The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 221: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

810 THE EVIL GENIUS. ‘‘I know but too well how she answered him,” Sydney said; ‘“‘T was turned out of the house, too.” ‘‘And I heard of it,” the captain replied, ‘‘ from the woman herself. Everything that couJd distress me she was ready to mention. She told meof your mother’s second marriage, of her miserable death, of the poor boy, your brother, missing, and never heard of since. But when I asked where you had gone she had nothing more to say. She knew nothing, and cared nothing, about you. If I had not become acquainted with Mr. Randal Linley | might never have heard of you again. We will say no more of that, and no more of anything that has happened in the past time. From to-day, my dear, we begin a new life, and (please God!) a happier life. Have you any plans of your own for the future ?” ‘‘ Perhaps, if I could find help,” Sydney said, resignedly, ‘‘I might emigrate. Pride wouldn’t stand in my way; no honest employment would be beneath my notice. Besides, if I went to America, I might meet with my brother.” ‘“My dear child, after the time that has passed, there is no imaginable chance of your meeting with your brother; and you wouldn’t know each other again if you did meet. Give up that vain hope and stay here with me. Be useful and be happy in your own country.” ‘‘ Useful?” Sydney repeated, sadly. ‘‘ Your own kind heart, Captain Bennydeck, is deceiving you. To be useful means, I suppose, to help others. Who will accept help from me?” **T will, for one,” the captain answered. “ You!” : ‘Yes. You can be of the greatest use to me—you shall hear ow.” He told her of the founding of his home, and of the good it had done. ‘‘ You are the very person,” he resumed, ‘‘ to be the good sister-friend that I want for my poor girls; you can say for them what they cannot always say to me for themselves.” The tears rose in Sydney’s eyes. ‘‘Itis hard to see sucha prospect as that,” she said, ‘‘and to give it up as soon as it is seen.” ‘“Why give it up?” ‘‘ Because I am not fit for it. You are as good as a father to those lost daughters of yours. If you give them a sister-friend, she ought to have set them a good example. Have I done that? Will they listen to a girl who is no better than themselves ?”’ ‘‘Gladly! Your sympathy will find its way to their hearts, because it is animated by something that they can all feel in common—something nearer and dearer to them than a sense of duty. You won’, consent, Sydney, for their sakeg? Will you do what I ask of you, for my sake?” She looked at him, hardly able to understand; or, as it might have been, perhaps afraid to understand him. He spoke to her more plainly. ‘‘T have kept it concealed from you,” he continued, ‘‘ for why should I lay my load of suffering on a friend so young as you are, so cruelly tried already? Let me only say that I am in Gomichdooks (C©)