It was still 'Yours sincerely'; but Godwin felt that the letter meant
more. In re-reading it he was pleasantly thrilled with a stirring of
the old emotions. But his first impulse, to write an ardent reply, did
not carry him away; he reflected and took counsel of the experience
gained in his studious solitude. It was evident that by keeping silence
he had caused Sidwell to throw off something of her reserve. The course
dictated by prudence was to maintain an attitude of dignity, to hold
himself in check. In this way he would regain what he had so
disastrously lost, Sidwell's respect. There was a distinct pleasure in
this exercise of self-command; it was something new to him; it
flattered his pride. 'Let her learn that, after all, I am her superior.
Let her fear to lose me. Then, if her love is still to be depended
upon, she will before long find a way to our union. It is in her power,
if only she wills it.'

So he sat down and wrote a short letter which seemed to him a model of
dignified expression.

CHAPTER IV

Sidwell took no one into her confidence. The case was not one for
counsel; whatever her future action, it must result from the maturing
of self-knowledge, from the effect of circumstance upon her mind and
heart. For the present she could live in silence.

'We hear,' she wrote from London to Sylvia Moorhouse, 'that Mr. Peak
has left Exeter, and that he is not likely to carry out his intention
of being ordained. You, I daresay, will feel no surprise.' Nothing more
than that; and Sylvia's comments in reply were equally brief.

Martin Warricombe, after conversations with his wife and with Buckland,
felt it impossible not to seek for an understanding of Sidwell's share
in the catastrophe. He was gravely perturbed, feeling that with himself
lay the chief responsibility for what had happened. Buckland's attitude
was that of the man who can only keep repeating 'I told you so'; Mrs.
Warricombe could only lament and upbraid in the worse than profitless
fashion natural to women of her stamp. But in his daughter Martin had
every kind of faith, and he longed to speak to her without reserve. Two
days after her return from Exeter, he took Sidwell apart, and, with a
distressing sense of the delicacy of the situation, tried to persuade
her to frank utterance.

'I have been hearing strange reports,' he began, gravely, but without
show of displeasure. 'Can you help me to understand the real facts of
the case, Sidwell?