own wrinkled his brows. Sidwell's gaze was one of fear
and appeal.

'He said, of course, that I had deceived you.'

'But in what?--Was there no truth in anything you said to me?'

'To you I have spoken far more truth than falsehood.'

A light shone in her eyes, and her lips quivered.

'Then,' she murmured, 'Buckland was not right in everything.'

'I understand. He wished you to believe that my love was as much a
pretence as my religion?'

'He said that.'

'It was natural enough.--And you were disposed to believe it?'

'I thought it impossible. But I should have thought the same of the
other things.'

Peak nodded, and moved away. Watching him, Sidwell was beset with
conflicting impulses. His assurance had allayed her worst misgiving,
and she approved the self-restraint with which he bore himself, but at
the same time she longed for a passionate declaration. As a reasoning
woman, she did her utmost to remember that Peak was on his defence
before her, and that nothing could pass between them but grave
discussion of the motives which had impelled him to dishonourable
behaviour. As a woman in love, she would fain have obscured the moral
issue by indulgence of her heart's desire. She was glad that he held
aloof, but if he had taken her in his arms, she would have forgotten
everything in the moment's happiness.

'Let us sit down, and tell me--tell me all you can.'

He delayed a moment, then seated himself opposite to her. She saw now
that his movements were those of physical fatigue; and the full light
from the window, enabling her to read his face more distinctly,
revealed the impress of suffering. Instead of calling upon him to atone
in such measure as was possible for the wrong he had done her, she felt
ready to reproach herself for speaking coldly when his need of solace
was so great.

'What can I tell you,' he said, 'that you don't know, or that you can't
conjecture?'

'But you wrote that there was so much I could not be expected to
understand. And I can't, can't understand you. It still seems
impossible. Why did you hide the truth from me?'

'Because if I had begun by telling it, I should never have won a kind
look or a kind thought from you.'

Sidwell reflected.

'But what did you care for me then--when it began?'

'Not so much as I do now, but enough to overthrow all the results of my
life up to that time. Before I met you in this house I had seen you
twice, and had learned who you were. I was s