Randal was conscious of feeling a momentary embarra.s.sment. The character of his visitor had presented itself in a new light. Captain Bennydeck looked at him--understood him--and returned to the subject of his travels.
"Do you remember your holiday-time when you were a boy, and when you had to go back to school?" he asked with a smile. "My mind is in much the same state at leaving Scotland, and going back to my work in London. I hardly know which I admire most--your beautiful country or the people who inhabit it. I have had some pleasant talk with your poorer neighbors; the one improvement I could wish for among them is a keener sense of their religious duties."
This was an objection new in Randal"s experience of travelers in general.
"Our Highlanders have n.o.ble qualities," he said. "If you knew them as well as I do, you would find a true sense of religion among them; not presenting itself, however, to strangers as strongly--I had almost said as aggressively--as the devotional feeling of the Lowland Scotch.
Different races, different temperaments."
"And all," the Captain added, gravely and gently, "with souls to be saved. If I sent to these poor people some copies of the New Testament, translated into their own language, would my gift be accepted?"
Strongly interested by this time, in studying Captain Bennydeck"s character on the side of it which was new to him, Randal owned that he observed with surprise the interest which his friend felt in perfect strangers. The Captain seemed to wonder why this impression should have been produced by what he had just said.
"I only try," he answered, "to do what good I can, wherever I go."
"Your life must be a happy one," Randal said.
Captain Bennydeck"s head drooped. The shadows that attend on the gloom of melancholy remembrance showed their darkening presence on his face.
Briefly, almost sternly, he set Randal right.
"No, sir."
"Forgive me," the younger man pleaded, "if I have spoken thoughtlessly."
"You have mistaken me," the Captain explained; "and it is my fault.
My life is an atonement for the sins of my youth. I have reached my fortieth year--and that one purpose is before me for the rest of my days. Sufferings and dangers which but few men undergo awakened my conscience. My last exercise of the duties of my profession a.s.sociated me with an expedition to the Polar Seas. Our ship was crushed in the ice. Our march to the nearest regions inhabited by humanity was a hopeless struggle of starving men, rotten with scurvy, against the merciless forces of Nature. One by one my comrades dropped and died. Out of twenty men there were three left with a last flicker in them of the vital flame when the party of rescue found us. One of the three died on the homeward journey. One lived to reach his native place, and to sink to rest with his wife and children round his bed. The last man left, out of that band of martyrs to a hopeless cause, lives to be worthier of G.o.d"s mercy--and tries to make G.o.d"s creatures better and happier in this world, and worthier of the world that is to come."
Randal"s generous nature felt the appeal that had been made to it. "Will you let me take your hand, Captain?" he said.
They clasped hands in silence.
Captain Bennydeck was the first to speak again. That modest distrust of himself, which a man essentially n.o.ble and brave is generally the readiest of men to feel, seemed to be troubling him once more--just as it had troubled him when he first found himself in Randal"s presence.
"I hope you won"t think me vain," he resumed; "I seldom say so much about myself as I have said to you."
"I only wish you would say more," Randal rejoined. "Can"t you put off your return to London for a day or two?"
The thing was not to be done. Duties which it was impossible to trifle with called the Captain back. "It"s quite likely," he said, alluding pleasantly to the impression which he had produced in speaking of the Highlanders, "that I shall find more strangers to interest me in the great city."
"Are they always strangers?" Randal asked. "Have you never met by accident with persons whom you may once have known?"
"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?"
Mrs. Presty held her venerable head higher than ever, when Randal p.r.o.nounced his brother"s name. "I see no necessity for being in a hurry," she answered stiffly, "after the brutal manner in which Herbert has behaved to me. Put yourself in my place--and imagine what you would feel if you were told to hold your tongue."
Randal wasted no more time on ears that were deaf to remonstrance.
Feeling the serious necessity of interfering to some good purpose, he asked where he might find his sister-in-law.
"I have taken Catherine into the garden," Mrs. Presty announced. "The doctor himself suggested--no, I may say, ordered it. He is afraid that _she_ may fall ill next, poor soul, if she doesn"t get air and exercise."
In Mrs. Linley"s own interests, Randal resolved on advising her to write to her husband by the messenger; explaining that she was not to blame for the inexcusable delay which had already taken place. Without a word more to Mrs. Presty, he hastened out of the room. That inveterately distrustful woman called him back. She desired to know where he was going, and why he was in a hurry.
"I am going to the garden," Randal answered.
"To speak to Catherine?"
"Yes."
"Needless trouble, my dear Randal. She will be back in a quarter of an hour, and she will pa.s.s through this room on her way upstairs."
Another quarter of an hour was a matter of no importance to Mrs. Presty!
Randal took his own way--the way into the garden.
His silence and his determination to join his sister-in-law roused Mrs.
Presty"s ready suspicions; she concluded that he was bent on making mischief between her daughter and herself. The one thing to do in this case was to follow him instantly. The active old lady trotted out of the room, strongly inclined to think that the Evil Genius of the family might be Randal Linley after all!