"I have lately learnt," said the gloomy man, "that a certain Mr. Tourmalin has stolen from me the affection of one who was all heaven and earth to me!" "Then it _must_ be another Mr. Tourmalin," said Miss Tyrrell, "not this one; because--surely you do not need to be told that you have no rivalry to fear from him?" she broke off, with a blush of charming embarrassment. Alfred's scowl distinctly relaxed, and Peter felt that, after all, this unfortunate misunderstanding on Miss Tyrrell's part might prove serviceable to him. Since Sophia, for reasons of her own, refused to assist him, he must accept any other help that offered itself. "The best proof I can give you of my innocence," he said, "is to mention that I have the honour to be engaged to this lady." He heard a stifled shriek from behind him as he made this assertion, and the next moment Miss Davenport, who must have come up in time to catch the last words, had burst into the centre of the group. "It is not true!" she cried. "Alfred, you must not believe him!" "Not _true?_" exclaimed Alfred, Sophia, Miss Tyrrell, and Sir William, in the same breath. "No!" said Miss Davenport; "at least, if he has really engaged himself, it is within the last few minutes, and with the chivalrous intention of shielding _me!_ Peter, I will not be shielded by such means. Our love is too precious to be publicly denied. I cannot suffer it; I will acknowledge it, though it costs me my life! You," she added, turning to Sophia,--"you can prove that I speak the truth. It was to you that I confided, that day we met on deck, the story of our fatal attachment." "I really think you must be mistaken," said Sophia, coldly. "If you confided such a story to anybody, it could not have been to me; for, until a few minutes ago, I had never set foot upon this ship." How Sophia could stand there and, remembering, as she must do, her recent appropriation of the Time Cheque, tell such a downright fib as this, passed Peter's comprehension. But, as her statement was in his favour so far as it went, he knew better than to contradict it. "Whether it was you or not," insisted Miss Davenport, "it is he and no one else who rendered my engagement to Alfred utterly repugnant to me! Can you look at him now, and doubt me longer?" "So, Peter," said Sophia severely, "you could not even be faithful to your unfaithfulness!" Miss Tyrrell made no comment, but she dropped his arm as if it had scorched her fingers, whereupon Miss Davenport clung to it in her stead, to Peter's infinite dismay and confusion. "He _is_ faithful!" she cried. "It is only a mistaken sense of honour that made him apparently false. Yes, Alfred, what I wrote to you, and the postscript he added, is the simple truth. We cannot command our own hearts. Such love as I once had for you is dead--it died on the fatal day which brought him across my path. We met--we love; deal with us as you will! I would rather, ever so much rather, die with him than lose him now!"