my own judgment.'

'Don't see him! I beg you not to see him!'

He was so earnest that Sidwell suspected some other reason in his
request than regard for her dignity.

'I must leave myself free,' she repeated, with shaking voice. 'In any
case I shall be back in London to-morrow evening--that is, if--but I am
sure mother will wish to go. Grant me this one kindness; say nothing
here or there till I am back and have seen you again.'

He turned a deaf ear, for the persistency with which she resisted proof
of Peak's dishonour had begun to alarm him. Who could say what
miserable folly she might commit in the next four-and-twenty hours? The
unavoidable necessity of his own return exasperated him; he wished to
see her safe back in London, and under her father's care.

'No,' he exclaimed, with a gesture of determination; 'I can't keep such
a thing as this secret for another hour. Mother must know at
once--especially as you mean to invite that fellow into the house
again.--I have half a mind to telegraph to Godolphin that I can't
possibly be with him to-night.'

Sidwell regarded him and spoke with forced composure.

'Do as seems right to you, Buckland. But don't think that by remaining
here you would prevent me from seeing Mr. Peak, if I wish to do so.
That is treating me too much like a child. You have done your
part--doubtless your duty; now I must reflect and judge for myself.
Neither you nor anyone else has authority over me in such
circumstances.'

'Very well. I have no authority, as you say, but common sense bids me
let mother know how the case stands.'

And angrily he left the room.

_The Critical_ still lay where it had fallen. When Sidwell had stood a
while in confused thought, her eye turned to it, and she went hurriedly
to take it up. Yes, that was the first thing to be done, to read those
pages with close care. For this she must have privacy. She ran upstairs
and shut herself in her bedroom.

But did not at once begin to read. It concerned her deeply to know
whether Peak had so expressed himself in this paper, that no room was
left for doubt as to his convictions; but another question pressed upon
her with even more urgency--could it be true that he did not love her?
If Buckland were wholly right, then it mattered little in what degree
she had been misled by intellectual hypocrisy.

It was impossible to believe that Peak had made love to her in cold
blood, with none but sordid impulses. The thought was s