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 maid—­and 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 did certainly start and look round.

The stillness of the night was disturbed no more.  The man turned again to the person who had so strongly interested him.  The person was gone.

In fear of being followed, Sydney hurried to the railway station.  By the light in the carriage she looked for the first time at the fragment of the letter and the card.

The stranger had presented her with her own address!  And, when she looked at the card, the name was Bennydeck!

Chapter XLVII.

Better Do It Than Wish It Done.

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 they encounter the passion of Love.

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 both sides.  He was on his way to the hotel when he met with Sydney Westerfield.

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 what, in nearly similar cases, he had said and done on other occasions.

Left by himself, he advanced a few steps mechanically on the way by which Sydney had escaped him—­and 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 direction of the hotel.