this morning," he went on, after a short pause, "my heart came up into
my mouth. I said to myself, with a bound, 'It's she! It's she! At last
I've found her.' And it dashed my best hopes to the ground at once to
see she didn't even remember having met me."

Le Neve looked at him shyly. "Walter," he said, after a short
struggle, "I'm not surprised you fell in love with her. And shall I
tell you why? I fell in love with her myself, too, the moment I saw
her."

Tyrrel turned to him without one word of reproach. "Well, we're no
rivals now," he answered, generously. "Even if she would have me--even
if she loved me well--how could I ask her to take--her brother's
murderer?"

Le Neve drew a long breath. He hadn't thought of that before. But had
it been other wise, he couldn't help feeling that the master of
Penmorgan would have been a formidable rival for a penniless engineer
just home from South America.

For already Eustace Le Neve was dimly aware, in his own sanguine mind,
that he meant to woo and win that beautiful Cleer Trevennack.




CHAPTER V.

A STRANGE DELUSION.