ion."

"What do you mean by discretion?"

"Be careful not to speak of our family troubles--and I promise you shall
see Kitty. That is what I mean."

Herbert declined to say whether he would be careful or not. He was
determined to find out, first, with what purpose Bennydeck had entered
the room. "The gentleman was about to explain himself to you," he said
to Mrs. Presty. "Why don't you give him the opportunity?"

She had no choice but to submit--in appearance at least. Never had she
hated Herbert as she hated him at that moment. The Captain went on with
his explanation. He had his reasons (he said) for hesitating, in
the first instance, to present himself uninvited, and he accordingly
retired. On second thoughts, however, he had returned, in the hope--

"In the hope," Herbert interposed, "of seeing Mrs. Presty's daughter?"

"That was one of my motives," Bennydeck answered.

"Is it indiscreet to inquire what the other motive was?"

"Not at all. I heard a stranger's voice, speaking in a tone which, to
say the least of it, is not customary in a lady's room and I thought--"

Herbert interrupted him again. "And you thought your interference might
be welcome to the lady! Am I right?"

"Quite right."

"Am I making another lucky guess if I suppose myself to be speaking to
Captain Bennydeck?"

"I shall be glad to hear, sir, how you have arrived at the knowledge of
my name."

"Shall we say, Captain, that I have arrived at it by instinct?"

His face, as he made that reply, alarmed Mrs. Presty. She cast a look
at him, partly of entreaty, partly of warning. No effect was produced by
the look. He continued, in a tone of ironical compliment: "You must pay
the penalty of being a public character. Your marriage is announced in
the newspapers."

"I seldom read the newspapers."

"Ah, indeed? Perhaps the report is not true? As you don't read the
newspapers, allow me to repeat it. You are engaged to marry the
'beautiful widow, Mrs. Norman.' I think I quote those last words
correctly?"

Mrs. Presty suddenly got up. With an inscrutable face that told no
tales, she advanced to the door. Herbert's insane jealousy of the man
who was about to become Catherine's husband had led him into a serious
error; he had driven Catherine's mother to desperation. In that state of
mind she recovered her lost audacity, as a matter of course. Opening the
door, she turned round to the two men, with a magnificent impudence of
manner which in