For a moment the two men looked at each other without speaking.
Herbert’s wondering eyes accurately reflected his brother’s
astonishment.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Suspicion overclouded his face as
he put the question. “You have been to the hotel?” he burst out; “you
have seen Catherine?”
Randal could deny that he had seen Catherine, with perfect truth--and
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 course--and you have been the first to
clear the thing up. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I wonder who this other Mrs. Norman is; did you find out?”
“No.”
“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 devil take the thing, and the people who write in it!”
He snatched a newspaper out of his pocket as he spoke--tore it in
half--and 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 Society--in which the report of Mrs.
Norman’s marriage was repeated, with this difference, that it boldly
alluded to Captain Bennydeck by name. “Did Malcolm give you this?”
Randal asked.
“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.”
“Gently, Herbert! Supposing the report had been true--?”
“After what you have told me, why should I suppose anything of the
sort?”
“Don’t be angry; and do pray remember that the Divorce allows you and
Catherine to marry again, if you like.”
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 enough--but what I wanted to find out
was how she had passed off her false pretense on our child. _That_ was
what maddened me! No more of it now. Have you seen Catherine lately?”
“Not lately.”
“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 position--especially 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 to a meeting between father and child.
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 Captain for that event.
Even this apparently simple proceeding required examination in its
different bearings, before he could begin his letter.
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 interest--and not forgetting how she had suffered--had
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
her--especially if she justified Randal’s past experience of all that
was candid and truthful in her character--than to become his friend’s
wife?
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 way of life, 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 to-morrow? I don’t doubt
that I am free already to do this; but it will encourage the poor girl,
if I can speak with your authority.”
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 action--he threw the letter, unopened, into the waste-paper
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.
Randal put the letter in his pocket and went at once to Sydney’s
lodgings.