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 happiness of my life!”

But he was bound to remember—­and he did remember—­that 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 drove at once to Randal’s place of abode to ask for Sydney’s address.

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 report of the Captain’s marriage engagement.

“Am I to congratulate you?” he asked.

“Congratulate me on having discovered Roderick Westerfield’s daughter.”

That reply, and the tone in which it was given, led Randal to ask if the engagement had been prematurely announced.

“There is no engagement at all,” Bennydeck answered, with a look which suggested that it might be wise not to dwell on the subject.

But the discovery was welcome to Randal, for his brother’s sake.  He ran the risk of consequences, and inquired if Catherine was still to be found at the hotel.

The Captain answered by a sign in the negative.

Randal persisted.  “Do you know where she has gone?”

“Nobody knows but her lawyer.”

“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, if I arrange for a meeting between father and child.  What do you say?”

Bennydeck answered, earnestly and eagerly:  “Do it at once!”

They left the house together—­one to go to Sydney’s lodgings, the other on his way to Mr. Sarrazin’s office.

Chapter LIV.

Let Bygones Be Bygones.

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.