'Nothing at all. I couldn't help wondering what it meant. You seemed perfectly in earnest, yet such talk had the oddest sound on your lips--to me, I mean. Of course I thought of you as I used to know you.' 'Naturally.' Peak was now in an attitude of repose, his legs crossed, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. 'I couldn't very well turn aside to comment on my own mental history.' Here again was the note of something like genial condescension. Buckland seemed sensible of it, and slightly raised his eyebrows. 'I am to understand that you have become strictly orthodox in matters of religious faith?' 'The proof is,' replied Godwin, 'that I hope before long to take Orders.' Again there was silence, and again the sea-breath made its whispering in the pines. Warricombe, with a sudden gesture, pointed towards the sky. 'A shooting star--one of the brightest I ever saw!' 'I missed it,' said Peak, just glancing in that direction. The interruption enabled Buckland to move his chair; in this new position he was somewhat further from Peak, and had a better view of his face. 'I should never have imagined you a clergyman,' he said, thoughtfully, 'but I can see that your mind has been developing powers in that direction.--Well, so be it! I can only hope you have found your true work in life.' 'But you doubt it?' 'I can't say that I doubt it, as I can't understand you. To be sure, we have been parted for many years. In some respects I must seem much changed'-- 'Greatly changed,' Godwin put in, promptly. 'Yes,' pursued the other, correctively, 'but not in a way that would seem incredible to anyone whatever. I am conscious of growth in tolerance, but my attitude in essentials is unchanged. Thinking of you--as I have often enough done--I always kept the impression you made on me when we were both lads; you seemed most distinctly a modern mind--one of the most modern that ever came under my notice. Now, I don't find it impossible to understand my father, when he reconciles science with religion; he was born sixty years ago. But Godwin Peak as a--a--' 'Parson,' supplied Peak, drily. 'Yes, as a parson--I shall have to meditate much before I grasp the notion.' 'Perhaps you have dropped your philosophical studies?' said Godwin, with a smile of courteous interest. 'I don't know. Metaphysics have no great interest for me, but I philosophise in a way. I thought myself a student of human nature, at all events.' 'But you haven't kept up with philosophical speculation on the points involved in orthodox religion?' 'I confess my ignorance of everything of the kind--unless you include Bishop Blougram among the philosophers?' Godwin bore the gaze which accompanied this significant inquiry. For a moment he smiled, but there followed an expression of gravity touched with pain. 'I hadn't thought of broaching this matter,' he said, with slow utterance, but still in a tone of perfect friendliness. 'Let us put it aside.'