ng the course of the morning there were instants in which he
felt less confident. What if he did not succeed--what would his
step-mother say--what would he himself do, he who had made this
scheme part of his being. But he would prosper, why, here (looking
at the letter) was the opinion of people who had been amongst
inventions for years.

A shadow seemed to cross the path of the greenhouse. "I think
someone has passed by," he thought, "I will go and see." Suiting the
action to the thought, he sprang at the door and opened it. What
was his astonishment to see the postman. Two days following! it was
an event, for they seldom received letters.

On hearing the noise which Frank made on opening the door, the
postman turned round and handed him a letter. He was agreeably
surprised to see that it was from the inventors' agency, but his
delight was soon changed into bitter anger and bitterest
disappointment when he had read its contents. It was worded thus:

"London.

"DEAR SIR,--We are sorry to inform you that the invention we
were about to patent for you, had, we have just found out, been
patented before.

"The inventor, we have learned, ruined himself in trying to
push it."

He read it twice over. Alas! it was too true. Sadly and mournfully
he went into the house, there to think of his misfortune.

He entered the little parlour, threw himself on a chair, took the
letter from his pocket and re-read it.

He crumpled the letter in his hand and exclaimed: "'Tis too true,
there is not the slightest hope; ah! this is indeed a cloud with no
silver lining."

He rose, paced the room in an agitated state and muttered: "But
yesterday, I thought myself a rising man, now, I have utterly
failed; that upon which I had set my heart, upon which my thoughts
had dwelt and upon which my hopes had been built, has fallen to the
ground."

"Such joy ambition finds," something seemed to echo within him.

CHAPTER VI.

NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

For a week or so Frank Mathers grieved about his misfortune. At the
end of that time, an event occurred which completely distracted him.

He was taking a walk a few miles from his home, not far from the
Forest Church. When he came near the farm of "Les Marches," he
perceived a man, who, seated on a branch, was sawing it. This branch
projected over a quarry which was filled with water.

Suddenly, the branch gave way, and Mr. Rougeant (such was this man's
name