himself to Randal after the
breakup of the family. "And now rest," he said, "and let me put this
cushion under your head."

Herbert answered: "It's like being at home again"--and composed himself
to rest.

Chapter XL. Keep Your Temper.

On the next day but one, Randal arranged his departure for Sydenham,
so as to arrive at the hotel an hour before the time appointed for the
dinner. His prospects of success, in pleading for a favorable reception
of his brother's message, were so uncertain that he refrained--in fear
of raising hopes which he might not be able to justify--from taking
Herbert into his confidence. No one knew on what errand he was bent,
when he left the house. As he took his place in the carriage, the
newspaper boy appeared at the window as usual. The new number of a
popular weekly journal had that day been published. Randal bought it.

After reading one or two of the political articles, he arrived at the
columns specially devoted to "Fashionable Intelligence." Caring nothing
for that sort of news, he was turning over the pages in search of the
literary and dramatic articles, when a name not unfamiliar to him caught
his eye. He read the paragraph in which it appeared.

"The charming widow, Mrs. Norman, is, we hear, among the distinguished
guests staying at Buck's Hotel. It is whispered that the lady is to be
shortly united to a retired naval officer of Arctic fame; now better
known, perhaps, as one of our leading philanthropists."

The allusion to Bennydeck was too plain to be mistaken. Randal looked
again at the first words in the paragraph. "The charming widow!" Was
it possible that this last word referred to Catherine? To suppose her
capable of assuming to be a widow, and--if the child asked questions--of
telling Kitty that her father was dead, was, in Randal's estimation, to
wrong her cruelly. With his own suspicions steadily contradicting him,
he arrived at the hotel, obstinately believing that "the charming widow"
would prove to be a stranger.

A first disappointment was in store for him when he entered the house.
Mrs. Norman and her little daughter were out driving with a friend,
and were expected to return in good time for dinner. Mrs. Presty was at
home; she was reported to be in the garden of the hotel.

Randal found her comfortably established in a summerhouse, with her
knitting in her hands, and a newspaper on her lap. She advanced to meet
him, all smiles and amiability. "How nic