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 as it is seen.”

“Why give it up?”

“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 sister-friend she ought to have set them a good example.  Have I done that?  Will they listen to a girl who is no better than themselves?”

“Gladly! Your sympathy will find its way to their hearts, because it is animated by something that they can all feel in common—­something nearer and dearer to them than a sense of duty.  You won’t consent, Sydney, for their sakes?  Will you do what I ask of you, for my sake?”

She looked at him, hardly able to understand—­or, as it might have been, perhaps afraid to understand him.  He spoke to her more plainly.

“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, my child, I might be better able to bear it.”

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 could trust herself to answer him.

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 her capacity.

“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 opinion—­I want his facts.  Take the pen, my secretary, and set down his facts.  Never mind his reflections.”

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 find me engaged on the business of the Home with my new secretary.”