The girl hesitated a little, then, meeting Sidney's affectionate and sympathetic gaze, she faltered. "It's a young fellow who used to live close to my aunts in the north. We grew up together. We aren't engaged. I did not want to be, but I promised if he still wanted me in three years' time from the day he went out, I would think about it. I wanted him to make his way first. He has been out there two years now, and he writes to me constantly. I feel I could go down on my knees before Mr. Neville, if I were ever to see him, and thank him for all he has done. Because George could not keep straight, and I have suffered tortures as I gathered it in his letters. He is not a weak character, I should not care for him if he were; but he is one of those happy generous natures who love their fellow-creatures, and are too simple to suspect guile in anyone. "He was essentially a home boy. His mother was a widow, and died just before he went abroad, so he has no home or home ties to keep him straight—only me. And he did struggle and try so hard when he went out there, but, as far as I can make out, there wasn't a single soul who gave him a helping hand. Everyone dragged him down. And I felt a month or two ago as if I had completely lost him. He had left off writing for five months. Then he wrote again. Such a letter, and such a confession of the past! "But he had been taken hold of by Mr. Neville, and he said he felt he could die for him. I little thought how those words would nearly come true. I heard from him two days ago, and he was full of all this that is coming out in the papers, only, of course, he tells me much more. Do you really know Mr. Neville well? How awfully strange. I think he must be a splendid man—a regular hero." "He was staying down here before he went out," Sidney said, trying to speak calmly. "He is a cousin of Miss Pembroke's. Do tell what you have heard. We are so—so interested in him, and all that is going on out there."