ay, and your
Uncle Reuben says."

Michael had for some time past taken pains to let it be known that he
was not, as supposed to be, the son of Paul Trefusis, and had told all
his friends and acquaintances the history which Paul had given him.
Many of the elder people, indeed, were well acquainted with the
circumstances of the case, and were able to corroborate what he said.
Eban Cowan, however, had hitherto been ignorant of the fact, and had
always supposed that Michael was Nelly's brother. This had originally
made him anxious to gain Michael's friendship for her sake. Almost from
his boyhood he had admired her, and his admiration increased with his
growth, till he entertained for her as much affection as it was in his
nature to feel.

No sooner was he aware of the truth than jealousy of Michael sprang up
in his heart, and instead of putting it away, as he ought to have done,
he nourished it till his jealousy grew into a determined and deadly
hatred of one whom he chose to consider as his rival.

Michael, not aware of this, met him in the same frank way that he had
always been accustomed to do, and took no notice of the angry scowl
which Eban often cast at him.

Eban on this occasion had command of his father's boat. He was reputed
to be as good and bold a fisherman as anyone on the coast. Michael did
not observe the fierce look Eban cast at him as they were shoving off in
the morning when the two boats pulled out of the harbour together side
by side.

The boats had now been waiting several hours, and when the huers were
seen to raise their white boughs and point to a sandy beach to the north
of the harbour (a sign that a school of pilchards was directing its
course in that direction), instantly the cry of "_heva_" was raised by
the numerous watchers on the shore, and the crews of the boats, bending
to their oars, pulled away to get outside the school and prevent them
from turning back.

Two with nets on board, starting from the same point, began quick as
lightning to cast them out till they formed a vast circle.

Away the rowers pulled, straining their sinews to the utmost, till a
large circle was formed two thousand feet in circumference, within which
the shining fish could be seen leaping and struggling thickly together
on the surface. The seine, about twelve fathoms deep, thus formed a
wall beyond which the fish could not pass, the bottom being sunk by
heavy leads and the upper part supported by corks.