all, community of religious
profession meant no more, under their respective circumstances, than if
both were following law or physic.

But the unforeseen had happened. In a few months, the Rev. Bruno
Chilvers would be a prominent figure about the streets of Exeter; would
be frequently seen at the Warricombes', at the Lilywhites', at the
houses of their friends. His sermons at St. Margaret's would doubtless
attract, and form a staple topic of conversation. Worse than all, his
expressions of 'interest' and 'delight' made it probable that he would
seek out his College competitor and offer the hand of brotherhood.
These things were not to be avoided--save by abandonment of hopes, save
by retreat, by yielding to a hostile destiny.

That Chilvers might talk here and there of Whitelaw stories was
comparatively unimportant. The Warricombes must already know all that
could be told, and what other people heard did not much matter. It was
the man himself that Peak could not endure. Dissembling had hitherto
been no light task. The burden had more than once pressed so gallingly
that its permanent support seemed impossible; but to stand before Bruno
Chilvers in the attitude of humble emulation, to give respectful ear
whilst the popular cleric advised or encouraged, or bestowed pontifical
praise, was comparable only to a searing of the flesh with red irons.
Even with assured prospect of recompense in the shape of Sidwell
Warricombe's heart and hand, he could hardly submit to such an ordeal.
As it was, reason having so often convinced him that he clung to a
visionary hope, the torture became gratuitous, and its mere suggestion
inspired him with a fierce resentment destructive of all his purposes.

For several days he scarcely left the house. To wrath and dread had
succeeded a wretched torpor, during which his mind kept revolving the
thoughts prompted by his situation, turbidly and to no issue. He tasted
all the bitterness of the solitude to which he had condemned himself;
there was not a living soul with whom he could commune. At moments he
was possessed with the desire of going straightway to London, and
making Earwaker the confidant of all his folly. But that demanded an
exertion of which he was physically incapable. He thought of the old
home at Twybridge, and was tempted also in that direction. His mother
would welcome him with human kindness; beneath her roof he could lie
dormant until fate should again point his course. He ev