eter,
then he must write to her. Half a year of complete uncertainty, and of
counterfeiting face to face with Bruno Chilvers, would overtax his
resolution.

The evening went by he knew not how. Long after nightfall he was
returning from an aimless ramble by way of the Old Tiverton Road. At
least he would pass the house, and soothe or inflame his emotions by
resting for a moment thus near to Sidwell.

What? He had believed himself incapable of erotic madness? And he
pressed his forehead against the stones of the wall to relieve his sick
dizziness.

It was Sidwell or death. Into what a void of hideous futility would his
life be cast, if this desire proved vain, and he were left to combat
alone with the memory of his dishonour! With Sidwell the reproach could
be outlived. She would understand him, pardon him--and thereafter a
glorified existence, rivalling that of whosoever has been most exultant
among the sons of men!

Part IV

CHAPTER I

Earwaker's struggle with the editor-in-chief of _The Weekly Post_ and
the journalist Kenyon came to its natural close about a month after
Godwin Peak's disappearance. Only a vein of obstinacy in his character
had kept him so long in a position he knew to be untenable. From the
first his sympathy with Mr. Runcorn's politics had been doubtful, and
experience of the working of a Sunday newspaper, which appealed to the
ignobly restive, could not encourage his adhesion to this form of
Radicalism. He anticipated dismissal by retirement, and Kenyon, a man
of coarsely vigorous fibre, at once stepped into his place.

Now that he had leisure to review the conflict, Earwaker understood
that circumstances had but hastened his transition from a moderate
ardour in the parliamentary cause of the people, to a regretful
neutrality regarding all political movements. Birth allied him with the
proletarian class, and his sentiment in favour of democracy was
unendangered by the disillusions which must come upon every
intellectual man brought into close contact with public affairs. The
course of an education essentially aristocratic (Greek and Latin can
have no other tendency so long as they are the privilege of the few)
had not affected his natural bent, nor was he the man to be driven into
reaction because of obstacles to his faith inseparable from human
weakness. He had learnt that the emancipation of the poor and untaught
must proceed more slowly than he once hoped--that was all. Rest