ry if I went." Nevertheless he
found himself making plans for going.

For several days Mrs. Nancarrow had been cold and uncommunicative, and
he knew that a cloud of reserve hung between them. He felt that his
mother despised him. He felt sure, too, that she knew all that had
taken place at Penwennack--that he was henceforth to be treated, in
what he had regarded as his second home, as worse than a stranger.

"There is to be a great meeting at the Public Hall to-night," said Mrs.
Nancarrow, on the day of the meeting. "Are you going?"

Bob shook his head.

"There seems to be tremendous enthusiasm about Captain Trevanion's
coming down, although, of course, he is no speaker," went on Mrs.
Nancarrow. "But you see, the fact of his starting for the front in a
day or so, makes him of special interest. I understand that Nancy
Tresize is going away as a Red Cross nurse, almost at once."

Bob's heart fluttered wildly as he heard her name.

"Captain Trevanion stayed at Penwennack last night. Naturally the
Admiral admires him more than ever. The Captain and Nancy motored to
Land's End yesterday afternoon."

Her every word was like a sword thrust into the young fellow's heart.
He knew what she meant--knew too, that the Admiral had always favoured
Trevanion as a suitor for his daughter. How could it be otherwise,
when Trevanion was a man after the Admiral's own heart? _He_ had
showed no hesitation about the right of defending his country; rather
he had throughout been enthusiastic to a degree, while Bob had hung
back. Mad jealousy filled his heart as he realised what might possibly
be taking place. Even then, Nancy, in her scorn for the man whom she
believed to have been unworthy of her love, might be listening to the
pleadings of one who was worthy.

"I expect Nancy will be at the meeting," went on Mrs. Nancarrow. "As
you know, she goes almost everywhere with her father, and as the
Admiral will take the chair, I expect she will be on the platform."

Bob conjured up the scene. He fancied he saw Trevanion, in his
uniform, speaking in a soldier-like fashion about the duty of defending
his country, the crowd cheering wildly, while Nancy, carried away by
her admiration of the man who accorded with her ideals of how an
Englishman should act, would yield to the gallant soldier the love for
which he would give his life.

That night, with a kind of savage love for self-torture, Bob made his
way to the Public Hall. H