It was remarkable how much was said of him, how enthusiastic were the encomiums bestowed on his courage and presence of mind, while the equal devotion of his companion was passed over in silence. Every one could tell that Mr. Huyton, without a moment’s hesitation, had sprung from the bank to rescue the sufferers; none but himself and one other seemed aware that he was second in the attempt, and that it was the prompt decision of another mind which had influenced his conduct. Charles was brave, perhaps, but the total disregard of danger, the self-devotion which could calmly risk death itself in the cause of humanity, the quiet trust in a higher power which true Christianity alone can give, these were not his. Neither had he the quick eye to see the best means of help, the rapid decision to carry it out, nor the unselfish prudence which could resign the efforts love would have prompted, rather than fail of doing all that was required; to these he had no claim. No human eye could see that jealousy and rivalry had prompted what others call heroism and self-devotion; that but for the example of another, he would have shrunk from the attempt; or that had not his companion been more generous than himself, they might have clashed in their efforts to rescue Hilary, while Nest might have been lost by delay. When Mr. Huyton returned to his guests, having changed his own clothes, and taken care that Captain Hepburn was properly accommodated, he was received as a hero. Every one crowded round him to congratulate and admire; one enthusiastic lady (she had two grown-up daughters) insisted on his being crowned with laurel; and the professional singer, Madame G――――, came forward, and volunteered a grand _bravura_ in his honor. In short, such was the crowd about him, that Maurice could hardly pierce through to shake his hands in both of his, and thank him, with grateful emotion, for the safety of his sister. Charles bore it very well, he put aside the plaudits, escaped from the ovation, gracefully denied all merit, and seizing Maurice by the arm eagerly drew him aside to pour out his rapturous delight at having been of use to Hilary. No one was near, for he had retreated quite away from his guests; and they had the consideration not to intrude on the gratitude and thanks of the brother, whatever they might have wished to do. In this moment of feeling and excitement, Maurice learned, with surprise, what Hilary had hitherto carefully concealed even from him――the ardent, constant, unchanging devotion of his friend for his sister. Charles gave vent to his feelings, told of his love, his disappointment, his hopes, his fears; Hilary was dearer to him than ever, dearer far than life (he really thought so, now there was no danger); had he any chance, could Maurice give him any encouragement; at least, would he give him his good wishes?