at I am a penniless student looking forward to a
country curacy; and say what I wished to when we had our last
conversation. Never mind how it sounds. I have dared to hope that some
day I shall ask you to be my wife, and that you won't refuse.'

The word 'wife' reverberated on his ears. A whirl of emotion broke the
defiant calm he had supported for the last few minutes. The silence
seemed to be endless; when he looked at Sidwell, her head was bent, the
eyes concealed by their drooping lids. Her expression was very grave.

'Such a piece of recklessness,' he said at length, 'deserves no answer.'

Sidwell raised her eyes and spoke gently, with voice a little shaken.

'Why should you call it recklessness? I have never thought of the
things that seem to trouble you so much. You were a friend of ours.
Wasn't that enough?'

It seemed to him an evasive reply. Doubtless it was much that she
showed neither annoyance nor prudish reserve. He had won the right of
addressing her on equal terms, but she was not inclined to anticipate
that future day to which he pointed.

'You have never thought of such things, because you have never thought
of me as I of you. Every day of your absence in London has caused me
torments which were due most often to the difference between your
social position and mine. You have been among people of leisure and
refinement and culture. Each evening you have talked with men whom it
cost no effort to make themselves liked and respected. I think of that
with bitterness.'

'But why? I have made many acquaintances; have met very interesting
people. I am glad of it; it enables me to understand you better than I
could before.'

'You are glad on that account?'

'Yes; indeed I am.'

'Dare I think you mean more than a civil phrase?'

'I mean quite simply all that my words imply. I have thought of you,
though certainly without bitterness. No one's conversation in London
interested me so much as yours.'

Soothed with an exquisite joy, Godwin felt his eyes moisten. For a
moment he was reconciled to all the world, and forgot the hostilities
of a lifetime.

'And will it still be so, now, when you go back?' he asked, in a soft
tone.

'I am sure it will.'

'Then it will be strange if I ever feel bitterly again.'

Sidwell smiled.

'You could have said nothing that could please me more. Why should your
life be troubled by these dark moods? I could understand it if you were
still struggling with--with do