of the Captain's marriage engagement.

"Am I to congratulate you?" he asked.

"Congratulate me on having discovered Roderick Westerfield's daughter."

That reply, and the tone in which it was given, led Randal to ask if the
engagement had been prematurely announced.

"There is no engagement at all," Bennydeck answered, with a look which
suggested that it might be wise not to dwell on the subject.

But the discovery was welcome to Randal, for his brother's sake. He
ran the risk of consequences, and inquired if Catherine was still to be
found at the hotel.

The Captain answered by a sign in the negative.

Randal persisted. "Do you know where she has gone?"

"Nobody knows but her lawyer."

"In that case," Randal concluded, "I shall get the information that
I want." Noticing that Bennydeck looked surprised, he mentioned his
motive. "Herbert is pining to see Kitty," he continued; "and I mean to
help him. He has done all that a man could do to atone for the past. As
things are, I believe I shall not offend Catherine, if I arrange for a
meeting between father and child. What do you say?"

Bennydeck answered, earnestly and eagerly: "Do it at once!"

They left the house together--one to go to Sydney's lodgings, the other
on his way to Mr. Sarrazin's office.

Chapter LIV. Let Bygones Be Bygones.

When the servant at the lodgings announced a visitor, and mentioned his
name, Sydney's memory (instead of dwelling on the recollection of
the Captain's kindness) perversely recalled the letter that she had
addressed to him, and reminded her that she stood in need of indulgence,
which even so good a man might hesitate to grant. Bennydeck's first
words told the friendless girl that her fears had wronged him.

"My dear, how like your father you are! You have his eyes and his smile;
I can't tell you how pleasantly you remind me of my dear old friend." He
took her hand, and kissed her as he might have kissed a daughter of his
own. "Do you remember me at home, Sydney, when you were a child? No: you
must have been too young for that."

She was deeply touched. In faint trembling tones she said; "I remember
your name; my poor father often spoke of you."

A man who feels true sympathy is never in danger of mistaking his way
to a woman's heart, when that woman has suffered. Bennydeck consoled,
interested, charmed Sydney, by still speaking of the bygone days at
home.

"I well remember how fond your father was of you, and