestive of an old gentleman offering a pinch of snuff

"My dear child, you mustn't speak of Miss Westerfield in that way! Pray excuse her," said Mrs. Linley,

turning to Sydney with a smile; "I am afraid she has been disturbing you in your room."

Sydney's silent answer touched the mother's heart; she kissed her little friend. "I hope you will let her call me

Syd," she said gently; "it reminds me of a happier time." Her voice faltered; she could say no more. Kitty

explained, with the air of a grown person encouraging a child. "I know all about it, mamma. She means the

time when her papa was alive. She lost her papa when she was a little girl like me. I didn't disturb her. I only

said, 'My name's Kitty; may I get up on the bed?' And she was quite willing; and we talked. And I helped her

to dress." Mrs. Linley led Sydney to the sofa, and stopped the flow of her daughter's narrative. The look, the

voice, the manner of the governess had already made their simple appeal to her generous nature. When her

husband took Kitty's hand to lead her with him out of the room, she whispered as he passed: "You have done

Widely as the lot in life of one differed from the lot in life of the other, they presented a contrast in personal

appearance which was more remarkable still. In the prime of life, tall and fairthe beauty of her delicate

complexion and her brilliant blue eyes rivaled by the charm of a figure which had arrived at its mature

perfection of developmentMrs. Linley sat side by side with a frail little darkeyed creature, thin and pale,

whose wasted face bore patient witness to the three cruelest privations under which youth can sufferwant

of fresh air, want of nourishment, and want of kindness. The gentle mistress of the house wondered sadly if

this lost child of misfortune was capable of seeing the brighter prospect before her that promised enjoyment

"I was afraid to disturb you while you were resting," Mrs. Linley said. "Let me hope that my housekeeper has

"Don't call me 'madam'; it sounds so formalcall me 'Mrs. Linley.' You must not think of beginning to teach

Kitty till you feel stronger and better. I see but too plainly that you have not been happy. Don't think of your

"Forgive me, Mrs. Linley; my past life is my one excuse for having ventured to come into this house."

At the moment when that question was put, the closed curtains which separated the breakfastroom from the

library were softly parted in the middle. A keen old face, strongly marked by curiosity and distrust, peeped

The introduction of a stranger (without references) into the intimacy of the family circle was, as Mrs. Presty

viewed it, a crisis in domestic history. Conscience, with its customary elasticity, adapted itself to the

emergency, and Linley's motherinlaw stole information behind the curtainin Linley's best interests, it is

The talk of the two ladies went on, without a suspicion on either side that it was overheard by a third person.

"If I had led a happier life," she said, "I might have been able to resist Mr. Linley's kindness. I concealed

nothing from him. He knew that I had no friends to speak for me; he knew that I had been dismissed from my

employment at the school. Oh, Mrs. Linley, everything I said which would have made other people

suspicious of me made him feel for me! I began to wonder whether he was an angel or a man. If he had not

prevented it, I should have fallen on my knees before him. Hard looks and hard words I could have endured

patiently, but I had not seen a kind look, I had not heard a kind word, for more years than I can reckon up.

"Say my sympathy," Mrs. Linley answered, "and you need say no more.. But there is one thing I should like

to know. You have not spoken to me of your mother. Have you lost both your parents?"

A third short answer would have been no very grateful return for Mrs. Linley's kindness. Sydney had no

"Are there such women in the world!" Mrs. Linley exclaimed. "Where is your mother now?"

"My mother married again," said Sydney. "She went to America with her husband and my little brother, six

This time, Mrs. Linley kept silence; not without an effort. Thinking of Sydney's motherand for one morbid

moment seeing her own little darling in Sydney's placeshe was afraid to trust herself to speak while the

"I will only hope," she replied, after waiting a little, "that some kind person pitied and helped you when you

were deserted. Any change must have been for the better after that. Who took charge of you?"

"My mother's sister took charge of me, an elder sister, who kept a school. The time when I was most unhappy

was the time when my aunt began to teach me. 'If you don't want to be beaten, and kept on bread and water,'

"Oh, no! I was taken into her school for nothing, and, young as I was, I was expected to earn my food and

shelter by being fit to teach the lowest class. The girls hated me. It was such a wretched life that I hardly like

to speak of it now. I ran away, and I was caught, and severely punished. When I grew older and wiser, I tried

to find some other employment for myself. The elder girls bought penny journals that published stories. They

were left about now and then in the bedrooms. I read the stories when I had the chance. Even my ignorance

discovered how feeble and foolish they were. They encouraged me to try if I could write a story myself; I

couldn't do worse, and I might do better. I sent my manuscript to the editor. It was accepted and printedbut

when I wrote and asked him if he would pay me something for it, he refused. Dozens of ladies, he said, wrote

stories for him for nothing. It didn't matter what the stories were. Anything would do for his readers, so long

as the characters were lords and ladies, and there was plenty of love in it. My next attempt to get away from

the school ended in another disappointment. A poor old man, who had once been an actor, used to come to us

twice a week, and get a few shillings by teaching the girls to read aloud. He was called 'Professor of English

Literature,' and he taught out of a ragged book of verses which smelled of his pipe. I learned one of the pieces

and repeated it to him, and asked if there was any hope of my being able to go on the stage. He was very

kind; he told me the truth. 'My dear, you have no dramatic ability; God forbid you should go on the stage.' I

went back again to the penny journals, and tried a new editor. He seemed to have more money than the other

one; or perhaps he was kinder. I got ten shillings from him for my story. With that money I made my last

attemptI advertised for a situation as governess. If Mr. Linley had not seen my advertisement, I might have

starved in the streets. When my aunt heard of it, she insisted on my begging her pardon before the whole

school. Do girls get half maddened by persecution? If they do, I think I must have been one of those girls. I

refused to beg pardon; and I was dismissed from my situation without a character. Will you think me very

foolish? I shut my eyes again, when I woke in my delicious bed today. I was afraid that the room, and

everything in it, was a dream." She looked round, and started to her feet. "Oh, here's a lady! Shall I go away?"

The curtains hanging over the entrance to the library were opened for the second time. With composure and

"Have you been reading in the library?" Mrs. Linley asked. And Mrs. Presty answered: "No, Catherine; I

Mrs. Linley looked at her mother; her lovely complexion reddened with a deep blush.

Mrs. Linley showed some hesitation. What would the governess think of her mother? Perfectly careless of

what the governess might think, Mrs. Presty crossed the room and introduced herself.

"Miss Westerfield, I am Mrs. Linley's mother. And I am, in one respect, a remarkable person. When I form an

opinion and find it's the opinion of a fool, I am not in the least ashamed to change my mind. I have changed

"I had the worst possible opinion of you," Mrs. Presty resumed, "before I had the pleasure of listening on the

other side of the curtain. It has been my good fortunewhat's your Christian name? Did I hear it? or have I

forgotten it? 'Sydney,' eh? Very well. I was about to say, Sydney, that it has been my good fortune to be

intimately associated, in early life, with two remarkable characters. Husbands of mine, in short, whose

influence over me has, I am proud to say, set death and burial at defiance. Between them they have made my

mind the mind of a man. I judge for myself. The opinions of others (when they don't happen to agree with

mine) I regard as chaff to be scattered to the winds. No, Catherine, I am not wandering. I am pointing out to a

young person, who has her way to make in the world, the vast importance, on certain occasions, of possessing

an independent mind. If I had been ashamed to listen behind those curtains, there is no injury that my stupid

prejudices might not have inflicted on this unfortunate girl. As it is, I have heard her story, and I do her

justice. Count on me, Sydney, as your friend, and now get up again. My grandchild (never accustomed to

wait for anything since the day when she was born) is waiting dinner for you. She is at this moment shouting

for her governess, as King Richard (I am a great reader of Shakespeare) once shouted for his horse. The maid

(you will recognize her as a stout person suffering under tight stays) is waiting outside to show you the way

to the nursery. Au revoir. Stop! I should like to judge the purity of your French accent. Say 'au revoir' to me.

Thank you.Weak in her French, Catherine," Mrs. Presty pronounced, when the door had closed on the

governess; "but what can you expect, poor wretch, after such a life as she has led? Now we are alone, I have a

word of advice for your private ear. We have much to anticipate from Miss Westerfield that is pleasant and

encouraging. But I don't conceal it from myself or from you, we have also something to fear."

"Never mind, Catherine, whether you understand me or not. I want more information. Tell me what your

Wondering at the demon of curiosity which appeared to possess her mother, Mrs. Linley obeyed. Listening

throughout with the closest attention, Mrs. Presty reckoned up the items of information, and pointed the

"First obstacle in the way of her moral development, her fathertried, found guilty, and dying in prison.

Second obstacle, her motheran unnatural wretch who neglected and deserted her own flesh and blood.

Third obstacle, her mother's sisterbeing her mother over again in an aggravated form. People who only

look at the surface of things might ask what we gain by investigating Miss Westerfield's past life. We gain

"Say she's naturally an angel," Mrs. Presty answered; "and I won't contradict you. But do pray hear how my

experience looks at it. I remember what a life she has led, and I ask myself if any human creature could have

suffered as that girl has suffered without being damaged by it. Among those damnable peopleI beg your

pardon, my dear; Mr. Norman sometimes used strong language, and it breaks out of me now and thenthe

good qualities of that unfortunate young person can not have always resisted the horrid temptations and

contaminations about her. Hundreds of times she must have had deceit forced on her; she must have lied,

through ungovernable fear; she must have been left (at a critical time in her life, mind!) with no more

warning against the insidious advances of the passions thanthanI'm repeating what Mr. Presty said of a

niece of his own, who went to a bad school at Paris; and I don't quite remember what comparisons that

eloquent man used when he was excited. But I know what I mean. I like Miss Westerfield; I believe Miss

Westerfield will come out well in the end. But I don't forget that she is going to lead a new life herea life

of luxury, my dear; a life of ease and health and happinessand God only knows what evil seed sown in her,

in her past life, may not spring up under new influences. I tell you we must be careful; I tell you we must

keep our eyes open. And so much the better for Her. And so much the better for Us."

Mrs. Presty's wise and wary advice (presented unfavorably, it must be owned, through her inveterately quaint

way of expressing herself) failed to produce the right impression on her daughter's mind. Mrs. Linley replied

"Oh, mamma, I never knew you so unjust before! You can't have heard all that Miss Westerfield said to me.

You don't know her, as I know her. So patient, so forgiving, so grateful to Herbert."

"So grateful to Herbert." Mrs. Presty looked at her daughter in silent surprise. There could be no doubt about

it; Mrs. Linley failed entirely to see any possibilities of future danger in the grateful feeling of her sensitive

governess toward her handsome husband. At this exhibition of simplicity, the old lady's last reserves of

endurance gave way: she rose to go. "You have an excellent heart, Catherine," she remarked; "but as for your

"It's always beautifully dressed, my dear, by your maid." With that parting shot, Mrs. Presty took her

departure by way of the library. Almost at the same moment, the door of the breakfastroom was opened. A

Selfrevealed by the family likeness as Herbert's brother, Randal Linley was nevertheless greatly Herbert's

inferior in personal appearance. His features were in no way remarkable for manly beauty. In stature, he

hardly reached the middle height; and young as he was, either bad habit or physical weakness had so affected

the upper part of his figure that he stooped. But with these, and other disadvantages, there was something in

his eyes, and in his smilethe outward expression perhaps of all that was modestly noble in his natureso

irresistible in its attractive influence that men, women, and children felt the charm alike. Inside of the house,

and outside of the house, everybody was fond of Randal; even Mrs. Presty included.

"Have you seen a new face among us, since you returned? were his sisterinlaw's first words. Randal

answered that he had seen Miss Westerfield. The inevitable question followed. What did he think of her? "I'll

"I don't like trusting my first impression; I have a bad habit of jumping to conclusions."

Randal smiled and looked away. "Your governess," he replied, "looks out of health, and (perhaps for that

reason) strikes me as being insignificant and ugly. Let us see what our fine air and our easy life here will do

for her. In so young a woman as she is, I am prepared for any sort of transformation. We may be all admiring

pretty Miss Westerfield before another month is over our heads.Have any letters come for me while I have

He went into the library and returned with his letters. "This will amuse Kitty," he said, handing his

sisterinlaw the illustrated New York newspaper, to which she had already referred in speaking to her

Mrs. Linley examined the engravingsand turned back again to look once more at an illustration which had

interested her. A paragraph on the same page caught her attention. She had hardly glanced at the first words

before a cry of alarm escaped her. "Dreadful news for Miss Westerfield!" she exclaimed. "Read it, Randal."

"The week's list of insolvent traders includes an Englishman named James Bellbridge, formerly connected

with a disreputable saloon in this city. Bellbridge is under suspicion of having caused the death of his wife in

a fit of delirium tremens. The unfortunate woman had been married, for the first time, to one of the English

aristocracythe Honorable Roderick Westerfieldwhose trial for casting away a ship under his command

excited considerable interest in London some years since. The melancholy circumstances of the case are

complicated by the disappearance, on the day of the murder, of the woman's young son by her first husband.

The poor boy is supposed to have run away in terror from his miserable home, and the police are endeavoring

to discover some trace of him. It is reported that another child of the first marriage (a daughter) is living in

"Serious news for Miss Westerfield, as you say," Randal resumed. "And, as I think, serious news for us. Here

is a mere girla poor friendless creatureabsolutely dependent on our protection. What are we to do if

The members of the family at Mount Morven consulted together, before Sydney Westerfield was informed of

Speaking first, as master of the house, Herbert Linley offered his opinion without hesitation. His impulsive

kindness shrank from the prospect of reviving the melancholy recollections associated with Sydney's

domestic life. "Why distress the poor child, just as she is beginning to feel happy among us?" he asked. "Give

His wife drew the newspaper out of his reach. "Wait a little," she said, quietly; "some of us may feel that it is

Mrs. Presty spoke next. To the surprise of the family council , she agreed with her soninlaw.

"Somebody must speak out," the old lady began; "and I mean to set the example. Telling the truth," she

declared, turning severely to her daughter, "is a more complicated affair than you seem to think. It's a

question of morality, of course; butin family circles, my dearit's sometimes a question of convenience as

well. Is it convenient to upset my granddaughter's governess, just as she is entering on her new duties?

Certainly not! Good heavens, what does it matter to my young friend Sydney whether her unnatural mother

lives or dies? Herbert, I second your proposal to tear up the paper with the greatest pleasure."

Herbert, sitting next to Randal, laid his hand affectionately on his brother's shoulder. "Are you on our side?"

"I feel inclined to agree with you," he said to Herbert. "It does seem hard to recall Miss Westerfield to the

miserable life that she has led, and to do it in the way of all others which must try her fortitude most cruelly.

"Oh, don't spoil what you have said by seeing the other side of the question!" cried his brother "You have

"At the same time," Randal gently persisted, "I have heard no reasons which satisfy me that we have a right

This serious view of the question in debate highly diverted Mrs. Presty. "I do not like that man," she

announced, pointing to Randal; "he always amuses me. Look at him now! He doesn't know which side he is

Randal tried to set his strange reply in the right light. "I only mean," he explained, "that I want a little time to

Herbert gave up the dispute and appealed to his wife. "You have still got the American newspaper in your

Quietly and firmly Mrs. Linley answered: "I mean to show it to Miss Westerfield."

"Against my opinion? Against your mother's opinion?" Herbert asked. "Have we no influence over you? Do

She answered this with her customary calmness of manner and sweetness of tone. "I am afraid I must appear

obstinate; but it is indeed true that I want no time to think; my duty is too plain to me."

Her husband and her mother listened to her in astonishment. Too amiable and too happyand it must be

added too indolentto assert herself in the ordinary emergencies of family life, Mrs. Linley only showed of

what metal she was made on the very rare occasions when the latent firmness in her nature was stirred to its

innermost depths. The general experience of this sweettempered and delightful woman, ranging over long

intervals of time, was the only experience which remained in the memories of the persons about her. In

bygone days, they had been amazed when her unexpected readiness and firmness of decision presented an

Herbert tried a last remonstrance. "Is it possible, Catherine, that you don't see the cruelty of showing that

Even this appeal to Mrs. Linley's sympathies failed to shake her resolution. "You may trust me to be careful,"

was all she said in reply; "I shall prepare her as tenderly for the sad news from America, as if she was a

Hearing this, Mrs. Presty showed a sudden interest in the proceedings "When do you mean to begin?" she

Mrs. Presty broke up the meeting on the spot. "Wait till I am out of the way," she stipulated. "Do you object

to Herbert giving me his arm? Distressing scenes are not in his line or in mine."

Mrs. Linley made no objection. Herbert resigned himself (not at all unwillingly) to circumstances. Arm in

Randal showed no intention of following them; he had given himself time to think. "We are all wrong,

She took his hand gratefully. "Always kind! Never thinking of yourself! I will see Miss Westerfield in my

After a much shorter absence than Randal anticipated, Mrs. Linley returned. "Has it been very distressing?"

"There are noble qualities," she answered, "in that poor illused girl. Her one thought, as soon as she began

to understand my motive in speaking to her, was not for herself, but for me. Even you, a man, must have felt

the tears in your eyes, if you had heard her promise that I should suffer no further anxiety on her account.

'You shall see no distressing change in me,' she said, 'when we meet tomorrow.' All she asked was to be left

in her room for the rest of the day. I feel sure of her resolution to control herself; and yet I should like to

encourage her if I can. Her chief sorrow (as it seems to me) must benot for the mother who has so

shamefully neglected herbut for the poor little brother, a castaway lost in a strange land. Can we do

"I can write," Randal said. "to a man whom I know in New York; a lawyer in large practice."

The letter was dispatched. It was decidedand wisely decided, as the result provedto say nothing to

Sydney until the answer was received. Randal's correspondent wrote back with as little delay as possible. He

had made every inquiry without success. Not a trace of the boy had been found, or (in the opinion of the

police) was likely to be found. The one event that had happened, since the appearance of the paragraph in the

New York journal, was the confinement of James Bellbridge in an asylum, as a madman under restraint

Mrs. Presty had not very seriously exaggerated the truth, when she described her muchindulged

granddaughter as "a child who had never been accustomed to wait for anything since the day when she was

Governesses in general would have found it no easy matter to produce a favorable impression on Kitty, and to

exert the necessary authority in instructing her, at the same time. Spoiled children (whatever moralists may

say to the contrary) are companionable and affectionate children, for the most partexcept when they

encounter the unfortunate persons employed to introduce them to useful knowledge. Mr. and Mrs. Linley

(guiltily conscious of having been too fond of their only child to subject her to any sort of discipline) were

not very willing to contemplate the prospect before Miss Westerfield on her first establishment in the

schoolroom. To their surprise and relief there proved to be no cause for anxiety after all. Without making an

attempt to assert her authority, the new governess succeeded nevertheless when older and wiser women

The secret of Sydney's triumph over adverse circumstances lay hidden in Sydney herself.

Everything in the ordinary routine of life at Mount Morven was a source of delight and surprise to the

unfortunate creature who had passed through six years of cruelty, insult, and privation at her aunt's school

Look where she might, in her new sphere of action, she saw pleasant faces and heard kind words. At meal

times, wonderful achievements in the art of cookery appeared on the table which she had not only never

tasted, but never even heard of. When she went out walking with her pupil they were free to go where they

pleased, without restriction of timeexcept the time of dinner. To breathe the delicious air, to look at the

glorious scenery, were enjoyments so exquisitely exhilarating that, by Sydney's own confession, she became

quite light headed with pleasure. She ran races with Kittyand nobody reproved her. She rested, out of

breath, while the stronger child was ready to run onand no merciless voice cried "None of your laziness;

time's up!" Wild flowers that she had never yet seen might be gathered, and no offense was committed. Kitty

told her the names of the flowers, and the names of the summer insects that flashed and hummed in the

hillside breezes; and was so elated at teaching her governess that her rampant spirits burst out in singing.

"Your turn next," the joyous child cried, when she too was out of breath. "Sing, Sydneysing!" Alas for

Sydney! She had not sung since those happiest days of her childhood, when her good father had told her fairy

stories, and taught her songs. They were all forgotten now. "I can't sing, Kitty; I can't sing." The pupil,

hearing this melancholy confession, became governess once more. "Say the words, Syd; and hum the tune

after me." They laughed over the singing lesson, until the echoes of the hills mocked them, and laughed too.

Looking into the schoolroom, one day, Mrs. Linley found that the serious business of teaching was not

neglected. The lessons went on smoothly, without an obstacle in the way. Kitty was incapable of

disappointing her friend and playfellow, who made learning easy with a smile and a kiss. The balance of

authority was regulated to perfection in the lives of these two simple creatures. In the schoolroom, the

governess taught the child. Out of the schoolroom, the child taught the governess. Division of labor was a

principle in perfect working order at Mount Morvenand nobody suspected it! But, as the weeks followed

each other, one more remarkable circumstance presented itself which every person in the household was

equally quick to observe. The sad Sydney Westerfield whom they all pitied had now become the pretty

Sydney Westerfield whom they all admired. It was not merely a changeit was a transformation. Kitty stole

the handglass from her mother's room, and insisted that her governess should take it and look at herself.

"Papa says you're as plump as a partridge; and mamma says you're as fresh as a rose; and Uncle Randal wags

his head, and tells them he saw it from the first. I heard it all when they thought I was playing with my

dolland I want to know, you best of nice girls, what you think of your own self?"

"He didn't go out walking with mebefore you came here. I've been thinking about it; and I'm sure papa

"Yesbut I haven't quite done yet. Papa talks a good deal to you, and you don't talk much to papa. Don't you

Kitty considered a little, and shook her head. "I don't understand that," she declared roundly. "What do you

Kitty placed a suspicious construction of her own on her governess's sudden silence. "Perhaps you don't like

my wanting to know so many things," she suggested. "Or perhaps you meant to puzzle me?"

In the autumn holidaytime friends in the south, who happened to be visiting Scotland, were invited to stop at

Mount Morven on their way to the Highlands; and were accustomed to meet the neighbors of the Linleys at

dinner on their arrival. The time for this yearly festival had now come round again; the guests were in the

house; and Mr. and Mrs. Linley were occupied in making their arrangements for the dinnerparty. With her

unfailing consideration for every one about her, Mrs. Linley did not forget Sydney while she was sending out

her cards of invitation. "Our table will be full at dinner," she said to her husband; "Miss Westerfield had

Linley's wife looked at him as if she doubted the evidence of her own senses. "Fancy a man thinking of that!"

He laughed uneasily. "I don't know how I came to think of itunless it is that she wears the same dress

"Upon my word, you pay Miss Westerfield a compliment which you have never paid to me! Wear what I

That little tribute restored him to his place in his wife's estimation. "I may tell you now," she resumed, with

her gentle smile, "that you only remind me of what I had thought of already. My milliner is at work for Miss

"I am in earnest. Tomorrow is Sydney's birthday; and here is my present." She opened a jeweler's case, and

took out a plain gold bracelet. "Suggested by Kitty," she added, "pointing to an inlaid miniature portrait of the

child. Herbert read the inscription: To Sydney Westerfield with Catherine Linley's love. He gave the bracelet

back to his wife in silence; his manner was more serious than usualhe kissed her hand

For the first time, in all her past experience, she could look in the glass, and see herself prettily dressed, with

a gold bracelet on her arm. If we consider how men (in one way) and milliners (in another) profit by it, vanity

is surely to be reckoned, not among the vices but among the virtues of the sex. Will any woman, who speaks

the truth, hesitate to acknowledge that her first sensations of gratified vanity rank among the most exquisite

and most enduring pleasures that she has ever felt? Sydney locked her door, and exhibited herself to

herselfin the front view, the side view, and the back view (over the shoulder) with eyes that sparkled and

cheeks that glowed in a delicious confusion of pride and astonishment. She practiced bowing to strangers in

her new dress; she practiced shaking hands gracefully, with her bracelet well in view. Suddenly she stood still

before the glass and became serious and thoughtful. Kind and dear Mr. Linley was in her mind now. While

she was asking herself anxiously what he would think of her, Kittyarrayed in her new finery, as vain and

as happy as her governessdrummed with both fists outside the door, and announced at the top of her voice

that it was time to go downstairs. Sydney's agitation at the prospect of meeting the ladies in the

drawingroom added a charm of its own to the flush that her exercises before the glass had left on her face.

Shyly following instead of leading her little companion into the room, she presented such a charming

appearance of youth and beauty that the ladies paused in their talk to look at her. Some few admired Kitty's

governess with generous interest; the greater number doubted Mrs. Linley's prudence in engaging a girl so

very pretty and so very young. Little by little, Sydney's mannersimple, modest, shrinking from

observationpleaded in her favor even with the ladies who had been prejudiced against her at the outset.

When Mrs. Linley presented her to the guests, the most beautiful woman among them (Mrs. MacEdwin)

made room for her on the sofa, and with perfect tact and kindness set the stranger at her ease. When the

gentlemen came in from the dinnertable, Sydney was composed enough to admire the brilliant scene, and to

wonder again, as she had wondered already, what Mr. Linley would say to her new dress.

He looked at her with a momentary fervor of interest and admiration which made Sydney (so gratefully and

so guiltlessly attached to him) tremble with pleasure; he even stepped forward as if to approach her, checked

himself, and went back again among his guests. Now, in one part of the room, and now in another, she saw

him speaking to them. The one neglected person whom he never even looked at again, was the poor girl to

whom his approval was the breath of her life. Had she ever felt so unhappy as she felt now? No, not even at

Friendly Mrs. MacEdwin touched her arm. "My dear, you are losing your pretty color. Are you overcome by

Sydney expressed her sincere sense of the lady's kindness. Her commonplace excuse was a true excuseshe

Approaching the door, she found herself face to face with Mr. Linley. He had just been giving directions to

one of the servants, and was reentering the drawingroom. She stopped, trembling and cold; but, in the very

"You seem to avoid me, Mr. Linley," she began, addressing him with ceremonious respect, and keeping her

eyes on the ground. "I hope" she hesitated, and desperately looked at him"I hope I haven't done

In her knowledge of him, up to that miserable evening, he constantly spoke to her with a smile. She had never

yet seen him so serious and so inattentive as he was now. His eyes, wandering round the room, rested on Mrs.

Linleybrilliant and beautiful, and laughing gayly. Why was he looking at his wife with plain signs of

embarrassment in his face? Sydney piteously persisted in repeating her innocent question: "I hope I haven't

He seemed to be still reluctant to notice heron the one occasion of all others when she was looking her

"My dear child, it is impossible that you should offend me; you have misunderstood and mistaken me. Don't

He emphasized the kind intention which those words revealed by giving her his hand.

But the next moment he drew back. There was no disguising it, he drew back as if he wished to get away

from her. She noticed that his lips were firmly closed and his eyebrows knitted in a frown; he looked like a

man who was forcing himself to submit to some hard necessity that he hated or feared.

He had denied in the plainest and kindest terms that he was changed toward her. Was that not enough? It was

nothing like enough. The facts were there to speak for themselves: he was an altered man; anxiety, sorrow,

remorseone or the other seemed to have got possession of him. Judging by Mrs. Linley's gayety of manner,

What did it mean? Oh, the useless, hopeless question! And yet, again and again she asked herself: what did it

In bewildered wretchedness she lingered on the way to her room, and stopped at the end of a corridor.

On her right hand, a broad flight of old oak stairs led to the bedchambers on the second floor of the house.

On her left hand, an open door showed the stone steps which descended to the terrace and the garden. The

moonlight lay in all its loveliness on the flowerbeds and the grass, and tempted her to pause and admire it. A

prospect of sleepless misery was the one prospect before her that Sydney could see, if she retired to rest. The

cool night air came freshly up the vaulted tunnel in which the steps were set; the moonlit garden offered its

solace to the girl's sore heart. No curious womenservants appeared on the stairs that led to the

bedchambers. No inquisitive eyes could look at her from the windows of the ground floora solitude

abandoned to the curiosity of tourists. Sydney took her hat and cloak from the stand in a recess at the side of

The dinnerparty had come to an end; the neighbors had taken their departure; and the ladies at Mount

On the way to her room Mrs. Presty knocked at her daughter's door. "I want to speak to you, Catherine. Are

Robed in a dressinggown of delicatelymingled white and blue, and luxuriously accommodated on the

softest pillows that could be placed in an armchair, Mrs. Linley was meditating on the events of the evening.

"This has been the most successful party we have ever given," she said to her mother. "And did you notice

"It's about that girl I want to speak to you," Mrs. Presty answered, severely. "I had a higher opinion of her

Mrs. Linley pointed to an open door, communicating with a second and smaller bedchamber. "Not quite so

loud," she answered, "or you might wake Kitty. What has Miss Westerfield done to forfeit your good

Discreet Mrs. Presty asked leave to return to the subject at a future opportunity.

"I will merely allude now," she said, "to a change for the worse in your governess, which you might have

noticed when she left the drawingroom this evening. She had a word or two with Herbert at the door; and

Mrs. Linley laid herself back on her pillows and burst out laughing. "Black as thunder? Poor little Sydney,

what a ridiculous description of her! I beg your pardon, mamma; don't be offended."

"On the contrary, my dear, I am agreeably surprised. Your poor fathera man of remarkable judgment on

most subjectsnever thought much of your intelligence. He appears to have been wrong; you have evidently

inherited some of my sense of humor. However, that is not what I wanted to say; I am the bearer of good

Mrs. Linley's indignation expressed itself by a look which, for the moment at least, reduced her mother to

silence. Always equal to the occasion, however, Mrs. Presty's face assumed an expression of innocent

amazement, which would have produced a round of applause on the stage. "What have I said to make you

angry?" she inquired. "Surely, my dear, you and your husband are extraordinary people."

"Do you mean to tell me, mamma, that you have said to Herbert what you said just now to me?"

"Certainly. I mentioned it to Herbert in the course of the evening. He was excessively rude. He said: 'Tell

Mrs. Linley returned her mother's look of amazement, without her mother's eye for dramatic effect. "What

"If you will only let me speak, Catherine, I shall be happy to explain myself. You saw Mrs. MacEdwin

talking to me at the party. That good lady's heada feeble head, as all her friends admithas been

completely turned by Miss Westerfield. 'The first duty of a governess' (this foolish woman said to me) 'is to

win the affections of her pupils. My governess has entirely failed to make the children like her. A dreadful

temper; I have given her notice to leave my service. Look at that sweet girl and your little granddaughter! I

declare I could cry when I see how they understand each other and love each other.' I quote our charming

friend's nonsense, verbatim (as we used to say when we were in Parliament in Mr. Norman's time), for the

sake of what it led to. If, by any lucky chance, Miss Westerfield happens to be disengaged in the future, Mrs.

MacEdwin's house is open to herat her own time, and on her own terms. I promised to speak to you on the

subject, and I perform my promise. Think over it; I strongly advise you to think over it."

Even Mrs. Linley's good nature declined to submit to this. "I shall certainly not think over what cannot

"Goodnight, Catherine. Your temper doesn't seem to improve as you get older. Perhaps the excitement of

the party has been too much for your nerves. Try to get some sleep before Herbert comes up from the

Mrs. Linley refused even to let this pass unanswered. "Herbert is too considerate to disturb me, when his

friends keep him up late," she said. "On those occasions, as you may see for yourself, he has a bed in his

Mrs. Presty passed through the dressingroom on her way out. "A very comfortablelooking bed," she

remarked, in a tone intended to reach her daughter's ears. "I wonder Herbert ever leaves it."

The way to her own bedchamber led her by the door of Sydney's room. She suddenly stopped; the door was

Young or old, ladies are not in the habit of sleeping with their bedroom doors ajar. A strict sense of duty led

Mrs. Presty to listen outside. No sound like the breathing of a person asleep was to be heard. A strict sense of

duty conducted Mrs. Presty next into the room, and even encouraged her to approach the bed on tiptoe. The

bed was empty; the clothes had not been disturbed since it had been made in the morning!

The old lady stepped out into the corridor in a state of excitement, which greatly improved her personal

appearance. She looked almost young again as she mentally reviewed the list of vices and crimes which a

governess might commit, who had retired before eleven o'clock, and was not in her bedroom at twelve. On

further reflection, it appeared to be barely possible that Miss Westerfield might be preparing her pupil's

exercises for the next day. Mrs. Presty descended to the schoolroom on the first floor.

Was it within the limits of probability that she had been bold enough to join the party in the smokingroom?

In another minute, nevertheless, Mrs. Presty was at the door, listening. The men's voices were loud: they were

talking politics. She peeped through the keyhole; the smokers had, beyond all doubt, been left to themselves.

If the house had not been full of guests, Mrs. Presty would now have raised an alarm. As things were, the fear

of a possible scandal which the family might have reason to regret forced her to act with caution. In the

suggestive retirement of her own room, she arrived at a wise and wary decision. Opening her door by a few

inches, she placed a chair behind the opening in a position which commanded a view of Sydney's room.

Wherever the governess might be, her return to her bedchamber, before the servants were astir in the

morning, was a chance to be counted on. The nightlamp in the corridor was well alight; and a venerable

person, animated by a sense of duty, was a person naturally superior to the seductions of sleep. Before taking

the final precaution of extinguishing her candle, Mrs. Presty touched up her complexion, and resolutely

turned her back on her nightcap. "This is a case in which I must keep up my dignity," she decided, as she took

One man in the smokingroom appeared to be thoroughly weary of talking politics. That man was the master

Randal noticed the worn, preoccupied look in his brother's face, and determined to break up the meeting. The

opportunity for which he was waiting occurred in another minute. He was asked as a moderate politician to

decide between two guests, both members of Parliament, who were fast drifting into mere contradiction of

each other's secondhand opinions. In plain terms, they stated the matter in dispute: "Which of our political

parties deserves the confidence of the English people?" In plain terms, on his sides Randal answered: "The

party that lowers the taxes." Those words acted on the discussion like water on a fire. As members of

Parliament, the two contending politicians were naturally innocent of the slightest interest in the people or the

taxes; they received the new idea submitted to them in helpless silence. Friends who were listening began to

laugh. The oldest man present looked at his watch. In five minutes more the lights were out and the

Linley was the last to retirefevered by the combined influences of smoke and noise. His mind, oppressed

all through the evening, was as ill at ease as ever. Lingering, wakeful and irritable, in the corridor (just as

Sydney had lingered before him), he too stopped at the open door and admired the peaceful beauty of the

The sleepy servant, appointed to attend in the smoking room, asked if he should close the door. Linley

answered: "Go to bed, and leave it to me." Still lingering at the top of the steps, he too was tempted by the

refreshing coolness of the air. He took the key out of the lock; secured the door after he had passed through it;

With slow steps Linley crossed the lawn; his mind gloomily absorbed in thoughts which had never before

Arrived at the limits of the lawn, two paths opened before him. One led into a quaintly pretty inclosure,

cultivated on the plan of the old gardens at Versailles, and called the French Garden. The other path led to a

grassy walk, winding its way capriciously through a thick shrubbery. Careless in what direction he turned his

Except at certain points, where the moonlight found its way through open spaces in the verdure, the grassy

path which he was now following wound onward in shadow. How far he had advanced he had not noticed,

when he heard a momentary rustling of leaves at some little distance in advance of him. The faint breeze had

died away; the movement among the leaves had been no doubt produced by the creeping or the flying of

some creature of the night. Looking up, at the moment when he was disturbed by this trifling incident, he

noticed a bright patch of moonlight ahead as he advanced to a new turn in the path.

The instant afterward he was startled by the appearance of a figure, emerging into the moonlight from the

further end of the shrubbery, and rapidly approaching him. He was near enough to see that it was the figure of

a woman. Was it one of the female servants, hurrying back to the house after an interview with a sweetheart?

In his black evening dress, he was, in all probability, completely hidden by the deep shadow in which he

stood. Would he be less likely to frighten the woman if he called to her than if he allowed her to come close

A cry of alarm answered him. The figure stood still for a moment, and then turned back as if to escape him by

The figure stood still again. He showed himself in the moonlight, and discoveredSydney Westerfield.

"The garden was so quiet and prettyI thought there would be no harmplease let me go backI'm afraid

She tried to pass him. "My poor child!" he said, "what is there to be frightened about? I have been tempted

out by the lovely night, like you. Take my arm. It is so close in here among the trees. If we go back to the

She took his arm; he could feel her heart throbbing against it. Kindly silent, he led her back to the open space.

Some garden chairs were placed here and there; he suggested that she should rest for a while.

He yielded at once to the wish that she expressed. "You must let me take you back," he explained. "They are

all asleep at the house by this time. No! no! don't be frightened again. I have got the key of the door. The

She looked at him gratefully. "You are not offended with me now, Mr. Linley," she said. "You are like your

They ascended the steps which led to the door. Linley took the key from his pocket. It acted perfectly in

drawing back the lock; but the door, when he pushed it, resisted him. He put his shoulder against it, and

Had one of the servantssitting up later than usual after the party, and not aware that Mr. Linley had gone

into the gardennoticed the door, and carefully fastened the bolts on the inner side? That was exactly what

There was nothing for it but to submit to circumstances. Linley led the way down the steps again. "We are

Sydney listened in silent dismay. He seemed to be merely amused; he treated their common misfortune as

"There's nothing so very terrible in our situation," he reminded her. "The servants' offices will be opened

between six and seven o'clock; the weather is perfect; and the summerhouse in the French Garden has one

easychair in it, to my certain knowledge, in which you may rest and sleep. I'm sure you must be tiredlet

"Quite impossible. Besides" He was about to remind her of the evil construction which might be placed on

their appearance together, returning from the garden at an advanced hour of the night; but her innocence

pleaded with him to be silent. He only said, "You forget that we all sleep at the top of our old castle. There is

no knocker to the door, and no bell that rings upstairs. Come to the summerhouse. In an hour or two more

She took his arm in silence. They reached the French Garden without another word having passed between

The summerhouse had been designed, in harmony with the French taste of the last century, from a classical

model. It was a rough copy in wood of The Temple of Vesta at Rome. Opening the door for his companion,

Linley paused before he followed her in. A girl brought up by a careful mother would have understood and

appreciated his hesitation; she would have concealed any feeling of embarrassment that might have troubled

her at the moment, and would have asked him to come back and let her know when the rising of the sun

began. Neglected by her mother, worse than neglected by her aunt, Sydney's fearless ignorance put a question

which would have lowered the poor girl cruelly in the estimation of a stranger. "Are you going to leave me

Linley thought of his visit to the school, and remembered the detestable mistress. He excused Sydney; he felt

for her. She held the door open for him. Sure of himself, he entered the summerhouse.

As a mark of respect on her part, she offered the armchair to him: it was the one comfortable seat in the

neglected place. He insisted that she should take it; and, searching the summerhouse, found a wooden stool

for himself. The small circular room received but little of the dim outer lightthey were near each

"It seems so strange, Mr. Linley, for us to be out here." In the moment when she made that reply her

merriment vanished; she looked out sadly, through the open door, at the stillness of the night. "What should I

have done," she wondered, "if I had been shut out of the house by myself?" Her eyes rested on him timidly;

there was some thought in her which she shrank from expressing. She only said: "I wish I knew how to be

Her voice warned him that she was struggling with strong emotion. In one respect, men are all alike; they

hate to see a woman in tears. Linley treated her like a child; he smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.

"Nonsense!" he said gayly. "There is no merit in being kind to my good little governess."

She took that comforting handit was a harmless impulse that she was unable to resistshe bent over it,

and kissed it gratefully. He drew his hand away from her as if the soft touch of her lips had been fire that

There was an embarrassment in his manner, the inevitable result of his fear of himself if he faltered in the

resolute exercise of selfrestraint, which was perfectly incomprehensible to Sydney. He moved his seat back

a little, so as to place himself further away. Something in that action, at that time, shocked and humiliated

her. Completely misunderstanding him, she thought he was reminding her of the distance that separated them

in social rank. Oh, the shame of it! the shame of it! Would other governesses have taken a liberty with their

master? A fit of hysterical sobbing burst its way through her last reserves of selfcontrol; she started to her

She was leaning against the pedestal of a statue in the garden, panting, shuddering, a sight to touch the heart

of a far less sensitive man than the man who now approached her. "Sydney!" he said. "Dear little Sydney!"

She tried to speak to him in return. Breath and strength failed her together; she lifted her hand, vainly

grasping at the broad pedestal behind her; she would have fallen if he had not caught her in his arms. Her

head sank faintly backward on his breast. He looked at the poor little tortured face, turned up toward him in

the lovely moonlight. Again and again he had honorably restrained himselfhe was human; he was a

For the first time in her maiden's life, a man's lips touched her lips. All that had been perplexing and strange,

all that had been innocently wonderful to herself in the feeling that bound Sydney to her first friend, was a

mystery no more. Love lifted its veil, Nature revealed its secrets, in the one supreme moment of that kiss. She

At that crisis in their lives, they were saved by an accident; a poor little common accident that happens every

day. The spring in the bracelet that Sydney wore gave way as she held him to her; the bright trinket fell on the

grass at her feet. The man never noticed it. The woman saw her pretty ornament as it dropped from her

Cold and palewith horror of herself confessed in the action, simple as it wasshe drew back from him in

He was astounded. In tones that trembled with agitation, he said to her: "Are you ill?"

"Shameless and wicked," she answered. "Not ill." She pointed to the bracelet on the grass. "Take it up; I am

He remembered the inscription: "To Sydney Westerfield, with Catherine Linley's love." His head sank on his

breast; he understood her at last. "You despise me," he said, "and I deserve it."

"No; I despise myself. I have lived among vile people; and I am vile like them."

She moved a few steps away with a heavy sigh. "Kitty!" she said to herself. "Poor little Kitty!"

He followed her. "Why are you thinking of the child," he asked, "at such a time as this?"

She replied without returning or looking round; distrust of herself had inspired her with terror of Linley, from

"I can make but one atonement," she said. "We must see each other no more. I must say goodby to KittyI

He set her no example of resignation; he shrank from the prospect that she presented to him.

"Away from England! The further away from you the better for both of us. Help me with your interest; have

me sent to the new world in the west, with other emigrants. Give me something to look forward to that is not

shame and despair. Let me do something that is innocent and goodI may find a trace of my poor lost

"I dare not tell you that you are wrong," he said. "I only ask you to wait a little till we are calmer, before you

speak of the future again." He pointed to the summerhouse. "Go in, my poor girl. Rest, and compose

He left her, and paced up and down the formal walks in the garden. Away from the maddening fascination of

her presence, his mind grew clearer. He resisted the temptation to think of her tenderly; he set himself to

The moonlight was seen no more. Misty and starless, the dark sky spread its majestic obscurity over the earth.

Linley looked wearily toward the eastern heaven. The darkness daunted him; he saw in it the shadow of his

own sense of guilt. The gray glimmering of dawn, the songs of birds when the pure light softly climbed the

sky, roused and relieved him. With the first radiant rising of the sun he returned to the summerhouse.

"I must ask you to submit to a sacrifice of your own feelings," he began. "When I kept away from you in the

drawing room, last nightwhen my strange conduct made you fear that you had offended meI was trying

to remember what I owed to my good wife. I have been thinking of her again. We must spare her a discovery

too terrible to be endured, while her attention is claimed by the guests who are now in the house. In a week's

time they will leave us. Will you consent to keep up appearances? Will you live with us as usual, until we are

"It shall be done, Mr. Linley. I only ask one favor of you. My worst enemy is my own miserable wicked

He had only to examine his own heart, and to know what she meant. "Say no more," he answered sadly. "We

She shuddered at that open recognition of the guilty love which united them, in spite of their horror of it, and

took refuge from him in the summerhouse. Not a word more passed between them until the unbarring of

doors was heard in the stillness of the morning, and the smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney. Then

"You can get back to the house," he said. "Go up by the front stairs, and you will not meet the servants at this

early hour. If they do see you, you have your cloak on; they will think you have been in the garden earlier

than usual. As you pass the upper door, draw back the bolts quietly, and I can let myself in."

She bent her head in silence. He looked after her as she hastened away from him over the lawn; conscious of

admiring her, conscious of more than he dared realize to himself. When she disappeared, he turned back to

wait where she had been waiting. With his sense of the duty he owed to his wife penitently present to his

mind, the memory of that fatal kiss still left its vivid impression on him. "What a scoundrel I am!" he said to

himself as he stood alone in the summerhouse, looking at the chair which she had just left.

A clever old lady, possessed of the inestimable advantages of worldly experience, must submit nevertheless

to the laws of Nature. Time and Sleep togetherpowerful agents in the small hours of the morninghad got

the better of Mrs. Presty's resolution to keep awake. Free from discovery, Sydney ascended the stairs. Free

Halfanhour later, Linley opened the door of his dressingroom. His wife was still sleeping. His

motherinlaw woke two hours later; looked at her watch; and discovered that she had lost her opportunity.

Other old women, under similar circumstances, might have felt discouraged. This old woman believed in her

own suspicions more devoutly than ever. When the breakfastbell rang, Sydney found Mrs. Presty in the

"I wonder what you were doing last night, when you ought to have been in bed?" the old lady began, with a

treacherous amiability of manner. "Oh, I am not mistaken! your door was open, my dear, and I looked in."

"My young friend, I was naturally anxious about you. I am anxious still. Were you in the house? or out of the

Mrs. Presty wasted no more time in asking questions. She was pleasantly reminded of the words of worldly

wisdom which she had addressed to her daughter on the day of Sydney's arrival at Mount Morven. "The good

qualities of that unfortunate young creature" (she had said) "can not have always resisted the horrid

temptations and contaminations about her. Hundreds of times she must have lied through ungovernable fear."

Elevated a little higher than ever in her own estimation, Mrs. Presty took Sydney's arm, and led her down to

breakfast with motherly familiarity. Linley met them at the foot of the stairs. His motherinlaw first stole a

look at Sydney, and then shook hands with him cordially. "My dear Herbert, how pale you are! That horrid

The necessary attention to her guests had left little leisure for the exercise of observation at the

breakfasttable; the one circumstance which had forced itself on her notice had been the boisterous gayety of

her husband. Too essentially honest to practice deception of any kind cleverly, Linley had overacted the part

of a man whose mind was entirely at ease. The most unsuspicious woman living, his wife was simply amused

"How he does enjoy society!" she thought. "Herbert will be a young man to the end of his life."

In the best possible spiritsstill animated by her successful exertions to entertain her friendsMrs. Linley

opened the schoolroom door briskly. "How are the lessons getting on?" she beganand checked herself with

The child ran to her mother with tears in her eyes. "Look at Syd! She sulks; she cries; she won't talk to

In other words, here was a complete reversal of the usual order of things in the schoolroom. Patient Sydney

was out of temper; gentle Sydney spoke bitterly to the little friend whom she loved. Mrs. Linley drew a chair

to the governess's side, and took her hand. The strangely altered girl tore her hand away and burst into a

violent fit of crying. Puzzled and frightened, Kitty (to the best of a child's ability) followed her example. Mrs.

Linley took her daughter on her knee, and gave Sydney's outbreak of agitation time to subside. There were no

feverish appearances in her face, there was no feverish heat in her skin when their hands had touched each

other for a moment. In all probability the mischief was nervous mischief, and the outburst of weeping was an

Sydney stopped; looked at her good mistress and friend in terror; and made a confused effort to explain away

what she had just said. As sensibly and kindly selfpossessed as ever, Mrs. Linley told her that she only

wanted rest and quiet. "Let me take you to my room," she proposed. "We will have the sofa moved into the

balcony, and you will soon go to sleep in the delicious warm air. You may put away your books, Kitty; this is

a holiday. Come with me, and be petted and spoiled by the ladies in the morningroom."

Neither the governess nor the pupil was worthy of the sympathy so frankly offered to them. Still strangely

confused, Sydney made commonplace apologies and asked leave to go out and walk in the park. Hearing this,

Kitty declared that where her governess went she would go too. Mrs. Linley smoothed her daughter's pretty

auburn hair, and said, playfully: "I think I ought to be jealous." To her surprise, Sydney looked up as if the

words had been addressed to herself "You mustn't be fonder, my dear, of your governess," Mrs. Linley went

on, "than you are of your mother." She kissed the child, and, rising to go, discovered that Sydney had moved

to another part of the room. She was standing at the piano, with a page of music in her hand. The page was

upside downand she had placed herself in a position which concealed her face. Slow as Mrs. Linley was to

doubt any person (more especially a person who interested her), she left the room with a vague fear of

something wrong, and with a conviction that she would do well to consult her husband.

Hearing the door close, Sydney looked round. She and Kitty were alone again; and Kitty was putting away

Sydney took the child fondly in her arms. "Would you be very sorry," she asked, "if I was obliged to go

away, some day, and leave you?" Kitty turned pale with terror at the dreadful prospect which those words

presented. "There! there! I am only joking," Sydney said, shocked at the effect which her attempt to suggest

the impending separation had produced. "You shall come with me, darling; we will walk in the park

Kitty's face brightened directly. She proposed extending their walk to the paddock, and feeding the cows.

Sydney readily consented. Any amusement was welcome to her which diverted the child's attention from

They had been nearly an hour in the park, and were returning to the house through a clump of trees, when

Sydney's companion, running on before her, cried: "Here's papa!" Her first impulse was to draw back behind

a tree, in the hope of escaping notice. Linley sent Kitty away to gather a nosegay of daisies, and joined

"There is nothing that need alarm you," he replied. "Catherine is too good and too true herself to suspect

others easily. She sees a change in you that she doesn't understandshe asks if I have noticed itand that is

all. But her mother has the cunning of the devil. There is a serious reason for controlling yourself."

"It might be better for both of us if you were angry with me. I have to control myself; I will try again. Oh, if

He persisted in trying to rouse her to a sense of the danger that threatened them, while the visitors remained

in the house. "In a few days, Sydney, there will be no more need for the deceit that is now forced on us. Till

Kitty ran back to them with her hands full of daisies before they could say more.

"There is your nosegay, papa. No; I don't want you to thank meI want to know what present you are going

to give me." Her father's mind was preoccupied; he looked at her absently. The child's sense of her own

importance was wounded: she appealed to her governess. "Would you believe it?" she asked. "Papa has

"Very well, Kitty; I must pay the penalty of forgetting. What present would you like to have?"

They all three looked round. Another person had suddenly joined in the talk. There was no mistaking the

person's voice: Mrs. Presty appeared among the trees, taking a walk in the park. Had she heard what Linley

"Quite a domestic scene!" the sly old lady remarked. "Papa, looking like a saint in a picture, with flowers in

his hand. Papa's spoiled child always wanting something, and always getting it. And papa's governess, so

sweetly fresh and pretty that I should certainly fall in love with her, if I had the advantage of being a man.

You have no doubt remarked HerbertI think I hear the bell; shall we go to lunch?you have no doubt, I

say, remarked what curiously opposite styles Catherine and Miss Westerfield present; so charming, and yet

such complete contrasts. I wonder whether they occasionally envy each other's good looks? Does my

daughter ever regret that she is not Miss Westerfield? And do you, my dear, some times wish you were Mrs.

"While we are about it, let me put a third question," Linley interposed. "Are you ever aware of it yourself,

He was angry, and he showed it in that feeble reply. Sydney felt the implied insult offered to her in another

way. It roused her to the exercise of selfcontrol as nothing had roused her yet. She ignored Mrs. Presty's

irony with a composure worthy of Mrs. Presty herself. "Where is the woman," she said, "who would not wish

"Thank you, my dear, for a compliment to my daughter: a sincere compliment, no doubt. It comes in very

neatly and nicely," Mrs. Presty acknowledged, "after my soninlaw's little outbreak of temper. My poor

Herbert, when will you understand that I mean no harm? I am an essentially humorous person; my wonderful

spirits are always carrying me away. I do assure you, Miss Westerfield, I don't know what worry is. My

troublesdeaths in the family, and that sort of thingseem to slip off me in a most remarkable manner.

Poor Mr. Norman used to attribute it to my excellent digestion. My second husband would never hear of such

an explanation as that. His high ideal of women shrank from allusions to stomachs. He used to speak so

nicely (quoting some poet) of the sunshine of my breast. Vague, perhaps," said Mrs. Presty, modestly looking

down at the ample prospect of a personal nature which presented itself below her throat, "but so flattering to

one's feelings. There's the luncheon bell again, I declare! I'll run on before and tell them you are coming.

Some people might say they wished to be punctual. I am truth itself, and I own I don't like to be helped to the

underside of the fish. Au revoir! Do you remember, Miss Westerfield, when I asked you to repeat au revoir as

a specimen of your French? I didn't think much of your accent. Oh, dear me, I didn't think much of your

Kitty looked after her affluent grandmother with eyes that stared respectfully in ignorant admiration. She

pulled her father's coattail, and addressed herself gravely to his private ear. "Oh, papa, what noble words

On the evening of Monday in the new week, the last of the visitors had left Mount Morven. Mrs. Linley

dropped into a chair (in, what Randal called, "the heavenly tranquillity of the deserted drawingroom") and

owned that the effort of entertaining her guests had completely worn her out. "It's too absurd, at my time of

life," she said with a faint smile; but I am really and truly so tired that I must go to bed before dark, as if I was

Mrs. Prestymaliciously observant of the governess, sitting silent and apart in a cornerapproached her

daughter in a hurry; to all appearance with a special object in view. Linley was at no loss to guess what that

object might be. "Will you do me a favor, Catherine?" Mrs. Presty began. "I wish to say a word to you in

Mrs. Presty reluctantly consented to this proposal, on one condition. "It is understood," she stipulated "that I

Mrs. Linley was ready to accept that condition, or any condition, which promised her a night of uninterrupted

repose. She crossed the room to her husband, and took his arm. "In my state of fatigue, Herbert, I shall never

As they ascended the stairs together, Linley found that his wife had a reason of her own for leaving the

"I am quite weary enough to go to bed," she explained. "But I wanted to speak to you first. It's about Miss

Westerfield. (No, no, we needn't stop on the landing.) Do you know, I think I have found out what has altered

"I am only astonished," Mrs. Linley resumed, "at my own stupidity in not having discovered it before. We

must be kinder than ever to the poor girl now; can't you guess why? My dear, how dull you are! Must I

remind you that we have had two single men among our visitors? One of them is old and doesn't matter. But

the otherI mean Sir George, of courseis young, handsome, and agreeable. I am so sorry for Sydney

Westerfield. It's plain to me that she is hopelessly in love with a man who has run through his fortune, and

must marry money if he marries at all. I shall speak to Sydney tomorrow; and I hope and trust I shall

succeed in winning her confidence. Thank Heaven, here we are at my door at last! I can't say more now; I'm

ready to drop. Goodnight, dear; you look tired, too. It's a nice thing to have friends, I know; but, oh, what a

Left by himself, to compare his wife's innocent mistake with the terrible enlightenment that awaited her,

Linley's courage failed him. He leaned on the quaintlycarved rail that protected the outer side of the landing,

and looked down at the stone hall far below. If the old woodwork (he thought) would only give way under his

weight, there would be an escape from the coming catastrophe, found in an instant.

A timely remembrance of Sydney recalled him to himself. For her sake, he was bound to prevent Mrs.

"The very man I want to see," Randal said. "Tell me, Herbert, what is the matter with that curious old

"Yes. She has just been telling me that our friend Mrs. MacEdwin has taken a fancy to Miss Westerfield, and

"No. Soon after you and Catherine left the room, Miss Westerfield left it too. I daresay I am wrong, for I

haven't had time to think of it; but Mrs. Presty's manner suggested to me that she would be glad to see the

"I am going to speak to her, Randal, on that very subject. Is she still in the drawingroom?"

"I didn't give her the chance; I don't like Mrs. Presty. You look worn and worried, Herbert. Is there anything

Comfortably established in the drawingroom, Mrs. Presty had just opened her favorite newspaper. Her only

companion was Linley's black poodle, resting at her feet. On the opening of the door, the dog

roseadvanced to caress his masterand looked up in Linley's face. If Mrs. Presty's attention had happened

to be turned that way, she might have seen, in the faithful creature's sudden and silent retreat, a warning of

her soninlaw's humor at that moment. But she was, or assumed to be, interested in her reading; and she

deliberately overlooked Linley's appearance. After waiting a little to attract her attention, he quietly took the

"Apparently, something that can't be said with common civility? Be as rude as you please; I am well used to

"Since you have lived at Mount Morven," he proceeded, "I think you have found me, on the whole, an easy

man to get on with. At the same time, when I do make up my mind to be master in my own house, I am

"Master of your suspicions of Miss Westerfield. You are free, of course, to think of her and of me as you

please. What I forbid is the expression of your thoughtseither by way of hints to my brother, or officious

communications with my wife. Don't suppose that I am afraid of the truth. Mrs. Linley shall know more than

Mrs. Presty shook her head compassionately. "My good sir, surely you know me too well to think that I am to

be disposed of in that easy way? Must I remind you that your wife's mother has 'the cunning of the devil'?"

Linley recognized his own words. "So you were listening among the trees!" he said.

"Yes; I was listening; and I have only to regret that I didn't hear more. Let us return to our subject. I don't

trust my daughter's interestsmy muchinjured daughter's interestsin your hands. They are not clean

"I don't think it necessary to answer that question. My servants will have their instructions; and I shall see

"Thank you. I begin to understand; I am to be turned out of the house. Very well. We shall see what my

"You know as well as I do, Mrs. Presty, that if your daughter is forced to choose between us she will decide

for her husband. You have the night before you for consideration. I have no more to say."

Among Mrs. Presty's merits, it is only just to reckon a capacity for making up her mind rapidly, under stress

of circumstances. Before Linley had opened the door, on his way out, he was called back.

"I am shocked to trouble you again," Mrs. Presty said, "but I don't propose to interfere with my night's rest by

thinking about you. My position is perfectly clear to me, without wasting time in consideration. When a man

so completely forgets what is due to the weaker sex as to threaten a woman, the woman has no alternative but

to submit. You are aware that I had arranged to see my daughter tomorrow morning. I yield to brute force,

His motherinlaw looked after him with a familiar expression of opinion, and a smile of supreme contempt.

Only two words; and yet there seemed to be some hidden meaning in themrelating perhaps to what might

happen on the next daywhich gently tickled Mrs. Presty in the region assigned by phrenologists to the

Waiting for Sydney to come into the bedroom as usual and wish her goodnight, Kitty was astonished by the

appearance of her grandmother, entering on tiptoe from the corridor, with a small paper parcel in her hand.

"Whisper!" said Mrs. Presty, pointing to the open door of communication with Mrs. Linley's room. "This is

your birthday present. You mustn't look at it till you wake tomorrow morning." She pushed the parcel under

The present hidden under the paper wrapper was a sixpenny picturebook. Kitty's grandmother disapproved

of spending money lavishly on birthday gifts to children. "Show it, of course; and take the greatest care of it,"

Mrs. Presty answered gravely. "But tell me one thing, my dear, wouldn't you like to see all your presents

Still smarting under the recollection of her interview with her soninlaw, Mrs. Presty had certain ends to

gain in putting this idea into the child's head. It was her special object to raise domestic obstacles to a private

interview between the husband and wife during the earlier hours of the day. If the gifts, usually presented

after the nursery dinner, were produced on this occasion after breakfast, there would be a period of delay

before any confidential conversation could take place between Mr. and Mrs. Linley. In this interval Mrs.

Presty saw her opportunity of setting Linley's authority at defiance, by rousing the first jealous suspicion in

Innocent little Kitty became her grandmother's accomplice on the spot. "I shall ask mamma to let me have my

"And kind mamma will say Yes," Mrs. Presty chimed in. "We will breakfast early, my precious child.

Kitty was half asleep when her governess entered the room afterward, much later than usual. "I thought you

Sydney's heart ached when she thought of the separation that was to come with the next day; her despair

The child was still too drowsy to hear plainly. "What did you say?" she asked. Sydney gently lifted her in the

bed, and kissed her again and again. Kitty's sleepy eyes opened in surprise. "How cold your hands are!" she

said; "and how often you kiss me. What is it you have come to say to megoodnight or goodby?"

Sydney laid her down again on the pillow, gave her a last kiss, and ran out of the room.

In the corridor she heard Linley's voice on the lower floor. He was asking one of the servants if Miss

Westerfield was in the house or in the garden. Her first impulse was to advance to the stairs and to answer his

question. In a moment more the remembrance of Mrs. Linley checked her. She went back to her

bedchamber. The presents that she had received, since her arrival at Mount Morven, were all laid out so that

they could be easily seen by any person entering the room, after she had left the house. On the sofa lay the

pretty new dress which she had worn at the evening party. Other little gifts were arranged on either side of it.

The bracelet, resting on the pedestal of a statue close by, kept a morsel of paper in its placeon which she

had written a few penitent words of farewell addressed to Mrs. Linley. On the toilettable three photographic

portraits showed themselves among the brushes and combs. She sat down, and looked first at the likenesses

She hesitated; her tears dropped on the photographs. "They're as good as spoiled now," she thought; "they're

no longer fit for anybody but me." She paused, and abruptly took up the third and last photographthe

Was it an offense, now, even to look at his portrait? No idea of leaving it behind her was in her mind. Her

resolution vibrated between two miseriesthe misery of preserving her keepsake after she had parted from

him forever, and the misery of destroying it. Resigned to one more sacrifice, she took the card in both hands

to tear it up. It would have been scattered in pieces on the floor, but for the chance which had turned the

portrait side of the card toward her instead of the back. Her longing eyes stole a last look at hima frenzy

seized hershe pressed her lips to the photograph in a passion of hopeless love. "What does it matter?" she

asked herself. "I'm nothing but the ignorant object of his kindnessthe poor fool who could see no

difference between gratitude and love. Where is the harm of having him with me when I am starving in the

streets, or dying in the workhouse?" The fervid spirit in her that had never known a mother's loving

discipline, never thrilled to the sympathy of a sisterfriend, rose in revolt against the evil destiny which had

imbittered her life. Her eyes still rested on the photograph. "Come to my heart, my only friend, and kill me!"

As those wild words escaped her, she thrust the card furiously into the bosom of her dressand threw herself

on the floor. There was something in the mad selfabandonment of that action which mocked the innocent

despair of her childhood, on the day when her mother left her at the cruel mercy of her aunt.

Wandering, in his need of selfisolation, up and down the dreary stone passages in the lower part of the

house, Linley counted the hours, inexorably lessening the interval between him and the ordeal of confession

to his wife. As yet, he had failed to find the opportunity of addressing to Sydney the only words of

encouragement he could allow to pass his lips: he had asked for her earlier in the evening, and nobody could

tell him where she was. Still in ignorance of the refuge which she might by bare possibility hope to find in

Mrs. MacEdwin's house, Sydney was spared the torturing doubts which now beset Herbert Linley's mind.

Would the noble woman whom they had injured allow their atonement to plead for them, and consent to keep

their miserable secret? Might they still put their trust in that generous nature a few hours hence? Again and

again those questions confronted Linley; and again and again he shrank from attempting to answer them.

Preferring the request suggested to her by Mrs. Presty, Kitty had hastened the presentation of the birthday

gifts, by getting into her mother's bed in the morning, and exacting her mother's promise before she would

consent to get out again. By her own express wish, she was left in ignorance of what the presents would

prove to be. "Hide them from me," said this young epicure in pleasurable sensations, "and make me want to

see them until I can bear it no longer." The gifts had accordingly been collected in an embrasure of one of the

She had passed behind the screen which had thus far protected the hidden treasures from discovery, and

appeared again with a vision of beauty in the shape of a doll. The dress of this wonderful creature exhibited

the latest audacities of French fashion. Her head made a bow; her eyes went to sleep and woke again; she had

a voice that said two wordsmore precious than two thousand in the mouth of a mere living creature. Kitty's

arms opened and embraced her gift with a scream of ecstasy. That fervent pressure found its way to the right

spring. The doll squeaked: "Mamma!"and creakedand cried againand said: "Papa!" Kitty sat down on

the floor; her legs would support her no longer. "I think I shall faint," she said quite seriously.

In the midst of the general laughter, Sydney silently placed a new toy (a pretty little imitation of a jeweler's

casket) at Kitty's side, and drew back before the child could look at her. Mrs. Presty was the only person

present who noticed her pale face and the trembling of her hands as she made the effort which preserved her

The doll's necklace, bracelets, and watch and chain, riveted Kitty's attention on the casket. Just as she thought

of looking round for her dear Syd, her father produced a new outburst of delight by presenting a perambulator

worthy of the doll. Her uncle followed with a parasol, devoted to the preservation of the doll's complexion

when she went out for an airing. Then there came a pause. Where was the generous grandmother's gift?

Nobody remembered it; Mrs. Presty herself discovered the inestimable sixpenny picturebook cast away and

forgotten on a distant windowseat. "I have a great mind to keep this," she said to Kitty, "till you are old

enough to value it properly." In the moment of her absence at the window, Linley's motherinlaw lost the

chance of seeing him whisper to Sydney. "Meet me in the shrubbery in half an hour," he said. She stepped

back from him, startled by the proposal. When Mrs. Presty was in the middle of the room again, Linley and

Having by this time recovered herself, Kitty got on her legs. "Now," the spoiled child declared, addressing

The doll was put into the perambulator, and was wheeled about the room, while Mrs. Linley moved the chairs

out of the way, and Randal attended with the open parasolunder orders to "pretend that the sun was

shining." Once more the sixpenny picturebook was neglected. Mrs. Presty picked it up from the floor,

determined by this time to hold it in reserve until her ungrateful grandchild reached years of discretion. She

put it in the bookcase between Byron's "Don Juan" and Butler's "Lives of the Saints." In the position which

she now occupied, Linley was visible approaching Sydney again. "Your own interests are seriously

Incapable of hearing what passed between them, Mrs. Presty could see that a secret understanding united her

Kitty's humor had changed; she was now eager to see the doll's splendid clothes taken off and put on again.

"Come and look at it," she said to Sydney; "I want you to enjoy my birthday as much as I do." Left by

himself, Randal got rid of the parasol by putting it on a table near the door. Mrs. Presty beckoned to him to

Glancing at Linley before she proceeded, Mrs. Presty took up a newspaper, and affected to be consulting

Randal's opinion on a passage which had attracted her attention. "Your brother is looking our way," she

False pretenses of any kind invariably irritated Randal. "What do you want me to do?" he asked sharply.

"They are talking confidentially; talking so that Mrs. Linley can't hear them. Look again."

Randal fixed his eyes on Mrs. Presty, with an expression which showed his dislike of that lady a little too

plainly. Before he could answer what she had just said to him, his lively little niece hit on a new idea. The

sun was shining, the flowers were in their brightest beautyand the doll had not yet been taken into the

garden! Kitty at once led the way out; so completely preoccupied in steering the perambulator in a straight

course that she forgot her uncle and the parasol. Only waiting to remind her husband and Sydney that they

were wasting the beautiful summer morning indoors, Mrs. Linley followed her daughterand innocently

placed a fatal obstacle in Mrs. Presty's way by leaving the room. Having consulted each other by a look,

Linley and the governess went out next. Left alone with Randal, Mrs. Presty's anger, under the complete

"My daughter's married life is a wreck," she burst out, pointing theatrically to the door by which Linley and

Sydney Westerfield had retired. "And Catherine has the vile creature whom your brother picked up in

On that fine morning her daughter might remain in the garden until the luncheonbell rang. Linley had only

to say that he wished to speak with his wife; and the private interview which he had so rudely insisted on as

his sole privilege, would assuredly take place. The one chance left of still defeating him on his own ground

was to force Randal to interfere by convincing him of his brother's guilt. Moderation of language and

composure of manner offered the only hopeful prospect of reaching this end. Mrs. Presty assumed the

disguise of patient submission, and used the irresistible influence of good humor and good sense.

"I don't complain, dear Randal, of what you have said to me," she replied. "My indiscretion has deserved it. I

ought to have produced my proofs, and have left it to you to draw the conclusion. Sit down, if you please. I

Randal had not anticipated such moderation as this; he took the chair that was nearest to Mrs. Presty. They

were both now sitting with their backs turned to the entrance from the library to the drawingroom

"I won't trouble you with my own impressions," Mrs. Presty went on. "I will be careful only to mention what

I have seen and heard. If you refuse to believe me, I refer you to the guilty persons themselves."

She had just got to the end of those introductory words when Mrs. Linley returned, by way of the library, to

Randal insisted on making Mrs. Presty express herself plainly. "You speak of guilty persons," he said. "Am I

Mrs. Linley advanced a step and took the parasol from the table. Hearing what Randal said, she paused,

wondering at the strange allusion to her husband. In the meanwhile, Mrs. Presty answered the question that

"Yes," she said to Randal; "I mean your brother, and your brother's mistressSydney Westerfield."

She never once looked at her mother; her face, white and rigid, was turned toward Randal. To him, and to

Mrs. Presty triumphed inwardly; chance had decided in her favor, after all! "Don't you see," she said to her

Mrs. Linley still looked at Randal, and still spoke to him. "It is impossible for me to insist on an explanation

from my mother," she proceeded. "No matter what I may feel, I must remember that she is my mother. I ask

Mrs. Presty's sense of her own importance refused to submit to being passed over in this way.

"However insolently you may behave, Catherine, you will not succeed in provoking me. Your mother is

bound to open your eyes to the truth. You have a rival in your husband's affections; and that rival is your

governess. Take your own course now; I have no more to say." With her head high in the airlooking the

He addressed himself gently and respectfully to his sisterinlaw. She refused to hear him. The indignation

which Mrs. Presty had roused in her made no allowances, and was blind to all sense of right.

"Don't trouble yourself to account for your silence," she said, most unjustly. "You were listening to my

mother without a word of remonstrance when I came into the room. You are concerned in this vile slander,

Randal considerately refrained from provoking her by attempting to defend himself, while she was incapable

of understanding him. "You will be sorry when you find that you have misjudged me," he said, and sighed,

She dropped into a chair. If there was any one distinct thought in her at that moment, it was the thought of her

husband. She was eager to see him; she longed to say to him: "My love, I don't believe a word of it!" He was

not in the garden when she had returned for the parasol; and Sydney was not in the garden. Wondering what

had become of her father and her governess, Kitty had asked the nursemaid to look for them. What had

happened since? Where had they been found? After some hesitation, Mrs. Linley sent for the nursemaid. She

felt the strongest reluctance, when the girl appeared, to approach the very inquiries which she was interested

"Miss Westerfield was in the shrubbery, with my master. I might have been mistaken" The girl paused,

Mrs. Linley tried to tell her to go on. The words were in her mind; but the capacity of giving expression to

"I might have been mistaken," the maid repeated"but I thought Miss Westerfield was crying."

Having replied in those terms, she seemed to be anxious to get away. The parasol caught her eye. "Miss Kitty

wants this," she said, "and wonders why you have not gone back to her in the garden. May I take the

The tone of the mistress's voice was completely changed. The servant looked at her with vague misgivings.

Mrs. Linley's chair happened to be near one of the windows, which commanded a view of the drive leading to

the main entrance of the house. A carriage had just arrived bringing holiday travelers to visit that part of

Mount Morven which was open to strangers. She watched them as they got out, talking and laughing, and

looking about them. Still shrinking instinctively from the first doubt of Herbert that had ever entered her

mind, she found a refuge from herself in watching the ordinary events of the day. One by one the tourists

disappeared under the portico of the front door. The empty carriage was driven away next, to water the horses

at the village inn. Solitude was all she could see from the windows; silence, horrible silence, surrounded her

out of doors and in. The thoughts from which she recoiled forced their way back into her mind; the narrative

of the nursemaid's discovery became a burden on her memory once more. She considered the circumstances.

In spite of herself, she considered the circumstances again. Her husband and Sydney Westerfield together in

the shrubberyand Sydney crying. Had Mrs. Presty's abominable suspicion of them reached their ears?

or?No! that second possibility might be estimated at its right value by any other woman; not by Herbert

She snatched up the newspaper, and fixed her eyes on it in the hope of fixing her mind on it next. Obstinately,

desperately, she read without knowing what she was reading. The lines of print were beginning to mingle and

grow dim, when she was startled by the sudden opening of the door. She looked round.

His wife, hurrying eagerly to meet him, checked herself. It might have been distrust, or it might have been

His voice faltered, his eyes rested on herthen looked away again. He said no more.

He had spoken a few commonplace wordsand yet he had said enough. She saw the truth in his eyes, heard

the truth in his voice. A fit of trembling seized her. Linley stepped forward, in the fear that she might fall. She

instantly controlled herself, and signed to him to keep back. "Don't touch me!" she said. "You come from

"I own that I come from Miss Westerfield," he answered. "She addresses a request to you through me."

"Hear itin your own interest. She asks permission to leave the house, never to return again. While she is

His wife eyed him with a look of unutterable contempt. He submitted to it, but not in silence.

"A man doesn't lie, Catherine, who makes such a confession as I am making now. Miss Westerfield offers the

one atonement in her power, while she is still innocent of having wronged youexcept in thought."

"It rests with you," he replied, "to say if there is any other sacrifice of herself which will be more acceptable

"Let me understand first what the sacrifice means. Does Miss Westerfield make any conditions?"

Even under the terrible trial that wrung her, the nobility of the woman's nature spoke in her next words.

"Give me time to think of what you have said," she pleaded. "I have led a happy life; I am not used to suffer

They were both silent. Kitty's voice was audible on the stairs that led to the picturegallery, disputing with

"Miss Westerfield is innocent of having wronged me, except in thought," Mrs. Linley resumed. "Do you tell

So far his wife was satisfied. "My governess," she said, "might have deceived meshe has not deceived me.

I owe it to her to remember that. She shall go, but not helpless and not friendless."

"Many other women," she answered, firmly. "A vulgar termagant, feeling a sense of injury, finds relief in an

outburst of jealousy and a furious quarrel. You have always lived among ladies. Surely you ought to know

that a wife in my position, who respects herself, restrains herself. I try to remember what I owe to others as

Feeling his position acutely, Linley refrained from openly admiring her generosity. Until he had deserved to

be forgiven, he had forfeited the right to express an opinion on her conduct. She misinterpreted his silence.

As she understood it, he appreciated an act of selfsacrifice on Miss Westerfield's sidebut he had no word

of encouragement for an act of selfsacrifice on his wife's side. She threw down the pen, with the first

"You have spoken for the governess," she said to him. "I haven't heard yet, sir, what you have to say for

yourself. Is it you who tempted her? You know how gratefully she feels toward youhave you perverted her

gratitude, and led her blindfold to love? Cruel, cruel, cruel! Defend yourself if you can."

"Is it not worth your while to defend yourself?" she burst out, passionately. "Your silence is an insult!"

"My silence is a confession," he answered, sadly. "She may accept your mercyI may not even hope for it."

Something in the tone of his voice reminded her of past daysthe days of perfect love and perfect

confidence, when she had been the one woman in the world to him. Dearly treasured remembrances of her

married life filled her heart with tenderness, and dimmed with tears the angry light that had risen in her eyes.

"Judge for yourself, Catherine, if there is no proof of my love for you in what I have resistedand no

She instantly took him at his word. "When Miss Westerfield has left us, promise not to see her again."

She went back to the writingtable. "My heart is easier," she said, simply. "I can be merciful to her now."

After writing a few lines, she rose and handed the paper to him. He looked up from it in surprise. "Addressed

"Addressed," she answered, "to the only person I know who feels a true interest in Miss Westerfield. Have

"I recommend Miss Westerfield as a teacher of young children, having had ample proof of her capacity,

industry, and good temper while she has been governess to my child. She leaves her situation in my service

under circumstances which testify to her sense of duty and her sense of gratitude."

"Have I said," she asked, "more than I could honorably and truly sayeven after what has happened?"

He could only look at her; no words could have spoken for him as his silence spoke for him at that moment.

The last worst trial remained to be undergone; she faced it resolutely. "Tell Miss Westerfield that I wish to

On the point of leaving the room, Herbert was called back. "If you happen to meet with my mother," his wife

Mrs. Presty knew her daughter's nature; Mrs. Presty had been waiting near at hand, in expectation of the

Tenderly and respectfully, Mrs. Linley addressed herself to her mother. "When we last met, I thought you

spoke rashly and cruelly. I know now that there was truthsome truth, let me sayin what offended me at

the time. If you felt strongly, it was for my sake. I wish to beg your pardon; I was hasty, I was wrong."

On an occasion when she had first irritated and then surprised him, Randal Linley had said to Mrs. Presty,

"You have got a heart, after all!" Her reply to her daughter showed that view of her character to be the right

The words had barely fallen from her lips, before Herbert returned. He was followed by Sydney Westerfield.

The governess stopped in the middle of the room. Her head sank on her breast; her quick convulsive

breathing was the only sound that broke the silence. Mrs. Linley advanced to the place in which Sydney

stood. There was something divine in her beauty as she looked at the shrinking girl, and held out her hand.

Sydney fell on her knees. In silence she lifted that generous hand to her lips. In silence, Mrs. Linley raised

hertook the writing which testified to her character from the tableand presented it. Linley looked at his

wife, looked at the governess. He waitedand still neither the one nor the other uttered a word. It was more

She made an effort, a vain effort to obey him. A gesture of despair answered for her as Sydney had answered:

True, nobly true, to the Christian virtue that repents, to the Christian virtue that forgives, those three persons

stood together on the brink of separation, and forced their frail humanity to suffer and submit.

In mercy to the woman, Linley summoned the courage to part them. He turned to his wife first.

He approached Sydney, and gave his wife's message. It was in his heart to add something equally kind on his

own part. He could only say what we have all saidhow sincerely, how sorrowfully, we all knowthe

There was a low murmur of horror at the sight of her. That innocent heart, they had all hoped, might have

She saw that Sydney had her hat and cloak on. "You're dressed to go out," she said. Sydney turned away to

hide her face. It was too late; Kitty had seen the tears. "Oh, my darling, you're not going away!" She looked at

her father and mother. "Is she going away?" They were afraid to answer her. With all her little strength, she

clasped her beloved friend and playfellow round the waist. "My own dear, you're not going to leave me!"

The dumb misery in Sydney's face struck Linley with horror. He placed Kitty in her mother's arms. The

child's piteous cry, "Oh, don't let her go! don't let her go!" followed the governess as she suffered her

martyrdom, and went out. Linley's heart ached; he watched her until she was lost to view. "Gone!" he

As the year advanced, the servants at Mount Morven remarked that the weeks seemed to follow each other

more slowly than usual. In the higher regions of the house, the same impression was prevalent; but the sense

If the question had been asked in past days: Who is the brightest and happiest member of the family?

everybody would have said: Kitty. If the question had been asked at the present time, differences of opinion

might have suggested different answersbut the whole household would have refrained without hesitation

Time quieted the child's first vehement outbreak of distress under the loss of the companion whom she had so

dearly loved. Delicate management, gently yet resolutely applied, held the faithful little creature in check,

when she tried to discover the cause of her governess's banishment from the house. She made no more

complaints; she asked no more embarrassing questionsbut it was miserably plain to everybody about her

that she failed to recover her spirits. She was willing to learn her lessons (but not under another governess)

when her mother was able to attend to her: she played with her toys, and went out riding on her pony. But the

delightful gayety of other days was gone; the shrill laughter that once rang through the house was heard no

more. Kitty had become a quiet child; and, worse still, a child who seemed to be easily tired.

He was a man skilled in the sound medical practice that learns its lessons without booksbedside practice.

His opinion declared that the child's vital power was seriously lowered. "Some cause is at work here," he said

to the mother, "which I don't understand. Can you help me?" Mrs. Linley helped him without hesitation. "My

little daughter dearly loved her governess; and her governess has been obliged to leave us." That was her

reply. The doctor wanted to hear no more; he at once advised that Kitty should be taken to the seaside, and

that everything which might remind her of the absent friendbooks, presents, even articles of clothing likely

to revive old associationsshould be left at home. A new life, in new air. When pen, ink, and paper were

Mrs. Linley consulted her husband on the choice of the seaside place to which the child should be removed.

The blank which Sydney's departure left in the life of the household was felt by the master and mistress of

Mount Morvenand felt, unhappily, without any open avowal on either side of what was passing in their

minds. In this way the governess became a forbidden subject between them; the husband waited for the wife

to set the example of approaching it, and the wife waited for the husband. The trial of temper produced by

this state of hesitation, and by the secret doubts which it encouraged, led insensibly to a certain

estrangementwhich Linley in particular was morbidly unwilling to acknowledge. If, when the dinnerhour

brought them together, he was silent and dull in his wife's presence, he attributed it to anxiety on the subject

of his brotherthen absent on a critical business errand in London. If he sometimes left the house the first

thing in the morning, and only returned at night, it was because the management of the model farm had

become one of his duties, in Randal's absence. Mrs. Linley made no attempt to dispute this view of the altered

circumstances in homelifebut she submitted with a mind ill at ease. Secretly fearing that Linley was

suffering under Miss Westerfield's absence, she allowed herself to hope that Kitty's father would see a

necessity, in his own case, for change of scene, and would accompany them to the seaside.

"Won't you come with us, Herbert?" she suggested, when they had both agreed on the choice of a place.

His temper was in a state of constant irritation. Without meaning it he answered her harmless question

"How can I go away with you, when we are losing by the farm, and when there is nobody to check the

Mrs. Linley's thoughts naturally turned to Randal's prolonged absence. "What can be keeping him all this

"Don't you know," he broke out, "that I have inherited my poor mother's property in England, saddled with a

lawsuit? Have you never heard of delays and disappointments, and quibbles and false pretenses, encountered

by unfortunate wretches like me who are obliged to go to law? God only knows when Randal will be free to

That gentle answer touched him. He made the best apology in his power: he said his nerves were out of order,

and asked her to excuse him if he had spoken roughly. There was no unfriendly feeling on either side; and yet

there was something wanting in the reconciliation. Mrs. Linley left her husband, shaken by a conflict of

feelings. At one moment she felt angry with him; at another she felt angry with herself.

With the best intentions (as usual) Mrs. Presty made mischief, nevertheless. Observing that her daughter was

in tears, and feeling sincerely distressed by the discovery, she was eager to administer consolation. "Make

your mind easy, my dear, if you have any doubt about Herbert's movements when he is away from home. I

followed him myself the day before yesterday when he went out. A long walk for an old womanbut I can

Implicitly trusting her husbandand rightly trusting himLinley's wife replied by a look which Mrs. Presty

received in silent indignation. She summoned her dignity and marched out of the room.

Five minutes afterward, Mrs. Linley received an intimation that her mother was seriously offended, in the

"I find that my maternal interest in your welfare, and my devoted efforts to serve you, are only rewarded with

furious looks. The less we see of each other the better. Permit me to thank you for your invitation, and to

decline accompanying you when you leave Mount Morven tomorrow." Mrs. Linley answered the note in

person. The next day Kitty's grandmotherripe for more mischiefaltered her mind, and thoroughly

During the first week there was an improvement in the child's health, which justified the doctor's hopeful

anticipations. Mrs. Linley wrote cheerfully to her husband; and the better nature of Mrs. Linley's mother

seemed, by some inscrutable process, to thrive morally under the encouraging influences of the sea air. It may

be a bold thing to say, but it is surely true that our virtues depend greatly on the state of our health.

During the second week, the reports sent to Mount Morven were less encouraging. The improvement in Kitty

The lapse of the third week brought with it depressing results. There could be no doubt now that the child was

losing ground. Bitterly disappointed, Mrs. Linley wrote to her medical adviser, describing the symptoms, and

asking for instructions. The doctor wrote back: "Find out where your supply of drinking water comes from. If

from a well, let me know how it is situated. Answer by telegraph." The reply arrived: "A well near the parish

Kitty's first night at home was wakeful and restless; her little hands felt feverish, and she was tormented by

perpetual thirst. The good doctor still spoke hopefully; attributing the symptoms to fatigue after the journey.

But, as the days followed each other, his medical visits were paid at shorter intervals. The mother noticed that

his pleasant face became grave and anxious, and implored him to tell her the truth. The truth was told in two

A day or two later, the doctor spoke privately with Mr. Linley. The child's debilitated conditionthat

lowered state of the vital power which he had observed when Kitty's case was first submitted to himplaced

a terrible obstacle in the way of successful resistance to the advance of the disease. "Say nothing to Mrs.

Linley just yet. There is no absolute danger so far, unless delirium sets in." "Do you think it likely?" Linley

On the next evening but one, the fatal symptom showed itself. There was nothing violent in the delirium.

Unconscious of past events in the family life, the poor child supposed that her governess was living in the

house as usual. She piteously wondered why Sydney remained downstairs in the schoolroom. "Oh, don't keep

her away from me! I want Syd! I want Syd!" That was her one cry. When exhaustion silenced her, they hoped

that the sad delusion was at an end. No! As the slow fire of the fever flamed up again, the same words were

"She is employed in the family of a friend of ours, living five miles away from us."

Mrs. Linley looked at him with a wildlymingled expression of hope and fear. She was not thinking of

herselfshe was not even thinking, for that one moment, of the child. What would her husband say, if she

(who had extorted his promise never to see the governess again) brought Sydney Westerfield back to the

"I don't presume to inquire into your private reasons for hesitating to follow my advice," he said; "but I am

bound to tell you the truth. My poor little patient is in serious dangerevery hour of delay is an hour gained

by death. Bring that lady to the bedside as fast as your carriage can fetch her, and let us see the result. If Kitty

recognizes her governessthere, I tell you plainly, is the one chance of saving the child's life."

Mrs. Linley's resolution flashed on him in her weary eyesthe eyes which, by day and night alike, had

known so little rest. She rang for her maid. "Tell your master I want to speak to him."

The doctor watched the mother's face. No sign of hesitation appeared in itthe one thought in her mind now

Mrs. Linley's first impulse in ordering the carriage was to use it herself. One look at the child reminded her

that her freedom of action began and ended at the bedside. More than an hour must elapse before Sydney

Westerfield could be brought back to Mount Morven; the bare thought of what might happen in that interval,

if she was absent, filled the mother with horror. She wrote to Mrs. MacEdwin, and sent her maid with the

Sydney's love for Kitty would hesitate at no sacrifice; and Mrs. MacEdwin's conduct had already answered

for her. She had received the governess with the utmost kindness, and she had generously and delicately

refrained from asking any questions. But one person at Mount Morven thought it necessary to investigate the

motives under which she had acted. Mrs. Presty's inquiring mind arrived at discoveries; and Mrs. Presty's

"There can be no sort of doubt, Catherine, that our good friend and neighbor has heard, probably from the

servants, of what has happened; and (having her husband to considermen are so weak!) has drawn her own

conclusions. If she trusts our fascinating governess, it's because she knows that Miss Westerfield's affections

The dreary interval of expectation, after the departure of the carriage, was brightened by a domestic event.

Thinking it possible that Mrs. Presty might know why her husband had left the house, Mrs. Linley sent to ask

for information. The message in reply informed her that Linley had received a telegram announcing Randal's

Before she went downstairs to welcome Randal, Mrs. Linley paused to consider her situation. The one

alternative before her was to acknowledge at the first opportunity that she had assumed the serious

responsibility of sending for Sydney Westerfield. For the first time in her life, Catherine Linley found herself

A second message interrupted her, announcing that the two brothers had just arrived. She joined them in the

Linley was sitting in a corner by himself. The dreadful discovery that the child's life (by the doctor's

confession) was in danger had completely overwhelmed him: he had never even lifted his head when his wife

opened the door. Randal and Mrs. Presty were talking together. The old lady's insatiable curiosity was eager

for news from London: she wanted to know how Randal had amused himself when he was not attending to

He was grieving for Kitty; and he was looking sadly at his brother. "I don't remember," he answered,

absently. Other women might have discovered that they had chosen their time badly. Mrs. Presty, with the

"Really, Randal, you must rouse yourself. Surely you can tell us something. Did you meet with any agreeable

Randal1s tones began to betray irritation. "No," he said "the Captain went away early."

Mrs. Presty's vigorous intellect discovered an improbability here. "Then how came you to feel interested in

Even Randal's patience gave way. "I can't account for it," he said sharply. "I only know I took a liking to

Captain Bennydeck." He left Mrs. Presty and sat down by his brother. "You know I feel for you," he said,

The bitterness of the father's despair broke out in his answer. "I can bear other troubles, Randal, as well as

most men. This affliction revolts me. There's something so horribly unnatural in the child being threatened by

death, while the parents (who should die first) are alive and well" He checked himself. "I had better say no

The misery in his face wrung the faithful heart of his wife. She forgot the conciliatory expressions which she

had prepared herself to use. "Hope, my dear, as Randal tells you," she said, "because there is hope."

The explanation passed by him unnoticedperhaps even unheard. "Tell me what the doctor said," he

The sinister change in his face, as the narrative proceeded was observed by both the other persons present, as

well as by his wife. She waited for a kind word of encouragement. He only said, coldly: "What have you

Speaking coldly on her side, she answered: "I have sent the carriage to fetch Miss Westerfield."

There was a pause. Mrs. Presty whispered to Randal: "I knew she would come back again! The Evil Genius

The idea in Randal's mind was that the name exactly fitted Mrs. Presty. He made no reply; his eyes rested in

sympathy on his sisterinlaw. She saw, and felt, his kindness at a time when kindness was doubly precious.

His nerves were shattered by grief and suspense; but he made an effort this time to speak gently. "How can I

say that," he replied, "if the poor child's life depends on Miss Westerfield? I ask one favorgive me time to

Her mother touched her arm; Randal tried by a sign to warn her to be careful. Their calmer minds had seen

what the wife's agitation had prevented her from discovering. In Linley's position, the return of the governess

was a trial to his selfcontrol which he had every reason to dread: his look, his voice, his manner proclaimed

it to persons capable of quietly observing him. He had struggled against his guilty passionat what sacrifice

of his own feelings no one knew but himselfand here was the temptation, at the very time when he was

honorably resisting it, brought back to him by his wife! Her motive did unquestionably excuse, perhaps even

sanction, what she had done; but this was an estimate of her conduct which commended itself to others. From

his point of viewmotive or no motivehe saw the old struggle against himself in danger of being

In spite of the wellmeant efforts made by her relatives to prevent it, Mrs. Linley committed the very error

which it was the most important that she should avoid. She justified herself, instead of leaving it to events to

justify her. "Miss Westerfield comes here," she argued, "on an errand that is beyond reproachan errand of

Mrs. Presty could restrain herself no longer. "Drop it Catherine!" she said in a whisper.

Catherine refused to drop it; Linley's short and sharp reply had irritated her. "After my experience," she

"It is part of your experience," he reminded her, "that I promised not to see Miss Westerfield again."

"Own it at once!" she broke out, provoked beyond endurance; "though I may be willing to trust youyou are

Unlucky Mrs. Presty interfered again. "Don't listen to her, Herbert. Keep out of harm's way, and you keep

She patted him on the shoulder, as if she had been giving good advice to a boy. He expressed his sense of his

Linley took his hat. "At what time do you expect Miss Westerfield to arrive?" he said to his wife.

She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Before the halfhour strikes. Don't be alarmed," she added, with

"One thing I beg you will remember," he said. "Every halfhour while I am away (I am going to the farm)

you are to send and let me know how Kitty isand especially if Miss Westerfield justifies the experiment

The sofa was near Mrs. Linley. She sank on it, overpowered by the utter destruction of the hopes that she had

founded on the separation of Herbert and the governess. Sydney Westerfield was still in possession of her

Her mother was surely the right person to say a word of comfort to her. Randal made the suggestionwith

the worst possible result. Mrs. Presty had not forgotten that she had been toldat her age, in her position as

the widow of a Cabinet Ministerto hold her tongue. "Your brother has insulted me," she said to Randal. He

was weak enough to attempt to make an explanation. "I was speaking of my brother's wife," he said. "Your

brother's wife has allowed me to be insulted." Having received that reply, Randal could only wonder. This

woman went to church every Sunday, and kept a New Testament, bound in excellent taste, on her

toilettable! The occasion suggested reflection on the system which produces average Christians at the

present time. Nothing more was said by Mrs. Presty; Mrs. Linley remained absorbed in her own bitter

thoughts. In silence they waited for the return of the carriage, and the appearance of the governess.

Pale, worn, haggard with anxiety, Sydney Westerfield entered the room, and looked once more on the faces

which she had resigned herself never to see again. She appeared to be hardly conscious of the kind reception

"Am I in time?" were the first words that escaped her on entering the room. Reassured by the answer, she

The doctor had left certain instructions, warning the mother to guard against any accident that might remind

Kitty of the day on which Sydney had left her. At the time of that bitter parting, the child had seen her

governess in the same walkingdress which she wore now. Mrs. Linley removed the hat and cloak, and laid

"There is one other precaution which we must observe," she said; "I must ask you to wait in my room until I

Mrs. Presty followed them, and begged earnestly for leave to wait the result of the momentous experiment, at

the door of Kitty's bedroom. Her selfasserting manner had vanished; she was quiet, she was even humble.

While the last chance for the child's life was fast becoming a matter of minutes only, the grandmother's better

nature showed itself on the surface. Randal opened the door for them as the three went out together. He was

in that state of maddening anxiety about his poor little niece in which men of his imaginative temperament

become morbid, and say strangely inappropriate things. In the same breath with which he implored his

sisterinlaw to let him hear what had happened, without an instant of delay, he startled Mrs. Presty by one

of his familiar remarks on the inconsistencies in her character. "You disagreeable old woman," he whispered,

Left alone, he was never for one moment in repose, while the slow minutes followed each other in the silent

He walked about the room, he listened at the door, he arranged and disarranged the furniture. When the

nursemaid descended from the upper regions with her mistress's message for him, he ran out to meet her; saw

the good news in her smiling face; and, for the first and last time in his life kissed one of his brother's female

servants. Susana wellbred young person, thoroughly capable in ordinary cases of saying "For shame, sir!"

and looking as if she expected to feel an arm round her waist nexttrembled with terror under that

astounding salute. Her master's brother, a pattern of propriety up to that time, a man declared by her to be

incapable of kissing a woman unless she had a right to insist on it in the licensed character of his wife, had

evidently taken leave of his senses. Would he bite her next? No: he only looked confused, and said (how very

extraordinary!) that he would never do it again. Susan gave her message gravely. Here was an unintelligible

"Miss Kitty stared at Miss Westerfieldonly for a moment, siras if she didn't quite understand, and then

knew her again directly. The doctor had just called. He drew up the blind to let the light in, and he looked,

and he says: 'Only be careful'" Tenderhearted Susan broke down, and began to cry. "I can't help it, sir; we

are all so fond of Miss Kitty, and we are so happy. 'Only be careful' (those were the exact words, if you

please), 'and I answer for her life.'Oh, dear! what have I said to make him run away from me?"

Randal had left her abruptly, and had shut himself into the drawingroom. Susan's experience of men had not

yet informed her that a true Englishman is ashamed to be seen (especially by his inferiors) with the tears in

He had barely succeeded in composing himself, when another servant appearedthis time a manwith

"I don't know whether I have done right, sir," Malcolm began. "There's a stranger downstairs among the

tourists who are looking at the rooms and the pictures. He said he knew you. And he asked if you were not

related to the gentleman who allowed travelers to see his interesting old house."

"Well, sir, I said Yes. And then he wanted to know if you happened to be here at the present time."

Randal cut the man's story short. "And you said Yes again, and he gave you his card. Let me look at it."

Malcolm produced the card, and instantly received instructions to show the gentleman up. The name recalled

The fair complexion of the Captain's youthful days had been darkened by exposure to hard weather and

extreme climates. His smooth face of twenty years since was scored by the telltale marks of care; his dark

beard was beginning to present variety of color by means of streaks of gray; and his hair was in course of

undisguised retreat from his strong broad forehead. Not rising above the middle height, the Captain's spare

figure was well preserved. It revealed power and activity, severely tested perhaps at some former time, but

capable even yet of endurance under trial. Although he looked older than his age, he was still, personally

speaking, an attractive man. In repose, his eyes were by habit sad and a little weary in their expression. They

only caught a brighter light when he smiled. At such times, helped by this change and by his simple, earnest

manner, they recommended him to his fellowcreatures before he opened his lips. Men and women taking

shelter with him, for instance, from the rain, found the temptation to talk with Captain Bennydeck irresistible;

and, when the weather cleared, they mostly carried away with them the same favorable impression: "One

Randal's first words of welcome relieved the Captain of certain modest doubts of his reception, which

appeared to trouble him when he entered the room. "I am glad to find you remember me as kindly as I

"You see, the circumstances were a little against me. We met at a dull dinner, among wearisome worldly

men, full of boastful talk about themselves. It was all 'I did this,' and 'I said that'and the gentlemen who

were present had always been right; and the gentlemen who were absent had always been wrong. And, oh,

dear. when they came to politics, how they bragged about what they would have done if they had only been at

the head of the Government; and how cruelly hard to please they were in the matter of wine! Do you

"Perfectly. My advice was selfishit really meant that I wanted to see you again."

"And you have your wish, at your brother's house! The guide book did it. First, I saw your family name.

Then, I read on and discovered that there were pictures at Mount Morven and that strangers were allowed to

This allusion to the house naturally reminded Randal of the master. "I wish I could introduce you to my

Captain Bennydeck started to his feet. "I am ashamed of having intruded on you," he began. His new friend

pressed him back into his chair without ceremony. "On the contrary, you have arrived at the best of all

possible timesthe time when our suspense is at an end. The doctor has just told us that his poor little

"And how grateful to God!" The Captain said those words in tones that trembledspeaking to himself.

Randal was conscious of feeling a momentary embarrassment. The character of his visitor had presented

itself in a new light. Captain Bennydeck looked at himunderstood himand returned to the subject of his

"Do you remember your holidaytime when you were a boy, and when you had to go back to school?" he

asked with a smile. "My mind is in much the same state at leaving Scotland, and going back to my work in

London. I hardly know which I admire mostyour beautiful country or the people who inhabit it. I have had

some pleasant talk with your poorer neighbors; the one improvement I could wish for among them is a keener

"Our Highlanders have noble qualities," he said. "If you knew them as well as I do, you would find a true

sense of religion among them; not presenting itself, however, to strangers as stronglyI had almost said as

aggressivelyas the devotional feeling of the Lowland Scotch. Different races, different temperaments."

"And all," the Captain added, gravely and gently, "with souls to be saved. If I sent to these poor people some

copies of the New Testament, translated into their own language, would my gift be accepted?"

Strongly interested by this time, in studying Captain Bennydeck's character on the side of it which was new

to him, Randal owned that he observed with surprise the interest which his friend felt in perfect strangers.

The Captain seemed to wonder why this impression should have been produced by what he had just said.

Captain Bennydeck's head drooped. The shadows that attend on the gloom of melancholy remembrance

showed their darkening presence on his face. Briefly, almost sternly, he set Randal right.

"You have mistaken me," the Captain explained; "and it is my fault. My life is an atonement for the sins of

my youth. I have reached my fortieth yearand that one purpose is before me for the rest of my days.

Sufferings and dangers which but few men undergo awakened my conscience. My last exercise of the duties

of my profession associated me with an expedition to the Polar Seas. Our ship was crushed in the ice. Our

march to the nearest regions inhabited by humanity was a hopeless struggle of starving men, rotten with

scurvy, against the merciless forces of Nature. One by one my comrades dropped and died. Out of twenty

men there were three left with a last flicker in them of the vital flame when the party of rescue found us. One

of the three died on the homeward journey. One lived to reach his native place, and to sink to rest with his

wife and children round his bed. The last man left, out of that band of martyrs to a hopeless cause, lives to be

worthier of God's mercyand tries to make God's creatures better and happier in this world, and worthier of

Randal's generous nature felt the appeal that had been made to it. "Will you let me take your hand, Captain?"

Captain Bennydeck was the first to speak again. That modest distrust of himself, which a man essentially

noble and brave is generally the readiest of men to feel, seemed to be troubling him once morejust as it had

"I hope you won't think me vain," he resumed; "I seldom say so much about myself as I have said to you."

"I only wish you would say more," Randal rejoined. "Can't you put off your return to London for a day or

The thing was not to be done. Duties which it was impossible to trifle with called the Captain back. "It's quite

likely," he said, alluding pleasantly to the impression which he had produced in speaking of the Highlanders,

"Are they always strangers?" Randal asked. "Have you never met by accident with persons whom you may

"In this way. I have been in search of a poor girl who has lost both her parents: she has, I fear, been left

helpless at the mercy of the world. Her father was an old friend of mineonce an officer in the Navy like

myself. The agent whom I formerly employed (without success) to trace her, writes me word that he has

reason to believe she has obtained a situation as pupilteacher at a school in the suburbs of London; and I am

going back (among other things) to try if I can follow the clew myself. Goodby, my friend. I am heartily

"And of meetings," the Captain wisely reminded him. "When you are in London, you will always hear of me

Heartily reciprocating his good wishes, Randal attended Captain Bennydeck to the door. On the way back to

the drawingroom, he found his mind dwelling, rather to his surprise, on the Captain's contemplated search

Was the good man likely to find her? It seemed useless enough to inquireand yet Randal asked himself the

question. Her father had been described as an officer in the Navy. Well, and what did that matter? Inclined to

laugh at his own idle curiosity, he was suddenly struck by a new idea. What had his brother told him of Miss

Westerfield? She was the daughter of an officer in the Navy; she had been pupilteacher at a school. Was it

really possible that Sydney Westerfield could be the person whom Captain Bennydeck was attempting to

trace? Randal threw up the window which overlooked the drive in front of the house. Too late! The carriage

The one other course that he could take was to mention Captain Bennydeck's name to Sydney, and be guided

As he approached the bell, determining to send a message upstairs, he heard the door opened behind him.

Mrs. Presty had entered the drawingroom, with a purpose (as it seemed) in which Randal was concerned.

Strong as the impression was which Captain Bennydeck had produced on Randal, Mrs. Presty's first words

dismissed it from his mind. She asked him if he had any message for his brother.

Randal instantly looked at the clock. "Has Catherine not sent to the farm, yet?" he asked in astonishment.

Mrs. Presty's mind seemed to be absorbed in her daughter. "Ah, poor Catherine! Worn out with anxiety and

watching at Kitty's bedside. Night after night without any sleep; night after night tortured by suspense. As

usual, she can depend on her old mother for sympathy. I have taken all her household duties on myself, till

Randal tried again. "Mrs. Presty, am I to understand (after the plain direction Herbert gave) that no messenger

Mrs. Presty held her venerable head higher than ever, when Randal pronounced his brother's name. "I see no

necessity for being in a hurry," she answered stiffly, "after the brutal manner in which Herbert has behaved to

me. Put yourself in my placeand imagine what you would feel if you were told to hold your tongue."

Randal wasted no more time on ears that were deaf to remonstrance. Feeling the serious necessity of

"I have taken Catherine into the garden," Mrs. Presty announced. "The doctor himself suggestedno, I may

say, ordered it. He is afraid that she may fall ill next, poor soul, if she doesn't get air and exercise."

In Mrs. Linley's own interests, Randal resolved on advising her to write to her husband by the messenger;

explaining that she was not to blame for the inexcusable delay which had already taken place. Without a word

more to Mrs. Presty, he hastened out of the room. That inveterately distrustful woman called him back. She

"Needless trouble, my dear Randal. She will be back in a quarter of an hour, and she will pass through this

Another quarter of an hour was a matter of no importance to Mrs. Presty! Randal took his own waythe way

His silence and his determination to join his sisterinlaw roused Mrs. Presty's ready suspicions; she

concluded that he was bent on making mischief between her daughter and herself. The one thing to do in this

case was to follow him instantly. The active old lady trotted out of the room, strongly inclined to think that

They had both taken the shortest way to the garden; that is to say, the way through the library, which

communicated at its furthest end with the corridor and the vaulted flight of stairs leading directly out of the

house. Of the two doors in the drawingroom, one, on the left, led to the grand staircase and the hall; the

other, on the right, opened on the backstairs, and on a side entrance to the house, used by the family when

The drawingroom had not been empty more than a few minutes when the door on the right was suddenly

opened. Herbert Linley, entered with hurried, uncertain steps. He took the chair that was nearest to him, and

He had ridden from the farm at headlong speed, terrified by the unexplained delay in the arrival of the

messenger from home. Unable any longer to suffer the torment of unrelieved suspense, he had returned to

make inquiry at the house. As he interpreted the otherwise inexplicable neglect of his instructions, the last

chance of saving the child's life had failed, and his wife had been afraid to tell him the dreadful truth.

It was empty, like the drawingroom. The bell was close by him. He lifted his hand to ring itand drew

back. As brave a man as ever lived, he knew what fear was now. The father's courage failed him before the

prospect of summoning a servant, and hearing, for all he knew to the contrary, that his child was dead.

How long he stood there, alone and irresolute, he never remembered when he thought of it in afterdays. All

he knew was that there came a time when a sound in the drawingroom attracted his attention. It was nothing

The sound came from that side of the room which was nearest to the grand staircaseand therefore nearest

Some person had entered the room. Whether it was one of the family or one of the servants, he would hear in

either case what had happened in his absence. He parted the curtains over the library entrance, and looked

The person was a woman. She stood with her back turned toward the library, lifting a cloak off a chair. As

she shook the cloak out before putting it on, she changed her position. He saw the face, never to be forgotten

Linley had one instant left, in which he might have drawn, back into the library in time to escape Sydney's

notice. He was incapable of the effort of will. Grief and suspense had deprived him of that elastic readiness of

mind which springs at once from thought to action. For a moment he hesitated. In that moment she looked up

With a faint cry of alarm she let the cloak drop from her hands. As helpless as he was, as silent as he was, she

He tried to control himself. Hardly knowing what he said, he made commonplace excuses, as if he had been a

stranger: "I am sorry to have startled you; I had no idea of finding you in this room."

Sydney pointed to her cloak on the floor, and to her hat on a chair near it. Understanding the necessity which

had brought her into the room, he did his best to reconcile her to the meeting that had followed.

A relief to him to see her! Why? How? What did that strange word mean, addressed to her? She roused

"It's surely better for me," he answered, "to hear the miserable news from you than from a servant."

He could preserve his selfcontrol no longer; the misery in him forced its way outward at last. The

convulsive struggles for breath which burst from a man in tears shook him from head to foot.

All that was embarrassing in her position passed from Sydney's mind in an instant. She stepped close up to

him; she laid her hand gently and fearlessly on his arm. "Oh, Mr. Linley, what dreadful mistake is this?"

His dim eyes rested on her with a piteous expression of doubt. He heard herand he was afraid to believe

her. She was too deeply distressed, too full of the truest pity for him, to wait and think before she spoke.

"Yes! yes!" she cried, under the impulse of the moment. "The dear child knew me again, the moment I spoke

He staggered backwith a livid change in his face startling to see. The mischief done by Mrs. Presty's sense

of injury had led already to serious results. If the thought in Linley, at that moment, had shaped itself into

words, he would have said, "And Catherine never told me of it!" How bitterly he thought of the woman who

had left him in suspensehow gratefully he felt toward the woman who had lightened his heart of the

Innocent of all suspicion of the feeling that she had aroused, Sydney blamed her own want of discretion as

the one cause of the change that she perceived in him. "How thoughtless, how cruel of me," she said, "not to

"You thoughtless! you cruel!" At the bare idea of her speaking in that way of herself, his sense of what he

owed to her defied all restraint. He seized her hands and covered them with grateful kisses. "Dear Sydney!

She drew back from him; not abruptly, not as if she felt offended. Her fine perception penetrated the meaning

of those harmless kissesthe uncontrollable outburst of a sense of relief beyond the reach of expression in

words. But she changed the subject. Mrs. Linley (she told him) had kindly ordered fresh horses to be put to

the carriage, so that she might go back to her duties if the doctor sanctioned it.

She turned away to take up her cloak. Linley stopped her. "You can't leave Kitty," he said, positively.

A faint smile brightened her face for a moment. "Kitty has fallen asleepsuch a sweet, peaceful sleep! I

don't think I should have left her but for that. The maid is watching at the bedside, and Mrs. Linley is only

The tone in which he spoke warned her to persist in leaving him while her resolution remained firm. "I had

She let this pass without a reply. "The doctor sees no harm," she went on, "in my being away for a few hours.

Mrs. MacEdwin has offered to send me here in the evening, so that I can sleep in Kitty's room."

She began to tremble. For the second time, she turned away to take up her cloak. For the second time, he

"Not just yet," he said. "You don't know how it distresses me to see you so sadly changed. I remember the

He sighed as he looked at her. "It's dreadful to think of your young life, that ought to be so bright, wasting

and withering among strangers." He said those words with increasing agitation; his eyes rested on her eagerly

with a wild look in them. She made a resolute effort to speak to him coldlyshe called him "Mr.

It was useless. He stood between her and the door; he disregarded what she had said as if he had not heard it.

His manner became undisguisedly tender; his language changed in the one way of all others that was most

perilous to herhe appealed to her pity: "Oh, Sydney, it's so hard to part with you!"

"My sweet angel, I do know itby what I suffer myself! Do you ever feel for me as I feel for you?"

She had striven against herself, and against him, till her last effort at resistance was exhausted. In reckless

"When do I ever think of anything else! I am a wretch unworthy of all the kindness that has been shown to

me. I don't deserve your interest; I don't even deserve your pity. Send me awaybe hard on mebe brutal

to me. Have some mercy on a miserable creature whose life is one long hopeless effort to forget you!" Her

voice, her look, maddened him. He drew her to his bosom; he held her in his arms; she struggled vainly to get

away from him. "Oh," she murmured, "how cruel you are! Remember, my dear one, remember how young I

am, how weak I am. Oh, Herbert, I'm dyingdyingdying!" Her voice grew fainter and fainter; her head

sank on his breast. He lifted her face to him with whispered words of love. He kissed her again and again.

The curtains over the library entrance moved noiselessly when they were parted. The footsteps of Catherine

Not a sound warned them when she advanced. After hesitating for a moment, she raised her hand toward her

husband, as if to tell him of her presence by a touch; drew it back, suddenly recoiling from her own first

Face to face, those three personswith every tie that had once united them snapped asunder in an

instantlooked at each other. The man owed a duty to the lost creature whose weakness had appealed to his

With immeasurable contempt looking brightly out of her steady eyes, his wife stopped him.

"Spare yourself the trouble of making excuses," she answered; "they are needless. Herbert Linley, the woman

Sydney lifted her head. She looked vacantly at the outraged woman before her, as if she saw a woman in a

With the same terrible selfpossession which she had preserved from the firststanding between her

"Miss Westerfield, you have saved my child's life." She pausedher eyes still resting on the girl's face.

The autumn holidaytime had come to an end; and the tourists had left Scotland to the Scots.

In the dull season, a solitary traveler from the North arrived at the nearest posttown to Mount Morven. A

sketchbook and a colorbox formed part of his luggage, and declared him to be an artist. Falling into talk

over his dinner with the waiter at the hotel, he made inquiries about a picturesque house in the neighborhood,

which showed that Mount Morven was well known to him by reputation. When he proposed paying a visit to

the old border fortress the next day, the waiter said: "You can't see the house." When the traveler asked Why,

The landlord made his appearance with a bottle of wine and proved to be a more communicative person in his

relations with strangers. Presented in an abridged form, and in the English language, these (as he related

them) were the circumstances under which Mount Morven had been closed to the public.

A complete dispersion of the family had taken place not long since. For miles round everybody was sorry for

it. Rich and poor alike felt the same sympathy with the good lady of the house. She had been most shamefully

treated by her husband, and by a goodfornothing girl employed as governess. To put it plainly, the two had

run away together; one report said they had gone abroad, and another declared that they were living in

London. Mr. Linley's conduct was perfectly incomprehensible. He had always borne the highest charactera

good landlord, a kind father, a devoted husband. And yet, after more than eight years of exemplary married

life, he had disgraced himself. The minister of the parish, preaching on the subject, had attributed this

extraordinary outbreak of vice on the part of an otherwise virtuous man, to a possession of the devil.

Assuming "the devil," in this case, to be only a discreet and clerical way of alluding from the pulpit to a

woman, the landlord was inclined to agree with the minister. After what had happened, it was, of course,

impossible that Mrs. Linley could remain in her husband's house. She and her little girl, and her mother, were

supposed to be living in retirement. They kept the place of their retreat a secret from everybody but Mrs.

Linley's legal adviser, who was instructed to forward letters. But one other member of the family remained to

be accounted for. This was Mr. Linley's younger brother, known at present to be traveling on the Continent.

Two trustworthy old servants had been left in charge at Mount Morvenand there was the whole story; and

In a cottage on the banks of one of the Cumberland Lakes, two ladies were seated at the breakfasttable. The

windows of the room opened on a garden which extended to the water's edge, and on a boathouse and

wooden pier beyond. On the pier a little girl was fishing, under the care of her maid. After a prevalence of

rainy weather, the sun was warm this morning for the time of year; and the broad sheet of water alternately

darkened and brightened as the moving masses of cloud now gathered and now parted over the blue beauty of

The ladies had finished their breakfast; the elder of the twothat is to say, Mrs. Prestytook up her knitting

The personal attractions that distinguished Mrs. Linley were not derived from the shortlived beauty which

depends on youth and health. Pale as she was, her face preserved its fine outline; her features had not lost

their grace and symmetry of form. Presenting the appearance of a woman who had suffered acutely, she

would have been more than ever (in the eyes of some men) a woman to be admired and loved.

"You don't give yourself a chance," Mrs. Presty remonstrated. "Here's a fine morningcome out for a sail on

the lake. Tomorrow there's a concert in the townlet's take tickets. There's a want of what I call elastic

power in your mind, Catherinethe very quality for which your father was so remarkable; the very quality

which Mr. Presty used to say made him envy Mr. Norman. Look at your dress! Where's the commonsense,

at your age, of wearing nothing but black? Nobody's dead who belongs to us, and yet you do your best to

Mrs. Presty considered this reply to be unworthy of notice. She went on with her knitting, and only laid it

down when the servant brought in the letters which had arrived by the morning's post. They were but two in

numberand both were for Mrs. Linley. In the absence of any correspondence of her own, Mrs. Presty took

"One addressed in the lawyer's handwriting," she announced; "and one from Randal. Which shall I open for

Mrs. Presty handed it across the table. "Any news is a relief from the dullness of this place," she said. "If

Randal announced his arrival in London from the Continent, and his intention of staying there for a while. He

had met with a friend (formerly an officer holding high rank in the Navy) whom he was glad to see againa

rich man who used his wealth admirably in the interest of his poor and helpless fellowcreatures. A "Home,"

established on a new plan, was just now engaging all his attention: he was devoting himself so unremittingly

to the founding of this institution that his doctor predicted injury to his health at no distant date. If it was

possible to persuade him to take a holiday, Randal might return to the Continent as the travelingcompanion

"This must be the man whom he first met at the club," Mrs. Presty remarked. "Well, Catherine, I suppose

"Something that I wish Randal had not written. Read it yourselfand don't talk of it afterward."

"I know nothing whatever of my unfortunate brother. If you think this is a tooindulgent way of alluding to a

man who has so shamefully wronged you, let my conviction that he is already beginning to suffer the penalty

of his crime plead my excuse. Herbert's nature is, in some respects, better known to me than it is to you. I am

persuaded that your hold on his respect and his devotion is shakennot lost. He has been misled by one of

those passing fancies, disastrous and even criminal in their results, to which men are liable when they are led

by no better influence than the influence of their senses. It is not, and never will be, in the nature of women to

understand this. I fear I may offend you in what I am now writing; but I must speak what I believe to be the

truth, at any sacrifice. Bitter repentance (if he is not already feeling it) is in store for Herbert, when he finds

himself tied to a person who cannot bear comparison with you. I say this, pitying the poor girl most sincerely,

when I think of her youth and her wretched past life. How it will end I cannot presume to say. I can only

acknowledge that I do not look to the future with the absolute despair which you naturally felt when I last

Mrs. Presty laid the letter down, privately resolving to write to Randal, and tell him to keep his convictions

for the future to himself. A glance at her daughter's face warned her, if she said anything, to choose a new

The second letter still remained unnoticed. "Shall we see what the lawyer says?" she suggestedand opened

the envelope. The lawyer had nothing to say. He simply inclosed a letter received at his office.

Mrs. Presty had long passed the age at which emotion expresses itself outwardly by a change of color. She

When she was not eating her meals or asleep in her bed, absolute silence on Mrs. Presty's part was a

circumstance without precedent in the experience of her daughter. Mrs. Presty was absolutely silent now.

She at once perceived the change in her mother's face and asked what it meant. "Mamma, you look as if

something had frightened you. Is it anything in that letter?" She bent over the table, and looked a little closer

at the letter. Mrs. Presty had turned it so that the address was underneath; and the closed envelope was visible

Naturally enough, Mrs. Linley remonstrated. "Surely I ought to read a letter forwarded by my lawyer. Why

are you hiding the address from me? Is it from some person whose handwriting we both know?" She looked

again at her silent motherreflectedand guessed the truth. "Give it to me directly," she said; "my husband

Mrs. Presty's heavy eyebrows gathered into a frown. "Is it possible," she asked sternly, "that you are still fond

enough of that man to care about what he writes to you?" Mrs. Linley held out her hand for the letter. Her

wise mother found it desirable to try persuasion next. "If you really won't give way, my dear, humor me for

At the two first words, she stopped and began to clean her spectacles. Had her own eyes deceived her? Or had

Herbert Linley actually addressed her daughterafter having been guilty of the cruelest wrong that a

husband can inflict on a wifeas "Dear Catherine"? Yes: there were the words, when she put her spectacles

on again. Was he in his right senses? or had he written in a state of intoxication?

Mrs. Linley waited, with a preoccupied mind: she showed no signs of impatience or surprise. As it presently

appeared, she was not thinking of the letter addressed to her by Herbert, but of the letter written by Randal. "I

want to look at it again." With that brief explanation she turned at once to the closing lines which had

Mrs. Presty hazarded a guess at what was going on in her daughter's mind. "Now your husband has written to

you," she said, "are you beginning to think Randal's opinion may be worth considering again?" With her eyes

still on Randal's letter, Mrs. Linley merely answered: "Why don't you begin?" Mrs. Presty began as follows,

"I hope and trust you will forgive me for venturing to write to you, in consideration of the subject of my

letter. I have something to say concerning our child. Although I have deserved the worst you can think of me,

I believe you will not deny that even your love for our little Kitty (while we were living together) was not a

truer love than mine. Bad as I am, my heart has that tender place left in it still. I cannot endure separation

Mrs. Linley rose to her feet. The first vague anticipations of future atonement and reconciliation, suggested

by her brotherinlaw, no longer existed in her mind: she foresaw but too plainly what was to come. "Read

Mrs. Presty went on: "There is no wish, on my part, to pain you by any needless allusion to my claims as a

father. My one desire is to enter into an arrangement which shall be as just toward you, as it is toward me. I

propose that Kitty shall live with her father one half of the year, and shall return to her mother's care for the

other half If there is any valid objection to this, I confess I fail to see it."

"Does he see no difference," she broke out, "between his position and mine? What consolationin God's

name, what consolation is left to me for the rest of my life but my child? And he threatens to separate us for

six months in every year! And he takes credit to himself for an act of exalted justice on his part! Is there no

Under ordinary circumstances, her mother would have tried to calm her. But Mrs. Presty had turned to the

What she found written, on that other side, produced a startling effect on her. She crumpled the letter up in

her hand, and threw it into the fireplace. It fell under the grate instead of into the grate. With amazing activity

for a woman of her age, she ran across the room to burn it. Younger and quicker, Mrs. Linley got to the

fireplace first, and seized the letter. "There is something more!" she exclaimed. "And you are afraid of my

There was but one sentence left to read: "If your maternal anxiety suggests any misgiving, let me add that a

woman's loving care will watch over our little girl while she is under my roof. You will remember how fond

Miss Westerfield was of Kitty, and you will believe me when I tell you that she is as truly devoted to the

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything!" she said. "The cruelest of all separations is proposed to meand

I am expected to submit to it, because my husband's mistress is fond of my child!" She threw the letter from

her with a frantic gesture of contempt and burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

The old mother's instinctnot the old mother's reasontold her what to do. She drew her daughter to the

open window, and called to Kitty to come in. The child (still amusing herself by fishing in the lake) laid

down her rod. Mrs. Linley saw her running lightly along the little pier, on her way to the house. That

influence effected what no other influence could have achieved. The outraged wife controlled herself, for the

sake of her child. Mrs. Presty led her out to meet Kitty in the garden; waited until she saw them together; and

Herbert Linley's letter lay on the floor; his discreet motherinlaw picked it up. It could do no more harm

now, and there might be reasons for keeping the husband's proposal. "Unless I am very much mistaken," Mrs.

Presty concluded, "we shall hear more from the lawyer before long." She locked up the letter, and wondered

She seated herself at her desk; wrote literally one line; signed it without an instant's hesitation, and folded the

paper. Before it was secured in the envelope, Mrs. Presty interfered with a characteristic request. "You are

Mrs. Linley handed the letter to her. The one line of writing contained these words: "I refuse positively to

"Have you considered what is likely to happen, when he gets this?" Mrs. Presty inquired.

"After what Randal has written to me, I don't attach any value to his opinion." With that reply she sent her

After this, Mrs. Presty resolved to wait the arrival of Herbert Linley's answer, and to let events take their

course. The view from the window (as she passed it, walking up and down the room) offered her little help in

forecasting the future. Kitty had returned to her fishing; and Kitty's mother was walking slowly up and down

the pier, deep in thought. Was she thinking of what might happen, and summoning the resolution which so

No second letter arrived. But a telegram was received from the lawyer toward the end of the week.

That was the message. In taking the long journey to Cumberland, Mrs. Linley's legal adviser sacrificed two

days of his precious time in London. Something serious must assuredly have happened.

He was a curious mixture of both. His ancestors had been among the persecuted French people who found a

refuge in England, when the priestridden tyrant, Louis the Fourteenth, revoked the Edict of Nantes. A

British subject by birth, and a thoroughly competent and trustworthy man, Mr. Sarrazin labored under one

inveterate delusion; he firmly believed that his original French nature had been completely eradicated, under

the influence of our insular climate and our insular customs. No matter how often the strain of the lively

French blood might assert itself, at inconvenient times and under regrettable circumstances, he never

recognized this foreign side of his character. His excellent spirits, his quick sympathies, his bright mutability

of mindall those qualities, in short, which were most mischievously ready to raise distrust in the mind of

English clients, before their sentiment changed for the better under the light of later experiencewere

attributed by Mr. Sarrazin to the exhilarating influence of his happy domestic circumstances and his

successful professional career. His essentially English wife; his essentially English children; his whiskers, his

politics, his umbrella, his pew at church, his plum pudding, his Times newspaper, all answered for him (he

was accustomed to say) as an inbred member of the glorious nation that rejoices in hunting the fox, and

This excellent man arrived at the cottage, desperately fatigued after his long journey, but in perfect

He afforded a proof of this happy state of mind, on sitting down to his supper. An epicure, if ever there was

one yet, he found the solid part of the refreshments offered to him to consist of a chop. The old French blood

curdled at the sight of itbut the trueborn Englishman heroically devoted himself to the national meal. At

the same time the French vivacity discovered a kindred soul in Kitty; Mr. Sarrazin became her intimate friend

in five minutes. He listened to her and talked to her, as if the child had been his client, and fishing from the

pier the business which had brought him from London. To Mrs. Presty's disgust, he turned up a corner of the

tablecloth, when he had finished his chop, and began to conjure so deftly with the spoons and forks that

poor little Kitty (often dull, now, under the changed domestic circumstances of her life) clapped her hands

with pleasure, and became the joyous child of the happy old times once more. Mrs. Linley, flattered in her

maternal love and her maternal pride, never thought of recalling this extraordinary lawyer to the business that

was waiting to be discussed. But Mrs. Presty looked at the clock, and discovered that her grandchild ought to

The grandchild failed to see the subject of bed in the same light. "Oh, not yet," she pleaded; "I want to speak

to Mr." Having only heard the visitor's name once, and not finding her memory in good working order

after the conjuring, Kitty hesitated. "Isn't your name something like Saracen?" she asked.

"Very like!" cried the genial lawyer. "Try my other name, my dear. I'm Samuel as well as Sarrazin."

"Ah, that'll do," said Kitty. Grandmamma, before I go to bed, I've something to ask Samuel."

Grandmamma persisted in deferring the question until the next morning. Samuel administered consolation

before he said goodnight. "I'll get up early," he whispered, "and we'll go on the pier before breakfast and

Kitty expressed her gratitude in her own outspoken way. "Oh, dear, how nice it would be, Samuel, if you

lived with us!" Mrs. Linley laughed for the first time, poor soul, since the catastrophe which had broken up

her home. Mrs. Presty set a proper example. She moved her chair so that she faced the lawyer, and said:

He acknowledged that he understood what this meant, by a very unprofessional choice of words. "We are in a

"Only let me keep Kitty," Mrs. Linley declared, "and I'll do whatever you think right."

"Stick to that, dear madam, when you have heard what I have to tell youand I shall not have taken my

journey in vain. In the first place, may I look at the letter which I had the honor of forwarding some days

Mrs. Presty gave him Herbert Linley's letter. He read it with the closest attention, and tapped the

"If I didn't know what I have got here," he remarked, "I should have said: Another person dictated this letter,

"Oh, but there is a very great doubt of it, ma'am; and you will say so too when you know what your severe

soninlaw threatens to do." He turned to Mrs. Linley. "After having seen that pretty little friend of mine

who has just gone to bed (how much nicer it would be for all of us if we could go to bed too!), I think I know

how you answered your husband's letter. But I ought perhaps to see how you have expressed yourself. Have

"I can repeat it word for word. This was my reply: I refuse, positively, to part with my child."

Mr. Sarrazin looked at his client with undisguised admiration. "The only time in all my long experience," he

said, "in which I have found a lady's letter capable of expressing itself strongly in a few words. What a

lawyer you will make, Mrs. Linley, when the rights of women invade my profession!"

Watching him anxiously, the ladies saw his bright face become overclouded with anxiety. "I am the wretched

bearer of bad news," he resumed, "and if I fidget in my chair, that is the reason for it. Let us get to the

pointand let us get off it again as soon as possible. Here is a letter, written to me by Mr. Linley's lawyer. If

you will take my advice you will let me say what the substance of it is, and then put it back in my pocket. I

doubt if a woman has influenced these cruel instructions, Mrs. Presty; and, therefore, I doubt if a woman

influenced the letter which led the way to them. Did I not say just now that I was coming to the point? and

here I am wandering further and further away from it. A lawyer is human; there is the only excuse. Now,

Mrs. Linley, in two words; your husband is determined to have little Miss Kitty; and the law, when he applies

"I am ashamed, madam, to think that I live by the law; but that, I must own, is exactly what it is capable of

doing in the present case. Compose yourself, I beg and pray. A time will come when women will remind men

that the mother bears the child and feeds the child, and will insist that the mother's right is the best right of the

"Quite right, Catherine!" cried Mrs. Presty. "Exactly what I should do, in your place."

Mr. Sarrazin listened patiently. "I am all attention, good ladies," he said, with the gentlest resignation. "Let

The good ladies looked at each other. They discovered that it is one thing to set an abuse at defiance in words,

and another thing to apply the remedy in deeds. The kindhearted lawyer helped them with a suggestion.

"Perhaps you think of making your escape with the child, and taking refuge abroad?"

Mrs. Linley eagerly accepted the hint. "The first train tomorrow morning starts at halfpast seven," she said.

"We might catch some foreign steamer that sails from the east coast of Scotland."

Mrs. Presty, keeping a wary eye on Mr. Sarrazin, was not quite so ready as her daughter in rushing at

conclusions. "I am afraid," she acknowledged, "our worthy friend sees some objection. What is it?"

"I don't presume to offer a positive opinion, ma'am; but I think Mr. Linley and his lawyer have their

"You shall hear. I travel secondclass; one saves money and one finds people to talk toand at what

sacrifice? Only a hard cushion to sit on! In the same carriage with me there was a very conversable

persona smart young man with flaming red hair. When we took the omnibus at your station here, all the

passengers got out in the town except two. I was one exception, and the smart young man was the other.

When I stopped at your gate, the omnibus went on a few yards, and set down my fellowtraveler at the

village inn. My profession makes me sly. I waited a little before I rang your bell; and, when I could do it

without being seen, I crossed the road, and had a look at the inn. There is a moon tonight; I was very

careful. The young man didn't see me. But I saw a head of flaming hair, and a pair of amiable blue eyes, over

the blind of a window; and it happened to be the one window of the inn which commands a full view of your

gate. Mere suspicion, you will say! I can't deny it, and yet I have my reasons for suspecting. Before I left

London, one of my clerks followed me in a great hurry to the terminus, and caught me as I was opening the

carriage door. 'We have just made a discovery,' he said; 'you and Mrs. Linley are to be reckoned up.'

Reckoned up is, if you please, detective English for being watched. My clerk might have repeated a false

report, of course. And my fellowtraveler might have come all the way from London to look out of the

It seemed to be easier to dispute the law than to dispute Mr. Sarrazin's conclusions.

"Suppose I choose to travel abroad, and to take my child with me," Mrs. Linley persisted, "who has any right

Mr. Sarrazin reluctantly reminded her that the father had a right. "No personnot even the mothercan

take the child out of the father's custody," he said, "except with the father's consent. His authority is the

supreme authorityunless it happens that the law has deprived him of his privilege, and has expressly

confided the child to the mother's care. Ha!" cried Mr. Sarrazin, twisting round in his chair and fixing his

keen eyes on Mrs. Presty, "look at your good mother; she sees what I am coming to."

"I see something more than you think," Mrs. Presty answered. "If I know anything of my daughter's nature,

Mrs. Presty had lived in the past age when persons occasionally used metaphor as an aid to the expression of

their ideas. Being called upon to explain herself, she did it in metaphor, to her own entire satisfaction.

"Our learned friend here reminds me, my dear Catherine, of a traveler exploring a strange town. He takes a

turning, in the confident expectation that it will reward him by leading him to some satisfactory resultand

he finds himself in a blind alley, or, as the French put it (I speak French fluently), in a cool de sack. Do I

"How very extraordinary! Perhaps I have been misled by my own vivid imagination. Let me endeavor to

express myself plainlylet me say that my fancy looks prophetically at what you are going to do, and

"And pray speak more plainly than my mother has spoken," Mrs. Linley added. "As I understood what you

said just now, there is a law, after all, that will protect me in the possession of my little girl. I don't care what

"May I ask first," Mr. Sarrazin stipulated, "whether you are positively resolved not to give way to your

"One more question, if you please, on a matter of fact. I have heard that you were married in Scotland. Is that

Mr. Sarrazin exhibited himself once more in a highly unprofessional aspect. He clapped his hands, and cried,

Mrs. Linley caught the infection of the lawyer's excitement. "How dull I am!" she exclaimed. "There is a

thing they call 'incompatibility of temper'and married people sign a paper at the lawyer's and promise

never to trouble each other again as long as they both live. And they're readier to do it in Scotland than they

"No, indeed, madam," he said, "I should be unworthy of your confidence if I proposed nothing better than

that. You can only secure the sole possession of little Kitty by getting the help of a judge"

"And you can only prevail on the judge to listen to you," Mr. Sarrazin proceeded, "in one way. Summon your

There was a sudden silence. Mrs. Linley rose trembling, as if she sawnot good Mr. Sarrazinbut the devil

"Nonever!" She made that positive reply; and disposed beforehand of everything that might have been

urged, in the way of remonstrance and persuasion, by leaving the room. The two persons who remained,

Punctual to his fishing appointment with Kitty, Mr. Sarrazin was out in the early morning, waiting on the

Not a breath of wind was stirring; the lazy mist lay asleep on the further shore of the lake. Here and there

only the dim tops of the hills rose like shadows cast by the earth on the faint gray of the sky. Nearer at hand,

the waters of the lake showed a gloomy surface; no birds flew over the colorless calm; no passing insects

tempted the fish to rise. From time to time a lastleft leaf on the wooded shore dropped noiselessly and died.

No vehicles passed as yet on the lonely road; no voices were audible from the village; slow and straight

wreaths of smoke stole their way out of the chimneys, and lost their vapor in the misty sky. The one sound

that disturbed the sullen repose of the morning was the tramp of the lawyer's footsteps, as he paced up and

down the pier. He thought of London and its ceaseless traffic, its roaring high tide of life in actionand he

said to himself, with the strong conviction of a townbred man: How miserable this is!

A voice from the garden cheered him, just as he reached the end of the pier for the fiftieth time, and looked

There stood Kitty behind the gardengate, with a fishingrod in each hand. A tin box was strapped on one

side of her little body and a basket on the other. Burdened with these impediments, she required assistance.

Susan had let her out of the house; and Samuel must now open the gate for her. She was pleased to observe

that the raw morning had reddened her friend's nose; and she presented her own nose to notice as exhibiting

perfect sympathy in this respect. Feeling a misplaced confidence in Mr. Sarrazin's knowledge and experience

as an angler, she handed the fishingrods to him. "My fingers are cold," she said; "you bait the hooks." He

looked at his young friend in silent perplexity; she pointed to the tin box. "Plenty of bait there, Samuel; we

find maggots do best." Mr. Sarrazin eyed the box with undisguised disgust; and Kitty made an unexpected

discovery. "You seem to know nothing about it," she said. And Samuel answered, cordially, "Nothing!" In

five minutes more he found himself by the side of his young friendwith his hook baited, his line in the

Kitty looked at her companion, and looked away again in silence. By way of encouraging her to talk, the

goodnatured lawyer alluded to what she had said when they parted overnight. You wanted to ask me

Without one preliminary word of warning to prepare him for the shock, Kitty answered: "I want you to tell

me what has become of papa, and why Syd has gone away and left me. You know who Syd is, don't you?"

The only alternative left to Mr. Sarrazin was to plead ignorance. While Kitty was instructing him on the

subject of her governess, he had time to consider what he should say to her next. The result added one more

"You see," the child gravely continued, "you are a clever man; and you have come here to help mamma. I

have got that much out of grandmamma, if I have got nothing else. Don't look at me; look at your float. My

papa has gone away and Syd has left me without even saying goodby, and we have given up our nice old

house in Scotland and come to live here. I tell you I don't understand it. If you see your float begin to tremble,

and then give a little dip down as if it was going to sink, pull your line out of the water; you will most likely

find a fish at the end of it. When I ask mamma what all this means, she says there is a reason, and I am not

old enough to understand it, and she looks unhappy, and she gives me a kiss, and it ends in that way. You've

got a bite; no you haven't; it's only a nibble; fish are so sly. And grandmamma is worse still. Sometimes she

tells me I'm a spoiled child; and sometimes she says wellbehaved little girls don't ask questions. That's

nonsenseand I think it's hard on me. You look uncomfortable. Is it my fault? I don't want to bother you; I

only want to know why Syd has gone away. When I was younger I might have thought the fairies had taken

Mr. Sarrazin weakly attempted to gain time: he looked at his watch. Kitty looked over his shoulder: "Oh, we

needn't be in a hurry; breakfast won't be ready for half an hour yet. Plenty of time to talk of Syd; go on."

Most unwisely (seeing that he had to deal with a clever child, and that child a girl), Mr. Sarrazin tried flat

denial as a way out of the difficulty. He said: "I don't know why she has gone away." The next question

followed instantly: 'Well, then, what do you think about it?" In sheer despair, the persecuted friend said the

"Gone to be married, and not tell me!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"

Mr. Sarrazin's professional experience of women and marriages failed to supply him with an answer. In this

difficulty he exerted his imagination, and invented something that no woman ever did yet. "She's waiting," he

"I hope she hasn't married a beast," Kitty said, with a serious face and an ominous shake of the head. "When

Mr. Sarrazin tried another prevaricationwith better results this time. "You will be the first person she

writes to, of course." As that excusable lie passed his lips, his float began to tremble. Here was a chance of

Kitty was immediately interested. She threw down her own rod, and assisted her ignorant companion. A

wretched little fish appeared in the air, wriggling. "It's a roach," Kitty pronounced. "It's in pain," the merciful

lawyer added; "give it to me." Kitty took it off the hook, and obeyed. Mr. Sarrazin with humane gentleness of

handling put it back into the water. "Go, and God bless you," said this excellent man, as the roach

disappeared joyously with a flick of its tail. Kitty was scandalized. "That's not sport!" she said. "Oh, yes, it

They went on with their angling. What embarrassing question would Kitty ask next? Would she want to be

told why her father had left her? No: the last image in the child's mind had been the image of Sydney

"I wonder whether you're right about Syd?" she began. You might be mistaken, mightn't you? I sometimes

fancy mamma and Sydney may have had a quarrel. Would you mind asking mamma if that's true?" the

affectionate little creature said, anxiously. "You see, I can't help talking of Syd, I'm so fond of her; and I do

miss her so dreadfully every now and then; and I'm afraidoh, dear, dear, I'm afraid I shall never see her

again!" She let her rod drop on the pier, and put her little hands over her face and burst out crying.

Shocked and distressed, good Mr. Sarrazin kissed her, and consoled her, and told another excusable lie.

His conscience reproached him as he held out that false hope. It could never be! The one unpardonable sin, in

the judgment of fallible human creatures like herself, was the sin that Sydney Westerfield had committed. Is

there something wrong in human nature? or something wrong in human laws? All that is best and noblest in

us feels the influence of loveand the rules of society declare that an accident of position shall decide

These thoughts were in the lawyer's mind. They troubled him and disheartened him: it was a relief rather than

an interruption when he felt Kitty's hand on his arm. She had dried her tears, with a child's happy facility in

passing from one emotion to another, and was now astonished and interested by a marked change in the

A dense white fog was closing round them. Its stealthy advance over the water had already begun to hide the

boathouse at the end of the pier from view. The raw cold of the atmosphere made the child shiver. As Mr.

Sarrazin took her hand to lead her indoors, he turned and looked back at the faint outline of the boathouse,

He answered that there was nothing to see, in the absent tone of a man busy with his own thoughts. They took

the garden path which led to the cottage. As they reached the door he roused himself, and looked round again

"Was the boathouse of any use now," he inquired"was there a boat in it, for instance?" "There was a

capital boat, fit to go anywhere." "And a man to manage it?" "To be sure! the gardener was the man; he had

been a sailor once; and he knew the lake as well as" Kitty stopped, at a loss for a comparison. "As well as

you know your multiplication table?" said Mr. Sarrazin, dropping his serious questions on a sudden. Kitty

Opening the breakfastroom door they saw Mrs. Presty making coffee. Kitty at once retired. When she had

been fishing, her grandmamma inculcated habits of order by directing her to take the rods to pieces, and to

put them away in their cases in the lumberroom. While she was absent, Mr. Sarrazin profited by the

opportunity, and asked if Mrs. Linley had thought it over in the night, and had decided on applying for a

"I know nothing about my daughter," Mrs. Presty answered, "except that she had a bad night. Thinking, no

"Will you kindly inquire if Mrs. Linley has made up her mind yet?" the lawyer ventured to say.

"Isn't that your business?" Mrs. Presty asked slyly. "Suppose you write a little note, and I will send it up to

her room." The worldlywisdom which prompted this suggestion contemplated a possible necessity for

calling a domestic council, assembled to consider the course of action which Mrs. Linley would do well to

adopt. If the influence of her mother was among the forms of persuasion which might be tried, that wary

relative maneuvered to make the lawyer speak first, and so to reserve to herself the advantage of having the

He modestly asked for instructions; and he was content to receive them in one wordYes or No. In the event

of the answer being Yes, he would ask for a few minutes' conversation with Mrs. Linley, at her earliest

The reply was returned in a form which left Yes to be inferred: "I will receive you as soon as you have

Having read Mrs. Linley's answer, Mr. Sarrazin looked out of the breakfastroom window, and saw that the

fog had reached the cottage. Before Mrs. Presty could make any remark on the change in the weather, he

"Is there an upper room here, ma'am, which has a view of the road before your front gate?"

Mrs. Presty said, "Of course!" with an uplifting of her eye brows which expressed astonishment not unmixed

with suspicion. "Do you want to go up now?" she added, "or will you wait till you have had your breakfast?"

"I want to go up, if you please, before the fog thickens. Oh, Mrs. Presty, I am ashamed to trouble you! Let the

No. For the first time in her life Mrs. Presty insisted on doing servant's duty. If she had been crippled in both

legs her curiosity would have helped her to get up the stairs on her hands. "There!" she said, opening the door

of the upper room, and placing herself exactly in the middle of it, so that she could see all round her: "Will

Mr. Sarrazin went to the window; hid himself behind the curtain; and cautiously peeped out. In half a minute

he turned his back on the misty view of the road, and said to himself: "Just what I expected."

Other women might have asked what this mysterious proceeding meant. Mrs. Presty's sense of her own

dignity adopted a system of independent discovery. To Mr. Sarrazin's amusement, she imitated him to his

face. Advancing to the window, she, too, hid herself behind the curtain, and she, too, peeped out. Still

following her model, she next turned her back on the viewand then she became herself again. "Now we

have both looked out of window," she said to the lawyer, in her own inimitably impudent way, "suppose we

This was easily done. They had both seen the same two men walking backward and forward, opposite the

front gate of the cottage. Before the advancing fog made it impossible to identify him, Mr. Sarrazin had

recognized in one of the men his agreeable fellowtraveler on the journey from London. The other mana

strangerwas in all probability an assistant spy obtained in the neighborhood. This discovery suggested

serious embarrassment in the future. Mrs. Presty asked what was to be done next. Mr. Sarrazin answered:

Her agitated manner, her reddened eyes, showed that she was still suffering under the emotions of the past

night. The moment the lawyer approached her, she crossed the room with hurried steps, and took both his

hands in her trembling grasp. "You are a good man, you are a kind man," she said to him wildly; "you have

my truest respect and regard. Tell me, are youreallyreallyreally sure that the one way in which I can

The sad change in her startled and distressed him. Sincerely, solemnly even, he declared that the one

alternative before her was the alternative that he had mentioned. He entreated her to control herself. It was

"Listen to me!" she cried. "There's something more; there's another chance for me. I must, and will, know

"No! not a moment. Is there any hope in appealing to the lawyer whom Mr. Linley has employed? Let me go

back with you to London. I will persuade him to exert his influenceI will go down on my knees to himI

will never leave him till I have won him over to my sideI will take Kitty with me; he shall see us both, and

"My dear lady, my poor dear lady, I must say it. The man you are talking of is the last man in the world to be

influenced as you suppose. He is notoriously a lawyer, and nothing but a lawyer. If you tried to move him to

pity you, he would say, 'Madam, I am doing my duty to my client'; and he would ring his bell and have you

"In your place, Catherine," she said, "I would put my foot down on that man and crush him. Consent to the

Mrs. Linley lay prostrate in her chair. The excitement which had sustained her thus far seemed to have sunk

with the sinking of her last hope. Pale, exhausted, yielding to hard necessity, she looked up when her mother

"And trust me," Mr. Sarrazin said fervently, "to see that Justice is done, and to protect you in the meanwhile."

"After all," she asked, "what is there to terrify you in the prospect of a Divorce? You won't hear what people

say about itfor we see no society now. And, as for the newspapers, keep them out of the house."

"It is not the fear of exposure that has tortured me," she said. "When I was left in the solitude of the night, my

heart turned to Kitty; I felt that any sacrifice of myself might be endured for her sake. It's the remembrance of

my marriage, Mr. Sarrazin, that is the terrible trial to me. Those whom God has joined together, let no man

put asunder. Is there nothing to terrify me in setting that solemn command at defiance? I do itoh, I do

itin consenting to the Divorce! I renounce the vows which I bound myself to respect in the presence of

God; I profane the remembrance of eight happy years, hallowed by true love. Ah, you needn't remind me of

what my husband has done. I don't forget how cruelly he has wronged me; I don't forget that his own act has

cast me from him. But whose act destroys our marriage? Mine, mine! Forgive me, mamma; forgive me, my

kind friendthe horror that I have of myself forces its way to my lips. No more of it! My child is my one

treasure left. What must I do next? What must I sign? What must I sacrifice? Tell meand it shall be done. I

All that his knowledge, experience and resolution could suggest he addressed to Mrs. Presty. Mrs. Linley

could listen or not listen, as her own wishes inclined. In the one case or in the other, her interests would be

equally well served. The good lawyer kissed her hand. "Rest, and recover," he whispered. And then he turned

"The first thing I shall do, ma'am, is to telegraph to my agent in Edinburgh. He will arrange for the speediest

possible hearing of our case in the Court of Session. Make your mind easy so far."

Mrs. Presty's mind was by this time equally inaccessible to information and advice. "I want to know what is

to be done with those two men who are watching the gate," was all she said in the way of reply.

"Two!" she exclaimedand looked at Mr. Sarrazin. "You only spoke of one last night."

"And I add another this morning. Rest your poor head, Mrs. Linley, I know how it aches; I know how it

burns." He still persisted in speaking to Mrs. Presty. "One of those two men will follow me to the station, and

see me off on my way to London. The other will look after you, or your daughter, or the maid, or any other

person who may try to get away into hiding with Kitty. And they are both keeping close to the gate, in the

"Good heavens, Mr. Sarrazin, don't you see? In those grand old days you would have taken a dagger, and the

gardener would have taken a dagger, and you would have stolen out, and stabbed those two villains as a

matter of course. And this is the age of progress! The vilest rogue in existence is a sacred person whose life

we are bound to respect. Ah, what good that national hero would have done who put his barrels of gunpowder

in the right place on the Fifth of November! I have always said it, and I stick to it, Guy Fawkes was a great

In the meanwhile Mrs. Linley was not resting, and not listening to the expression of her mother's political

To persist in trying to spare her was plainly useless; Mr. Sarrazin answered her directly.

"The danger of legal proceedings to obtain possession of the child," he said, "is more near and more serious

than I thought it right to acknowledge, while you were in doubt which way to decide. I was carefultoo

careful, perhapsnot to unduly influence you in a matter of the utmost importance to your future life. But

you have made up your mind. I don't scruple now to remind you that an interval of time must pass before the

decree for your Divorce can be pronounced, and the care of the child be legally secured to the mother. The

only doubt and the only danger are there. If you are not frightened by the prospect of a desperate venture

which some women would shrink from, I believe I see a way of baffling the spies."

Mrs. Linley started to her feet. "Say what I am to do," she cried, "and judge for yourself if I am as easily

The lawyer pointed with a persuasive smile to her empty chair. "If you allow yourself to be excited," he said,

Mrs. Linley felt the strong will, asserting itself in terms of courteous entreaty. She obeyed. Mrs. Presty had

never admired the lawyer as she admired him now. "Is that how you manage your wife?" she asked.

Mr. Sarrazin was equal to the occasion, whatever it might be. "In your time, ma'am," he said, "did you reveal

the mysteries of conjugal life?" He turned to Mrs. Linley. "I have something to ask first," he resumed, "and

"Three. Our landlady, who is housekeeper and cook. Our own maid. And the landlady's daughter, who does

"Certainly! The maid has been with us for years; no truer woman ever lived. The good old landlady often

drinks tea with us. Her daughter is going to be married; and I have given the weddingdress. As for the

gardener, let Kitty settle the matter with him, and I answer for the rest. Why are you pointing to the

"And I, Mrs. Linley, have seen the boathouse. While the spies are watching your gate, what do you say to

Winter had come and gone; spring was nearing its end, and London still suffered under the rigid regularity of

easterly winds. Although in less than a week summer would begin with the first of June, Mr. Sarrazin was

glad to find his office warmed by a fire, when he arrived to open the letters of the day.

The correspondence in general related exclusively to proceedings connected with the law. Two letters only

presented an exception to the general rule. The first was addressed in Mrs. Linley's handwriting, and bore the

postmark of Hanover. Kitty's mother had not only succeeded in getting to the safe side of the lakeshe and

her child had crossed the German Ocean as well. In one respect her letter was a remarkable composition.

Although it was written by a lady, it was short enough to be read in less than a minute:

"MY DEAR MR. SARRAZINI have just time to write by this evening's post. Our excellent courier has

satisfied himself that the danger of discovery has passed away. The wretches have been so completely

deceived that they are already on their way back to England, to lie in wait for us at Folkestone and Dover.

Tomorrow morning we leave this charming placeoh, how unwillingly!for Bremen, to catch the

steamer to Hull. You shall hear from me again on our arrival. Gratefully yours, "CATHERINE LINLEY."

Mr. Sarrazin put this letter into a private drawer and smiled as he turned the key. "Has she made up her mind

at last?" he asked himself. "But for the courier, I shouldn't feel sure of her even now."

The second letter agreeably surprised him. It was announced that the writer had just returned from the United

States; it invited him to dinner that evening; and it was signed "Randal Linley." In Mr. Sarrazin's estimation,

Randal had always occupied a higher place than his brother. The lawyer had known Mrs. Linley before her

marriage, and had been inclined to think that she would have done wisely if she had given her hand to the

younger brother instead of the elder. His acquaintance with Randal ripened rapidly into friendship. But his

relations with Herbert made no advance toward intimacy: there was a gentlemanlike cordiality between them,

At seven o'clock the two friends sat at a snug little table, in the private room of a hotel, with an infinite

number of questions to ask of each other, and with nothing to interrupt them but a dinner of such

extraordinary merit that it insisted on being noticed, from the first course to the last.

Randal began. "Before we talk of anything else," he said, "tell me about Catherine and the child. Where are

"Nothing of the sort; a friendly separation, in the strictest sense of the word. Oh, Randal, what are you about?

Don't put pepper into this perfect soup. It's as good as the gras double at the Cafe Anglais in Paris."

"So it is; I wasn't paying proper attention to it. But I am anxious about Catherine. Why did she go abroad?"

"Not for six months or more. I innocently vexed her by writing a little too hopefully about Herbert. Mrs.

Presty answered my letter, and recommended me not to write again. It isn't like Catherine to bear malice."

"Don't even think such a thing possible!" the lawyer answered, earnestly. "Attribute her silence to the right

cause. Terrible anxieties have been weighing on her mind since you went to America."

"Is it the child? You don't mean to tell me that Herbert has taken Kitty away from her mother!"

"While I am her mother's lawyer, my friend, your brother won't do that. Welcome back to England in the first

glass of sherry; good wine, but a little too dry for my taste. No, we won't talk of domestic troubles just yet.

You shall hear all about it after dinner. What made you go to America? You haven't been delivering lectures,

Mr. Sarrazin shook his head; he had a case of copyright in hand just then. "A people to be pitied," he said.

"In this way. The honor of a nation which confers right of property in works of art, produced by its own

citizens, is surely concerned in protecting from theft works of art produced by other citizens."

"Certainly not. I have already said it's the fault of the Government. Let's attend to the fish now."

The epicure entered a protest. "Good?" he repeated. "My dear fellow, it's absolute perfection. I don't like to

cast a slur on English cookery. But think of melted butter, and tell me if anybody but a foreigner (I don't like

foreigners, but I give them their due) could have produced this white wine sauce? So you really had no

"On the contrary, I had a very particular motive. Just remember what my life used to be when I was in

Scotlandand look at my life now! No Mount Morven; no model farm to look after; no pleasant Highland

neighbors; I can't go to my brother while he is leading his present life; I have hurt Catherine's feelings; I have

lost dear little Kitty; I am not obliged to earn my living (more's the pity); I don't care about politics; I have a

pleasure in eating harmless creatures, but no pleasure in shooting them. What is there left for me to do, but to

try change of scene, and go roaming around the world, a restless creature without an object in life? Have I

done something wrong again? It isn't the pepper this timeand yet you're looking at me as if I was trying

The French side of Mr. Sarrazin's nature had got the better of him once more. He pointed indignantly to a

supreme preparation of fowl on his friend's plate. "Do I actually see you picking out your truffles, and putting

Mr. Sarrazin rose, with his plate in his hand and his fork ready for action. He walked round the table to his

friend's side, and reverently transferred the neglected truffles to his own plate. "Randal, you will live to

repent this," he said solemnly. "In the meantime, I am the gainer." Until he had finished the truffles, no word

fell from his lips. "I think I should have enjoyed them more," he remarked, "if I had concentrated my

attention by closing my eyes; but you would have thought I was going to sleep." He recovered his English

nationality, after this, until the dessert had been placed on the table, and the waiter was ready to leave the

room. At that auspicious moment, he underwent another relapse. He insisted on sending his compliments and

"At last," said Randal, "we are by ourselvesand now I want to know why Catherine went to Germany."

As a lawyer, Randal's guest understood that a narrative of events can only produce the right effect, on one

condition: it must begin at the beginning. Having related all that had been said and done during his visit to the

cottage, including his first efforts in the character of an angler under Kitty's supervision, he stopped to fill his

glass againand then astonished Randal by describing the plan that he had devised for escaping from the

"Mrs. Presty, of course! She objected to risk her life on the water, in a fog. Mrs. Linley showed a resolution

for which I was not prepared. She thought of Kitty, saw the value of my suggestion, and went away at once to

consult with the landlady. In the meantime I sent for the gardener, and told him what I was thinking of. He

was one of those stolid Englishmen, who possess resources which don't express themselves outwardly.

Judging by his face, you would have said he was subsiding into a slumber under the infliction of a sermon,

instead of listening to a lawyer proposing a stratagem. When I had done, the man showed the metal he was

made of. In plain English, he put three questions which gave me the highest opinion of his intelligence. 'How

much luggage, sir?' 'As little as they can conveniently take with them,' I said. 'How many persons?' 'The two

ladies, the child, and myself.' 'Can you row, sir?' 'In any water you like, Mr. Gardener, fresh or salt'. Think of

asking Me, an athletic Englishman, if I could row! In an hour more we were ready to embark, and the blessed

fog was thicker than ever. Mrs. Presty yielded under protest; Kitty was wild with delight; her mother was

quiet and resigned. But one circumstance occurred that I didn't quite understandthe presence of a stranger

"Nothing of the sort; I mean an idea of the gardener's. He had been a sailor in his timeand that's a trade

which teaches a man (if he's good for anything) to think, and act on his thought, at one and the same moment.

He had taken a peep at the blackguards in front of the house, and had recognized the shortest of the two as a

native of the place, perfectly well aware that one of the features attached to the cottage was a boathouse. 'That

chap is not such a fool as he looks,' says the gardener. 'If he mentions the boathouse, the other fellow from

London may have his suspicions. I thought I would post my son on the pierthat quiet young man there with

the gunto keep a lookout. If he sees another boat (there are half a dozen on this side of the lake) putting off

after us, he has orders to fire, on the chance of our hearing him. A little notion of mine, sir, to prevent our

being surprised in the fog. Do you see any objection to it?' Objection! In the days when diplomacy was

something more than a solemn pretense, what a member of Congress that gardener would have made! Well,

we shipped our oars, and away we went. Not quite haphazardfor we had a compass with us. Our course

was as straight as we could go, to a village on the opposite side of the lake, called Brightfold. Nothing

happened for the first quarter of an hourand then, by the living Jingo (excuse my vulgarity), we heard the

"Went on rowing, and held a council. This time I came out as the clever one of the party. The men were

following us in the dark; they would have to guess at the direction we had taken, and they would most likely

assume (in such weather as we had) that we should choose the shortest way across the lake. At my suggestion

we changed our course, and made for a large town, higher up on the shore, called Tawley. We landed, and

waited for events, and made no discovery of another boat behind us. The fools had justified my confidence in

themthey had gone to Brightfold. There was halfanhour to spare before the next train came to Tawley;

and the fog was beginning to lift on that side of the lake. We looked at the shops; and I made a purchase in

"That was awkward, wasn't it? The first thing those men would do would be to telegraph to Tawley."

Randal answered. "A middleaged gentlemantwo ladies, one of them elderlyand a little girl. Quite

"Shall I tell you what the stationmaster discovered, with the message in his hand? No elderly lady, no

Randal's face brightened. "You parted company, of course," he said; "and you disguised Kitty! How did you

"Didn't I say just now that we looked at the shops, and that I made a purchase in the town? A boy's

readymade suitnot at all a bad fit for Kitty! Mrs. Linley put on the suit, and tucked up the child's hair

under a straw hat, in an empty yardno idlers about in that bad weather. We said goodby, and parted, with

grievous misgivings on my side, which proved (thank God!) to have been quite needless. Kitty and her

mother went to the station, and Mrs. Presty and I hired a carriage, and drove away to the head of the lake, to

catch the train to London. Do you know, Randal, I have altered my opinion of Mrs. Presty?"

Randal smiled. "You too have found something in that old woman," he said, "which doesn't appear on the

"The occasion seems to bring that something out," the lawyer remarked. "When I proposed the separation,

and mentioned my reasons, I expected to find some difficulty in persuading Mrs. Presty to give up the

adventurous journey with her daughter and her grandchild. I reminded her that she had friends in London

who would receive her, and got snubbed for taking the liberty. 'I know that as well as you do. Come

alongI'm ready to go with you.' It isn't agreeable to my selfesteem to own it, but I expected to hear her

say that she would consent to any sacrifice for the sake of her dear daughter. No such claptrap as that passed

her lips. She owned the true motive with a superiority to cant which won my sincerest respect. 'I'll do

anything,' she said, 'to baffle Herbert Linley and the spies he has set to watch us.' I can't tell you how glad I

was that she had her reward on the same day. We were too late at the station, and we had to wait for the next

train. And what do you think happened? The two scoundrels followed us instead of following Mrs. Linley!

They had inquired no doubt at the livery stables where we hired the carriagehad recognized the description

of usand had taken the long journey to London for nothing. Mrs. Presty and I shook hands at the terminus

the best friends that ever traveled together with the best of motives. After that, I think I deserve another glass

"Go on with your story, and you shall have another bottle!" cried Randal. "What did Catherine and the child

"They did the safest thingthey left England. Mrs. Linley distinguished herself on this occasion. It was her

excellent idea to avoid popular ports of departure, like Folkestone and Dover, which were sure to be watched,

and to get away (if the thing could be done) from some place on the east coast. We consulted our guide and

found that a line of steamers sailed from Hull to Bremen once a week. A tedious journey from our part of

Cumberland, with some troublesome changing of trains, but they got there in time to embark. My first news

of them reached me in a telegram from Bremen. There they waited for further instructions. I sent the

instructions by a thoroughly capable and trustworthy manan Italian courier, known to me by an experience

of twenty years. Shall I confess it? I thought I had done rather a clever thing in providing Mrs. Linley with a

"Wrong, completely wrong. I had made a mistakeI had been too clever, and I got my reward accordingly.

"Very well. I had made all the necessary arrangements for the trial, when I received a letter from Germany.

My charming client had changed her mind, and declined to apply for the Divorce. There was my reward for

"My dear fellow, you are dull tonight. I had been so successful in protecting Mrs. Linley and the child, and

my excellent courier had found such a charming place of retreat for them in one of the suburbs of Hanover,

that 'she saw no reason now for taking the shocking course that I had recommended to herso repugnant to

all her most cherished convictions; so sinful and so shameful in its doing of evil that good might come.

Experience had convinced her that (thanks to me) there was no fear of Kitty being discovered and taken from

her. She therefore begged me to write to my agent in Edinburgh, and tell him that her application to the court

was withdrawn.' Ah, you understand my position at last. The headstrong woman was running a risk which

renewed all my anxieties. By every day's post I expected to hear that she had paid the penalty of her folly,

and that your brother had succeeded in getting possession of the child. Wait a little before you laugh at me.

Randal looked astonished. "Months must have passed," he objected. "Surely, after that lapse of time, Mrs.

"Take your own positive view of it! I only know that the thing happened. And why not? The luck had begun

"Devoutly. A lawyer must believe in something. He knows the law too well to put any faith in that: and his

clients present to him (if he is a man of any feeling) a hideous view of human nature. The poor devil believes

in luckrather than believe in nothing. I think it quite likely that accident helped the person employed by the

husband to discover the wife and child. Anyhow, Mrs. Linley and Kitty were seen in the streets of Hanover;

seen, recognized, and followed. The courier happened to be with themluck again! For thirty years and

more, he had been traveling in every part of Europe; there was not a landlord of the smallest pretensions

anywhere who didn't know him and like him. 'I pretended not to see that anybody was following us,' he said

(writing from Hanover to relieve my anxiety); 'and I took the ladies to a hotel. The hotel possessed two merits

from our point of viewit had a way out at the back, through the stables, and it was kept by a landlord who

was an excellent good friend of mine. I arranged with him what he was to say when inquiries were made; and

I kept my poor ladies prisoners in their lodgings for three days. The end of it is that Mr. Linley's policeman

has gone away to watch the Channel steamservice, while we return quietly by way of Bremen and Hull.'

There is the courier's account of it. I have only to add that poor Mrs. Linley has been fairly frightened into

submission. She changes her mind again, and pledges herself once more to apply for the Divorce. If we are

only lucky enough to get our case heard without any very serious delay, I am not afraid of my client slipping

through my fingers for the second time. When will the courts of session be open to us? You have lived in

"But I haven't lived in the courts of law. I wish I could give you the information you want."

Mr. Sarrazin looked at his watch. "For all I know to the contrary," he said, "we may be wasting precious time

"Yes. We have some inveterate old whistplayers who are always to be found in the cardroom. One of them

formerly practiced, I believe, in the Scotch courts. It has just occurred to me that the chance is worth trying."

The lawyer took his hand at parting. "You seem to be almost as anxious about it as I am," he said.

"To tell you the truth, I am a little alarmed when I think of Catherine. If there is another long delay, how do

we know what may happen before the law has confirmed the mother's claim to the child? Let me send one of

the servants here to wait at your club. Will you give him a line telling me when the trial is likely to take

Left alone, Randal sat by the fireside for a while, thinking of the future. The prospect, as he saw it,

disheartened him. As a means of employing his mind on a more agreeable subject for reflection, he opened

his traveling desk and took out two or three letters. They had been addressed to him, while he was in

The captain had committed an error of which most of us have been guilty in our time. He had been too

exclusively devoted to work that interested him to remember what was due to the care of his health. The

doctor's warnings had been neglected; his overstrained nerves had given way; and the man whose strong

constitution had resisted cold and starvation in the Arctic wastes, had broken down under stress of

The second, written under dictation, alluded briefly to the remedies suggested. In the captain's case, the fresh

air recommended was the air of the sea. At the same time he was forbidden to receive either letters or

telegrams, during his absence from town, until the doctor had seen him again. These instructions pointed, in

Captain Bennydeck's estimation, to sailing for pleasure's sake, and therefore to hiring a yacht.

The third and last letter announced that the yacht had been found, and described the captain's plans when the

He proposed to sail here and there about the Channel, wherever it might please the wind to take him. Friends

would accompany him, but not in any number. The yacht was not large enough to accommodate comfortably

more than one or two guests at a time. Every now and then, the vessel would come to an anchor in the bay of

the little coast town of Sandyseal, to accommodate friends going and coming and (in spite of medical advice)

to receive letters. "You may have heard of Sandyseal," the Captain wrote, "as one of the places which have

lately been found out by the doctors. They are recommending the air to patients suffering from nervous

disorders all over England. The one hotel in the place, and the few cottages which let lodgings, are crammed,

as I hear, and the speculative builder is beginning his operations at such a rate that Sandyseal will be no

longer recognizable in a few months more. Before the crescents and terraces and grand hotels turn the town

into a fashionable wateringplace, I want to take a last look at scenes familiar to me under their old aspect. If

you are inclined to wonder at my feeling such a wish as this, I can easily explain myself. Two miles inland

from Sandyseal, there is a lonely old moated house. In that house I was born. When you return from America,

write to me at the postoffice, or at the hotel (I am equally well known in both places), and let us arrange for a

speedy meeting. I wish I could ask you to come and see me in my birthplace. It was sold, years since, under

instructions in my father's will, and was purchased for the use of a community of nuns. We may look at the

outside, and we can do no more. In the meantime, don't despair of my recovery; the sea is my old friend, and

"Have you heard any more of that poor girl, the daughter of my old friend Roderick Westerfieldwhose sad

story would never have been known to me but for you? I feel sure that you have good reasons for not telling

me the name of the man who has misled her, or the address at which she may be found. But you may one day

be at liberty to break your silence. In that case, don't hesitate to do so because there may happen to be

obstacles in my way. No difficulties discourage me, when my end in view is the saving of a soul in peril."

Randal returned to his desk to write to the Captain. He had only got as far as the first sentences, when the

servant returned with the lawyer's promised message. Mr. Sarrazin's news was communicated in these

"I am a firmer believer in luck than ever. If we only make hasteand won't I make haste!we may get the

Mrs. Linley's application for a Divorce was heard in the first division of the Court of Session at Edinburgh,

To the disappointment of the large audience assembled, no defense was attempted on the part of the

husbanda wise decision, seeing that the evidence of the wife and her witnesses was beyond dispute. But

one exciting incident occurred toward the close of the proceedings. Sudden illness made Mrs. Linley's

removal necessary, at the moment of all others most interesting to herselfthe moment before the judge's

But, as the event proved, the poor lady's withdrawal was the most fortunate circumstance that could have

occurred, in her own interests. After condemning the husband's conduct with unsparing severity, the Lord

President surprised most of the persons present by speaking of the wife in these terms:

"Grievously as Mrs. Linley has been injured, the evidence shows that she was herself by no means free from

blame. She has been guilty, to say the least of it, of acts of indiscretion. When the criminal attachment which

had grown up between Mr. Herbert Linley and Miss Westerfield had been confessed to her, she appears to

have most unreasonably overrated whatever merit there might have been in their resistance to the final

temptation. She was indeed so impulsively ready to forgive (without waiting to see if the event justified the

exercise of mercy) that she owns to having given her hand to Miss Westerfield, at parting, not half an hour

after that young person's shameless forgetfulness of the claims of modesty, duty and gratitude had been first

communicated to her. To say that this was the act of an inconsiderate woman, culpably indiscreet and, I had

almost added, culpably indelicate, is only to say what she has deserved. On the next occasion to which I feel

bound to advert, her conduct was even more deserving of censure. She herself appears to have placed the

temptation under which he fell in her husband's way, and so (in some degree at least) to have provoked the

catastrophe which has brought her before this court. I allude, it is needless to say, to her having invited the

governessthen out of harm's way; then employed elsewhereto return to her house, and to risk (what

actually occurred) a meeting with Mr. Herbert Linley when no third person happened to be present. I know

that the maternal motive which animated Mrs. Linley is considered, by many persons, to excuse and even to

justify that most regrettable act; and I have myself allowed (I fear weakly allowed) more than due weight to

this consideration in pronouncing for the Divorce. Let me express the earnest hope that Mrs. Linley will take

warning by what has happened; and, if she finds herself hereafter placed in other circumstances of difficulty,

let me advise her to exercise more control over impulses which one might expect perhaps to find in a young

His lordship then decreed the Divorce in the customary form, giving the custody of the child to the mother.

As fast as a hired carriage could take him, Mr. Sarrazin drove from the court to Mrs. Linley's lodgings, to tell

her that the one great object of securing her right to her child had been achieved.

At the door he was met by Mrs. Presty. She was accompanied by a stranger, whose medical services had been

required. Interested professionally in hearing the result of the trial, this gentleman volunteered to

communicate the good news to his patient. He had been waiting to administer a composing draught, until the

suspense from which Mrs. Linley was suffering might be relieved, and a reasonable hope be entertained that

the medicine would produce the right effect. With that explanation he left the room.

While the doctor was speaking, Mrs. Presty was drawing her own conclusions from a close scrutiny of Mr.

"I am going to make a disagreeable remark," she announced. "You look ten years older, sir, than you did

when you left us this morning to go to the Court. Do me a favorcome to the sideboard." The lawyer having

obeyed, she poured out a glass of wine. "There is the remedy," she resumed, "when something has happened

"'Worry' isn't the right word," Mr. Sarrazin declared. "I'm furious! It's a most improper thing for a person in

my position to say of a person in the Lord President's position; but I do say ithe ought to be ashamed of

Mr. Sarrazin repeated what the judge had said of Mrs. Linley. "In my opinion," he added, "such language as

"And yet," Mrs. Presty repeated, "he has given us our Divorce." She returned to the sideboard, poured out a

second dose of the remedy against worry, and took it herself. "What sort of character does the Lord President

This seemed to be an extraordinary question to put, under the circumstances. Mr. Sarrazin answered it,

however, to the best of his ability. "An excellent character," he said"that's the unaccountable part of it. I

hear that he is one of the most careful and considerate men who ever sat on the bench. Excuse me, Mrs.

Mr. Sarrazin thought he understood her at last. "You know the Lord President," he said.

Mrs. Presty denied it positively. "No, Mr. Sarrazin, I don't get at it in that way. I merely consult my

experience of another official person of high rank, and apply it to the Lord President. You know that my first

"Very well. You may also have heard that the late Mr. Norman was a remarkably wellbred man. In and out

of the House of Commons, courteous almost to a fault. One day I happened to interrupt him when he was

absorbed over an Act of Parliament. Before I could apologizeI tell you this in the strictest confidencehe

threw the Act of Parliament at my head. Ninetynine women out of a hundred would have thrown it back

again. Knowing his constitution, I decided on waiting a day or two. On the second day, my anticipations were

realized. Mr. Norman's great toe was as big as my fist and as red as a lobster; he apologized for the Act of

Parliament with tears in his eyes. Suppressed gout in Mr. Norman's temper; suppressed gout in the Lord

President's temper. He will have a toe; and, if I can prevail upon my daughter to call upon him, I have not the

This interesting experiment was never destined to be tried. Right or wrong, Mrs. Presty's theory remained the

only explanation of the judge's severity. Mr. Sarrazin attempted to change the subject. Mrs. Presty had not

quite done with it yet. "There is one more thing I want to say," she proceeded. "Will his lordship's remarks

"In that case I will take care (for my daughter's sake) that no newspapers enter the house tomorrow. As for

visitors, we needn't be afraid of them. Catherine is not likely to be able to leave her room; the worry of this

Without taking the old lady's gloomy view of his patient, he admitted that she was in a low nervous

condition, and he had reason to suppose, judging by her reply to a question which he had ventured to put, that

she had associations with Scotland which made a visit to that country far from agreeable to her. His advice

was that she should leave Edinburgh as soon as possible, and go South. If the change of climate led to no

improvement, she would at least be in a position to consult the best physicians in London. In a day or two

more it would be safe to remove herprovided she was not permitted to exhaust her strength by taking long

Having given his advice, the doctor took leave. Soon after he had gone, Kitty made her appearance, charged

Kitty shook her head. "Mamma wants to go away tomorrow, and no physic will make her sleep till she has

seen you, and settled about it. That's what she told me to say. If I behaved in that way about my physic, I

Mrs. Presty left the room; watched by her granddaughter with an appearance of anxiety which it was not easy

Kitty held up a warning hand. "Grandmamma sometimes listens at doors," she whispered; "I don't want her to

hear me." She waited a little longer, and then approached Mr. Sarrazin, frowning mysteriously. "Take me up

Mr. Sarrazin took her on his knee, and rashly asked what had gone wrong. Kitty's reply puzzled him.

"I go to mamma's room every morning when I wake," the child began. "I get into her bed, and I give her a

kiss, and I say 'Goodmorning'and sometimes, if she isn't in a hurry to get up, I stop in her bed, and go to

sleep again. Mamma thought I was asleep this morning. I wasn't asleepI was only quiet. I don't know why

Mr. Sarrazin's kindness still encouraged her. "Well," he said, "and what happened after that?"

"Grandmamma came in. She told mamma to keep up her spirits. She says, 'It will all be over in a few hours

more.' She says, 'What a burden it will be off your mind!' She says, 'Is that child asleep?' And mamma says,

'Yes.' And grandmamma took one of mamma's towels. And I thought she was going to wash herself. What

Mr. Sarrazin began to doubt whether he would do well to discuss Mrs. Presty's object in taking the towel. He

"Grandmamma dipped it into the waterjug," Kitty continued, with a grave face; "but she didn't wash herself.

She went to one of mamma's boxes. Though she's so old, she's awfully strong, I can tell you. She rubbed off

the luggagelabel in no time. Mamma says, 'What are you doing that for?' And grandmamma saysthis is

the dreadful thing that I want you to explain; oh, I can remember it all; it's like learning lessons, only much

nicergrandmamma says, 'Before the day's over, the name on your boxes will be your name no longer.'"

Mr. Sarrazin now became aware of the labyrinth into which his young friend had innocently led him. The

Divorce, and the wife's inevitable return (when the husband was no longer the husband) to her maiden

namethese were the subjects on which Kitty's desire for enlightenment applied to the wisest person within

Mr. Sarrazin tried to put her off his knee. She held him round the neck. He thought of the railway as a

promising excuse, and told her he must go back to London. She held him a little tighter. "I really can't wait,

my dear;" he got up as he said it. Kitty hung on to him with her legs as well as her arms, and finding the

position uncomfortable, lost her temper. "Mamma's going to have a new name," she shouted, as if the lawyer

had suddenly become deaf. "Grandmamma says she must be Mrs. Norman. And I must be Miss Norman. I

won't! Where's papa? I want to write to him; I know he won't allow it. Do you hear? Where's papa?"

She fastened her little hands on Mr. Sarrazin's coat collar and tried to shake him, in a fury of resolution to

know what it all meant. At that critical moment Mrs. Presty opened the door, and stood petrified on the

"Hanging on to Mr. Sarrazin with her arms and her legs!" exclaimed the old lady. "You little wretch, which

"Mind this, Samuel," she whispered, as he set her down on her feet, "I won't be Miss Norman."

Mrs. Presty pointed sternly at the open door. "You were screaming just now, when quiet in the house is of the

utmost importance to your mother. If I hear you again, bread and water and no doll for the rest of the week."

Kitty retired in disgrace, and Mrs. Presty sharpened her tongue on Mr. Sarrazin next. "I'm astonished, sir, at

your allowing that impudent grandchild of mine to take such liberties with you. Who would suppose that you

"That's just the reason, my dear madam," Mr. Sarrazin smartly replied. "I romp with my own childrenwhy

not with Kitty? Can I do anything for you in London?" he went on, getting a little nearer to the door; "I leave

Edinburgh by the next train. And I promise you," he added, with the spirit of mischief twinkling in his eyes,

"this shall be my last confidential interview with your grandchild. When she wants to ask any more questions,

Mrs. Presty looked after the retreating lawyer thoroughly mystified. What "confidential interview"? What

"questions"? After some consideration, her experience of her granddaughter suggested that a little exercise of

mercy might be attended with the right result. She looked at a cake on the sideboard. "I have only to forgive

Of the friends and neighbors who had associated with Herbert Linley, in bygone days, not more than two or

three kept up their intimacy with him at the later time of his disgrace. Those few, it is needless to say, were

One of the faithful companions, who had not shrunk from him yet, had just left the London hotel at which

Linley had taken rooms for Sydney Westerfield and himselfin the name of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert. This old

friend had been shocked by the change for the worse which he had perceived in the fugitive master of Mount

Morven. Linley's stout figure of former times had fallen away, as if he had suffered under long illness; his

healthy color had faded; he made an effort to assume the hearty manner that had once been natural to him

which was simply pitiable to see. "After sacrificing all that makes life truly decent and truly enjoyable for a

woman, he has got nothing, not even false happiness, in return!" With that dreary conclusion the retiring

Linley returned to the newspaper which he had been reading when his friend was shown into the room

Line by line he followed the progress of the law report, which informed its thousands of readers that his wife

had divorced him, and had taken lawful possession of his child. Word by word, he dwelt with morbid

attention on the terms of crushing severity in which the Lord President had spoken of Sydney Westerfield and

of himself. Sentence by sentence he read the reproof inflicted on the unhappy woman whom he had vowed to

love and cherish. And theneven thenurged by his own selftormenting suspicion, he looked for more.

On the opposite page there was a leading article, presenting comments on the trial, written in the tone of lofty

and virtuous regret; taking the wife's side against the judge, but declaring, at the same time, that no

condemnation of the conduct of the husband and the governess could be too merciless, and no misery that

He threw the newspaper on the table at his side, and thought over what he had read.

If he had done nothing else, he had drained the bitter cup to the dregs. When he looked back, he saw nothing

but the life that he had wasted. When his thoughts turned to the future, they confronted a prospect empty of

all promise to a man still in the prime of life. Wife and child were as completely lost to him as if they had

been deadand it was the wife's doing. Had he any right to complain? Not the shadow of a right. As the

He rose hurriedly, and advanced toward the window. As he crossed the room, he passed by a mirror. His own

sullen despair looked at him in the reflection of his face. "She will be back directly," he remembered; "she

mustn't see me like this!" He went on to the window to divert his mind (and so to clear his face) by watching

the stream of life flowing by in the busy street. Artificial cheerfulness, assumed love in Sydney's

If he had known that she had gone out, seeking a temporary separation, with his fear of selfbetrayalif he

had suspected that she, too, had thoughts which must be concealed: sad forebodings of losing her hold on his

heart, terrifying suspicions that he was already comparing her, to her own disadvantage, with the wife whom

he had desertedif he had made these discoveries, what would the end have been? But she had, thus far,

escaped the danger of exciting his distrust. That she loved him, he knew. That she had begun to doubt his

attachment to her he would not have believed, if his oldest friend had declared it on the best evidence. She

had said to him, that morning, at breakfast: "There was a good woman who used to let lodgings here in

London, and who was very kind to me when I was a child;" and she had asked leave to go to the house, and

inquire if that friendly landlady was still livingwith nothing visibly constrained in her smile, and with no

faltering tone in her voice. It was not until she was out in the street that the telltale tears came into her eyes,

and the bitter sigh broke from her, and mingled its little unheard misery with the grand rise and fall of the

tumult of London life While he was still at the window, he saw her crossing the street on her way back to

him. She came into the room with her complexion heightened by exercise; she kissed him, and said with her

pretty smile: "Have you been lonely without me?" Who would have supposed that the torment of distrust, and

He placed a chair for her, and seating himself by her side asked if she felt tired. Every attention that she could

wish for from the man whom she loved, offered with every appearance of sincerity on the surface! She met

"Yes. But oh, so altered, poor thing! The struggle for life must have been a hard one, since I last saw her."

"Oh! no. She looked at me and my dress in great surprise and said her lodgings were hardly fit for a young

lady like me. It was too sad. I said I had known her lodgings well, many years agoand, with that to prepare

her, I told her who I was. Ah, it was a melancholy meeting for both of us. She burst out crying when I kissed

her; and I had to tell her that my mother was dead, and my brother lost to me in spite of every effort to find

him. I asked to go into the kitchen, thinking the change would be a relief to both of us. The kitchen used to be

a paradise to me in those old days; it was so warm to a halfstarved childand I always got something to eat

when I was there. You have no idea, Herbert, how poor and how empty the place looked to me now. I was

glad to get out of it, and go upstairs. There was a lumberroom at the top of the house; I used to play in it, all

"My dear, it couldn't have changed for the worse! My dirty old playroom was cleaned and repaired; the

lumber taken away, and a nice little bed in one corner. Some clerk in the City had taken the roomI

shouldn't have known it again. But there was another surprise waiting for me; a happy surprise this time. In

Anything to please her! Anything to make her think that he was as fond of her as ever! "Was it something

"Yes! you are right at the first guessa little memorial of my father. Only some torn crumpled leaves from a

book of children's songs that he used to teach me to sing; and a small packet of his letters, which my mother

may have thrown aside and forgotten. See! I have brought them back with me; I mean to look over the letters

He made that considerate reply mechanically, as if thinking of something else. She was afraid to tell him

plainly that she saw this; but she could venture to say that he was not looking well. "I have noticed it for

some time past," she confessed. "You have been accustomed to live in the country; I am afraid London

He admitted that she might be right; still speaking absently, still thinking of the Divorce. She laid the packet

of letters and the poor relics of the old songbook on the table, and bent over him. Tenderly, and a little

timidly, she put her arm around his neck. "Let us try some purer air," she suggested; "the seaside might do

"No, Sydney. It was I who proposed coming to London. You shall decide this time."

She submitted, and promised to think of it. Leaving him, with the first expression of trouble that had shown

itself in her face, she took up the songs and put them into the pocket of her dress. On the point of removing

the letters next, she noticed the newspaper on the table. Anything interesting today?" she askedand drew

the newspaper toward her to look at it. He took it from her suddenly, almost roughly. The next moment he

apologized for his rudeness. "There is nothing worth reading in the paper," he said, after begging her pardon.

The heightened color which told of recent exercise, healthily enjoyed, faded from her face. She was silent;

she was pale. A little confused, he smiled uneasily. "Surely," he resumed, trying to speak gayly, "I haven't

"There is something in the newspaper," she said, "which you don't want me to read."

He denied itbut he still kept the newspaper in his own possession. Her voice sank low; her face turned

He went back again to the window and looked out. It was the easiest excuse that he could devise for keeping

"I don't want to read it, Herbert. I only ask you to tell me if you are a free man again."

Quiet as it was, her tone left him no alternative but to treat her brutally or to reply. Still looking out at the

He said "Yes" once moreand kept his face steadily turned away from her. She waited a while. He neither

Surviving the slow death little by little of all her other illusions, one last hope had lingered in her heart. It was

"I'll try to think of a place that we can go to at the seaside." Having said those words she slowly moved away

to the door, and turned back, remembering the packet of letters. She took it up, paused, and looked toward the

She locked the door of her bedchamber, and threw off her walkingdress; light as it was, she felt as if it

would stifle her. Even the ribbon round her neck was more than she could endure and breathe freely. Her

overburdened heart found no relief in tears. In the solitude of her room she thought of the future. The dreary

foreboding of what it might be, filled her with a superstitious dread from which she recoiled. One of the

windows was open already; she threw up the other to get more air. In the cooler atmosphere her memory

recovered itself; she recollected the newspaper, that Herbert had taken from her. Instantly she rang for the

maid. "Ask the first waiter you see downstairs for today's newspaper; any one will do, so long as I don't wait

for it." The report of the Divorceshe was in a frenzy of impatience to read what he had readthe report of

When her wish had been gratified, when she had read it from beginning to end, one vivid impression only

was left on her mind. She could think of nothing but what the judge had said, in speaking of Mrs. Linley.

A cruel reproof, and worse than cruel, a public reproof, administered to the generous friend, the true wife, the

devoted motherand for what? For having been too ready to forgive the wretch who had taken her husband

from her, and had repaid a hundred acts of kindness by unpardonable ingratitude.

She fell on her knees; she tried wildly to pray for inspiration that should tell her what to do. "Oh, God, how

The composing influence of prayer on a troubled mind was something that she had heard of. It was not

something that she experienced now. An overpowering impatience to make the speediest and completest

atonement possessed her. Must she wait till Herbert Linley no longer concealed that he was weary of her, and

cast her off? No! It should be her own act that parted them, and that did it at once. She threw open the door,

and hurried halfway down the stairs before she remembered the one terrible obstacle in her waythe

There was no disguising it; the two who had once been husband and wife were parted irrevocablyby the

wife's own act. Let him repent ever so sincerely, let him be ever so ready to return, would the woman whose

faith Herbert Linley had betrayed take him back? The Divorce, the merciless Divorce, answered:No!

She paused, thinking of the marriage that was now a marriage no more. The toilettable was close to her; she

looked absently at her haggard face in the glass. What a lost wretch she saw! The generous impulses which

other women were free to feel were forbidden luxuries to her. She was ashamed of her wickedness; she was

eager to sacrifice herself, for the good of the oncedear friend whom she had wronged. Useless longings!

Comparing Mrs. Linley's prospects with hers, was there anything to justify regret for the divorced wife? She

had her sweet little child to make her happy; she had a fortune of her own to lift her above sordid cares; she

was still handsome, still a woman to be admired. While she held her place in the world as high as ever, what

was the prospect before Sydney Westerfield? The miserable sinner would end as she had deserved to end.

Absolutely dependent on a man who was at that moment perhaps lamenting the wife whom he had deserted

and lost, how long would it be before she found herself an outcast, without a friend to help herwith a

reputation hopelessly lostface to face with the temptation to drown herself or poison herself, as other

women had drowned themselves or poisoned themselves, when the brightest future before them was rest in

If she had been a few years older, Herbert Linley might never again have seen her a living creature. But she

was too young to follow any train of repellent thought persistently to its end. The man she had guiltily (and

yet how naturally) loved was lord and master in her heart, doubt him as she might. Even in his absence he

She reviewed his language and his conduct toward her, when she had returned that morning from her walk.

He had been kind and considerate; he had listened to her little story of the relics of her father, found in the

garret, as if her interests were his interests. There had been nothing to disappoint her, nothing to complain of,

until she had rashly attempted to discover whether he was free to make her his wife. She had only herself to

blame if he was cold and distant when she had alluded to that delicate subject, on the day when he first knew

that the Divorce had been granted and his child had been taken from him. And yet, he might have found a

kinder way of reproving a sensitive woman than looking into the streetas if he had forgotten her in the

interest of watching the strangers passing by! Perhaps he was not thinking of the strangers; perhaps his mind

Instinctively, she felt that her thoughts were leading her back again to a state of doubt from which her

youthful hopefulness recoiled. Was there nothing she could find to do which would offer some other subject

Looking absently round the room, she noticed the packet of her father's letters placed on the table by her

The first three letters that she examined, after untying the packet, were briefly written, and were signed by

names unknown to her. They all related to racehorses, and to cunningly devised bets which were certain to

make the fortunes of the clever gamblers on the turf who laid them. Absolute indifference on the part of the

winners to the ruin of the losers, who were not in the secret, was the one feeling in common, which her

father's correspondents presented. In mercy to his memory she threw the letters into the empty fireplace, and

The next letter which she picked out from the little heap was of some length, and was written in a clear and

steady hand. By comparison with the blotted scrawls which she had just burned, it looked like the letter of a

gentleman. She turned to the signature. The strange surname struck her; it was "Bennydeck."

Not a common name, and not a name which seemed to be altogether unknown to her. Had she heard her

father mention it at home in the time of her early childhood? There were no associations with it that she could

She read the letter. It addressed her father familiarly as "My dear Roderick," and it proceeded in these

"The delay in the sailing of your ship offers me an opportunity of writing to you again. My last letter told you

of my father's death. I was then quite unprepared for an event which has happened, since that affliction befell

me. Prepare yourself to be surprised. Our old moated house at Sandyseal, in which we have spent so many

"You will be almost as sorry as I was to hear this; and you will be quite as surprised as I was, when I tell you

that Sandyseal Place has become a Priory of English Nuns, of the order of St. Benedict.

"I think I see you look up from my letter, with your big black eyes staring straight before you, and say and

swear that this must be one of my mystifications. Unfortunately (for I am fond of the old house in which I

was born) it is only too true. The instructions in my father's will, under which Sandyseal has been sold, are

peremptory. They are the result of a promise made, many years since, to his wife.

"You and I were both very young when my poor mother died; but I think you must remember that she, like

"Having reminded you of this, I may next tell you that Sandyseal Place was my mother's property. It formed

part of her marriage portion, and it was settled on my father if she died before him, and if she left no female

child to survive her. I am her only child. My father was therefore dealing with his own property when he

ordered the house to be sold. His will leaves the purchase money to me. I would rather have kept the house.

"A letter, attached to my father's will, answers this question, and tells a very sad story. In deference to my

"There was a younger sister of my mother's who was the beauty of the family; loved and admired by

everybody who was acquainted with her. It is needless to make this long letter longer by dwelling on the girl's

miserable story. You have heard it of other girls, over and over again. She loved and trusted; she was

deceived and deserted. Alone and friendless in a foreign country; her fair fame blemished; her hope in the

future utterly destroyed, she attempted to drown herself. This took place in France. The best of good

womena Sister of Charityhappened to be near enough to the river to rescue her. She was sheltered; she

was pitied; she was encouraged to return to her family. The poor deserted creature absolutely refused; she

could never forget that she had disgraced them. The good Sister of Charity won her confidence. A retreat

which would hide her from the world, and devote her to religion for the rest of her days, was the one end to

her wasted life that she longed for. That end was attained in a Priory of Benedictine Nuns, established in

France. There she found protection and peacethere she passed the remaining years of her life among

"You will now understand how my mother's grateful remembrance associated her with the interests of more

than one community of Nuns; and you will not need to be told what she had in mind when she obtained my

"He at once proposed to bequeath the house as a free gift to the Benedictines. My mother thanked him and

refused. She was thinking of me. 'If our son fails to inherit the house from his father,' she said, 'it is only right

"My idea is to invest it in the Funds, and to let it thrive at interest, until I grow older, and retire perhaps from

service in the Navy. The later years of my life may well be devoted to the founding of a charitable institution,

which I myself can establish and direct. If I die firstoh, there is a chance of it! We may have a naval war,

perhaps, or I may turn out one of those incorrigible madmen who risk their lives in Arctic exploration. In case

of the worst, therefore, I shall leave the interests of my contemplated Home in your honest and capable hands.

Sydney dwelt with reluctant attention on the latter half of it. The story of the unhappy favorite of the family

had its own melancholy and sinister interest for her. She felt the foreboding that it might, in some of its

circumstances, be her story toowithout the peaceful end. Into what community of merciful women could

she be received, in her sorest need? What religious consolations would encourage her penitence? What

She sighed as she folded up Captain Bennydeck's letter and put it in her bosom, to be read again. "If my lot

had fallen among good people," she thought, "perhaps I might have belonged to the Church which took care

Her mind was still pursuing its own sad course of inquiry; she was wondering in what part of England

Sandyseal might be; she was asking herself if the Nuns at the old moated house ever opened their doors to

women, whose one claim on their common Christianity was the claim to be pitiedwhen she heard Linley's

His tone was kind; his manner was gentle; his tender interest in her seemed to have revived. Her long absence

had alarmed him; he feared she might be ill. "I was only thinking," she said. He smiled, and sat down by her,

and asked if she had been thinking of the place that they should go to when they left London.

The one hotel in Sandyseal was full, from the topmost story to the ground floor; and by far the larger half of

To persons of excitable temperament, in search of amusement, the place offered no attractions. Situated at the

innermost end of a dull little bay, Sandysealso far as any view of the shipping in the Channel was

concernedmight have been built on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean. Vessels of any importance kept

well out of the way of treacherous shoals and currents lurking at the entrance of the bay. The anchorage

ground was good; but the depth of water was suited to small vessels onlyto shabby old fishingsmacks

which seldom paid their expenses, and to dirty little coasters carrying coals and potatoes. At the back of the

hotel, two slovenly rows of cottages took their crooked course inland. Sailing masters of yachts, off duty, sat

and yawned at the windows; lazy fishermen looked wearily at the weather over their garden gates; and

superfluous coastguards gathered together in a wooden observatory, and leveled useless telescopes at an

empty sea. The flat open country, with its few dwarf trees and its mangy hedges, lay prostrate under the sky

in all the desolation of solitary space, and left the famous restorative air free to build up dilapidated nerves,

without an object to hinder its passage at any point of the compass. The lonely drabcolored road that led to

the nearest town offered to visitors, taking airings, a view of a low brown object in the distance, said to be the

convent in which the Nuns lived, secluded from mortal eyes. At one side of the hotel, the windows looked on

a little wooden pier, sadly in want of repair. On the other side, a walled inclosure accommodated yachts of

light tonnage, stripped of their rigging, and sitting solitary on a bank of mud until their owners wanted them.

In this neighborhood there was a small outlying colony of shops: one that sold fruit and fish; one that dealt in

groceries and tobacco; one shut up, with a bill in the window inviting a tenant; and one, behind the Methodist

Chapel, answering the double purpose of a postoffice and a storehouse for ropes and coals. Beyond these

objects there was nothing (and this was the great charm of the place) to distract the attention of invalids,

following the doctor's directions, and from morning to night taking care of their health.

The time was evening; the scene was one of the private sittingrooms in the hotel; and the purpose in view

Rich Mrs. Romsey, connected with commerce as wife of the chief partner in the firm of Romsey Renshaw,

was staying at the hotel in the interests of her three children. They were of delicate constitution; their

complete recovery, after severe illness which had passed from one to the other, was less speedy than had been

anticipated; and the doctor had declared that the nervous system was, in each case, more or less in need of

repair. To arrive at this conclusion, and to recommend a visit to Sandyseal, were events which followed each

The health of the children had greatly improved; the famous air had agreed with them, and the discovery of

new playfellows had agreed with them. They had made acquaintance with Lady Myrie's wellbred boys, and

with Mrs. Norman's charming little Kitty. The most cordial goodfeeling had established itself among the

mothers. Owing a return for hospitalities received from Lady Myrie and Mrs. Norman, Mrs. Romsey had

invited the two ladies to drink tea with her in honor of an interesting domestic event. Her husband, absent on

the Continent for some time past, on business connected with his firm, had returned to England, and had that

Lady Myrie had arrived, and Mr. Romsey had been presented to her. Mrs. Norman, expected to follow, was

represented by a courteous note of apology. She was not well that evening, and she begged to be excused.

"This is a great disappointment," Mrs. Romsey said to her husband. "You would have been charmed with

Mrs. Normanhighlybred, accomplished, a perfect lady. And she leaves us tomorrow. The departure will

not be an early one; and I shall find an opportunity, my dear, of introducing you to my friend and her sweet

Mr. Romsey looked interested for a moment, when he first heard Mrs. Norman's name. After that, he slowly

"Yesand I hope I have made a friend for life," Mrs. Romsey said with enthusiasm.

Both the ladies answered the question together. Lady Myrie described Mrs. Norman, in one dreadful word, as

"Classical." By comparison with this, Mrs. Romsey's reply was intelligible. "Not even illness can spoil her

"Don't be illnatured, dear! Mrs. Norman is here by the advice of one of the first physicians in London; she

Mr. Romsey persisted in being illnatured. "Connected with her husband?" he asked.

Lady Myrie entered a protest. She was a widow; and it was notorious among her friends that the death of her

husband had been the happiest event in her married life. But she understood her duty to herself as a

"I think, Mr. Romsey, you might have spared that cruel allusion," she said with dignity.

Mr. Romsey apologized. He had his reasons for wishing to know something more about Mrs. Norman; he

proposed to withdraw his last remark, and to put his inquiries under another form. Might he ask his wife if

Mrs. Romsey answered in the negative once more, and added a question on her own account. What did all

"It means," Lady Myrie interposed, "what we poor women are all exposed toscandal." She had not yet

forgiven Mr. Romsey's allusion, and she looked at him pointedly as she spoke. There are some impenetrable

men on whom looks produce no impression. Mr. Romsey was one of them. He turned to his wife, and said,

quietly: "What I mean is, that I know more of Mrs. Norman than you do. I have heard of hernever mind

how or where. She is a lady who has been celebrated in the newspapers. Don't be alarmed. She is no less a

The two ladies looked at each other in blank dismay. Restrained by a sense of conjugal duty, Mrs. Romsey

only indulged in an exclamation. Lady Myrie, independent of restraint, expressed her opinion, and said:

"The Mrs. Norman whom I mean," Mr. Romsey went on, "has, as I have been told, a mother living. The old

This settled the question. Mrs. Presty was established, in her own proper person, with her daughter and

grandchild at the hotel. Lady Myrie yielded to the force of evidence; she lifted her hands in horror: "This is

Mrs. Romsey took a more compassionate view of the disclosure. "Surely the poor lady is to be pitied?" she

Lady Myrie looked at her friend in astonishment. "My dear, you must have forgotten what the judge said

"Say?" Lady Myrie repeated. "What did he not say! His lordship declared that he had a great mind not to

grant the Divorce at all. He spoke of this dreadful woman who has deceived us in the severest terms; he said

she had behaved in a most improper manner. She had encouraged the abominable governess; and if her

husband had yielded to temptation, it was her fault. And more besides, that I don't remember."

Mr. Romsey's wife appealed to him in despair. "What am I to do?" she asked, helplessly.

"That's the worst of it!" Mrs. Romsey declared. "Her little girl Kitty gives a farewell dinner tomorrow to our

Lady Myrie pronounced sentence without hesitation. "Of course your girls mustn't go. Daughters! Think of

Lady Myrie corrected his language. "I have been deceived in the same way," she said. "Though my children

are boys (which perhaps makes a difference) I feel it is my duty as a mother not to let them get into bad

company. I do nothing myself in an underhand way. No excuses! I shall send a note and tell Mrs. Norman

Mr. Romsey agreed with his wife, on grounds of expediency. "Never make a row if you can help it," was the

peaceable principle to which this gentleman committed himself. "Send word that the children have caught

Mrs. Romsey looked gratefully at her admirable husband. "Just the thing!" she said, with an air of relief.

Lady Myrie's sense of duty expressed itself, with the strictest adherence to the laws of courtesy. She rose,

Almost at the same moment, innocent little Kitty astonished her mother and her grandmother by appearing

before them in her nightgown, after she had been put to bed nearly two hours since.

"About my dinnerparty tomorrow. Oh," said the child, clasping her hands earnestly as she thought of her

Belonging to the generation which has lived to see the Age of Hurry, and has no sympathy with it, Mrs.

Presty entered the sittingroom at the hotel, two hours before the time that had been fixed for leaving

Sandyseal, with her mind at ease on the subject of her luggage. "My boxes are locked, strapped and labeled; I

hate being hurried. What's that you're reading?" she asked, discovering a book on her daughter's lap,; and a

Mrs. Norman made the most common, andwhere the object is to baffle curiositythe most useless of

prevaricating replies. When her mother asked her what she was reading she answered: "Nothing."

"Nothing!" Mrs. Presty repeated with an ironical assumption of interest. "The work of all others, Catherine,

that I most want to read." She snatched up the book; opened it at the first page, and discovered an inscription

in faded ink which roused her indignation. "To dear Catherine, from Herbert, on the anniversary of our

marriage." What unintended mockery in those words, read by the later light of the Divorce! "Well, this is

mean," said Mrs. Presty. "Keeping that wretch's present, after the public exposure which he has forced on

Catherine was not quite so patient with her mother as usual. "Keeping my best remembrance of the happy

"Misplaced sentiment," Mrs. Presty declared; "I shall put the book out of the way. Your brain is softening,

Catherine asserted her own opinion against her mother's opinion, for the second time. "I have recovered my

"Give me the shop windows, the streets, the life, the racket, and the smoke of London," cried Mrs. Presty.

"Thank Heaven, these rooms are let over our heads, and out we must go, whether we like it or not."

This expression of gratitude was followed by a knock at the door, and by a voice outside asking leave to

come in, which was, beyond all doubt, the voice of Randal Linley. With Catherine's book still in her

possession, Mrs. Presty opened the tabledrawer, threw it in, and closed the drawer with a bang. Discovering

the two ladies, Randal stopped in the doorway, and stared at them in astonishment.

"I heard you were here, from our friend Sarrazin," Randal said; "but I expected to see Captain Bennydeck.

Catherine attempted to explain. "They were Captain Bennydeck's rooms," she began; "but he was so kind,

Mrs. Presty interposed. "My dear Catherine, you have not had my advantages; you have not been taught to

make a complicated statement in few words. Permit me to seize the points (in the late Mr. Presty's style) and

to put them in the strongest light. This place, Randal, is always full; and we didn't write long enough

beforehand to secure rooms. Captain Bennydeck happened to be downstairs when he heard that we were

obliged to go away, and that one of us was a lady in delicate health. This sweetest of men sent us word that

we were welcome to take his rooms, and that he would sleep on board his yacht. Conduct worthy of Sir

Charles Grandison himself. When I went downstairs to thank him, he was goneand here we have been for

nearly three weeks; sometimes seeing the Captain's yacht, but, to our great surprise, never seeing the Captain

"There's nothing to be surprised at, Mrs. Presty. Captain Bennydeck likes doing kind things, and hates being

Catherine went to the window. "He is coming to meet you," she said. "There is his yacht in the bay."

"And in a dead calm," Randal added, joining her. "The vessel will not get here, before I am obliged to go

Catherine looked at him timidly. "Do I drive you away?" she asked, in tones that faltered a little.

Randal wondered what she could possibly be thinking of and acknowledged it in so many words.

"She is thinking of the Divorce," Mrs. Presty explained. "You have heard of it, of course; and perhaps you

"I do nothing of the sort, ma'am. My brother has been in the wrong from first to last." He turned to Catherine.

"I will stay with you as long as I can, with the greatest pleasure," he said earnestly and kindly. "The truth is, I

am on my way to visit some friends; and if Captain Bennydeck had got here in time to see me, I must have

gone away to the junction to catch the next train westward, just as I am going now. I had only two words to

say to the Captain about a person in whom he is interestedand I can say them in this way." He wrote in

pencil on one of his visiting cards, and laid it on the table. "I shall be back in London, in a week," he

resumed, "and you will tell me at what address I can find you. In the meanwhile, I miss Kitty. Where is she?"

Kitty was sent for. She entered the room looking unusually quiet and subduedbut, discovering Randal,

"Oh, Uncle Randal, I'm so glad to see you!" She checked herself, and looked at her mother. "May I call him

Mrs. Presty shook a warning forefinger at her granddaughter, and reminded Kitty that she had been told not

to talk about names. Randal saw the child's look of bewilderment, and felt for her. "She may talk as she

pleases to me," he said "but not to strangers. She understands that, I am sure."

Kitty laid her cheek fondly against her uncle's cheek. "Everything is changed," she whispered. "We travel

about; papa has left us, and Syd has left us, and we have got a new name. We are Norman now. I wish I was

Randal tried to reconcile her to her own happy ignorance. "You have got your dear good mother," he said,

"And some nice boys and girls to play with," cried Kitty, eagerly following the new suggestion. "They are all

coming here directly to dine with me. You will stay and have dinner too, won't you?"

Randal promised to dine with Kitty when they met in London. Before he left the room he pointed to his card

The moment the door had closed on him, Mrs. Presty startled her daughter by taking up the card and looking

at what Randal had written on it. "It isn't a letter, Catherine; and you know how superior I am to common

"I am sorry to say that I can tell you nothing more of your old friend's daughter as yet. I can only repeat that

Mrs. Presty laid the card down again and owned that she wished Randal had been a little more explicit. "Who

Kitty turned to her mother with a look of alarm. "What's a hussy?" she asked. "Does grandmamma mean

me?" The great hotel clock in the hall struck two, and the child's anxieties took a new direction. "Isn't it time

It was half an hour past the time. Catherine proposed to send to Lady Myrie and Mrs. Romsey, and inquire if

anything had happened to cause the delay. As she told Kitty to ring the bell, the waiter came in with two

Mrs. Presty had her own ideas, and drew her own conclusions. She watched Catherine attentively. Even Kitty

observed that her mother's face grew paler and paler as she read the letters. "You look as if you were

frightened, mamma." There was no reply. Kitty began to feel so uneasy on the subject of her dinner and her

The old lady's worldly wisdom had passed, by this time from a state of suspicion to a state of certainty. "My

Kitty ran to her mother, eager to inquire if what Mrs. Presty had told her could possibly be true. Before a

Never, in her little experience, had she been startled by such a look in her mother's face as the look that

confronted her now. For the first time Catherine saw her child trembling at the sight of her. Before that

discovery, the emotions that shook her under the insult which she had received lost their hold. She caught

Kitty up in her arms. "My darling, my angel, it isn't you I am thinking of. I love you!I love you! In the

whole world there isn't such a good child, such a sweet, lovable, pretty child as you are. Oh, how

disappointed she looksshe's crying. Don't break my heart!don't cry!" Kitty held up her head, and cleared

her eyes with a dash of her hand. "I won't cry, mamma." And child as she was, she was as good as her word.

Perversely reluctant, the better nature that was in Mrs. Presty rose to the surface, forced to show itself. "Cry,

With a gentleness that astonished Kitty, she led her little granddaughter to the window, and pointed to the

public walk in front of the house. "I know what will comfort you," the wise old woman began; "look out of

"I don't see my little friends coming," she said. Mrs. Presty still pointed to some object on the public walk.

"That's better than nothing, isn't it?" she persisted. "Come with me to the maid; she shall go with you, and

take care of you." Kitty whispered, "May I give mamma a kiss first?" Sensible Mrs. Presty delayed the kiss

for a while. "Wait till you come back, and then you can tell your mamma what a treat you have had." Arrived

at the door on their way out, Kitty whispered again: "I want to say something""Well, what is it?""Will

you tell the donkeyboy to make him gallop?""I'll tell the boy he shall have sixpence if you are satisfied;

and you will see what he does then." Kitty looked up earnestly in her grandmother's face. "What a pity it is

you are not always like what you are now!" she said. Mrs. Presty actually blushed.

Mrs. Presty had read (and destroyed) the letters of Lady Myrie and Mrs. Romsey, with the most unfeigned

contempt for the writershad repeated what the judge had really said, as distinguished from Lady Myrie's

malicious version of itand had expressed her intention of giving Catherine a word of advice, when she was

sufficiently composed to profit by it. "You have recovered your good looks, after that fit of crying," Mrs.

"My dear, the child wants nobody's pity. She's blowing away all her troubles by a ride in the fresh air, on the

favorite donkey that she feeds every morning. Yes, yes, you needn't tell me you are in a false position; and

nobody can deny that it's shameful to make the child feel it. Now listen to me. Properly understood, those two

spiteful women have done you a kindness. They have as good as told you how to protect yourself in the time

to come. Deceive the vile world, Catherine, as it deserves to be deceived. Shelter yourself behind a

respectable character that will spare you these insults in the future." In the energy of her conviction, Mrs.

Presty struck her fist on the table, and finished in three audacious words: "Be a Widow!"

It was plainly saidand yet Catherine seemed to be at a loss to understand what her mother meant.

"Don't doubt about it," Mrs. Presty went on; "do it. Think of Kitty if you won't think of yourself. In a few

years more she will be a young lady. She may have an offer of marriage which may be everything we desire.

Suppose her sweetheart's family is a religious family; and suppose your Divorce, and the judge's remarks on

"Is it possible that you are in earnest?" Catherine asked. "Have you seriously thought of the advice that you

are giving me? Setting aside the deceit, you know as well as I do that Kitty would ask questions. Do you

think I can tell my child that her father is dead? A lieand such a dreadful lie as that?"

"Rank nonsense," her mother persisted. "Hasn't your situation forced you to lie already? When the child asks

why her father and her governess have left us, haven't you been obliged to invent excuses which are lies? If

the man who was once your husband isn't as good as dead to you, I should like to know what your Divorce

means! My poor dear, do you think you can go on as you are going on now? How many thousands of people

have read the newspaper account of the trial? How many hundreds of peopleinterested in a handsome

woman like youwill wonder why they never see Mr. Norman? What? You will go abroad again? Go where

you may, you will attract attention; you will make an enemy of every ugly woman who looks at you. Strain at

a gnat, Catherine, and swallow a camel. It's only a question of time. Sooner or later you will be a Widow.

Catherine's mother was nearer to the door than Catherine; she attracted the Captain's attention first. He

Mrs. Presty had an eye for a handsome man, irrespective of what his age might be. In the language of the

conjurors a "magic change" appeared in her; she became brightly agreeable in a moment.

"Oh, Captain Bennydeck, you mustn't make excuses for coming into your own room!"

Captain Bennydeck went on with his excuses, nevertheless. "The landlady tells me that I have unluckily

missed seeing Mr. Randal Linley, and that he has left a message for me. I shouldn't otherwise have

Mrs. Presty stopped him once more. The Captain's claim to the Captain's rooms was the principle on which

she took her stand. She revived the irresistible smiles which had conquered Mr. Norman and Mr. Presty. "No

Catherine advanced a few steps; it was time to stop her mother, if the thing could be done. She felt just

embarrassment enough to heighten her color, and to show her beauty to the greatest advantage. It literally

staggered the Captain, the moment he looked at her. His customary composure, as a wellbred man, deserted

him; he bowed confusedly; he had not a word to say. Mrs. Presty seized her opportunity, and introduced them

to each other. "My daughter Mrs. NormanCaptain Bennydeck." Compassionating him under the

impression that he was a shy man, Catherine tried to set him at his ease. "I am indeed glad to have an

opportunity of thanking you," she said, inviting him by a gesture to be seated. "In this delightful air, I have

The Captain regained his selfpossession. Expressions of gratitude had been addressed to him which, in his

"You little know," he replied, "under what interested motives I have acted. When I established myself in this

hotel, I was fairly driven out of my yacht by a guest who went sailing with me."

Catherine was amused; Mrs. Presty burst out laughing; the Captain's dry humor asserted itself as quaintly as

ever. "This is no laughing matter," he resumed, looking at Catherine. "My vessel is a small one. For two

nights the awful music of my friend's nose kept me sleepless. When I woke him, and said, 'Don't snore,' he

apologized in the sweetest manner, and began again. On the third day I anchored in the bay here, determined

to get a night's rest on shore. A dispute about the price of these rooms offered them to me. I sent a note of

apology on boardand slept peacefully. The next morning, my sailing master informed me that there had

been what he called 'a little swell in the night.' He reported the sounds made by my friend on this occasion to

have been the awful sounds of seasickness. 'The gentleman left the yacht, sir, the first thing this morning,' he

said; 'and he's gone home by railway.' On the day when you happened to arrive, my cabin was my own again;

and I can honestly thank you for relieving me of my rooms. Do you make a long stay, Mrs. Norman?"

Catherine answered that they were going to London by the next train. Seeing Randal's card still unnoticed on

Mrs. Presty hastened to answer in the affirmative for her daughter. It was plain that Randal had discreetly

abstained from mentioning his true connection with them. Would he preserve the same silence if the Captain

spoke of his visit to Mrs. Norman, when he and his friend met next? Mrs. Presty's mind might have been at

ease on that subject, if she had known how to appreciate Randal's character and Randal's motives. The same

keen sense of the family disgrace, which had led him to conceal from Captain Bennydeck his brother's illicit

relations with Sydney Westerfield, had compelled him to keep secret his former association, as

brotherinlaw, with the divorced wife. Her change of name had hitherto protected her from discovery by the

Captain, and would in all probability continue to protect her in the future. The good Bennydeck had been

enjoying himself at sea when the Divorce was granted, and when the newspapers reported the proceedings.

He rarely went to his club, and he never associated with persons of either sex to whom gossip and scandal are

as the breath of their lives. Ignorant of these circumstances, and remembering what had happened on that day,

Mrs. Presty looked at him with some anxiety on her daughter's account, while he was reading the message on

Randal's card. There was little to see. His fine face expressed a quiet sorrow, and he sighed as he put the card

An interval of silence followed. Captain Bennydeck was thinking over the message which he had just read.

Catherine and her mother were looking at him with the same interest, inspired by very different motives. The

interview so pleasantly begun was in some danger of lapsing into formality and embarrassment, when a new

Kitty had returned in triumph from her ride. "Mamma! the donkey did more than gallophe kicked, and I

fell off. Oh, I'm not hurt!" cried the child, seeing the alarm in her mother's face. "Tumbling off is such a

funny sensation. It isn't as if you fell on the ground; it's as if the ground came up to you and saidBump!"

She had got as far as that, when the progress of her narrative was suspended by the discovery of a strange

The smile that brightened the captain's face, when Kitty opened the door, answered for him as a man who

(A common question and a common reply. Nothing worth noticing, in either the one or the other, at the

timeand yet they proved to be important enough to turn Catherine's life into a new course.)

In the meanwhile, Kitty had been whispering to her mother. She wanted to know the strange gentleman's

name. The Captain heard her. "My name is Bennydeck," he said; "will you come to me?"

Kitty had heard the name mentioned in connection with a yacht. Like all children, she knew a friend the

moment she looked at him. "I've seen your pretty boat, sir," she said, crossing the room to Captain

"If you were not going back to London, my dear, I should ask your mamma to let me take you sailing with

The Captain's answer delighted Kitty. "Oh, yes, tomorrow or next day!" she suggested. "Do you know where

to find me in London? Mamma, where do I live, when I am in London?" Before her mother could answer, she

hit on a new idea. "Don't tell me; I'll find it for myself. It's on grandmamma's boxes, and they're in the

Captain Bennydeck's eyes followed her, as she left the room, with an expression of interest which more than

confirmed the favorable impression that he had already produced on Catherine. She was on the point of

asking if he was married, and had children of his own, when Kitty came back, and declared the right address

to be Buck's Hotel, Sydenham. "Mamma puts things down for fear of forgetting them," she added. "Will you

The Captain took out his pocketbook, and appealed pleasantly to Mrs. Norman. "May I follow your

example?" he asked. Catherine not only humored the little joke, but, gratefully remembering his kindness,

said: "Don't forget, when you are in London, that Kitty's invitation is my invitation, too." At the same

moment, punctual Mrs. Presty looked at her watch, and reminded her daughter that railways were not in the

habit of allowing passengers to keep them waiting. Catherine rose, and gave her hand to the Captain at

parting. Kitty improved on her mother's form of farewell; she gave him a kiss and whispered a little reminder

Captain Bennydeck opened the door for them, secretly wishing that he could follow Mrs. Norman to the

Mrs. Presty made no attempt to remind him that she was still in the room. Where her family interests were

concerned, the old lady was capable (on very slight encouragement) of looking a long way into the future.

She was looking into the future now. The Captain's social position was all that could be desired; he was

evidently in easy pecuniary circumstances; he admired Catherine and Catherine's child. If he only proved to

be a single man, Mrs. Presty's prophetic soul, without waiting an instant to reflect, perceived a dazzling

future. Captain Bennydeck approached to take leave. "Not just yet," pleaded the most agreeable of women;

"my luggage was ready two hours ago. Sit down again for a few minutes. You seem to like my little

"If I had such a child as that," the Captain answered, "I believe I should be the happiest man living."

"Ah, my dear sir, all isn't gold that glitters," Mrs. Presty remarked. "That proverb must have been originally

intended to apply to children. May I presume to make you the subject of a guess? I fancy you are not a

The Captain looked a little surprised. "You are quite right," he said; "I have never been married."

At a later period, Mrs. Presty owned that she felt an inclination to reward him for confessing himself to be a

bachelor, by a kiss. He innocently checked that impulse by putting a question. "Had you any particular

Mrs. Presty modestly acknowledged that she had only her own experience to help her. "You wouldn't be quite

so fond of other people's children," she said, "if you were a married man. Ah, your time will come yetI

He answered this sadly. "My time has gone by. I have never had the opportunities that have been granted to

some favored men." He thought of the favored man who had married Mrs. Norman. Was her husband worthy

Serious issues depended on the manner in which this question was answered. For one moment, and for one

moment only, Mrs. Presty hesitated. Then (in her daughter's interest, of course) she put Catherine in the

position of a widow, in the least blamable of all possible ways, by honestly owning the truth.

"Your daughter is a widow!" cried the Captain, perfectly unable to control his delight at that discovery.

What else, indeed! If "no Mr. Norman" meant (as it must surely mean) that Mr. Norman was dead, and if the

beautiful mother of Kitty was an honest woman, her social position was beyond a doubt. Captain Bennydeck

felt a little ashamed of his own impetuosity. Before he had made up his mind what to say next, the unlucky

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said; "the lady and gentleman who have taken these rooms have just arrived."

Mrs. Presty got up in a hurry, and cordially shook hands with the Captain. Looking round, she took up the

railway guide and her knitting left on the table. Was there anything else left about? There was nothing to be

seen. Mrs. Presty crossed the passage to her daughter's bedroom, to hurry the packing. Captain Bennydeck

In the hall of the hotel he passed the lady and gentlemanand, of course, noticed the lady. She was little and

dark and would have been pretty, if she had not looked ill and out of spirits. What would he have said, what

would he have done, if he had known that those two strangers were Randal Linley's brother and Roderick

The stealthy influence of distrust fastens its hold on the mind by slow degrees. Little by little it reaches its

Day after day, the false conviction grew on Sydney's mind that Herbert Linley was comparing the life he led

now with the happier life which he remembered at Mount Morven. Day after day, her unreasoning fear

contemplated the time when Herbert Linley would leave her friendless, in the world that had no place in it for

women like herself. Delusionfatal delusion that looked like truth! Morally weak as he might be, the man

whom she feared to trust had not yet entirely lost the sense which birth and breeding had firmly fastened in

himthe sense of honor. Acting under that influence, he was (if the expression may be permitted) consistent

even in inconsistency. With equal sincerity of feeling, he reproached himself for his infidelity toward the

woman whom he had deserted, and devoted himself to his duty toward the woman whom he had misled. In

Sydney's presencesuffer as he might under the struggle to maintain his resolution when he was alonehe

kept his intercourse with her studiously gentle in manner, and considerate in language; his conduct offered

assurances for the future which she could only see through the falsifying medium of her own distrust.

In the delusion that now possessed her she read, over and over again, the letter which Captain Bennydeck had

addressed to her father; she saw, more and more clearly, the circumstances which associated her situation

with the situation of the poor girl who had closed her wasted life among the nuns in a French convent.

When Herbert asked to what part of England they should go, on leaving London, she mentioned Sandyseal as

a place that she had heard of, and felt some curiosity to see. The same daybent on pleasing her, careless

A time followed, during which they were obliged to wait until rooms were free. In this interval, brooding

over the melancholy absence of a friend or relative in whom she could confide, her morbid dread of the future

decided her on completing the parallel between herself and that other lost creature of whom she had read.

Sydney opened communication anonymously with the Benedictine community at Sandyseal.

She addressed the Mother Superior; telling the truth about herself with but one concealment, the concealment

of names. She revealed her isolated position among her fellowcreatures; she declared her fervent desire to

repent of her wickedness, and to lead a religious life; she acknowledged her misfortune in having been

brought up by persons careless of religion, and she confessed to having attended a Protestant place of

worship, as a mere matter of form connected with the duties of a teacher at a school. "The religion of any

Christian woman who will help me to be more like herself," she wrote, "is the religion to which I am willing

and eager to belong. If I come to you in my distress, will you receive me?" To that simple appeal, she added a

When Captain Bennydeck and Sydney Westerfield passed each other as strangers, in the hall of the hotel, that

The servant showed "Mr. and Mrs. Herbert" into their sittingroom, and begged that they would be so good

as to wait for a few minutes, while the other rooms were being prepared for them.

Sydney seated herself in silence. She was thinking of her letter, and wondering whether a reply was waiting

Moving toward the window to look at the view, Herbert paused to examine some prints hanging on the walls,

which were superior as works of art to the customary decorations of a room at a hotel. If he had gone straight

to the window he might have seen his divorced wife, his child, and his wife's mother, getting into the carriage

She joined him wearily, with a faint smile. It was a calm, sunny day. Bathing machines were on the beach;

children were playing here and there; and white sails of pleasure boats were visible in the offing. The dullness

of Sandyseal wore a quiet homely aspect which was pleasant to the eyes of strangers . Sydney said, absently,

"I think I shall like the place." And Herbert added: "Let us hope that the air will make you feel stronger." He

meant it and said it kindlybut, instead of looking at her while he spoke, he continued to look at the view. A

woman sure of her position would not have allowed this trifling circumstance, even if she had observed it, to

disturb her. Sydney thought of the day in London when he had persisted in looking out at the street, and

Had he been so unfortunate as to offend her? And in what way? As that doubt occurred to Herbert his mind

turned to Catherine. She never took offense at trifles; a word of kindness from him, no matter how

unimportant it might be, always claimed affectionate acknowledgment in the days when he was living with

his wife. In another moment he had dismissed that remembrance, and could trust himself to return to Sydney.

"If you find that Sandyseal confirms your first impression," he said, "let me know it in time, so that I may

make arrangements for a longer stay. I have only taken the rooms here for a fortnight."

Her morbid sensitiveness mistook him again; she fancied there was an undernote of irony in his tone.

He drew a chair to her side. "Do you take it for granted," he said, smiling, "that I shall get tired of the place

She shrank, poor creature, even from his smile. There was, as she thought, something contemptuous in the

"We have been to many places," she reminded him, "and we have got tired of them together."

He got up and approached the bell. "I think the journey has a little overtired you," he resumed. "Would you

He waited a little, and answered her as quietly as ever. "What I really wish," he said, "is that we had

consulted a doctor while we were in London. You seem to be very easily irritated of late. I observe a change

"It's quite possible I may be mistaken, Sydney. But I have more than once, as I think, seen something in your

"I distrust the evil life we are leading," she burst out, "and I see the end of it coming. Oh, I don't blame you!

You are kind and considerate, you do your best to hide it; but you have lived long enough with me to regret

the woman whom you have lost. You begin to feel the sacrifice you have madeand no wonder. Say the

She hesitatedfirst inclined, then afraid, to believe him. "I have grace enough left in me," she went on, "to

feel the bitterest repentance for the wrong that I have done to Mrs. Linley. When it ends, as it must end, in

Even his patience began to fail him; he refusedfirmly, not angrilyto hear more. "She is no longer my

Sydney's bitterness and Sydney's penitence were mingled, as opposite emotions only can be mingled in a

"After we have been divorced at her petition?" He pointed to the window as he said it. "Look at the sea. If I

He produced no effect on her. She ignored the Divorce; her passionate remorse asserted itself as obstinately

as ever. "Mrs. Linley is a good woman," she insisted; "Mrs. Linley is a Christian woman."

"I have lost all claim on hereven the claim to remember her virtues," he answered, sternly. "No more of it,

At those last words her manner changed. "Wound me as cruelly as you please," she said, humbly. "I will try

"I wouldn't wound you for the world! Why do you persist in distressing me? Why do you feel suspicion of

me which I have not deserved?" He stopped, and held out his hand. "Don't let us quarrel, Sydney. Which will

She loved him dearly; she was so youngand the young are so ready to hope! Still, she struggled against

He left her in despair. "It's useless!" he said, sadly. "Nothing will conquer your inveterate distrust."

She followed him. With a faint cry of entreaty she made him turn to her, and held him in a trembling

embrace, and rested her head on his bosom. "Forgive mebe patient with melove me." That was all she

He attempted to calm her agitation by speaking lightly. "At last, Sydney, we are friends again!" he said.

Friends? All the woman in her recoiled from that insufficient word. "Are we Lovers?" she whispered.

With that assurance her anxious heart was content. She smiled; she looked out at the sea with a new

appreciation of the view. "The air of this place will do me good now," she said. "Are my eyes red, Herbert?

She rang the bell. The chambermaid answered it, ready to show the other rooms. She turned round at the

"Let's try to make our sittingroom look like home," she suggested. "How dismal, how dreadfully like a thing

that doesn't belong to us, that empty table looks! Put some of your books and my keepsakes on it, while I am

He had left his travelers' bag on a chair, when he first came in. Now that he was alone, and under no restraint,

he sighed as he unlocked the bag. "Home?" he repeated; "we have no home. Poor girl! poor unhappy girl! Let

He opened the bag. The little fragile presents, which she called her "keepsakes," had been placed by her own

hands in the upper part of the bag, so that the books should not weigh on them, and had been carefully

protected by wrappings of cotton wool. Taking them out, one by one, Herbert found a delicate china

candlestick (intended to hold a wax taper) broken into two pieces, in spite of the care that had been taken to

preserve it. Of no great value in itself, old associations made the candlestick precious to Sydney. It had been

broken at the stem and could be easily mended so as to keep the accident concealed. Consulting the waiter,

Herbert discovered that the fracture could be repaired at the nearest town, and that the place would be within

reach when he went out for a walk. In fear of another disaster, if he put it back in the bag, he opened a drawer

in the table, and laid the two fragments carefully inside, at the further end. In doing this, his hand touched

something that had been already placed in the drawer. He drew it out, and found that it was a bookthe

same book that Mrs. Presty (surely the evil genius of the family again!) had hidden from Randal's notice, and

Herbert instantly recognized the gilding on the cover, imitated from a design invented by himself. He

The book dropped from his hand on the table, as if it had been a new discovery, torturing him with a new

His wife (he persisted in thinking of her as his wife) must have occupied the roommight perhaps have been

the person whom he had succeeded, as a guest at the hotel. Did she still value his present to her, in

remembrance of old times? No! She valued it so little that she had evidently forgotten it. Perhaps her maid

might have included it among the small articles of luggage when they left home, or dear little Kitty might

have put it into one of her mother's trunks. In any case, there it was now, abandoned in the drawer of a table

"Oh," he thought bitterly, "if I could only feel as coldly toward Catherine as she feels toward me!" His

resolution had resisted much; but this final trial of his selfcontrol was more than he could sustain. He

dropped into a chairhis pride of manhood recoiled from the contemptible weakness of cryinghe tried to

remember that she had divorced him, and taken his child from him. In vain! in vain! He burst into tears.

With a heart lightened by reconciliation (not the first reconciliation unhappily), with hopes revived, and sweet

content restored, Sydney's serenity of mind was not quite unruffled. Her thoughts were not dwelling on the

evil life which she had honestly deplored, or on the wronged wife to whom she had been eager to make

atonement. Where is the woman whose sorrows are not thrown into the shade by the bright renewal of love?

The one anxiety that troubled Sydney was caused by remembrance of the letter which she had sent to the

As her better mind now viewed it, she had doubly injured Herbertfirst in distrusting him; then by appealing

If the reply for which she had rashly asked was waiting for her at that momentif the mercy of the Mother

Superior was ready to comfort and guide herwhat return could she make? how could she excuse herself

from accepting what was offered in kindly reply to her own petition? She had placed herself, for all she knew

to the contrary, between two alternatives of ingratitude equally unendurable, equally degrading. To feel this

was to feel the suspense which, to persons of excitable temperament, is of all trials the hardest to bear. The

chambermaid was still in her roomSydney asked if the postoffice was near to the hotel.

The woman smiled. "Everything is near us, ma'am, in this little place. Can we send to the postoffice for

Sydney wrote her initials. "Ask, if you please, for a letter addressed in that way." She handed the

memorandum to the chambermaid. "Corresponding with her lover under her husband's nose!" That was how

the chambermaid explained it below stairs, when the porter remarked that initials looked mysterious.

The Mother Superior had replied. Sydney trembled as she opened the letter. It began kindly.

"I believe you, my child, and I am anxious to help you. But I cannot correspond with an unknown person. If

you decide to reveal yourself, it is only right to add that I have shown your letter to the Reverend Father who,

in temporal as in spiritual things, is our counselor and guide. To him I must refer you, in the first instance.

His wisdom will decide the serious question of receiving you into our Holy Church, and will discover, in due

time, if you have a true vocation to a religious life. With the Father's sanction, you may be sure of my

Sydney put the letter back in the envelope, feeling gratefully toward the Mother Superior, but determined by

the conditions imposed on her to make no further advance toward the Benedictine community.

Even if her motive in writing to the convent had remained unchallenged, the allusions to the priest would still

have decided her on taking this step. The bare idea of opening her inmost heart, and telling her saddest

secrets, to a man, and that man a stranger, was too repellent to be entertained for a moment. In a few lines of

reply, gratefully and respectfully written, she thanked the Mother Superior, and withdrew from the

The letter having been closed, and posted in the hotel box, she returned to the sittingroom free from the one

doubt that had troubled her; eager to show Herbert how truly she believed in him, how hopefully she looked

With a happy smile on her lips she opened the door. She was on the point of asking him playfully if he had

felt surprised at her long absencewhen the sight that met her eyes turned her cold with terror in an instant.

His arms were stretched out on the table; his head was laid on them, despair confessed itself in his attitude;

grief spoke in the deep sobbing breaths that shook him. Love and compassion restored Sydney's courage; she

advanced to raise him in her armsand stopped once more. The book on the table caught her eye. He was

still unconscious of her presence; she ventured to open it. She read the inscriptionlooked at himlooked

The rigor of the torture that she suffered paralyzed all outward expression of pain. Quietly she put the book

He started and looked up; he made an attempt to speak to her in his customary tone. "I didn't hear you come

She pointed to the book, without the slightest change in her face or her manner.

"I have read the inscription to your wife," she answered; "I have seen you while you thought you were alone;

the mercy which has so long kept the truth from me is mercy wasted now. Your bonds are broken, Herbert.

He affected not to have understood her. She let him try to persuade her of it, and made no reply. He declared,

honestly declared, that what she had said distressed him. She listened in submissive silence. He took her

hand, and kissed it. She let him kiss it, and let him drop it at her side. She frightened him; he began to fear for

She had left the door of the room open. One of the servants of the hotel appeared outside in the passage. He

spoke to some person behind him. "Perhaps the book has been left in here," he suggested. A gentle voice

answered: "I hope the lady and gentleman will excuse me, if I ask leave to look for my book." She stepped

Herbert Linley and Sydney Westerfield looked at the woman whom they had outraged. The woman whom

The hotel servant was surprised at their not speaking to each other. He was a stupid man; he thought the

gentlefolks were strangely unlike gentlefolks in general; they seemed not to know what to say. Herbert

happened to be standing nearest to him; he felt that it would be civil to the gentleman to offer a word of

"The lady had these rooms, sir. She has come back from the station to look for a book that has been left

Herbert signed to him to go. As the man turned to obey, he drew back. Sydney had moved to the door before

him, to leave the room. Herbert refused to permit it. "Stay here," he said to her gently; "this room is yours."

Sydney hesitated. Herbert addressed her again. He pointed to his divorced wife. "You see how that lady is

looking at you," he said; "I beg that you will not submit to insult from anybody."

Catherine's voice was heard for the first time. She addressed herself to Sydney with a quiet dignityfar

"You were about to leave the room," she said. "I noticeas an act of justice to youthat my presence

Herbert turned to Sydney; trying to recover herself, she stood near the table. "Give me the book," he said;

"the sooner this comes to an end the better for her, the better for us." Sydney gave him the book. With a

visible effort, he matched Catherine's selfcontrol; after all, she had remembered his gift! He offered the

Sydney attempted to obey. At the first words she uttered, Herbert checked her once more.

"I have begged you already not to submit to insult." He turned to Catherine. "The book is yours, madam.

She looked at him for the first time. A proud sense of wrong flashed at him its keenly felt indignation in her

first glance. "Your hands and her hands have touched it," she answered. "I leave it to you and to her."

"I forbid you to insult Miss Westerfield." With that reply, he turned to Sydney. "You shall not suffer while I

can prevent it," he said tenderly, and approached to put his arm round her. She looked at Catherine, and drew

Catherine felt and respected the true delicacy, the true penitence, expressed in that action. She advanced to

Sydney gave back the book without a word; in her position silence was the truest gratitude. Quietly and

firmly Catherine removed the blank leaf on which Herbert had written, and laid it before him on the table. "I

return your inscription. It means nothing now." Those words were steadily pronounced; not the slightest

appearance of temper accompanied them. She moved slowly to the door and looked back at Sydney. "Make

some allowance for what I have suffered," she said gently. "If I have wounded you, I regret it." The faint

sound of her dress on the carpet was heard in the perfect stillness, and lost again. They saw her no more.

Herbert approached Sydney. It was a moment when he was bound to assure her of his sympathy. He felt for

her. In his inmost heart he felt for her. As he drew nearer, he saw tears in her eyes; but they seemed to have

risen without her knowledge. Hardly conscious of his presence, she stood before himlost in thought.

She said: "I will try to atone," and moved toward the door of her room. The reply surprised him; but it was no

She took his arm. He led her to the door of her room. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked.

She closed the doorand abruptly opened it again. "One thing more," she said. "Kiss me."

He kissed her tenderly. Returning to the sittingroom, he looked back across the passage. Her door was shut.

His head was heavy; his mind felt confused. He threw himself on the sofautterly exhausted by the ordeal

through which he had passed. In grief, in fear, in pain, the time still comes when Nature claims her rights.

The wretched wornout man fell into a restless sleep. He was awakened by the waiter, laying the cloth for

dinner. "It's just ready, sir," the servant announced; "shall I knock at the lady's door?"

He entered softly, fearing to disturb her if she too had slept. No sign of her was to be seen. She had evidently

not rested on her bed. A morsel of paper lay on the smooth coverlet. There was only a line written on it: "You

He stood, looking at that last line of her writing, in the empty room. His despair and his submission spoke in

"Mr. Herbert Linley, I ask permission to reply to your inquiries in writing, because it is quite likely that some

of the opinions you will find here might offend you if I expressed them personally. I can relieve your anxiety

on the subject of Miss Sydney Westerfield. But I must be allowed to do so in my own waywithout any

other restraints than those which I think it becoming to an honorable man to impose on himself.

"You are quite right in supposing that Miss Westerfield had heard me spoken of at Mount Morven, as the

agent and legal adviser of the lady who was formerly your wife. What purpose led her to apply to me, under

these circumstances, you will presently discover. As to the means by which she found her way to my office, I

"Miss Westerfield's object was to tell me, in the first place, that her guilty life with you was at an end. She

has left your protectionnot to return to it. I was sorry to see (though she tried to hide it from me) how

keenly she felt the parting. You have been dearly loved by two sweet women, and they have thrown their

"Having explained the circumstances so far, Miss Westerfield next mentioned the motive which had brought

"To my mind she was, of all persons, the last who ought to contemplate communicating in any way with Mrs.

Norman. I say this to you; but I refrained from saying it to her. What I did venture to do was to ask for her

reasons. She answered that they were reasons which would embarrass her if she communicated them to a

"Not unprepared, as it appeared to me, for my refusal, she asked next if I was willing to tell her where she

might find your brother, Mr. Randal Linley. In this case I was glad to comply with her request. She could

address herself to no person worthier to advise her than your brother. In giving her his address in London, I

told her that he was absent on a visit to some friends, and that he was expected to return in a week's time.

"I confess I was interested in her. Perhaps I thought of the time when she might have been as dear to her

father as my own daughters are to me. I asked if her parents were living: they were dead. My next question

was: 'Have you any friends in London?' She answered: 'I have no friends.' It was said with a resignation so

very sad in so young a creature that I was really distressed. I ran the risk of offending herand asked if she

felt any embarrassment in respect of money. She said: 'I have some small savings from my salary when I was

a governess.' The change in her tone told me that she was alluding to the time of her residence at Mount

Morven. It was impossible to look at this friendless girl, and not feel some anxiety about the lodging which

she might have chosen in such a place as London. She had fortunately come to me from the railway, and had

not thought yet of where she was to live. At last I was able to be of some use to her. My senior clerk took care

of Miss Westerfield, and left her among respectable people, in whose house she could live cheaply and

safely. Where that house is, I refuse (for her sake) to tell you. She shall not be disturbed.

"He had on that day seen Miss Westerfield. She had said to him what she had said to me, and had repeated

the request which I thought it unwise to grant; owning to your brother, however, the motives which she had

refused to confide to me. He was so strongly impressed by the sacrifice of herself which this penitent woman

had made, that he was at first disposed to trust her with Mrs. Norman's address.

"Reflection, however, convinced him that her motives, pure and disinterested as they undoubtedly were, did

not justify him in letting her expose herself to the consequences which might follow the proposed interview.

All that he engaged to do was to repeat to Mrs. Norman what Miss Westerfield had said, and to inform the

"In the intervals of business, I had felt some uneasiness when I thought of Miss Westerfield's prospects. Your

"He proposed to place Miss Westerfield under the care of an old and dear friend of her late fatherCaptain

Bennydeck. Her voluntary separation from you offered to your brother, and to the Captain, the opportunity

for which they had both been waiting. Captain Bennydeck was then cruising at sea in his yacht. Immediately

on his return, Miss Westerfield's inclination would be consulted, and she would no doubt eagerly embrace the

"I have now communicated all that I know, in reply to the questions which you have addressed to me. Let me

earnestly advise you to make the one reparation to this poor girl which is in your power. Resign yourself to a

Not having heard from Captain Bennydeck for some little time, Randal thought it desirable in Sydney's

interests to make inquiries at his club. Nothing was known of the Captain's movements there. On the chance

of getting the information that he wanted, Randal wrote to the hotel at Sandyseal.

Some days since, the yacht had again appeared in the bay. Captain Bennydeck had landed, to all appearance

in fairly good health; and had left by an early train for London. The sailingmaster announced that he had

orders to take the vessel back to her portwith no other explanation than that the cruise was over. This

alternative in the Captain's plans (terminating the voyage a month earlier than his arrangements had

contemplated) puzzled Randal. He called at his friend's private residence, only to hear from the servants that

they had seen nothing of their master. Randal waited a while in London, on the chance that Bennydeck might

During this interval his patience was rewarded in an unexpected manner. He discovered the Captain's address

by means of a letter from Catherine, dated "Buck's Hotel, Sydenham." Having gently reproached him for not

writing to her or calling on her, she invited him to dinner at the hotel. Her letter concluded in these words:

"You will only meet one person besides ourselvesyour friend, and (since we last met) our friend too.

Captain Bennydeck has got tired of the sea. He is staying at this hotel, to try the air of Sydenham, and he

To represent Bennydeck as being "tired of the sea," and as being willing to try, in place of the breezy

Channel, the air of a suburb of London, was to make excuses too perfectly futile and absurd to deceive any

one who knew the Captain. In spite of the appearance of innocence which pervaded Catherine's letter, the true

motive for breaking off his cruise might be found, as Randal concluded, in Catherine herself. Her residence at

the seaside, helped by the lapse of time, had restored to her personal attractions almost all they had lost

under the deteriorating influences of care and grief; and her change of name must have protected her from a

discovery of the Divorce which would have shocked a man so sincerely religious as Bennydeck. Had her

beauty fascinated him? Was she aware of the interest that he felt in her? and was it secretly understood and

returned? Randal wrote to accept the invitation; determining to present himself before the appointed hour,

and to question Catherine privately, without giving her the advantage over him of preparing herself for the

In the short time that passed before the day of the dinner, distressing circumstances strengthened his

Was this manhaggard, pallid, shabby, looking at him piteously with bloodshot eyesthe handsome,

pleasant, prosperous brother whom he remembered? Randal was so grieved, that he was for a moment unable

to utter a word. He could only point to a seat. Herbert dropped into the chair as if he was reduced to the last

extremity of fatigue. And yet he spoke roughly; he looked like an angry man brought to bay.

"Give me a glass of wine. I've been walkingI don't know where. A long distance; I'm dead beat."

He drank the wine greedily. Whatever reviving effect it might otherwise have produced on him, it made no

change in the threatening gloom of his manner. In a man morally weak, calamity (suffered without resisting

power) breaks its way through the surface which exhibits a gentleman, and shows the naked nature which

He put down the empty glass, taking no notice of his brother's question. "Randal," he said, "you know where

"Give me her address. My mind's in such a state I can't remember it; write it down."

"I will do neither the one nor the other. Go back to your chair; fierce looks and clinched fists don't frighten

me. Miss Westerfield is quite right in separating herself from you. And you are quite wrong in wishing to go

back to her. There are my reasons. Try to understand them. And, once again, sit down."

He spoke sternlywith his heart aching for his brother all the time. He was right. The one way is the positive

"Don't be hard on me," he said. "I think a man in my situation is to be pitiedespecially by his brother. I'm

not like you; I'm not accustomed to live alone. I've been accustomed to having a kind woman to talk to me,

and take care of me. You don't know what it is to be used to seeing a pretty creature, always nicely dressed,

always about the roomthinking so much of you, and so little of herselfand then to be left alone as I am

left, out in the dark. I haven't got my wife; she has thrown me over, and taken my child away from me. And,

now, Sydney's taken away from me next. I'm alone. Do you hear that? Alone! Take the poker there out of the

fireplace. Give me back Sydney, or knock out my brains. I haven't courage enough to do it for myself. Oh,

why did I engage that governess! I was so happy, Randal, with Catherine and little Kitty."

He laid his head wearily on the back of his chair. Randal offered him more wine; he refused it.

"I'm afraid," he said. "Wine maddens me if I take too much of it. You have heard of men forgetting their

sorrows in drink. I tried it yesterday; it set my brains on fire; I'm feeling that glass I took just now. No! I'm

not faint. It eases my head when I rest like this. Shake hands, Randal; we have never had any unfriendly

words; we mustn't begin now. There's something perverse about me. I didn't know how fond I was of Sydney

till I lost her; I didn't know how fond I was of my wife till I left her." He paused, and put his hand to his

fevered head. Was his mind wandering into some other train of thought? He astonished his brother by a new

entreatythe last imaginable entreaty that Randal expected to hear. "Dear old fellow, I want you to do me a

Herbert lifted his head, and laid his hand earnestly on his brother's arm. When he said his next words he was

"Say that I'm lonely, say that I'm dying for want of a little comfortask her to let me see Kitty."

His tone touched Randal to the quick. "I feel for you, Herbert," he said, warmly. "She shall have your

"And you won't forget? No, no; of course you won't forget." He tried to rise, and fell back again into his

chair. "Let me rest a little," he pleaded, "if I'm not in the way. I'm not fit company for you, I know; I'll go

Randal refused to let him go at all. "You will stay here with me; and if I happen to be away, there will be

somebody in the house, who is almost as fond of you as I am." He mentioned the name of one of the old

servants at Mount Morven, who had attached himself to Randal after the breakup of the family. "And now

On the next day but one, Randal arranged his departure for Sydenham, so as to arrive at the hotel an hour

before the time appointed for the dinner. His prospects of success, in pleading for a favorable reception of his

brother's message, were so uncertain that he refrainedin fear of raising hopes which he might not be able to

justifyfrom taking Herbert into his confidence. No one knew on what errand he was bent, when he left the

house. As he took his place in the carriage, the newspaper boy appeared at the window as usual. The new

number of a popular weekly journal had that day been published. Randal bought it.

After reading one or two of the political articles, he arrived at the columns specially devoted to "Fashionable

Intelligence." Caring nothing for that sort of news, he was turning over the pages in search of the literary and

dramatic articles, when a name not unfamiliar to him caught his eye. He read the paragraph in which it

"The charming widow, Mrs. Norman, is, we hear, among the distinguished guests staying at Buck's Hotel. It

is whispered that the lady is to be shortly united to a retired naval officer of Arctic fame; now better known,

The allusion to Bennydeck was too plain to be mistaken. Randal looked again at the first words in the

paragraph. "The charming widow!" Was it possible that this last word referred to Catherine? To suppose her

capable of assuming to be a widow, andif the child asked questionsof telling Kitty that her father was

dead, was, in Randal's estimation, to wrong her cruelly. With his own suspicions steadily contradicting him,

he arrived at the hotel, obstinately believing that "the charming widow" would prove to be a stranger.

A first disappointment was in store for him when he entered the house. Mrs. Norman and her little daughter

were out driving with a friend, and were expected to return in good time for dinner. Mrs. Presty was at home;

Randal found her comfortably established in a summerhouse, with her knitting in her hands, and a newspaper

on her lap. She advanced to meet him, all smiles and amiability. "How nice of you to come so soon!" she

began. Her keen penetration discovered something in his face which checked the gayety of her welcome.

"You don't mean to say that you are going to spoil our pleasant little dinner by bringing bad news!" she

"How very complimentary to a poor useless old woman! Don't be mysterious, my dear. I don't belong to the

generation which raises storms in teacups, and calls skirmishes with savages battles. Out with it!"

Randal handed his paper to her, open at the right place. "There is my news," he said.

"I am indeed sorry to spoil your dramatic effect," she said. "But you ought to have known that we are only

half an hour behind you, at Sydenham, in the matter of news. The report is premature, my good friend. But if

these newspaper people waited to find out whether a report is true or false, how much gossip would society

get in its favorite newspapers? Besides, if it isn't true now, it will be true next week. The author only says, 'It's

"You are to understand that Catherine is a widow. I say it with pride, a widow of my making!"

"Oh, don't talk of your brother! He's an obstacle in our way, and we have been compelled to get rid of him."

Randal drew back a step. Mrs. Presty's audacity was something more than he could understand. "Is this

"Sit down," said Mrs. Presty. "If you are determined to make a serious business of itif you insist on my

justifying myselfyou are to be pitied for not possessing a sense of humor, but you shall have your own

way. I am put on my defense. Very well. You shall hear how my divorced daughter and my poor little

Having related the circumstances, she suggested that Randal should put himself in Catherine's place, before

he ventured on expressing an opinion. "Would you have exposed yourself to be humiliated again in the same

way?" she asked. "And would you have seen your child made to suffer as well as yourself?"

"I should have kept in retirement for the future," he answered, "and not have trusted my child and myself

"Ah, indeed? And you would have condemned your poor little daughter to solitude? You would have seen her

pining for the company of other children, and would have had no mercy on her? I wonder what you would

have done when Captain Bennydeck paid us a visit at the seaside? He was introduced to Mrs. Norman, and to

Mrs. Norman's little girl, and we were all charmed with him. When he and I happened to be left together he

naturally wondered, after having seen the beautiful wife, where the lucky husband might be. If he had asked

"Exactly what I did! And the Captain of course concluded (after having been introduced to Kitty) that Mrs.

Norman was a widow. If I had set him right, what would have become of my daughter's reputation? If I had

told the truth at this hotel, when everybody wanted to know what Mrs. Norman, that handsome lady,

waswhat would the consequences have been to Catherine and her little girl? No! no! I have made the best

of a miserable situation; I have consulted the tranquillity of a cruelly injured woman and an innocent

childwith this inevitable result; I have been obliged to treat your brother like a character in a novel. I have

shipwrecked Herbert as the shortest way of answering inconvenient questions. Vessel found bottom upward

in the middle of the Atlantic, and everybody on board drowned, of course. Worse stories have been printed; I

Randal decided on leaving her. "Have you done all this with Catherine's consent?" he asked as he got up from

"Wait a minute," she answered. "Before I consented to answer the child's inquiries, I came to an

understanding with her mother. I said, 'Will you let Kitty see her father again?'"

The very question which Randal had promised to ask in his brother's interests! "And how did Catherine

"Honestly. She said: 'I daren't!' After that, I had her mother's authority for telling Kitty that she would never

"That will do, Mrs. Presty. Your defense is thoroughly worthy of your conduct in all other respects."

"Say thoroughly worthy of the course forced upon me and my daughter by your brother's infamous

Randal passed this over without notice. "Be so good," he said, "as to tell Catherine that I try to make every

possible allowance for her, but that I cannot consent to sit at her dinnertable, and that I dare not face my

Mrs. Presty recovered all her audacity. "A very wise decision," she remarked. "Your sour face would spoil

the best dinner that ever was put on the table. Have you any message for Captain Bennydeck?"

It was a relief to Randalin the present state of Catherine's relations toward Bennydeckto return to

He took leave of Mrs. Presty with the formality due to a strangerhe merely bowed. That incorrigible old

"Goodby, dear Randal. One moment before you go! Will it be of any use if we invite you to the marriage?"

Arrived at the station, Randal found that he must wait for the train. While he was walking up and down the

platform with a mind doubly distressed by anxiety about his brother and anxiety about Sydney, the train from

London came in. He stood, looking absently at the passengers leaving the carriage on the opposite side of the

platform. Suddenly, a voice that he knew was audible, asking the way to Buck's Hotel. He crossed the line in

For a moment the two men looked at each other without speaking. Herbert's wondering eyes accurately

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Suspicion overclouded his face as he put the question. "You have been

Randal could deny that he had seen Catherine, with perfect truthand did deny it in the plainest terms.

Herbert was satisfied. "In all my remembrance of you," he said, you have never told me a lie. We have both

seen the same newspaper, of courseand you have been the first to clear the thing up. That's it, isn't it?"

"She's not Catherine, at any rate; I, for one, shall go home with a lighter heart." He took his brother's arm, to

return to the other platform. "Do you know, Randal, I was almost afraid that Catherine was the woman. The

He snatched a newspaper out of his pocket as he spoketore it in halfand threw it away. "Malcolm meant

well, poor fellow," he said, referring to the old servant, "but he made a miserable man of me for all that."

Not satisfied with gossip in private, the greedy public appetite devours gossip in print, and wants more of it

than any one editor can supply. Randal picked up the torn newspaper. It was not the newspaper which he had

bought at the station. Herbert had been reading a rival journal, devoted to the interests of Societyin which

the report of Mrs. Norman's marriage was repeated, with this difference, that it boldly alluded to Captain

"Yes; he and the servant next door subscribe to take it in; and Malcolm thought it might amuse me. It drove

me out of the house and into the railway. If it had driven me out of mind, I shouldn't have been surprised."

"Don't be angry; and do pray remember that the Divorce allows you and Catherine to marry again, if you

Herbert became more unreasonable than ever. "If Catherine does think of marrying again," he said, "the man

will have to reckon first with me. But that is not the point. You seem to have forgotten that the woman at

Buck's Hotel is described as a Widow. The bare doubt that my divorced wife might be the woman was bad

enoughbut what I wanted to find out was how she had passed off her false pretense on our child. That was

"I suppose she is as handsome as ever. When will you ask her to let me see Kitty?"

"Leave that to me," was the one reply which Randal could venture to make at the moment.

The serious embarrassments that surrounded him were thickening fast. His natural frank nature urged him to

undeceive Herbert. If he followed his inclinations, in the near neighborhood of the hotel, who could say what

disasters might not ensue, in his brother's present frame of mind? If he made the disclosure on their return to

the house, he would be only running the same risk of consequences, after an interval of delay; and, if he

remained silent, the march of events might, at any moment, lead to the discovery of what he had concealed.

Add to this, that his confidence in Catherine had been rudely shaken. Having allowed herself to be entrapped

into the deception proposed by her mother, and having thus far persevered in that deception, were the chances

in favor of her revealing her true positionespecially if she was disposed to encourage Bennydeck's suit?

Randal's loyalty to Catherine hesitated to decide that serious question against the woman whom he had

known, trusted, and admired for so many years. In any event, her second marriage would lead to one

disastrous result. It would sooner or later come to Herbert's ears. In the meantime, after what Mrs. Presty had

confessed, the cruel falsehood which had checked poor Kitty's natural inquiries raised an insuperable obstacle

If Randal shrank from the prospect which thus presented itself to him, in his relations with his brother, and if

his thoughts reverted to Sydney Westerfield, other reasons for apprehension found their way into his mind.

He had promised to do his best toward persuading Catherine to grant Sydney an interview. To perform that

promise appeared to be now simply impossible. Under the exasperating influence of a disappointment for

which she was not prepared, it was hard to say what act of imprudence Sydney might not commit. Even the

chance of successfully confiding her to Bennydeck's protection had lost something of its fair promise, since

Randal's visit to Sydenham. That the Captain would welcome his friend's daughter as affectionately as if she

had been his own child, was not to be doubted for a moment. But that she would receive the same unremitting

attention, while he was courting Catherine, which would have been offered to her under other circumstances,

was not to be hoped. Be the results, however, what they might, Randal could see but one plain course before

him now. He decided on hastening Sydney's introduction to Bennydeck, and on writing at once to prepare the

Even this apparently simple proceeding required examination in its different bearings, before he could begin

Would he be justified in alluding to the report which associated Bennydeck with Catherine? Considerations

of delicacy seemed to forbid taking this liberty, even with an intimate friend. It was for the Captain to

confirm what Mrs. Presty had said of him, if he thought it desirable to touch on the subject in his reply.

Besides, looking to Catherine's interestand not forgetting how she had sufferedhad Randal any right to

regard with other than friendly feelings a second marriage, which united her to a man morally and

intellectually the superior of her first husband? What happier future could await herespecially if she

justified Randal's past experience of all that was candid and truthful in her characterthan to become his

Written under the modifying influence of these conclusions, his letter contained the few words that follow:

"I have news for you which I am sure you will be glad to hear. Your old friend's daughter has abandoned her

sinful , and has made sacrifices which prove the sincerity of her repentance. Without entering into particulars

which may be mercifully dismissed from notice, let me only assure you that I answer for Sydney Westerfield

as being worthy of the fatherly interest which you feel in her. Shall I say that she may expect an early visit

from you, when I see her tomorrow? I don't doubt that I am free already to do this; but it will encourage the

He added Sydney's address in a postscript, and dispatched his letter that evening.

On the afternoon of the next day two letters were delivered to Randal, bearing the Sydenham postmark

The first which he happened to take up was addressed to him in Mrs. Presty's handwriting. His opinion of this

correspondent was expressed in prompt actionhe threw the letter, unopened, into the wastepaper basket

The next letter was from Bennydeck, written in the kindest terms, but containing no allusion to any

contemplated change in his life. He would not be able (he wrote) to leave Sydenham for a day or two. No

explanation of the cause of this delay followed. But it might, perhaps, be excusable to infer that the marriage

had not yet been decided on, and that the Captain's proposals were still waiting for Catherine's reply.

The weather had been unusually warm. Of all oppressive summers a hot summer in London is the hardest to

endure. The little exercise that Sydney could take was, as Randal knew, deferred until the evening. On asking

No: she was too much overcome by the heat to be able to walk. The landlady's boy had been sent to fetch a

cab, and he had heard Miss Westerfield tell the driver to go to Lincoln's Inn Fields.

The address at once reminded Randal of Mr. Sarrazin. On the chance of making a discovery, he went to the

lawyer's office. It had struck him as being just possible that Sydney might have called there for the second

time; and, on making inquiry, he found that his surmise was correct. Miss Westerfield had called, and had

Having mentioned this circumstance, good Mr. Sarrazin rather abruptly changed the subject.

He began to talk of the weather, and, like everybody else, he complained of the heat. Receiving no

encouragement so far, he selected politics as his next topic. Randal was unapproachably indifferent to the

state of parties, and the urgent necessity for reform. Still bent, as it seemed, on preventing his visitor from

taking a leading part in the conversation, Mr. Sarrazin tried the exercise of hospitality next. He opened his

cigarcase, and entered eagerly into the merits of his cigars; he proposed a cool drink, and described the right

method of making it as distinguished from the wrong. Randal was not thirsty, and was not inclined to smoke.

Would the pertinacious lawyer give way at last? In appearance, at least, he submitted to defeat. "You want

Randal flattered himself that he had made a prevaricating reply simply impossible. Nothing of the sort! Mr.

Sarrazin slipped through his fingers once more. The unwritten laws of gallantry afforded him a refuge now.

"The most inviolate respect," he solemnly declared, "is due to a lady's confidenceand, what is more, to a

young lady's confidenceand, what is more yet, to a pretty young lady's confidence. The sex, my dear

This little outbreak of the foreign side of his friend's character was no novelty to Randal. He remained as

indifferent to the inviolate claims of the sex as if he had been an old man of ninety.

"Here is a change of persons and places!" he exclaimed. "Am I a witness of the court of justiceand are you

the lawyer who examines me? My memory is defective, my learned friend. Non mi ricordo. I know nothing

Randal changed his tone. "We have amused ourselves long enough," he said. "I have serious reasons,

Sarrazin, for wishing to know what passed between Miss Westerfield and youand I trust my old friend to

The lawyer was accustomed to say of himself that he never did things by halves. His answer to Randal

"Your old friend will deserve your confidence in him," he answered. "You want to know why Miss

Westerfield called here. Her object in view was to twist me round her fingerand I beg to inform you that

she has completely succeeded. My dear Randal, this pretty creature's cunning is remarkable even for a

woman. I am an old lawyer, skilled in the ways of the worldand a young girl has completely overreached

me. She askedoh, heavens, how innocently!if Mrs. Norman was likely to make a long stay at her present

Randal interrupted him. "You don't mean to tell me you have given her Catherine's address?"

"Buck's Hotel, Sydenham," Mr. Sarrazin answered. "She has got the address down in her nice little

Mr. Sarrazin cordially agreed with him. "Amazing weakness, as you say. Pretty Miss Sydney has extracted

more things, besides the address. She knows that Mrs. Norman is here on business relating to new

investments of her money. She knows besides that one of the trustees is keeping us waiting. She also made

sensible remarks. She mentioned having heard Mrs. Norman say that the air of London never agreed with her;

and she hoped that a comparatively healthy neighborhood had been chosen for Mrs. Norman's place of

residence. This, you see, was leading up to the discovery of the address. The spirit of mischief possessed me;

I allowed Miss Westerfield to take a little peep at the truth. 'Mrs. Norman is not actually in London,' I said;

'she is only in the neighborhood.' For what followed on this, my experience of ladies ought to have prepared

"Fell on her knees, poor dearand said: 'Oh, Mr. Sarrazin, be kinder to me than you have ever been yet; tell

me where Mrs. Norman is!'I put her back in her chair, and I took her handkerchief out of her pocket and I

"I was near it, but I didn't do it yet. I asked what you had done in the matter. Alas, your kind heart has led you

to promise more than you could perform. She had waited to hear from you if Mrs. Norman consented to see

her, and had waited in vain. Hard on her, wasn't it? I was sorry, but I was still obdurate. I only felt the

symptoms which warned me that I was going to make a fool of myself, when she let me into her secret for the

first time, and said plainly what she wanted with Mrs. Norman. Her tears and her entreaties I had resisted.

The confession of her motives overpowered me. It is right," cried Mr. Sarrazin, suddenly warming into

enthusiasm, "that these two women should meet. Remember how that poor girl has proved that her

repentance is no sham. I say, she has a right to tell, and the lady whom she has injured has a right to hear,

what she has done to atone for the past, what confession she is willing to make to the one woman in the world

(though she is a divorced woman) who is most interested in hearing what Miss Westerfield's life has been

with that wretched brother of yours. Ah, yes, I know what the English cant might say. Away with the English

There could be little doubt to what destination Sydney Westerfield had betaken herself, when she left the

lawyer's office. At that moment, perhaps, she and Catherine were togetherand together alone.

Mr. Sarrazin had noticed his friend's silence. "Is it possible you don't agree with me?" he asked

"Ah, my friend, you are not a sanguine man by nature. If Mrs. Norman treats our poor Sydney just as a

commonplace illtempered woman would treat her, I shall be surprised indeed. Say, if you like, that she will

be insultedof this I am sure, she will not return it; there is no expiation that is too bitter to be endured by

that resolute little creature. Her fine nature has been tempered by adversity. A hard life has been Sydney's,

depend upon it, in the years before you and I met with her. Good heavens! What would my wife say if she

heard me? The women are nice, but they have their drawbacks. Let us wait till tomorrow, my dear boy; and

let us believe in Sydney without allowing our wivesI beg your pardon, I mean my wifeto suspect in

Who could persist in feeling depressed in the company of such a man as this? Randal went home with the

influence of Mr. Sarrazin's sanguine nature in undisturbed possession of him, until his old servant's gloomy

"He said he felt a little lonely after you went out, and he thought it might cheer him up if he went to the club.

I was to tell you where he had gone if you asked what had become of him. He said it kindly and

pleasantlyquite like himself, sir. But, when he came backif you'll excuse my saying soI never saw a

man in a worse temper. 'Tell my brother I am obliged to him for his hospitality, and I won't take advantage of

it any longer.' That was Mr. Herbert's message. I tried to say a word. He banged the door, and away he went."

Even Randal's patient and gentle nature rose in revolt against his brother's treatment of him. He entered his

sittingroom in silence. Malcolm followed, and pointed to a letter on the table. "I think you must have thrown

it away by mistake, sir," the old man explained; "I found it in the wastepaper basket." He bowed with the

Randal's first resolve was to dismiss his brother from further consideration. "Kindness is thrown away on

But his brother was still in his mind. He opened Mrs. Presty's letteron the chance that it might turn the

In spite of Mrs. Presty, in spite of himself, his heart softened toward the man who had behaved so badly to

him. Instead of reading the letter, he was now trying to discover a connection between his brother's visit to

the club and his brother's angry message. Had Herbert heard something said, among gossiping members in

the smokingroom, which might account for his conduct? If Randal had belonged to the club he would have

gone there to make inquiries. How could he get the information that he wanted, in some other way?

After considering it for a while, he remembered the dinner that he had given to his friend Sarrazin on his

return from the United States, and the departure of the lawyer to his club, with a purpose in view which

interested them both. It was the same club to which Herbert belonged. Randal wrote at once to Mr. Sarrazin,

mentioning what had happened, and acknowledging the anxiety that weighed on his mind.

Having instructed Malcolm to take the letter to the lawyer's house, and, if he was not at home, to inquire

where he might be found, Randal adopted the readiest means of composing himself, in the servant's absence,

He was enveloped in clouds of tobaccosmokethe only clouds which we can trust never to prove unworthy

of our confidence in themwhen Mrs. Presty's letter caught his attention. If the month had been January

instead of July, he would have thrown it into the fire. Under present circumstances, he took it up and read it:

"I bear no malice, dear Randal, and I write to you as affectionately as if you had kept your temper on the

"You will be pleased to hear that Catherine was as thoroughly distressed as you could wish her to be, when it

became my disagreeable duty to mention what had passed between us, by way of accounting for your

absence. She was quite unable to rally her spirits, even with dear Captain Bennydeck present to encourage

"'I am not receiving you as I ought,' she said to him, when we began dinner, 'but there is perhaps some excuse

for me. I have lost the regard and esteem of an old friend, who has cruelly wronged me.' From motives of

delicacy (which I don't expect you to understand) she refrained from mentioning your name. The prettiest

answer that I ever heard was the answer that the Captain returned. 'Let the true friend,' he said, 'take the place

"He kissed her hand. If you had seen how he did it, and how she looked at him, you would have felt that you

had done more toward persuading my daughter to marry the Captain than any other person about her, myself

included. You had deserted her; you had thrown her back on the one true friend left. Thank you, Randal. In

"It is needless to add that I got out of the way, and took Kitty with me, at the earliest opportunityand left

"At bedtime I went into Catherine's room. Our interview began and ended in less than a minute. It was

useless to ask if the Captain had proposed marriage; her agitation sufficiently informed me of what had

happened. My one question was: 'Dearest Catherine, have you said Yes?' She turned shockingly pale, and

answered: 'I have not said No.' Could anything be more encouraging? God bless you; we shall meet at the

Randal laid down the letter and filled his pipe again. He was not in the least exasperated; he was only anxious

to hear from Mr. Sarrazin. If Mrs. Presty had seen him at that moment, she would have said to herself: "I

In half an hour more the door was opened by Malcolm, and Mr. Sarrazin in person answered his friend.

"There are no such incorrigible gossips," he said, "as men in the smokingroom of a club. Those popular

newspapers began the mischief, and the editor of one of them completed it. How he got his information I am

not able to say. The smalltalk turned on that report about the charming widow; and the editor congratulated

himself on the delicacy of his conduct. 'When the paragraph reached me,' he said, 'the writer mentioned that

Mrs. Norman was that wellknown lady, the divorced Mrs. Herbert Linley. I thought this rather too bad, and

I cut it out.' Your brother appears to have been presentbut he seldom goes to the club, and none of the

Randal's feelings, at that moment, were not within reach of the comforting influence of tobacco.

The garden of the hotel at Sydenham had originally belonged to a private house. Of great extent, it had been

laid out in excellent taste. Flowerbeds and lawns, a handsome fountain, seats shaded by groups of fine trees

at their full growth, completed the pastoral charm of the place. A winding path led across the garden from the

back of the house. It had been continued by the speculator who purchased the property, until it reached a road

at the extremity of the grounds which communicated with the Crystal Palace. Visitors to the hotel had such

pleasant associations with the garden that many of them returned at future opportunities instead of trying the

attraction of some other place. Various tastes and different ages found their wishes equally consulted here.

Children rejoiced in the finest playground they had ever seen. Remote walks, secluded among shrubberies,

invited persons of reserved disposition who came as strangers, and as strangers desired to remain. The

fountain and the lawn collected sociable visitors, who were always ready to make acquaintance with each

other. Even the amateur artist could take liberties with Nature, and find the accommodating limits of the

garden sufficient for his purpose. Trees in the foreground sat to him for likenesses that were never

recognized; and hills submitted to unprovoked familiarities, on behalf of brushes which were not daunted by

On the day after the dinner which had so deplorably failed, in respect of one of the guests invited, to fulfill

Catherine's anticipations, there was a festival at the Palace. It had proved so generally attractive to the guests

As the sun declined, on a lovely summer evening, the few invalids feebly wandering about the flowerbeds,

or resting under the trees, began to return to the house in dread of the dew. Catherine and her child, with the

nursemaid in attendance, were left alone in the garden. Kitty found her mother, as she openly declared, "not

such good company as usual." Since the day when her grandmother had said the fatal words which checked

all further allusion to her father, the child had shown a disposition to complain, if she was not constantly

"My dear, your grandmamma has friends with herladies and gentlemen who don't care to be troubled with

Kitty received this information in a very unamiable spirit. "I hate ladies and gentlemen!" she said.

"No; I like my nice Captain. And I like the waiters. They would take me to the Crystal Palaceonly they're

Catherine looked toward the gate which opened on the road, and proposed a visit to the old man who kept the

Kitty shook her head. There was an objection to the old man. "He asks questions; he wants to know how I get

on with my sums. He's proud of his summing; and he finds me out when I'm wrong. I don't like the

Catherine looked the other way, toward the house. The pleasant fall of water in the basin of the distant

This was a prospect of amusement which at once raised Kitty's spirits. "That's the thing!" she cried, and ran

Catherine seated herself under the trees, and watched in solitude the decline of the sun in a cloudless sky. The

memory of the happy years of her marriage had never been so sadly and persistently present to her mind as at

this time, when the choice of another married life waited her decision to become an accomplished fact.

Remembrances of the past, which she had such bitter reason to regret, and forebodings of the future, in which

she was more than half inclined to believe, oppressed her at one and the same moment. She thought of the

different circumstances, so widely separated by time, under which Herbert (years ago) and Bennydeck

(twentyfour hours since) had each owned his love, and pleaded for an indulgent hearing. Her mind

Pressed by the faithless man who had so cruelly wronged her in afteryears, she only wondered why he had

waited so long before he asked her to marry him. Addressed with equal ardor by that other man, whose age,

whose character, whose modest devotion offered her every assurance of happiness that a woman could desire,

she had struggled against herself, and had begged him to give her a day to consider. That day was now

drawing to an end. As she watched the setting sun, the phantom of her guilty husband darkened the heavenly

light; imbittered the distrust of herself which made her afraid to say Yes; and left her helpless before the

Impulsively she rose from her seat as he advanced. She sat down again. After that first act of indecision, the

To avoid him, after he had spared her at her own request, would have been an act of ingratitude: to receive

him was to place herself once more in the false position of a woman too undecided to know her own mind.

Forced to choose between these alternatives, her true regard for Bennydeck forbade her to think of herself,

and encouraged her to wait for him. As he came nearer, she saw anxiety in his face and observed an open

letter in his hand. He smiled as he approached her, and asked leave to take a chair at her side. At the same

time, when he perceived that she had noticed his letter, he put it away hurriedly in his pocket.

He smiled again; and asked if she was thinking of his letter. "It is only a report," he added, "from my second

in command, whom I have left in charge of my Home. He is an excellent man; but I am afraid his temper is

not proof against the ingratitude which we sometimes meet with. He doesn't yet make allowances for what

even the best natures suffer, under the deteriorating influence of selfdistrust and despair. No, I am not

anxious about the results of this case. I forget all my anxieties (except one) when I am with you."

His eyes told her that he was about to return to the one subject that she dreaded. She triedas women will

"I am interested about your Home," she said: "I want to know what sort of place it is. Is the discipline very

"There is no disciplined," he answered warmly. "My one object is to be a friend to my friendless

fellowcreatures; and my one way of governing them is to follow the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount.

Whatever else I may remind them of, when they come to me, I am determined not to remind them of a prison.

For this reasonthough I pity the hardened wanderers of the streets, I don't open my doors to them. Many a

refuge, in which discipline is inevitable, is open to these poor sinners already. My welcome is offered to

penitents and sufferers of another kindwho have fallen from positions in life, in which the sense of honor

has been cultivated; whose despair is associated with remembrances which I may so encourage, with the New

Testament to help me, as to lead them back to the religious influences under which their purer and happier

lives may have been passed. Here and there I meet with disappointments. But I persist in my system of

trusting them as freely as if they were my own children; and, for the most part, they justify my confidence in

them. On the dayif it ever comeswhen I find discipline necessary, I shall suffer my disappointment and

He was eager to speak with her on a subject more interesting to him even than his Home. Answering her

question, in this frame of mind, his thoughts wandered; he drew lines absently with his walkingstick on the

"The means at my disposal," he said, "are limited. I have been obliged to choose between the men and the

"They mostly come to me. There is one young woman, however, now waiting to see me, whom I have been

"I have not seen her since she was a child. She is the daughter of an old friend of mine, who died many years

He let his stick drop on the ground and looked at Catherine; but he offered no explanation of his strange

conduct. She was a little disappointed. "You have been some time away from your Home," she said; still

"I go back," he answered, "when I know whether I may thank God for being the happiest man living."

Catherine listened to the fall of water in the basin of the fountain. She was conscious of a faint hopea hope

unworthy of herthat Kitty might get weary of the goldfishes, and might interrupt them. No such thing

happened; no stranger appeared on the path which wound through the garden. She was alone with him. The

influences of the still and fragrant summer evening were influences which breathed of love.

"I daren't consult my heart. If I had only to consider my own feelings" She stopped.

"I was not thinking of my husband, Captain Bennydeck, when I said that. If I have injured any person, the

She was thinking of that fatal concession to the advice of her mother, and to the interests of her child, which

placed her in a false position toward the honest man who loved her and trusted her. If he had been less

innocent in the ways of the world, and not so devotedly fond of her, he might, little by little, have persuaded

Catherine to run the risk of shocking him by a confession of the truth. As it was, his confidence in her raised

him high above the reach of suspicions which might have occurred to other men. He saw her turn pale; he

saw distress in her face, which he interpreted as a silent reproach to him for the questions he had asked.

"Oh, Captain Bennydeck, you speak of one of your great merits as if it were a fault! Over and over again I

"I have ignorantly led you to think of your sorrows," he said; "sorrows that I cannot console. I don't deserve

"The life I have led," he resumed, "accounts, perhaps, in some degree, for what is deficient in me. At school, I

was not a popular boy; I only made one friend, and he has long since been numbered with the dead. Of my

life at college, and afterward in London, I dare not speak to you; I look back at it with horror. My

schoolfriend decided my choice of a profession; he went into the navy. After a while, not knowing what else

to do, I followed his example. I liked the lifeI may say the sea saved me. For years, I was never on shore

for more than a few weeks at a time. I saw nothing of society; I was hardly ever in the company of ladies. The

next change in my life associated me with an Arctic expedition. God forbid I should tell you of what men go

through who are lost in the regions of eternal ice! Let me only say I was preservedmiraculously

preservedto profit by that dreadful experience. It made a new man of me; it altered me (I hope for the

better) into what I am now. Oh, I feel that I ought to have kept my secret yesterdayI mean my daring to

love you. I should have waited till you knew more of me; till my conduct pleased you perhaps, and spoke for

me. You won't laugh, I am sure, if I confess (at my age!) that I am inexperienced. Never till I met you have I

known what true love isand this at forty years old. How some people would laugh! I own it seems

Her voice trembled. Agitation, which it was not a pain but a luxury to feel, was gently taking possession of

her. Where another man might have seen that her tenderness was getting the better of her discretion, and

might have presumed on the discovery, this man, innocently blind to his own interests, never even attempted

to take advantage of her. No more certain way could have been devised, by the most artful lover, of touching

the heart of a generous woman, and making it his own. The influence exerted over Catherine by the virtues of

Bennydeck's characterhis unaffected kindness, his manly sympathy, his religious convictions so deeply

felt, so modestly restrained from claiming noticehad been steadily increasing in the intimacy of daily

intercourse. Catherine had never felt his ascendancy over her as strongly as she felt it now. By fine degrees,

the warning remembrances which had hitherto made her hesitate lost their hold on her memory. Hardly

conscious herself of what she was doing, she began to search his feelings in his own presence. Such love as

his had been unknown in her experience; the luxury of looking into it, and sounding it to its inmost depths,

"I think you hardly do yourself justice," she said. "Surely you don't regret having felt for me so truly, when I

"Do you like to remember that you showed no jealous curiosity to know who my friend was?"

"And did you believe that I had a good motivea motive which you might yourself have appreciatedfor

"I can hardly believe it, when I remember how you spoke to me yesterday. I could never have supposed,

before we became acquainted with each other, that it was in the nature of a man to understand me so

perfectly, to be so gentle and so considerate in feeling for my distress. You confused me a little, I must own,

by what you said afterward. But I am not sure that ought to be severe in blaming you. SympathyI mean

such sympathy as yourssometimes says more than discretion can always approve. Have you not found it so

"And perhaps I have shown a little too plainly how dependent I am on youhow dreadful it would be to me

She blushed as she said it. When the words had escaped her, she felt that they might bear another meaning

than the simple meaning which she had attached to them. He took her hand; his doubts of himself, his

"You can never lose me," he said, "if you will only let me be the nearest friend that a woman can have. Bear

with me, dearest! I ask for so much; I have so little to offer in return. I dream of a life with you which is

perhaps too perfectly happy to be enjoyed on earth. And yet, I cannot resign my delusion. Must my poor heart

always long for happiness which is beyond my reach? If an overruling Providence guides our course through

this world, may we not sometimes hope for happier ends than our mortal eyes can see?"

He waited a momentand sighedand dropped her hand. She hid her face; she knew what it would tell

She let him see her face. For a moment only, she looked at himand then let silence tell him the rest.

His arms closed round her. Slowly, the glory of the sun faded from the heavens, and the soft summer twilight

fell over the earth. "I can't speak," he whispered; "my happiness is too much for me."

"Of youand of all that you will be to me in the future. Oh, my angel, if God grants us many years to come,

"I see a husband and wife who are all in all to each other. If friends come to us, we are glad to bid them

"Yes! yes! You have spoken of the sea as you might have spoken of your best friendwe will be near the

sea. But I must not keep you selfishly all to myself. I must remember how good you have been to poor

creatures who don't feel our happiness, and who need your kindness. Perhaps I might help you? Do you doubt

"I only doubt whether I ought to let you see what I have seen; I am only afraid of the risk of making you

unhappy. You tempt me to run the risk. The help of a womanand of such a woman as you areis the one

thing I have wanted. Your influence would succeed where my influence has often failed. How good, how

"I only want to be worthy of you," she said, humbly. "When may I see your Home?"

He drew her closer to him: tenderly and timidly he kissed her for the first time. "It rests with you," he

Before she could reply, Kitty's voice was heard calling to her motherKitty ran up to them.

Catherine turned cold as the child caught her by the hand, eagerly claiming her attention. All that she should

have remembered, all that she had forgotten in a few bright moments of illusion, rose in judgment against her,

Bennydeck saw the change. Was it possible that the child's sudden appearance had startled her? Kitty had

"Mamma, I want to go where the other children are going. Susan's gone to her supper. You take me."

Her mother was not even listening. Kitty turned impatiently to Bennydeck. "Why won't mamma speak to

me?" she asked. He quieted her by a word. "You shall go with me." His anxiety about Catherine was more

than he could endure. "Pray let me take you back to the house," he said. "I am afraid you are not well."

She spoke faintly and vacantly. Bennydeck hesitated. She lifted her trembling hands in entreaty. "I beg you

will leave me!" Her voice, her manner, made it impossible to disobey. He turned resignedly to Kitty and

asked which way she wanted to go. The child pointed down the path to one of the towers of the Crystal

Palace, visible in the distance. "The governess has taken the others to see the company go away," she said; "I

She remained seated, in the attitude in which he had left her. At the further end of the path which led to the

hotel, he thought he saw a figure in the twilight, approaching from the house. There would be help near, if

His uneasy mind was in some degree relieved, as he and Kitty left the garden together.

Her eyes followed him as long as he was in sight, but her thoughts wandered. To look at him now was to look

at the little companion walking by his side. Still, the child reminded her of the living father; still, the child

innocently tortured her with the consciousness of deceit. The faithless man from whom the law had released

her, possessed himself of her thoughts, in spite of the law. He, and he only, was the visionary companion of

Did he remind her of the sin that he had committed?of the insult that he had inflicted on the woman whom

he had vowed to love and cherish? No! he recalled to her the years of love that she had passed by his side; he

upbraided her with the happiness which she had owed to him, in the prime and glory of her life. Woman! set

that against the wrong which I have done to you. You have the right to condemn me, and Society has the right

All thought will bear the test of solitude, excepting only the thought that finds its origin in hopeless

selfreproach. The soft mystery of twilight, the solemn silence of the slowlycoming night, daunted

Catherine in that lonely place. She rose to return to light and human beings. As she set her face toward the

In the dim light, and at the distance between them, recognition of the woman was impossible. She neither

moved nor spoke. Strained to their utmost point of tension, Catherine's nerves quivered at the sight of that

shadowy solitary figure. She dropped back on the seat. In tones that trembled she said: "Who are you? What

The voice that answered was, like her own voice, faint with fear. It said: "I want a word with you."

Moving slowly forwardstoppingmoving onward againhesitating againthe woman at last

approached. There was light enough left to reveal her face, now that she was near. It was the face of Sydney

The survival of childhood, in the mature human being, betrays itself most readily in the sex that bears

children. The chances and changes of life show the child's mobility of emotion constantly associating itself

with the passions of the woman. At the moment of recognition the troubled mind of Catherine was instantly

"Twice I have approached the house in which you are living; and twice my courage has failed me. I have

gone away againI have walked, I don't know where, I don't know how far. Shame and fear seemed to be

insensible to fatigue. This is my third attempt. If I was a little nearer to you, I think you would see what the

"You have taken me by surprise, Miss Westerfield. You have no right to do that; I refuse to hear you."

"Try, madam, to bear in mind that no unhappy creature, in my place, would expose herself to your anger and

Another person was advancing from the hotel; an interruption, a trivial domestic interruption, presented itself.

The nursemaid had missed the child, and had come into the garden to see if she was with her mother.

Her mistress told her what had happened, and sent her to the Palace to relieve Captain Bennydeck of the

charge that he had undertaken. Susan listened, looking at Sydney and recognizing the familiar face. As the

The mother does not live who could have resisted the tone in which that question was put. The broken heart,

the love for the child that still lived in it, spoke in accents that even touched the servant. She came back;

remembering the happy days when the governess had won their hearts at Mount Morven, and, for a moment

As she hurried away on her errand, she saw her mistress beckon to Sydney to return, and place a chair for her.

"Miss Westerfield, will you forget what I said just now?" With those words, Catherine pointed to the chair. "I

am ready to hear you," she resumed"but I have something to ask first. Does what you wish to say to me

That reply, and the inference to which it led, tried Catherine's resolution to preserve her selfcontrol, as

The emphasis laid on that one word forced Sydney to assert herself for the first time.

"If I had not left him of my own free will," she said, "what else would excuse me for venturing to come

Catherine's sense of justice felt the force of that reply. At the same time her sense of injury set its own

construction on Sydney's motive. "Has his cruelty driven you away from him?" she asked.

"If he has been cruel to me," Sydney answered, "do you think I should have come here to complain of it to

You? Do me the justice to believe that I am not capable of such selfdegradation as that. I have nothing to

"He has been all that is kind and considerate: he has done everything that a man in his unhappy position could

do to set my mind at ease. And yet I have left him. Oh, I claim no merit for my repentance, bitterly as I feel

it! I might not have had the courage to leave himif he had loved me as he once loved you."

"Miss Westerfield, you are the last person living who ought to allude to my married life."

"You may perhaps pardon the allusion, madam, when you have heard what I have still to say. I owe it to Mr.

Herbert Linley, if not to you, to confess that his life with me has not been a life of happiness. He has tried,

compassionately tried, to keep his secret sorrow from discovery, and he has failed. I had long suspected the

truth; but I only saw it in his face when he found the book you left behind you at the hotel. Your image has,

from first to last, been the one living image in his guilty heart. I am the miserable victim of a man's passing

fancy. You have been, you are still, the one object of a husband's love. Ask your own heart if the woman

Catherine's head sank on her bosom; her helpless hands lay trembling on her lap. Overpowered by the

confession which she had just hearda confession which had followed closely on the thoughts inspired by

the appearance of the childher agitation was beyond control; her mind was unequal to the effort of

decision. The woman who had been wrongedwho had the right to judge for herself, and to speak for

For the first time since the beginning of the interview, she allowed the impulse of the moment to lead her

astray. In her eagerness to complete the act of atonement, she failed to appreciate the severity of the struggle

that was passing in Catherine's mind. She alluded again to Herbert Linley, and she spoke too soon.

Catherine's spirit was roused in an instant. "He expects too much!" she answered, sternly. "Is he here by your

"I am incapable, madam, of taking such a liberty with you as that; I may perhaps have hoped to be able to tell

him, by writing, of a different reception" She checked herself. "I beg your pardon, if I have ventured to

"Do you dare to look the truth in the face?" Catherine interposed. "Do you remember what sacred ties that

man has broken? what memories he has profaned? what years of faithful love he has cast from him? Must I

tell you how he poisoned his wife's mind with doubts of his truth and despair of his honor, when he basely

deserted her? You talk of your repentance. Does your repentance forget that he would still have been my

Sydney silently submitted to reproach, silently endured the shame that finds no excuse for itself.

Catherine looked at her and relented. The noble nature which could stoop to anger, but never sink to the

lower depths of malice and persecution, restrained itself and made amends. "I say it in no unkindness to you,"

she resumed. "But when you ask me to forgive, consider what you ask me to forget. It will only distress us

both if we remain longer together," she continued, rising as she spoke. "Perhaps you will believe that I mean

All the desolation of the lost woman told its terrible tale in that one word. Invited to rest herself in the hotel,

she asked leave to remain where she was; the mere effort of rising was too much for her now. Catherine said

the parting words kindly. "I believe in your good intentions; I believe in your repentance."

Behind the trees that closed the view at the further extremity of the lawn the moon was rising. As the two

women lost sight of each other, the new light, pure and beautiful, began to dawn over the garden.

No horror of her solitude, no melancholy recollections, no dread of the future disturbed Sydney's mind. The

one sense left in her was the sense of fatigue. Vacantly, mechanically, the girl rested as a tired animal might

have rested. She saw nothing, heard nothing; the one feeling of which she was conscious was a dull aching in

every limb. The moon climbed the heavens, brightened the topmost leaves of the trees, found the gloom in

which Sydney was hidden, and cheered it tenderly with radiant light. She was too weary to sleep, too weary

even to shade her face when the moonbeams touched it. While the light still strengthened, while the slow

minutes still followed each other unheeded, the one influence that could rouse Sydney found her at lastset

her faint heart throbbingcalled her prostrate spirit to life again. She heard a glad cry of recognition in a

In another instant her little pupil and playfellow of former days was in her arms.

Susan answered the question. "We are on our way back from the Palace, miss. I am afraid," she said, timidly,

Silently resigned, Sydney tried to release the child. Kitty clung to her and kissed her; Kitty set the nurse at

defiance. "Do you think I am going to leave Syd now I have found her? Susan, I am astonished at you!"

Susan gave way. Where the nature is gentle, kindness and delicacy go handinhand together, undisturbed by

the social irregularities which beset the roadway of life. The nursemaid drew back out of hearing. Kitty's first

questions followed each other in breathless succession. Some of them proved to be hard, indeed, to answer

truly, and without reserve. She inquired if Sydney had seen her mother, and then she was eager to know why

"Don't ask me, dear," was all that Sydney could say. Kitty drew the inevitable conclusion: "Have you and

"Wait a little, Kitty, and tell me something about yourself. How do you get on with your lessons?"

"You dear foolish governess, do you expect me to learn my lessons, when I haven't got you to teach me?

Where have you been all this long while? I wouldn't have gone away and left you!" She paused; her eager

eyes studied Sydney's face with the unrestrained curiosity of a child. "Is it the moonlight that makes you look

pale and wretched?" she said. "Or are you really unhappy? Tell me, Syd, do you ever sing any of those songs

"Have you anybody to go out walking with you and running races with you, as I did?"

Kitty laid her head sadly on Sydney's bosom. "It's not the moonlight," she said; "shall I tell you a secret?

Sometimes I am not happy either. Poor papa is dead. He always liked youI'm sure you are sorry for him."

Astonishment held Sydney speechless. Before she could ask who had so cruelly deceived the child, and for

what purpose, the nursemaid, standing behind the chair, warned her to be silent by a touch.

"I think we are all unhappy now," Kitty went on, still following her own little train of thought. "Mamma isn't

like what she used to be. And even my nice Captain hasn't a word to say to me. He wouldn't come back with

Another allusion which took Sydney by surprise! She asked who the Captain was. Kitty started as if the

question shocked her. "Oh dear, dear, this is what comes of your going away and leaving us! You don't know

The name of her father's correspondent! The name which she vaguely remembered to have heard in her

"Yes. Mamma liked himand grandmamma liked him (which is wonderful)and I gave him a kiss.

Was there any possible connection between what Kitty had just said, and what the poor child had been

deluded into believing when she spoke of her father? Even Susan seemed to be in the secret of this strange

second marriage! She interfered with a sharp reproof. "You mustn't talk in that way, Miss Kitty. Please put

Kitty refused to believe it. "You couldn't disappoint me if you tried," she said boldly.

Entreaties were useless; the child refused to hear of another parting. "I want to make you and mamma friends

again. Don't break my heart, Sydney! Come home with me, and teach me, and play with me, and love me!"

She pulled desperately at Sydney's dress; she called to Susan to help her. With tears in her eyes, the girl did

her best to help them both. "Miss Westerfield will wait here," she said to Kitty, "while you speak to your

The child instantly exacted a promise. In the earnestness of her love she even dictated the words. "Say it after

me, as I used to say my lessons," she insisted. "Say, 'Kitty, I promise to wait for you.'"

Who that loved her could have refused to say it! In one form or another, the horrid necessity for deceit had

followed, and was still following, that first, worst act of falsehoodthe elopement from Mount Morven.

Kitty was now as eager to go as she had been hitherto resolute to remain. She called for Susan to follow her,

"My mistress won't let her come backyou can leave the garden that way." The maid pointed along the path

At the parting with Kitty, the measure of her endurance was full. Not even the farewell at Mount Morven had

tried her by an ordeal so cruel as this. No kind woman was willing to receive her and employ her, now. The

one creature left who loved her was the faithful little friend whom she must never see again. "I am still

A farewell look at the last place in which she had seen Kitty tempted her to indulge in a moment of delay.

Her eyes rested on the turn in the path at which she had lost sight of the active little figure hastening away to

plead her cause. Even in absence, the child was Sydney's good angel still. As she turned away to follow the

path that had been shown to her, the relief of tears came at last. It cooled her burning head; it comforted her

aching heart. She tried to walk on. The tears blinded hershe strayed from the pathshe would have fallen

but for a hand that caught her, and held her up. A man's voice, firm and deep and kind, quieted her first wild

feeling of terror. "My child, you are not fit to be by yourself. Let me take care of youlet me comfort you, if

He carried her back to the seat that she had left, and waited by her in merciful silence.

"You are very young to feel such bitter sorrow," he said, when she was composed again. "I don't ask what

She turned toward him for the first time. In her new position, she was clearly visible in the light. He looked at

She had not noticed him when they had passed each other at Sandyseal. "I think you must be mistaken," she

answered. "May I thank you for your kindness? and may I hope to be excused if I say goodnight?"

He detained her. "Are you sure that you are well enough to go away by yourself?" he asked anxiously.

He still detained her. His memory of that first meeting at the seaside hotel reminded him that he had seen her

in the company of a man. At their second meeting, she was alone, and in tears. Sad experience led him to

form his own conclusions. "If you won't let me take care of you," he said, "will you consider if I can be of

any use to you, and will you call at that address?" He gave her his card. She took it without looking at it; she

was confused; she hardly knew what to say. "Do you doubt me?" he askedsadly, not angrily.

"Oh, how can I do that! I doubt myself; I am not worthy of the interest you feel in me."

"That is a sad thing to say," he answered. "Let me try to give you confidence in yourself. Do you go to

"Tomorrow," he resumed, "I am going to see another poor girl who is alone in the world like you. If l tell

He had taken a letter from his pocket, while he was speaking; and he now tore off a part of the second leaf,

and gave it to her. "I have only lately," he said, "received the address from a friend."

As he offered that explanation, the shrill sound of a child' s voice, raised in anger and entreaty, reached their

ears from the neighborhood of the hotel. Faithful little Kitty had made her escape, determined to return to

Sydney had been overtaken by the maidand had been carried back in Susan's arms to the house. Sydney

imagined that she was not perhaps alone in recognizing the voice. The stranger who had been so kind to her

The stillness of the night was disturbed no more. The man turned again to the person who had so strongly

In fear of being followed, Sydney hurried to the railway station. By the light in the carriage she looked for the

The stranger had presented her with her own address! And, when she looked at the card, the name was

More than once, on one and the same day, the Captain had been guilty of a weakness which would have taken

his oldest friends by surprise, if they had seen him at the moment. He hesitated.

A man who has commanded ships and has risked his life in the regions of the frozen deep, is a man formed

by nature and taught by habit to meet emergency face to face, to see his course straight before him, and to

take it, lead him where it may. But nature and habit, formidable forces as they are, find their master when

At once perplexed and distressed by that startling change in Catherine which he had observed when her child

approached her, Bennydeck's customary firmness failed him, when the course of conduct toward his

betrothed wife which it might be most becoming to follow presented itself to him as a problem to be solved.

When Kitty asked him to accompany her nursemaid and herself on their return to the hotel, he had refused

because he felt reluctant to intrude himself on Catherine's notice, until she was ready to admit him to her

confidence of her own free will. Left alone, he began to doubt whether delicacy did really require him to

make the sacrifice which he had contemplated not five minutes since. It was surely possible that Catherine

might be waiting to see him, and might then offer the explanation which would prove to be equally a relief on

To see a woman in the sorest need of all that kindness and consideration could offer, and to leave her as

helpless as he had found her, would have been an act of brutal indifference revolting to any man possessed of

even ordinary sensibility. The Captain had only followed his natural impulses, and had only said and done

Left by himself, he advanced a few steps mechanically on the way by which Sydney had escaped himand

then stopped. Was there any sufficient reason for his following her, and intruding himself on her notice? She

had recovered, she was in possession of his address, she had been referred to a person who could answer for

his good intentions; all that it was his duty to do, had been done already. He turned back again, in the

Hesitating once more, he paused halfway along the corridor which led to Catherine's sittingroom. Voices

reached him from persons who had entered the house by the front door. He recognized Mrs. Presty's loud

confident tones. She was taking leave of friends, and was standing with her back toward him. Bennydeck

waited, unobserved, until he saw her enter the sittingroom. No such explanation as he was in search of could

possibly take place in the presence of Catherine's mother. He returned to the garden.

Mrs. Presty was in high spirits. She had enjoyed the Festival; she had taken the lead among the friends who

accompanied her to the Palace; she had ordered everything, and paid for nothing, at that worst of all bad

public dinners in England, the dinner which pretends to be French. In a buoyant frame of mind, ready for

more enjoyment if she could only find it, what did she see on opening the sittingroom door? To use the

expressive language of the stage, Catherine was "discovered alone"with her elbows on the table, and her

Mrs. Presty surveyed the spectacle before her with righteous indignation visible in every line of her face. The

arrangement which bound her daughter to give Bennydeck his final reply on that day had been well known to

her when she left the hotel in the morning. The conclusion at which she arrived, on returning at night, was

"I knew it," Mrs. Presty continued, with her sternest emphasis; "I see what you have done, in your face. You

Hearing this, some mothers might have made apologies; and other mothers might have asked what that

penitential reply could possibly mean. Mrs. Presty was no matron of the ordinary type. She welcomed the

good news, without taking the smallest notice of the expression of selfreproach which had accompanied it.

"My dear child, accept the congratulations of your fond old mother. I have never been one of the kissing sort

(I mean of course where women are concerned); but this is an occasion which justifies something quite out of

"I have forgotten everything that I ought to have remembered," she said. "In my vanity, in my weakness, in

my selfish enjoyment of the passing moment, I have been too supremely happy even to think of the trials of

my past life, and of the false position in which they have placed me toward a man, whom I ought to be

ashamed to deceive. I have only been recalled to a sense of duty, I might almost say to a sense of decency, by

Mrs. Presty dropped into a chair: she was really frightened. Her fat cheeks trembled like a jelly on a dish that

"The man who may break off your marriage if he meets with the Captain. Has Herbert Linley been here?"

"Certainly not. The one person associated with my troubles whom I have seen today is Sydney Westerfield."

Mrs. Presty bounced out of her chair. "Youhave seenSydney Westerfield?" she repeated with emphatic

Mrs. Presty raised her eyes to the ceiling. Whether she expected our old friend "the recording angel" to take

down the questions and answers that had just passed, or whether she was only waiting to see the hotel that

held her daughter collapse under a sense of moral responsibility, it is not possible to decide. After an awful

"I make no remark, Catherine; I don't even want to know what you and Miss Westerfield said to each other.

At the same time, as a matter of convenience to myself, I wish to ascertain whether I must leave this hotel or

"Don't speak of Kitty!" Catherine cried in the greatest distress. "I have had to keep the poor innocent

affectionate child apart from Miss Westerfield by force. My heart aches when I think of it."

"I'm not surprised, Catherine. My granddaughter has been brought up on the modern system. Children are all

little angelsno punishmentsonly gentle remonstrance'Don't be naughty, dear, because you will make

poor mamma unhappy.' And then, mamma grieves over it and wonders over it, when she finds her little angel

disobedient. What a fatal system of education! All my success in life; every quality that endeared me to your

father and Mr. Presty; every social charm that has made me the idol of society, I attribute entirely to judicious

correction in early life, applied freely with the open hand. We will change the subject. Where is dear

Bennydeck? I want to congratulate him on his approaching marriage." She looked hard at her daughter, and

Catherine knew nothing of the Captain's movements. "Like you," she told her mother, "I have something to

Mrs. Presty still kept her eyes fixed on her daughter. Nobody, observing Catherine's face, and judging also by

the tone of her voice, would have supposed that she was alluding to the man whose irresistible attractions had

"You don't seem to be in good spirits, my dear, Mrs. Presty gently suggested. "No lovers' quarrel already, I

Thus far, Mrs. Presty had been animated by curiosity. She began now to feel vaguely alarmed. "After all that

I have done for you," she answered, "I don't think you ought to say that. Why should I refuse?"

Her mother persisted in pressing her. "Has it anything to do with Captain Bennydeck?"

"You know what it is as well as I do," she said. "Captain Bennydeck believes that I am free to marry him

That exclamation of horror and astonishment was loud enough to have been heard in the garden. If Mrs.

Catherine quietly rose. "We won't discuss it," she said, with resignation. "I knew you would refuse me." She

approached the door. Her mother got up and resolutely stood in the way. "Before you commit an act of

downright madness," Mrs. Presty said, "I mean to try if I can stop you. Go back to your chair."

"I know how it will end," she answered; "and the sooner it ends the better. You will find that I am quite as

determined as you are. A man who loves me as he loves me, is a man whom I refuse to deceive."

"Let's have it out plainly," Mrs. Presty insisted. "He believes your first marriage has been dissolved by death.

"A right that is not to be denied. A wife must have no secrets from her husband."

"I deny the false pretenses! You talk as if you were an impostor. Are you, or are you not, the accomplished

lady who has charmed him? Are you, or are you not, the beautiful woman whom he loves? There isn't a stain

on your reputation. In every respect you are the wife he wants and the wife who is worthy of him. And you

are cruel enough to disturb the poor man about a matter that doesn't concern him! you are fool enough to raise

doubts of you in his mind, and give him a reproach to cast in your teeth the first time you do anything that

happens to offend him! Any womanI don't care who she may bemight envy the home that's waiting for

you and your child, if you're wise enough to hold your tongue. Upon my word, Catherine, I am ashamed of

She really meant it! The purely selfish considerations which she urged on her daughter were so many

undeniable virtues in Mrs. Presty's estimation. She took the highest moral ground, and stood up and crowed

on it, with a pride in her own principles which the Primate of all England might have envied.

But Catherine's rare resolution held as firm as ever. She got a little nearer to the door. "Goodnight,

"You refuse to take my advice?" she said. "Oh, very well, have your own way! You are sure to prosper in the

end. These are the days of exhibitions and gold medals. If there is ever an exhibition of idiots at large, I know

Catherine was accustomed to preserve her respect for her mother under difficulties; but this was far more than

"I only wish I had never taken your advice," she answered. "Many a miserable moment would have been

spared me, if I had always done what I am doing now. You have been the evil genius of my life since Miss

She passed through the open doorwaystoppedand came back again. "I didn't mean to offend you,

Not a word of reply acknowledged that kindlymeant apology. Mrs. Prestyvivacious Mrs. Presty of the

indomitable spirit and the ready tonguewas petrified. She, the guardian angel of the family, whose

experience, devotion, and sound sense had steered Catherine through difficulties and dangers which must

have otherwise ended in utter domestic shipwreckshe, the model motherhad been stigmatized as the evil

genius of her daughter's life by no less a person than that daughter herself! What was to be said? What was to

be done? What terrible and unexampled course of action should be taken after such an insult as this? Mrs.

Presty stood helpless in the middle of the room, and asked herself these questions, and waited and wondered

An interval passed. There was a knock at the door. A waiter appeared. He said: "A gentleman to see Mrs.

The divorced husband looked at his motherinlaw without making the slightest sacrifice to the claims of

politeness. He neither offered his hand nor made his bow. His frowning eyebrows, his flushed face, betrayed

This deliberate rudeness proved to be the very stimulant that was required to restore Mrs. Presty to herself.

The smile that always meant mischief made its threatening appearance on the old lady's face.

"Nothing whatever, I am happy to say. I was merely wondering whether you have been traveling lately in the

south part of Africa, and have lived exclusively in the society of Hottentots. The only other explanation of

your behavior is that I have been so unfortunate as to offend you. But it seems improbableI am not your

"Thank God, as you say. But I should really be glad (as a mere matter of curiosity) to know what your

extraordinary conduct means. You present yourself in this room uninvited, you find a lady here, and you

behave as if you had come into a shop and wanted to ask the price of something. Let me give you a lesson in

good manners. Observe: I receive you with a bow, and I say: How do you do, Mr. Linley? Do you understand

"My daughter, sir, is a stranger to you. We will speak of her, if you please, by the namethe illustrious

"Oh yes, it does. A hotel keeps waiters. A hotel, when it is as large as this, has a policeman in attendance.

The choice between giving way to Mrs. Presty, or being disgracefully dismissed, was placed plainly before

him. Herbert's life had been the life of a gentleman; he knew that he had forgotten himself; it was impossible

"I won't trouble you to ring," he said; "and I will beg your pardon for having allowed my temper to get the

better of me. At the same time it ought to be remembered, I think, in my favor, that I have had some

"I don't agree with you," Mrs. Presty answered. She was deaf to any appeal for mercy from Herbert Linley.

"As to provocation," she added, returning to her chair without asking him to be seated, "when you apply that

"You wouldn't say that," he urged, speaking with marked restraint of tone and manner, "if you knew what I

Mrs. Presty suddenly looked toward the door. "Wait a minute," she said; "I think I hear somebody coming

In the silence that followed, footsteps were audible outsidenot approaching the door, however, but retiring

from it. Mrs. Presty had apparently been mistaken. "Yes?" she said resignedly, permitting Herbert to proceed.

He really had something to say for himself, and he said it with sufficient moderation. That he had been guilty

of serious offenses he made no attempt to deny; but he pleaded that he had not escaped without justly

suffering for what he had done. He had been entirely in the wrong when he threatened to take the child away

from her mother by force of law; but had he not been punished when his wife obtained her Divorce, and

separated him from his little daughter as well as from herself? (No: Mrs. Presty failed to see it; if anybody

had suffered by the Divorce, the victim was her injured daughter.) Still patient, Herbert did not deny the

injury; he only submitted once more that he had suffered his punishment. Whether his life with Sydney

Westerfield had or had not been a happy one, he must decline to say; he would only declare that it had come

to an end. She had left him. Yes! she had left him forever. He had no wish to persuade her to return to their

guilty life; they were both penitent, they were both ashamed of it. But she had gone away without the

"She is friendless; she may be in a state of poverty that I tremble to think of," Herbert declared. "Is there

nothing to plead for me in such anxiety as I am suffering now?" Mrs. Presty stopped him there; she had heard

"I see nothing to be gained," she said, "by dwelling on the past; and I should be glad to know why you have

"Don't tell me that, Mrs. Presty! I'm one of the wretchedest men living, and I ask for the consolation of seeing

my child. Kitty hasn't forgotten me yet, I know. Her mother can't be so cruel as to refuse. She shall fix her

own time, and send me away when she likes; I'll submit to anything. Will you ask Catherine to let me see

He got up from his chair. His face presented the same expression which Mrs. Presty had seen on it when he

"When I came in here," he said, "I wished to be certain of one thing. Your prevarication has told me what I

wanted to know. The newspapers had Catherine's own authority for it, Mrs. Presty, when they called her

widow. I know now why my brother, who never deceived me before, has deceived me about this. I

understand the part that your daughter has been playingand I am as certain as if I had heard it, of the

devilish lie that one of youperhaps both of youmust have told my poor child. No, no; I had better not

see Catherine. Many a man has killed his wife, and has not had such good reason for doing it as I have. You

He stoppedand looked suddenly toward the door. "I hear her," he cried, "She's coming in!"

The footsteps outside were audible once more. This time, they were approaching; they were close to the door.

Herbert drew back from it. Looking round to see that he was out of the way, Mrs. Presty rushed

forwardtore open the door in terror of what might happenand admitted Captain Bennydeck.

The Captain's attention was first attracted by the visitor whom he found in the room. He bowed to the

stranger; but the first impression produced on him did not appear to have been of the favorable kind, when he

Observing that she was agitated, he made the customary apologies, expressing his regret if he had been so

unfortunate as to commit an intrusion. Trusting in the good sense and good breeding which distinguished him

on other occasions, Mrs. Presty anticipated that he would see the propriety of leaving her alone again with the

person whom he had found in her company. To her dismay he remained in the room; and, worse still, he

noticed her daughter's absence, and asked if there was any serious cause for it.

For the moment, Mrs. Presty was unable to reply. Her presence of mindor, to put it more correctly, her

ready audacitydeserted her, when she saw Catherine's husband that had been, and Catherine's husband that

In all her experience she had never been placed in such a position of embarrassment as the position in which

she found herself now. The sense of honor which had prompted Catherine's resolution to make Bennydeck

acquainted with the catastrophe of married life, might plead her excuse in the estimation of a man devotedly

attached to her. But if the Captain was first informed that he had been deceived by a person who was a

perfect stranger to him, what hope could be entertained of his still holding himself bound by his marriage

engagement? It was even possible that distrust had been already excited in his mind. He must certainly have

heard a man's voice raised in anger when he approached the doorand he was now observing that man with

an air of curiosity which was already assuming the appearance of distrust. That Herbert, on his side, resented

the Captain's critical examination of him was plainly visible in his face. After a glance at Bennydeck, he

"I may be mistaken," he added; "but I thought your friend looked at me just now as if he knew me."

"I have met you, sir, before this." The Captain made the reply with a courteous composure of tone and

"We passed each other in the hall of the hotel at Sandyseal. You had a young woman with you."

"Your memory is a better one than mine, sir. I fail to remember the circumstance to which you refer."

Bennydeck let the matter rest there. Struck by the remarkable appearance of embarrassment in Mrs. Presty's

mannerand feeling (in spite of Herbert's politeness of language) increased distrust of the man whom he had

found visiting herhe thought it might not be amiss to hint that she could rely on him in case of necessity. "I

am afraid I have interrupted a confidential interview," he began; "and I ought perhaps to explain"

Mrs. Presty listened absently; preoccupied by the fear that Herbert would provoke a dangerous disclosure,

and by the difficulty of discovering a means of preventing it. She interrupted the Captain.

"Excuse me for one moment; I have a word to say to this gentleman." Bennydeck immediately drew back,

and Mrs. Presty lowered her voice. "If you wish to see Kitty," she resumed, attacking Herbert on his weak

"Be careful not to speak of our family troublesand I promise you shall see Kitty. That is what I mean."

Herbert declined to say whether he would be careful or not. He was determined to find out, first, with what

purpose Bennydeck had entered the room. "The gentleman was about to explain himself to you," he said to

She had no choice but to submitin appearance at least. Never had she hated Herbert as she hated him at

that moment. The Captain went on with his explanation. He had his reasons (he said) for hesitating, in the

first instance, to present himself uninvited, and he accordingly retired. On second thoughts, however, he had

"Not at all. I heard a stranger's voice, speaking in a tone which, to say the least of it, is not customary in a

Herbert interrupted him again. "And you thought your interference might be welcome to the lady! Am I

"Am I making another lucky guess if I suppose myself to be speaking to Captain Bennydeck?"

"I shall be glad to hear, sir, how you have arrived at the knowledge of my name."

His face, as he made that reply, alarmed Mrs. Presty. She cast a look at him, partly of entreaty, partly of

warning. No effect was produced by the look. He continued, in a tone of ironical compliment: "You must pay

the penalty of being a public character. Your marriage is announced in the newspapers."

"Ah, indeed? Perhaps the report is not true? As you don't read the newspapers, allow me to repeat it. You are

engaged to marry the 'beautiful widow, Mrs. Norman.' I think I quote those last words correctly?"

Mrs. Presty suddenly got up. With an inscrutable face that told no tales, she advanced to the door. Herbert's

insane jealousy of the man who was about to become Catherine's husband had led him into a serious error; he

had driven Catherine's mother to desperation. In that state of mind she recovered her lost audacity, as a matter

the door, she turned round to the two men, with a magnificent impudence of manner which in her happiest

"I am sorry to interrupt this interesting conversation," she said; "but I have stupidly forgotten one of my

domestic duties. You will allow me to return, and listen with renewed pleasure, when my household business

is off my mind. I shall hope to find you both more polite to each other than ever when I come back." She was

in such a frenzy of suppressed rage that she actually kissed her hand to them as she left the room!

Bennydeck looked after her, convinced that some sinister purpose was concealed under Mrs. Presty's false

excuses, and wholly unable to imagine what that purpose might be. Herbert still persisted in trying to force a

"As I remarked just now," he proceeded, "newspaper reports are not always to be trusted. Do you seriously

"I look forward to that honor and that happiness. But I am at a loss to know how it interests you."

He had held his name in reserve, feeling certain of the effect which he would produce when he pronounced it.

The result took him completely by surprise. Not the slightest appearance of agitation showed itself in

Bennydeck's manner. On the contrary, he looked as if there was something that interested him in the

Herbert was entirely unprepared for this discovery. Once more, the Captain had got the best of it.

"Are you and Randal Linley intimate friends?" he inquired, as soon as he had recovered himself.

"It's strange that he should never have mentioned me, on any occasion when you and he were together."

Herbert paused. His brother's keen sense of the disgrace that he had inflicted on the family recurred to his

Ignorant on his part of the family disgrace, Bennydeck heard that reply with amazement. From his point of

"Will you think me very inquisitive," Herbert resumed, "if I ask whether my brother approves of your

There was a change in his tone, as he put that question which warned Bennydeck to be on his guard. "I have

Herbert threw off the mask. "In the meantime, you shall have my opinion," he said. "Your marriage is a

The Captain left his chair, and sternly faced the man who had spoken those insolent words.

Herbert was on the point of declaring himself to have been Catherine's husband, until the law dissolved their

marriagewhen a waiter came in and approached him with a message. "You are wanted immediately, sir."

Herbert turned to the Captain. "I must have your promise to wait for me," he said, "or I don't leave the room."

"Make your mind easy. I shall not stir from this place till you have explained yourself," was the firm reply.

The servant led the way out. He crossed the passage, and opened the door of a waitingroom. Herbert passed

The shortest possible reply was the only reply that he could make, in the moment when he first looked at her.

She was not the same woman whom he had last seen at Sandyseal, returning for her lost book. The agitation

produced by that unexpected meeting had turned her pale; the overpowering sense of injury had hardened and

aged her face. This time, she was prepared to see him; this time, she was conscious of a resolution that raised

her in her own estimation. Her clear blue eyes glittered as she looked at him, the bright color glowed in her

"In the past time, which we both remember," she resumed, "you once said that I was the most truthful woman

you had ever known. Have I done anything to disturb that part of your old faith in me?"

She went on: "Before you entered this house, I had determined to tell Captain Bennydeck what you have not

If he had been able to look away from her, he might have foreseen what was coming; and he would have

remembered that his triumph over the Captain was still incomplete. But his eyes were riveted on her face; his

tenderest memories of her were pleading with him. He answered as a docile child might have answered.

She took a letter from her bosom; and, showing it, begged him to remark that it was not closed.

"I was in my bedroom writing," she said, "When my mother came to me and told me that you and Captain

Bennydeck had met in my sittingroom. She dreaded a quarrel and an exposure, and she urged me to go

downstairs and insist on sending you awayor permit her to do so, if I could not prevail on myself to follow

her advice. I refused to allow the shameful dismissal of a man who had once had his claim on my respect.

The only alternative that I could see was to speak with you here, in private, as we are speaking now. My

mother undertook to manage this for me; she saw the servant, and gave him the message which you received.

"I have brought with me what I was writing in my own room," she resumed, "wishing to show it to you. Will

The jealousy that still rankled in his mindjealousy that he had no more lawful or reasonable claim to feel

than if he had been a strangerurged him to assume an indifference which he was far from feeling. He

"Before you decide," she said, "you ought at least to know why I have written to Captain Bennydeck, instead

of speaking to him as I had proposed. My heart failed me when I thought of the distress that he might

feeland, perhaps of the contempt of myself which, good and gentle as he is, he might not be able to

disguise. My letter tells him the truth, without concealment. I am obliged to speak of the manner in which

you have treated me, and of the circumstances which forced me into acts of deception that I now bitterly

regret. I have tried not to misrepresent you; I have been anxious to do you no wrong. It is for you, not for me,

The sad selfpossession, the quiet dignity with which she spoke, appealed to his memory of the pardon that

she had so generously granted, while he and Sydney Westerfield were still guiltless of the injury inflicted on

She kept her face turned away from him and from the light. The effort to be still calm and reasonableto

suffer the heartache, and not to let the suffering be seenmade cruel demands on the selfbetraying nature

of a woman possessed by strong emotion. There was a moment when she heard him sigh while he was

He rose and approached her; he held out the letter in one hand, and pointed to it with the other. Twice he

It was a hard struggle, but it was for her sake: he mastered his weakness, and forced his trembling voice to

"Is the man whom you are going to marry worthy of this?" he asked, still pointing to the letter.

The great heart that he had so sorely wounded pitied him, forgave him, answered him with a burst of tears.

Brisk and smiling, Mrs. Presty presented herself in the waitingroom. "We have got rid of our enemy!" she

announced, "I looked out of the window and saw him leaving the hotel." She paused, struck with the deep

dejection expressed in her daughter's attitude. "Catherine!" she exclaimed, "I tell you Herbert has gone, and

you look as if you regretted it! Is there anything wrong? Did my message fail to bring him here?"

"He was bent on mischief when I saw him last. Has he told Bennydeck of the Divorce?"

"Thank Heaven for that! There is no one to be afraid of now. Where is the Captain?"

Mrs. Presty took the letter. "You mean, tear it up," she said, and quite right, too."

"My dear child, if you have any regard for yourself, if you have any regard for me, don't ask me to give

"If Kitty ever behaves to you, Catherine, as you have behaved to meyou will have richly deserved it. Oh, if

With that outburst of temper, she took the letter to Bennydeck. In less than a minute she returned, a tamed

"Noand that is the worst of it. When men are angry, I am never afraid of them. He's quiet, too quiet. He

said: 'I'm waiting for Mr. Herbert Linley; where is he?' I said. 'He has left the hotel.' He said: 'What does that

mean?' I handed the letter to him. 'Perhaps this will explain,' I said. He looked at the address, and at once

recognized your handwriting. 'Why does she write to me when we are both in the same house? Why doesn't

she speak to me?' I pointed to the letter. He wouldn't look at it; he looked straight at me. 'There's some

mystery here,' he said; 'I'm a plain man, I don't like mysteries. Mr. Linley had something to say to me, when

the message interrupted him. Who sent the message? Do you know?' If there is a woman living, Catherine,

who would have told the truth, in such a position as mine was at that moment, I should like to have her

photograph. I said I didn't know and I saw he suspected me of deceiving him. Those kind eyes of hisyou

wouldn't believe it of them!looked me through and through. 'I won't detain you any longer,' he said. I'm not

easily daunted, as you knowthe relief it was to me to get away from him is not to be told in words. What

do you think I heard when I got into the passage? I heard him turn the key of the door. He's locked in, my

Catherine refused. "I ought to be near him," she said, hopefully; "he may wish to see me."

Her mother reminded her that the waitingroom was a public room, and might be wanted.

"Let's go into the garden," Mrs. Presty proposed. "We can tell the servant who waits on us where we may be

Catherine yielded. Mrs. Presty's excitement found its overflow in talking perpetually. Her daughter had

nothing to say, and cared nothing where they went; all outward manifestation of life in her seemed to be

suspended at that terrible time of expectation. They wandered here and there, in the quietest part of the

grounds. Half an hour passedand no message was received. The hotel clock struck the hourand still

"I can walk no longer," Catherine said. She dropped on one of the gardenchairs, holding by her mother's

Mrs. Prestyeven bold Mrs. Prestywas afraid to face him again. "He's fond of the child," she suggested;

Some little girls were at play close by who knew where Kitty was to be found. In a few minutes more they

brought her back with them. Mrs. Presty gave the child her instructions, and sent her away proud of her

errand, and delighted at the prospect of visiting the Captain by herself, as if she "was a grownup lady."

This time the period of suspense was soon at an end. Kitty came running back. "It's lucky you sent me," she

"No, grandmamma, I forgot that. I tried to open the door. He called out not to disturb him. I said, 'It's only

me,' and he opened the door directly. What makes him look so pale, mamma? Is he ill?"

"He said, 'Dear little Kitty,' and he caught me up in his arms and kissed me. When he sat down again he took

me on his knee, and he asked if I was fond of him, and I said, 'Yes, I am,' and he kissed me again, and he

asked if I had come to stay with him and keep him company. I forgot what you wanted me to say," Kitty

"I told him, mamma was as fond of him as I was, and I said, 'We will both keep you company.' He put me

down on the floor, and he got up and went to the window and looked out. I told him that wasn't the way to

find her, and I said, 'I know where she is; I'll go and fetch her.' He's an obstinate man, our nice Captain. He

wouldn't come away from the window. I said, 'You wish to see mamma, don't you?' And he said 'Yes.' 'You

mustn't lock the door again,' I told him, 'she won't like that'; and what do you think he said? He said

'Goodby, Kitty!' Wasn't it funny? He didn't seem to know what he was talking about. If you ask my opinion,

mamma, I think the sooner you go to him the better." Catherine hesitated. Mrs. Presty on one side, and Kitty

Captain Bennydeck met Catherine and her child at the open door of the room. Mrs. Presty, stopping a few

paces behind them, waited in the passage; eager to see what the Captain's face might tell her. It told her

But Catherine saw a change in him. There was something in his manner unnaturally passive and subdued. It

suggested the idea of a man whose mind had been forced into an effort of selfcontrol which had exhausted

its power, and had allowed the signs of depression and fatigue to find their way to the surface. The Captain

was quiet, the Captain was kind; neither by word nor look did he warn Catherine that the continuity of their

intimacy was in danger of being brokenand yet, her spirits sank, when they met at the open door.

He led her to a chair, and said she had come to him at a time when he especially wished to speak with her.

Kitty asked if she might remain with them. He put his hand caressingly on her head; "No, my dear, not now."

The child eyed him for a moment, conscious of something which she had never noticed in him before, and

puzzled by the discovery. She walked back, cowed and silent, to the door. He followed her and spoke to Mrs.

"Take your grandchild into the garden; we will Join you there in a little while. Goodby for the present,

Kitty said goodby mechanicallylike a dull child repeating a lesson. Her grandmother led her away in

"I thank you for your letter," he said. "If such a thing is possible, it has given me a higher opinion of you than

She looked at him with a feeling of surprise, so sudden and so overwhelming that she was at a loss how to

reply. The last words which she expected to hear from him, when he alluded to her confession, were the

"You have owned to faults that you have committed, and deceptions that you have sanctioned," he went

on"with nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by telling the truth. Who but a good woman would have

There was a deeper feeling in him than he had ventured to express. It betrayed itself by a momentary

"You don't know how you surprise me, how you relieve me," she said, warmlyand pressed his hand. In the

eagerness of her gratitude, in the gladness that had revived her sinking heart, she failed to feel that the

"What have I said to surprise you?" he asked. "What anxiety have I relieved, without knowing it?"

"Have I not gained your good opinion under false pretenses? Have I not allowed you to admire me and to

love me without telling you that there was anything in my past life which I have reason to regret? Even now,

I can hardly realize that you excuse and forgive me; you, who have read the confession of my worst faults;

"Say at once," he answered, "that I know you to be a mortal creature. Is there any human character, even the

"Yes," he said. "In the worst books you could possibly readthe only really immoral books written in our

"For this plain reason, that they deliberately pervert the truth. Claptrap, you innocent creature, to catch

foolish readers! When do these consistently good people appear in the life around us, the life that we all see?

Never! Are the best mortals that ever lived above the reach of temptation to do ill, and are they always too

good to yield to it? How does the Lord's Prayer instruct humanity? It commands us all, without exception, to

pray that we may not be led into temptation. You have been led into temptation. In other words, you are a

human being. All that a human being could do you have doneyou have repented and confessed. Don't I

know how you have suffered and how you have been tried! Why, what a mean Pharisee I should be if I

She looked at him proudly and gratefully; she lifted her arm as if to thank him by an embrace, and suddenly

"Am I tormenting myself without cause?" she said. "Or is there something that looks like sorrow, showing

For the first time, he shrank from directly answering her. "I begin to wish I had followed your example," he

owned. "It might have been better for both of us if I had answered your letter in writing."

"What is it? Oh, what is it! When my mother told poor little Kitty that her father was dead, are you even more

sorry than I am that I allowed it? Are you even more ashamed of me than I am of myself?"

"No. I regret that you allowed it; but I understand how you were led into that error. Your husband's infidelity

had shaken his hold on your respect for him and your sympathy with him, and had so left you without your

natural safeguard against Mrs. Presty's sophistical reasoning and bad example. But for that wrongdoing,

there is a remedy left. Enlighten your child as you have enlightened me; and thenI have no personal motive

for pleading Mr. Herbert Linley's cause, after what I have seen of himand then, acknowledge the father's

"What else can I mean? Yes! let him see her. Do (God help me, now when it's too late!)do what you ought

to have done, on that accursed day which will be the blackest day in my calendar, to the end of my life."

"The day when you remembered the law of man, and forgot the law of God; the day when you broke the

She listenednot conscious now of suspense or fear; she listened, with her whole heart in revolt against him.

"You are too cruel!" she declared. "You can feel for me, you can understand me, you can pardon me in

everything else that I have done. But you judge without mercy of the one blameless act of my life, since my

husband left methe act that protected a mother in the exercise of her rights. Oh, can it be you? Can it be

"What horrible delusion possesses you? Why do you curse the happy day, the blessed day, which saw me safe

"For the worst and meanest of reasons," he answered"a selfish reason. Don't suppose that I have spoken of

Divorce as one who has had occasion to think of it. I have had no occasion to think of it; I don't think of it

even now. I abhor it because it stands between you and me. I loathe it, I curse it because it separates us for

He looked round him. A society of religious persons had visited the hotel, and had obtained permission to

place a copy of the Bible in every room. One of those copies lay on the chimneypiece in Catherine's room.

Bennydeck brought it to her, and placed it on the table near which she was sitting. He turned to the New

Testament, and opened it at the Gospel of Saint Matthew. With his hand on the page, he said:

"I have done my best rightly to understand the duties of a Christian. One of those duties, as I interpret them,

is to let what I believe show itself in what I do. You have seen enough of me, I hope, to know (though I have

not been forward in speaking of it) that I am, to the best of my poor ability, a faithful follower of the

teachings of Christ. I dare not set my own interests and my own happiness above His laws. If I suffer in

obeying them as I suffer now, I must still submit. They are the laws of my life."

He had already found the chapter. His tears dropped on it as he pointed to the verse.

"Read," he answered, "what the most compassionate of all Teachers has said, in the Sermon on the Mount."

Another innocent woman, in her place, might have pointed to that first part of the verse, which presupposes

the infidelity of the divorced wife, and might have asked if those words applied to her. This woman, knowing

that she had lost him, knew also what she owed to herself She rose in silence, and held out her hand at

"Can you look back to the day of your marriage? Can you remember the words which declared the union

between you and your husband to be separable only by death? Has he treated you with brutal cruelty?"

"Ask your own conscience if there is not a worthier life for you and your child than the life that you are

leading now." He waited, after that appeal to her. The silence remained unbroken. "Do not mistake me," he

resumed gently. "I am not thinking of the calamity that has fallen on me in a spirit of selfish despairI am

looking to your future, and I am trying to show you the way which leads to hope. Catherine! have you no

He drew her to him gently, and kissed her on the forehead. The agony in his face was more than she could

support; she recoiled from it in horror. His last act was devoted to the tranquillity of the one woman whom he

Mrs. Presty waited in the garden to be joined by her daughter and Captain Bennydeck, and waited in vain. It

"Suppose we wait a moment, before we go in?" her wise grandmother advised. "If I hear them talking I shall

Mrs. Presty favored Kitty with a hint relating to the management of inquisitive children which might prove

useful to her in afterlife. "When you grow up to be a woman, my dear, beware of making the mistake that I

have just committed. Never be foolish enough to mention your reasons when a child asks, Why;"

They had reached the sittingroom door by this time. Kitty opened it without ceremony and looked in. The

Having confided her granddaughter to the nursemaid's care, Mrs. Presty knocked at Catherine's bedroom

"Stop it! Kitty mustn't go to bed. No questions. I'll explain myself when you come back." There was a

wildness in her eyes, and a tone of stern command in her voice, which warned her mother to set dignity aside,

"I don't ask what has happened," Mrs. Presty resumed on her return. "That letter, that fatal letter to the

"Time enough to catch the last train to London. Don't raise objections! If I stay at this place, with associations

in every part of it which remind me of that unhappy man, I shall go mad! The shock I have suffered, the

misery, the humiliationI tell you it's more than I can bear. Stay here by yourself if you like; I mean to go."

She paced with frantic rapidity up and down the room. Mrs. Presty took the only way by which it was

possible to calm her. "Compose yourself, Catherine, and all that you wish shall be done. I'll settle everything

with the landlord, and give the maid her orders. Sit down by the open window; let the wind blow over you."

The railway service from Sydenham to London is a late service. At a few minutes before midnight they were

in time for the last train. When they left the station, Catherine was calm enough to communicate her plans for

the future. The nearest hotel to the terminus would offer them accommodation for that night. On the next day

they could find some quiet place in the countryno matter where, so long as they were not disturbed. "Give

me rest and peace, and my mind will be easier," Catherine said. "Let nobody know where to find me."

These conditions were strictly observedwith an exception in favor of Mr. Sarrazin. While his client's

pecuniary affairs were still unsettled, the lawyer had his claim to be taken into her confidence.

The next morning found Captain Bennydeck still keeping his rooms at Sydenham. The state of his mind

presented a complete contrast to the state of Catherine's mind. So far from sharing her aversion to the

personal associations which were connected with the hotel, he found his one consolation in visiting the scenes

which reminded him of the beloved woman whom he had lost. The reason for this was not far to seek. His

As usual, his letters were forwarded to him from his place of residence in London. Those addressed in

handwritings that he knew were the first that he read. The others he took out with him to that sequestered part

of the garden in which he had passed the happiest hours of his life by Catherine's side.

His better judgment protested; his accusing conscience warned him that he was committing, not only an act

of folly but (with his religious convictions) an act of sinand still she held her place in his thoughts. The

manager had told him of her sudden departure from the hotel, and had declared with perfect truth that the

place of her destination had not been communicated to him. Asked if she had left no directions relating to her

correspondence, he had replied that his instructions were to forward all letters to her lawyer. On the point of

inquiring next for the name and address, Bennydeck's sense of duty and sense of shame (roused at last) filled

him with a timely contempt for himself. In feeling tempted to write to Catherinein encouraging fond

thoughts of her among scenes which kept her in his memoryhe had been false to the very principles to

which he had appealed at their farewell interview. She had set him the right example, the example which he

was determined to follow, in leaving the place. Before he could falter in his resolution, he gave notice of his

departure. The one hope for him now was to find a refuge from himself in acts of mercy. Consolation was

His unopened correspondence offered a harmless occupation to his thoughts, in the meanwhile. One after

another he read the letters, with an attention constantly wandering and constantly recalled, until he opened the

last of them that remained. In a moment more his interest was absorbed. The first sentences in the letter told

him that the deserted creature whom he had met in the gardenthe stranger to whom he had offered help and

consolation in the present and in the futurewas no other than the lost girl of whom he had been so long in

search; the daughter of Roderick Westerfield, once his dearest and oldest friend.

In the pages that followed, the writer confided to him her sad story; leaving it to her father's friend to decide

whether she was worthy of the sympathy which he had offered to her, when he thought she was a stranger.

This part of her letter was necessarily a repetition of what Bennydeck had read, in the confession which

Catherine had addressed to him. That generous woman had been guilty of one, and but one, concealment of

the truth. In relating the circumstances under which the elopement from Mount Morven had taken place, she

had abstained, in justice to the sincerity of Sydney's repentance, from mentioning Sydney's name. "Another

instance," the Captain thought bitterly, as he closed the letter, "of the virtues which might have made the

But he was bound to rememberand he did rememberthat there was now a new interest, tenderly

associating itself with his life to come. The one best way of telling Sydney how dear she was to him already,

for her father's sake, would be to answer her in person. He hurried away to London by the first train, and

Wondering what had become of the postscript to his letter, which had given Bennydeck the information of

which he was now in search, Randal complied with his friend's request, and then ventured to allude to the

That reply, and the tone in which it was given, led Randal to ask if the engagement had been prematurely

"There is no engagement at all," Bennydeck answered, with a look which suggested that it might be wise not

But the discovery was welcome to Randal, for his brother's sake. He ran the risk of consequences, and

"In that case," Randal concluded, "I shall get the information that I want." Noticing that Bennydeck looked

surprised, he mentioned his motive. "Herbert is pining to see Kitty," h continued; "and I mean to help him.

He has done all that a man could do to atone for the past. As things are, I believe I shall not offend Catherine,

They left the house togetherone to go to Sydney's lodgings, the other on his way to Mr. Sarrazin's office.

When the servant at the lodgings announced a visitor, and mentioned his name, Sydney's memory (instead of

dwelling on the recollection of the Captain's kindness) perversely recalled the letter that she had addressed to

him, and reminded her that she stood in need of indulgence, which even so good a man might hesitate to

grant. Bennydeck's first words told the friendless girl that her fears had wronged him.

My dear, how like your father you are! You have his eyes and his smile; I can't tell you how pleasantly you

remind me of my dear old friend." He took her hand, and kissed her as he might have kissed a daughter of his

own. "Do you remember me at home, Sydney, when you were a child? No: you must have been too young for

She was deeply touched. In faint trembling tones she said; "I remember your name; my poor father often

A man who feels true sympathy is never in danger of mistaking his way to a woman's heart, when that

woman has suffered. Bennydeck consoled, interested, charmed Sydney, by still speaking of the bygone days

"I well remember how fond your father was of you, and what a bright little girl you were," the Captain went

on. "You have forgotten, I dare say, the oldfashioned seasongs that he used to be so fond of teaching you.

It was the strangest and prettiest contrast, to hear your small piping child's voice singing of storms and

shipwrecks, and thunder and lightning, and reefing sails in cold and darkness, without the least idea of what it

all meant. Your mother was strict in those days; you never amused her as you used to amuse your father and

me. When she caught you searching my pockets for sweetmeats, she accused me of destroying your digestion

before you were five years old. I went on spoiling it, for all that. The last time I saw you, my child, your

father was singing 'The Mariners of England,' and you were on his knee trying to sing with him. You must

have often wondered why you never saw anything more of me. Did you think I had forgotten you?"

"You see I was in the Navy at the time," the Captain resumed; "and we were ordered away to a foreign

station. When I got back to England, miserable news was waiting for me. I heard of your father's death and of

that shameful Trial. Poor fellow! He was as innocent, Sydney, as you are of the offense which he was

accused of committing. The first thing I did was to set inquiries on foot after your mother and her children. It

was some consolation to me to feel that I was rich enough to make your lives easy and agreeable to you. I

thought money could do anything. A serious mistake, my dearmoney couldn't find the widow and her

children. We supposed you were somewhere in London; and there, to my great grief, it ended. From time to

timelong afterward, when we thought we had got the clew in our handsI continued my inquiries, still

without success. A poor woman and her little family are so easily engulfed in the big city! Years passed

(more of them than I like to reckon up) before I heard of you at last by name. The person from whom I got

"A poor old brokendown actor, Sydney. You were his favorite pupil. Do you remember him?"

"I should be ungrateful indeed if I could forget him. He was the only person in the school who was kind to

"No; he rests at last. I am glad to say I was able to make his last days on earth the happiest days of his life."

"There was nothing at all romantic in my first discovery of him. I was reading the police reports in a

newspaper. The poor wretch was brought before a magistrate, charged with breaking a window. His one last

chance of escaping starvation in the streets was to get sent to prison. The magistrate questioned him, and

brought to light a really heartbreaking account of misfortune, imbittered by neglect on the part of people in

authority who were bound to help him. He was remanded, so that inquiries might be made. I attended the

court on the day when he appeared there again, and heard his statement confirmed. I paid his fine, and

contrived to put him in a way of earning a little money. He was very grateful, and came now and then to

thank me. In that way I heard how his troubles had begun. He had asked for a small advance on the wretched

"I know but too well how she answered him," Sydney said; "I was turned out of the house, too."

"And I heard of it," the Captain replied, "from the woman herself. Everything that could distress me she was

ready to mention. She told me of your mother's second marriage, of her miserable death, of the poor boy,

your brother, missing, and never heard of since. But when I asked where you had gone she had nothing more

to say. She knew nothing, and cared nothing, about you. If I had not become acquainted with Mr. Randal

Linley, I might never have heard of you again. We will say no more of that, and no more of anything that has

happened in the past time. From today, my dear, we begin a new life, and (please God) a happier life. Have

"Perhaps, if I could find help," Sydney said resignedly, "I might emigrate. Pride wouldn't stand in my way; no

honest employment would be beneath my notice. Besides, if I went to America, I might meet with my

"My dear child, after the time that has passed, there is no imaginable chance of your meeting with your

brotherand you wouldn't know each other again if you did meet. Give up that vain hope and stay here with

"Useful?" Sydney repeated sadly. "Your own kind heart, Captain Bennydeck, is deceiving you. To be useful

He told her of the founding of his Home and of the good it had done. "You are the very person," he resumed,

"to be the good sisterfriend that I want for my poor girls: you can say for them what they cannot always say

The tears rose in Sydney's eyes. "It is hard to see such a prospect as that," she said, "and to give it up as soon

"Because I am not fit for it. You are as good as a father to those lost daughters of yours. If you give them a

sisterfriend she ought to have set them a good example. Have I done that? Will they listen to a girl who is

"Gladly! Your sympathy will find its way to their hearts, because it is animated by something that they can all

feel in commonsomething nearer and dearer to them than a sense of duty. You won't consent, Sydney, for

She looked at him, hardly able to understandor, as it might have been, perhaps afraid to understand him.

"I have kept it concealed from you," he continued"for why should I lay my load of suffering on a friend so

young as you are, so cruelly tried already? Let me only say that I am in great distress. If you were with me,

He held out his hand. Even a happy woman could hardly have found it in her heart to resist him. In silent

sympathy and respect, Sydney kissed the hand that he had offered to her. It was the one way in which she

Still encouraging her to see new hopes and new interests in the future, the good Captain spoke of the share

which she might take in the management of the Home, if she would like to be his secretary. With this view he

showed her some written reports, relating to the institution, which had been sent to him during the time of his

residence at Sydenham. She read them with an interest and attention which amply justified his confidence in

"These reports," he explained to her, "are kept for reference; but as a means of saving time, the substance of

them is entered in the daily journal of our proceedings. Come, Sydney! venture on a first experiment in your

new character. I see pen, ink, and paper on the table; try if you can shorten one of the reports, without leaving

out anything which it is important to know. For instance, the writer gives reasons for making his statement.

Very well expressed, no doubt, but we don't want reasons. Then, again, he offers his own opinion on the right

course to take. Very creditable to him, but I don't want his opinionI want his facts. Take the pen, my

Proud and pleased, Sydney obeyed him. She had made her little abstract, and was reading it to him at his

request, while he compared it with the report, when they were interrupted by a visitor. Randal Linley came in,

and noticed the papers on the table with surprise. "Is it possible that I am interrupting business?" he asked.

Bennydeck answered with the assumed air of importance which was in itself a compliment to Sydney: "You

Randal at once understood what had happened. He took his friend's arm, and led him to the other end of the

"You good fellow!" he said. "Add to your kindness by excusing me if I ask for a word with you in private."

Sydney rose to retire. After having encouraged her by a word of praise, the Captain proposed that she should

get ready to go out, and should accompany him on a visit to the Home. He opened the door for her as

respectfully as if the poor girl had been one of the highest ladies in the land.

"I have seen my friend Sarrazin," Randal began, "and I have persuaded him to trust me with Catherine's

present address. I can send Herbert there immediately, if you will only help me."

Randal explained. "I am grieved," he said, "to distress you by referring to this subject again. But if my

brother is left under the false impression that your engagement will be followed by your marriage, he will

The Captain understood. "Say what you please about me," he replied. "Unite the father and childand you

Bennydeck's answer ignored the law. "I remember," he said, "that the marriage has been profaned."

The front windows of Brightwater Cottage look out on a quiet green lane in Middlesex, which joins the

highroad within a few miles of the market town of Uxbridge. Through the pretty garden at the back runs a

little brook, winding its merry way to a distant river. The few rooms in this pleasant place of residence are

well (too well) furnished, having regard to the limits of a building which is a cottage in the strictest sense of

the word. Watercolor drawings by the old English masters of the art ornament the diningroom. The parlor

has been transformed into a library. From floor to ceiling all four of its walls are covered with books. Their

old and wellchosen bindings, seen in the mass, present nothing less than a feast of color to the eye. The

library and the works of art are described as heirlooms, which have passed into the possession of the present

proprietorone more among the hundreds of Englishmen who are ruined every year by betting on the Turf.

So sorely in need of a little ready money was this victim of gamblingtacitly permitted or conveniently

ignored by the audacious hypocrisy of a country which rejoiced in the extinction of Baden, and which still

shudders at the name of Monacothat he was ready to let his pretty cottage for no longer a term than one

month certain; and he even allowed the elderly lady, who drove the hardest of hard bargains with him, to

lessen by one guinea the houserent paid for each week. He took his revenge by means of an ironical

compliment, addressed to Mrs. Presty. "What a saving it would be to the country, ma'am, if you were

Chancellor of the Exchequer!" With perfect gravity Mrs. Presty accepted that wellearned tribute of praise.

"You are quite right, sir; I should be the first official person known to the history of England who took proper

Within two days of the time when they had left the hotel at Sydenham, Catherine and her little family circle

The two ladies were sitting in the library each occupied with a book chosen from the wellstocked shelves.

Catherine's reading appeared to be more than once interrupted by Catherine's thoughts. Noticing this

circumstance, Mrs. Presty asked if some remarkable event had happened, and if it was weighing heavily on

Catherine answered that she was thinking of Kitty, and that anxiety connected with the child did weigh

Some days had passed (she reminded Mrs. Presty) since the interview at which Herbert Linley had bidden her

farewell. On that occasion he had referred to her proposed marriage (never to be a marriage now!) in terms of

forbearance and generosity which claimed her sincerest admiration. It might be possible for her to show a

grateful appreciation of his conduct. Devotedly fond of his little daughter, he must have felt acutely his long

separation from her; and it was quite likely that he might ask to see Kitty. But there was an obstacle in the

way of her willing compliance with that request, which it was impossible to think of without remorse, and

which it was imperatively necessary to remove. Mrs. Presty would understand that she alluded to the

Strongly disapproving of the language in which her daughter had done justice to the conduct of the divorced

husband, Mrs. Presty merely replied: "You are Kitty's mother; I leave it to you"and returned to her reading.

Catherine could not feel that she had deserved such an answer as this. "Did I plan the deception?" she asked.

Mrs. Presty was not in the least offended. "You are comparatively innocent, my dear," she admitted, with an

air of satirical indulgence. "You only consented to the deception, and profited by the lie. Suppose we own the

Mrs. Presty complacently closed her book. "I was quite prepared to hear it," she said; "all the unpleasant

complications since your Divorceand Heaven only knows how many of them have presented

themselveshave been left for me to unravel. It so happensthough I was too modest to mention it

prematurelythat I have unraveled this complication. If one only has eyes to see it, there is a way out of

every difficulty that can possibly happen." She pushed the book that she had been reading across the table to

Catherine. "Turn to page two hundred and forty," she said. "There is the way out."

The title of the book was "Disasters at Sea"; and the page contained the narrative of a shipwreck. On

evidence apparently irresistible, the drowning of every soul on board the lost vessel had been taken for

grantedwhen a remnant of the passengers and crew had been discovered on a desert island, and had been

safely restored to their friends. Having read this record of suffering and suspense, Catherine looked at her

"Quite inexcusable on my part," she acknowledged; "I ought to have remembered that you don't inherit your

mother's vivid imagination. Age has left me in full possession of those powers of invention which used to

amaze your poor father. He wondered how it was that I never wrote a novel. Mr. Presty's appreciation of my

intellect was equally sincere; but he took a different view. 'Beware, my dear,' he said, 'of trifling with the

distinction which you now enjoy: you are one of the most remarkable women in Englandyou have never

written a novel.' Pardon me; I am wandering into the region of literary anecdote, when I ought to explain

myself. Now pray attend to this:I propose to tell Kitty that I have found a book which is sure to interest

her; and I shall direct her attention to the lamentable story which you have just read. She is quite sharp

enough (there are sparks of my intellectual fire in Kitty) to ask if the friends of the poor shipwrecked people

were not very much surprised to see them again. To this I shall answer: 'Very much, indeed, for their friends

Catherine saw it so plainly that she was eager to put the first part of the experiment to an immediate trial.

Kitty was sent for, and made her appearance with a fishingrod over her shoulder. "I'm going to the brook,"

A wary old hand stopped Catherine, in the act of presenting "Disasters at Sea," to Kitty's notice; and a voice,

distinguished by insinuating kindness, said to the child: "When you have done fishing, my dear, come to me;

I have got a nice book for you to read.How very absurd of you, Catherine," Mrs. Presty continued, when

they were alone again, "to expect the child to read, and draw her own conclusions, while her head is full of

fishing! If there are any fish in the brook, she won't catch them. When she comes back disappointed and says:

'What am I to do now?' the 'Disasters at Sea' will have a chance. I make it a rule never to boast; but if there is

a thing that I understand, it's the management of children. Why didn't I have a large family?"

Attended by the faithful Susan, Kitty baited her hook, and began to fish where the waters of the brook were

A little arbor covered by a thatched roof, and having walls of wooden latticework, hidden by creepers

climbing over them inside and out, offered an attractive place of rest on this sheltered side of the garden.

Having brought her work with her, the nursemaid retired to the summerhouse and diligently plied her

needle, looking at Kitty from time to time through the open door. The air was delightfully cool, the pleasant

rippling of the brook fell soothingly on the ear, the seat in the summerhouse received a sitter with the

softlyyielding submission of elastic wires. Susan had just finished her early dinner: in mind and body alike,

this good girl was entirely and deservedly at her ease. By finely succeeding degrees, her eyelids began to

show a tendency downward; her truant needlework escaped from her fingers, and lay lazily on her lap. She

snatched it up with a start, and sewed with severe resolution until her thread was exhausted. The reel was

ready at her side; she took it up for a fresh supply, and innocently rested her head against the leafy and

flowery wall of the arbor. Was it thought that gradually closed her eyes again? or was it sleep? In either case,

Susan was lost to all sense of passing events; and Susan's breathing became musically regular, emulous of the

As a lesson in patience, the art of angling pursued in a shallow brook has its moral uses. Kitty fished, and

waited, and renewed the bait and tried again, with a command of temper which would have been a novelty in

Susan's experience, if Susan had been awake. But the end which comes to all things came also to Kitty's

patience. Leaving her rod on the bank, she let the line and hook take care of themselves, and wandered away

Lingering here and there to gather flowers from the beds as she passed them, Kitty was stopped by a

shrubbery, with a rustic seat placed near it, which marked the limits of the garden on that side. The path that

she had been following led her further and further away from the brook, but still left it well in view. She

could see, on her right hand, the clumsy old wooden bridge which crossed the stream, and served as a means

of communication for the servants and the tradespeople, between the cottage and the village on the lower

The child felt hot and tired. She rested herself on the bench, and, spreading the flowers by her side, began to

arrange them in the form of a nosegay. Still true to her love for Sydney, she had planned to present the

nosegay to her mother, offering the gift as an excuse for returning to the forbidden subject of her governess,

Choosing flowers and then rejecting them, trying other colors and wondering whether she had accomplished

a change for the better, Kitty was startled by the sound of a voice calling to her from the direction of the

She looked round, and saw a gentleman crossing the bridge. He asked the way to Brightwater Cottage.

There was something in his voice that attracted herhow or why, at her age, she never thought of inquiring.

Eager and excited, she ran across the lawn which lay between her and the brook, before she answered the

As they approached each other, his eyes sparkled, his face flushed; he cried out joyfully, "Here she is!"and

then changed again in an instant. A horrid pallor overspread his face as the child stood looking at him with

innocent curiosity. He startled Kitty, not because he seemed to be shocked and distressed, she hardly noticed

that; but because he was so likealthough he was thinner and paler and olderoh, so like her lost father!

His sorrowful eyes rested kindly on her. And yet, it seemed as if she had in some way disappointed him. The

He answered in the saddest voice that Kitty had ever heard: "My little girl, what makes you think I know

She was at a loss how to reply, fearing to distress him. She could only say: "You are so like my poor papa."

He shook and shuddered, as if she had said something to frighten him. He took her hand. On that hot day, his

fingers felt as cold as if it had been winter time. He led her back to the seat that she had left. "I'm tired, my

dear," he said. "Shall we sit down?" It was surely true that he was tired. He seemed hardly able to lift one foot

after the other; Kitty pitied him. "I think you must be ill;" she said, as they took their places, side by side, on

"No; not ill. Only weary, and perhaps a little afraid of frightening you." He kept her hand in his hand, and

patted it from time to time. "My dear, why did you say 'poor papa,' when you spoke of your father just now?"

He turned his face away from her, and pressed both hands on his breast, as if he had felt some dreadful pain

there, and was trying to hide it. But he mastered the pain; and he said a strange thing to hervery gently, but

still it was strange. He wished to know who had told her that her father was dead.

He said something to himself, and said it twice over. "Not her mother! Thank God, not her mother!" What did

Kitty looked and looked at him, and wondered and wondered. He put his arm round her. "Come near to me,"

he said. "Don't be afraid of me, my dear." She moved nearer and showed him that she was not afraid. The

poor man seemed hardly to understand her. His eyes grew dim; he sighed like a person in distress; he said:

"Your father would have kissed you, little one, if he had been alive. You say I am like your father. May I kiss

She put her hands on his shoulder and lifted her face to him. In the instant when he kissed her, the child knew

him. Her heart beat suddenly with an overpowering delight; she started back from his embrace. "That's how

papa used to kiss me!" she cried. "Oh! you are papa! Not drowned! not drowned!" She flung her arms round

his neck, and held him as if she would never let him go again. "Dear papa! Poor lost papa!" His tears fell on

The hysterical passion that had overcome her father filled her with piteous surprise. How strange, how

dreadful that he should crythat he should be so sorry when she was so glad! She took her little

handkerchief out of the pocket of her pinafore, and dried his eyes. "Are you thinking of the cruel sea, papa?

No! the good sea, the kind, bright, beautiful sea that has given you back to me, and to mamma!"

They had forgotten her mother!and Kitty only discovered it now. She caught at one of her father's hands

hanging helpless at his side, and pulled at it as if her little strength could force him to his feet. "Come," she

He hesitated. She sprang on his knee; she pressed her cheek against his cheek with the caressing tenderness,

familiar to him in the first happy days when she was an infant. "Oh, papa, are you going to be unkind to me

His momentary resistance was at an end. He was as weak in her hands now as if he had been the child and

Laughing and singing and dancing round him, Kitty led the way to the window of the room that opened on

the garden. Some one had closed it on the inner side. She tapped impatiently at the glass. Her mother heard

the tapping; her mother came to the window; her mother ran out to meet them. Since the miserable time when

they left Mount Morven, since the long unnatural separation of the parents and the child, those three were

That a woman of my wife's mature years should be jealous of one of the most exemplary husbands that the

records of matrimony can produce is, to say the least of it, a discouraging circumstance. A man forgets that

However, the motto of married life is (or ought to be): Peace at any price. I have been this day relieved from

the condition of secrecy that has been imposed on me. You insisted on an explanation some time since. Here

For the tenthousandth time, my dear, in our joint lives, you are again right. That letter, marked private,

which I received at the domestic teatable, was what you positively declared it to be, a letter from a ladya

charming lady, plunged in the deepest perplexity. We had been well known to each other for many years, as

lawyer and client. She wanted advice on this occasion alsoand wanted it in the strictest confidence. Was it

consistent with my professional duty to show her letter to my wife? Mrs. Sarrazin says Yes; Mrs. Sarrazin's

Let me add that the lady was a person of unblemished reputation, and that she was placed in a false position

through no fault of her own. In plain English, she was divorced. Ah, my dear (to speak in the vivid language

Yes: my client was Mrs. Norman; and to her pretty cottage in the country I betook myself the next day. There

Stop a minute. Why do I write all this, instead of explaining myself by word of mouth? My love, you are a

member of an old and illustrious family; you honored me when you married me; and you have (as your father

told me on our wedding day) the high and haughty temper of your race. I foresee an explosion of this temper,

Is this a cowardly confession on my part? All courage, Mrs. Sarrazin, is relative; the bravest man living has a

cowardly side to his character, though it may not always be found out. Some years ago, at a public dinner, I

sat next to an officer in the British army. At one time in his life he had led a forlorn hope. At another time, he

had picked up a wounded soldier, and had carried him to the care of the surgeons through a hailstorm of the

enemy's bullets. Hot courage and cool courage, this true hero possessed both. I saw the cowardly side of his

character. He lost his color; perspiration broke out on his forehead; he trembled; he talked nonsense; he was

frightened out of his wits. And all for what? Because he had to get on his legs and make a speech!

Well: Mrs. Norman, and Randal Linley, and I, sat down to our consultation at the cottage.

She contemplated marrying for the second time, and she wanted my advice as a lawyer, and my

encouragement as an old friend. I was quite ready; I only waited for particulars. Mrs. Norman became

I looked at Randal. "Once her brotherinlaw, no doubt," I said; "but after the Divorce" My friend stopped

If this meant anything, it meant that she was actually going to marry Herbert Linley again. This was too

ridiculous. "If it's a joke," I said, "I have heard better fun in my time. If it's only an assertion, I don't believe

"Saying I do want you, in one breathand I don't want you, in anotherseems to be a little hard on

He took it seriously. "Don't misunderstand me," he replied. "Where there is absolute cruelty, or where there is

deliberate desertion, on the husband's part, I see the use and the reason for Divorce. If the unhappy wife can

find an honorable man who will protect her, or an honorable man who will offer her a home, Society and

Law, which are responsible for the institution of marriage, are bound to allow a woman outraged under the

shelter of their institution to marry again. But, where the husband's fault is sexual frailty, I say the English

law which refuses Divorce on that ground alone is right, and the Scotch law which grants it is wrong.

Religion, which rightly condemns the sin, pardons it on the condition of true penitence. Why is a wife not to

pardon it for the same reason? Why are the lives of a father, a mother, and a child to be wrecked, when those

lives may be saved by the exercise of the first of Christian virtuesforgiveness of injuries? In such a case as

this I regret that Divorce exists; and I rejoice when husband and wife and child are one flesh again, reunited

I might have disputed with him; but I thought he was right. I also wanted to make sure of the facts. "Am I

really to understand," I asked, "that Mr. Herbert Linley is to be this lady's husband for the second time?"

My good wife, in all your experience you never saw your husband stare as he stared at that moment. Here

was a lady divorced by her own lawful desire and at her own personal expense, thinking better of it after no

very long interval, and proposing to marry the man again. Was there ever anything so grossly improbable?

Where is the novelist who would be bold enough to invent such an incident as this?

Of course it could only end in one way, so far as I was concerned. The case being without precedent in my

experience, I dropped my professional character at the outset. Speaking next as a friend, I had only to say to

Mrs. Norman: "The Law has declared you and Mr. Herbert Linley to be single people. Do what other single

people do. Buy a license, and give notice at a churchand by all means send wedding cards to the judge who

Said; and, in another fortnight, done. Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Linley were married again this morning; and

Randal and I were the only witnesses present at the ceremony, which was strictly private.

I wonder whether the foregoing pages of my writingpaper have been torn to pieces and thrown into the

wastepaper basket? You wouldn't litter the carpet. No. I may be torn in pieces, but I do you justice for all

What are the objections to the divorced husband and wife becoming husband and wife again? Mrs. Presty has

stated them in the following order. Am I wrong in assuming that, on this occasion at least, you will agree

Second Objection: Penitent or not penitent, Mr. Herbert Linley doesn't deserve it.

First Reply: The question is not whether the thing has been done before, but whether the doing of the thing is

right in itself There is no clause in the marriage service forbidding a wife to forgive her husband; but there is

a direct prohibition to any separation between them. It is, therefore, not wrong to forgive Mr. Herbert Linley,

Second Reply: When their child brings him home, and takes it for granted that her father and mother should

live together, because they are her father and mother, innocent Kitty has appealed from the Law of Divorce to

the Law of Nature. Whether Herbert Linley has deserved it or whether he has not, there he is in the only fit

Third Reply: A flat contradiction to the assertion that no respectable person will visit her. Mrs. Sarrazin will

visit her. Yes, you will, my dear! Not because I insist upon itDo I ever insist on anything? No; you will act

on your own responsibility, out of compassion for a misguided old woman. Judge for yourself when you read

what follows, if Mrs. Presty is not sadly in need of the good example of an ornament to her sex.

The Evil Genius of the family joined us in the cottage parlor when our consultations had come to an end. I

had the honor of communicating the decision at which we had arrived. Mrs. Presty marched to the door; and,

from that commanding position, addressed a few farewell remarks to her daughter.

"I have done with you, Catherine. You have reached the limits of my maternal endurance at last. I shall set up

my own establishment, and live againin memorywith Mr. Norman and Mr. Presty. May you be happy. I

She left the roomand came back again for a last word, addressed this time to Randal Linley.

"When you next see your friend, Captain Bennydeck, give him my compliments, Mr. Randal, and say I

congratulate him on having been jilted by my daughter. It would have been a sad thing, indeed, if such a

She left the room again, and came back again for another last word, addressed on this occasion to me. Her

"I think it is quite likely, Mr. Sarrazin, that some dreadful misfortune will fall on my daughter, as the

punishment of her undutiful disregard of her mother's objections. In that case, I shall feel it my duty to return

and administer maternal consolation. When you write, address me at my banker's. I make allowances for a

She opened the door for the third timestepped out, and stepped back again into the roomsuddenly gave

her daughter a fierce kissreturned to the doorshook her fist at Mrs. Linley with a

theatricallythreatening gesturesaid, "Unnatural child!"and, after this exhibition of her better nature,

and her worse, left us at last. When you visit the remarried pair on their return from their second honeymoon,

"When you force this ridiculous and regrettable affair on my attention" (I think I hear Mrs. Sarrazin say), "the

least you can do is to make your narrative complete. But perhaps you propose to tell me personally what has

become of Kitty, and what welldeserved retribution has overtaken Miss Westerfield."

No: I propose in this case also to communicate my information in writingat the safe distance from home of

Kitty accompanies her father and mother to the Continent, of course. But she insisted on first saying goodby

to the dear friend, once the dear governess, whom she loves. Randal and I volunteered to take her (with her

mother's ready permission) to see Miss Westerfield. Try not to be angry. Try not to tear me up.

We found Captain Bennydeck and his pretty secretary enjoying a little rest and refreshment, after a long

morning's work for the good of the Home. The Captain was carving the chicken; and Sydney, by his side, was

making the salad. The housecat occupied a third chair, with her eyes immovably fixed on the movements of

the knife and fork. Perhaps I was thinking of sad past days. Anyway, it seemed to me to be as pretty a

domestic scene as a man could wish to look at. The arrival of Kitty made the picture complete.

Our visit was necessarily limited by a due remembrance of the hour of departure, by an early tidal tram.

Kitty's last words to Sydney bade her bear their next meeting in mind, and not be melancholy at only saying

goodby for a time. Like all children, she asks strange questions. When we were out in the street again, she

Randal had noticed, in Captain Bennydeck's face, signs which betrayed that the bitterest disappointment of

his life was far from being a forgotten disappointment yet. If it had been put by any other person, poor Kitty's

absurd question might have met with a bitter reply. As it was, her uncle only said: "My dear child, that is no

The child looked from one to the other of us. "Shall I tell you what I think?" she said, "I think you are both of