--What is your view of Peak's behaviour?'

'He has deceived you, father,' was the quiet reply.

'You are convinced of that?--It allows of no----?'

'It can't be explained away. He pretended to believe what he did not
and could not believe.'

'With interested motives, then?'

'Yes.--But not motives in themselves dishonourable.'

There was a pause. Sidwell had spoken in a steady voice, though with
eyes cast down. Whether her father could understand a position such as
Godwin's, she felt uncertain. That he would honestly endeavour to do
so, there could be no doubt, especially since he must suspect that her
own desire was to distinguish between the man and his fault. But a
revelation of all that had passed between her and Peak was not
possible; she had the support neither of intellect nor of passion; it
would be asking for guidance, the very thing she had determined not to
do. Already she found it difficult to recover the impulses which had
directed her in that scene of parting; to talk of it would be to see
her action in such a doubtful light that she might be led to some
premature and irretrievable resolve. The only trustworthy counsellor
was time; on what time brought forth must depend her future.

'Do you mean, Sidwell,' resumed her father, 'that you think it possible
for us to overlook this deception?'

She delayed a moment, then said:

'I don't think it possible for you to regard him as a friend.'

Martin's face expressed relief.

'But will he remain in Exeter?'

'I shouldn't think he can.'

Again a pause. Martin was of course puzzled exceedingly, but he began
to feel some assurance that Peak need not be regarded as a danger.

'I am grieved beyond expression,' he said at length. 'So deliberate a
fraud--it seems to me inconsistent with any of the qualities I thought
I saw in him.'

'Yes--it must.'

'Not--perhaps--to you?' Martin ventured, anxiously.

'His nature is not base.'

'Forgive me, dear.--I understand that you spoke with him after
Buckland's call at his lodgings----?'

'Yes, I saw him.'

'And--he strove to persuade you that he had some motive which justified
his conduct?'

'Excused, rather than justified.'

'Not--it seems--to your satisfaction?'

'I can't answer that question, father. My experience of life is too
slight. I can only say that untruthfulness in itself is abhorrent to
me, and that I could never try to make it seem a light thing.'

'That, surely, is a sound view, think