Neil turned aside, lowering his eyes.
"There is nothing that I can tell you concerning Miss Chandler."
"Then answer my second question. What are you to Leonie Cuyler?"
Slowly the boy lifted his eyes, fastening them on the face of the man before him, determined that no weakness, however great, should make him betray the identity that it was so necessary for him to conceal.
"I had a cousin by that name," he said, slowly. "I never saw her but once."
He had told the truth, and he had told it with such perfect frankness, such entire candor, that Pyne was staggered.
"Then if you have seen her once, you will excuse me for my inquiry into your affairs, knowing how much you are like her."
"There is little in resemblances. You heard Miss Pryor speak to-night of my resemblance to Miss Pyne, your cousin."
"That is strong, I grant you, but weak by comparison with the other likeness. In asking your pardon I must tell you that my interest in Miss Cuyler was so strong at one time that it has shadowed all my life. I cannot speak further without betraying a secret that is not all mine. But for her sake, because you were her cousin, I offer you my friendship, if you will have it. I am not rich, but whatever I can do for you you may be sure that I will. You promise?"
The eyes of the boy were averted to conceal the tears that would rise in them.