“Never—­yet.  But it may happen on my return.”

“In what way?”

“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 mine—­once 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 pupil-teacher 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.  Good-by, my friend.  I am heartily sorry to go!”

“Life is made up of partings,” Randal answered.

“And of meetings,” the Captain wisely reminded him.  “When you are in London, you will always hear of me at the club.”

Heartily reciprocating his good wishes, Randal attended Captain Bennydeck to the door.  On the way back to the drawing-room, he found his mind dwelling, rather to his surprise, on the Captain’s contemplated search for the lost girl.

Was the good man likely to find her?  It seemed useless enough to inquire—­and 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 pupil-teacher 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 which had brought the Captain to Mount Morven was no longer in sight.

The one other course that he could take was to mention Captain Bennydeck’s name to Sydney, and be guided by the result.

As he approached the bell, determining to send a message upstairs, he heard the door opened behind him.  Mrs. Presty had entered the drawing-room, with a purpose (as it seemed) in which Randal was concerned.

Chapter XX.

The Mother-in-Law.

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 she is in better health.”

Randal tried again.  “Mrs. Presty, am I to understand (after the plain direction Herbert gave) that no messenger has been sent to the farm?”