mbe was less animated by the
prospect of five hours in a railway carriage, for London had a covering
of black snow, and it seemed likely that more would fall. Martin
suggested postponement, but circumstances made this undesirable.

'Let Fanny go with me,' proposed Sidwell, just after breakfast. 'I can
see to everything perfectly well, mother.'

But Fanny hastened to decline. She was engaged for a dance on the
morrow.

'Then I'll run down with you myself, Sidwell,' said her father.

Mrs. Warricombe looked at the weather and hesitated. There were strong
reasons why she should go, and they determined her to brave discomforts.

It chanced that the morning post had brought Mr. Warricombe a letter
from Godwin Peak. It was a reply to one that he had written with
Christmas greetings; a kindness natural in him, for he had remembered
that the young man was probably hard at work in his lonely lodgings. He
spoke of it privately to his wife.

'A very good letter--thoughtful and cheerful. You're not likely to see
him, but if you happen to, say a pleasant word.'

'I shouldn't have written, if I were you,' remarked Mrs. Warricombe.

'Why not? I was only thinking the other day that he contrasted very
favourably with the younger generation as we observe it here. Yes, I
have faith in Peak. There's the right stuff in him.'

'Oh, I daresay. But still'----

And Mrs. Warricombe went away with an air of misgiving.

CHAPTER V

In volunteering a promise not to inform her brother of Peak's singular
position, Marcella spoke with sincerity. She was prompted by
incongruous feelings--a desire to compel Godwin's gratitude, and
disdain of the circumstances in which she had discovered him. There
seemed to be little likelihood of Christian's learning from any other
person that she had met with Peak at Budleigh Salterton; he had,
indeed, dined with her at the Walworths', and might improve his
acquaintance with that family, but it was improbable that they would
ever mention in his hearing the stranger who had casually been
presented to them, or indeed ever again think of him. If she held her
peace, the secret of Godwin's retirement must still remain
impenetrable. He would pursue his ends as hitherto, thinking of _her_,
if at all, as a weak woman who had immodestly betrayed a hopeless
passion, and who could be trusted never to wish him harm.

That was Marcella's way of reading a man's thoughts. She did not
attribute to Peak the penetra