er mother knew that expostulation was useless, but could not refrain
from a long harangue made up of warning and reproof.

'You have very little consideration for me,' was her final remark. 'Now
we shan't get home till after dark, and of course my throat will be bad
again.'

Glad of the anti-climax, Sidwell replied that the day was much warmer,
and that with care no harm need come of the journey.

'It's easy to say that, Sidwell. I never knew you to behave so
selfishly, never!'

'Don't be angry with me, mother. You don't know how grieved I am to
distress you so. I can't help it, dear; indeed, I can't. Won't you
sacrifice a few hours to put my mind at rest?'

Mrs. Warricombe once more gave expression to her outraged feelings.
Sidwell could only listen silently with bent head.

If Godwin were coming at all, he would be here by eleven o'clock.
Sidwell had learnt that her letter was put into his hands. She asked
him to come at once, and nothing but a resolve not to meet her could
delay him more than an hour or two.

At half-past ten the bell sounded. She was sitting in the library with
her back turned to the door. When a voice announced 'Mr. Peak', she did
not at once rise, and with a feeling akin to terror she heard the
footstep slowly approaching. It stopped at some distance from her;
then, overcoming a weakness which threatened to clog her as in a
nightmare, she stood up and looked round.

Peak wore neither overcoat nor gloves, but otherwise was dressed in the
usual way. As Sidwell fixed her eyes upon him, he threw his hat into a
chair and came a step or two nearer. Whether he had passed the night in
sleep or vigil could not be determined; but his look was one of shame,
and he did not hold himself so upright as was his wont.

'Will you come and sit down?' said Sidwell, pointing to a chair not far
from that on which one of her hands rested.

He moved forward, and was about to pass near her, when Sidwell
involuntarily held her hand to him. He took it and gazed into her face
with a melancholy smile.

'What does it mean?' she asked, in a low voice.

He relinquished her fingers, which he had scarcely pressed, and stood
with his arms behind his back.

'Oh, it's all quite true,' was his reply, wearily spoken.

'What is true?'

'All that you have heard from your brother.'

'All?--But how can you know what he has said?'

They looked at each other. Peak's lips were set as if in resistance of
emotion, and a fr