hat is, it doesn't matter. It seems strange, though,
doesn't it, that the man who saved you from death should be called
Nancarrow; it is a Cornish name too."

"And--and you are thinking of that fellow?" said Captain Trevanion,
almost angrily.

"Have you heard anything about Bob?--that is, do you know where--what
he did when he left St. Ia?"

Trevanion did not look at Nancy's face; he couldn't. He knew what he
ought to do, he, who always prided himself upon being a sportsman--he
ought to tell her that the man who had saved him was the one of whom
she was thinking; but he could not--he was afraid. He, who had faced
death calmly day by day; he, who had been noted for his bravery on the
field, and who had been mentioned in despatches, was now a coward.

In a way he wondered at himself, and he realised that there was more
than one kind of courage. He, himself, had called Bob Nancarrow a
coward, because he refused to enlist. Now he realised that there was
more courage in Bob Nancarrow's cowardice than in his own bravery. Oh,
it was all an awful muddle! He ought to tell Nancy what Lieutenant
Proctor had related to him just before he was taken away to the
hospital; but he couldn't. If he did, he would forfeit his own chance,
and he might--yes, he was sure--he would lose Nancy altogether.

"Of course, it couldn't be he," and Nancy seemed to be speaking to
herself; "you see, according to the paper, you were rescued by a
Lieutenant Nancarrow who belonged to a London regiment. Even if Bob
had joined the Army, he couldn't have been promoted so quickly," and
the girl sighed again.

"Nancy," said the Captain, "I--I shouldn't be surprised if it were Bob
Nancarrow," and the heroism in those words was greater than that of
many deeds for which he had been praised. In that moment Trevanion had
won a greater battle than he realised. It had caused him little effort
to lead his men against the charges of the German infantry, but he felt
as though his heart were being pulled out as he uttered the words I
have recorded.

The girl's face became pale: "What do you mean?" she asked. "Have you
heard anything?"

Still Trevanion could not speak freely; even yet he wondered if there
were not some way whereby doubt could be kept in the girl's mind.

"You see," he said presently, "Nancarrow was in the O.T.C. at Clifton,
and, I suppose, did very well there. Captain Pringle spoke to me more
than once about him, and--and I heard aft