, in the mature human being, betrays itself
most readily in the sex that bears children. The chances and changes of
life show the child's mobility of emotion constantly associating
itself with the passions of the woman. At the moment of recognition the
troubled mind of Catherine was instantly steadied, under the influence
of that coarsest sense which levels us with the animals--the sense of
anger.

"I am amazed at your audacity," she said.

There was no resentment--there was only patient submission in Sydney's
reply.

"Twice I have approached the house in which you are living; and twice
my courage has failed me. I have gone away again--I have walked, I don't
know where, I don't know how far. Shame and fear seemed to be insensible
to fatigue. This is my third attempt. If I was a little nearer to you, I
think you would see what the effort has cost me. I have not much to say.
May I ask you to hear me?"

"You have taken me by surprise, Miss Westerfield. You have no right to
do that; I refuse to hear you."

"Try, madam, to bear in mind that no unhappy creature, in my place,
would expose herself to your anger and contempt without a serious
reason. Will you think again?"

"No!"

Sydney turned to go away--and suddenly stopped.

Another person was advancing from the hotel; an interruption, a trivial
domestic interruption, presented itself. The nursemaid had missed the
child, and had come into the garden to see if she was with her mother.

"Where is Miss Kitty, ma'am?" the girl asked.

Her mistress told her what had happened, and sent her to the Palace to
relieve Captain Bennydeck of the charge that he had undertaken. Susan
listened, looking at Sydney and recognizing the familiar face. As the
girl moved away, Sydney spoke to her.

"I hope little Kitty is well and happy?"

The mother does not live who could have resisted the tone in which that
question was put. The broken heart, the love for the child that still
lived in it, spoke in accents that even touched the servant. She came
back; remembering the happy days when the governess had won their hearts
at Mount Morven, and, for a moment at least, remembering nothing else.

"Quite well and happy, miss, thank you," Susan said.

As she hurried away on her errand, she saw her mistress beckon to Sydney
to return, and place a chair for her. The nursemaid was not near enough
to hear what followed.

"Miss Westerfield, will you forget what I said just now?" With those
w