'If I didn't believe that, I couldn't speak to you like this. I never thought you would let me see you again, and if you hadn't asked me to come, I could never have brought myself to face you. But it would have been a miserable thing to go off without even knowing what you thought of me.' 'Should you never have written to me?' 'I think not. You find it hard to imagine that I have any pride, no doubt; but it is there, explain it how one may.' 'It would have been wrong to leave me in such uncertainty.' 'Uncertainty?' 'About you--about your future.' 'Did you quite mean that? Hadn't your brother made you doubt whether I loved you at all?' 'Yes. But no, I didn't doubt. Indeed, indeed, I didn't doubt! But I felt such a need of hearing from your own lips that--Oh, I can't explain myself!' Godwin smiled sadly. 'I think I understand. But there was every reason for my believing that _your_ love could not bear such a test. You must regard me as quite a different man--one utterly unknown to you.' He had resolved to speak not a word that could sound like an appeal to her emotions. When he entered the room he felt a sincere indifference as to what would result from the interview, for to his mind the story was ended, and he had only to retire with the dignity still possible to a dishonoured man. To touch the note of pathos would be unworthy; to exert what influence might be left to him, a wanton cruelty. But he had heard such unexpected things, that it was not easy for him to remember how complete had seemed the severance between him and Sidwell. The charm of her presence was reasserting itself, and when avowal of continued love appeared so unmistakably in her troubled countenance, her broken words, he could not control the answering fervour. He spoke in a changed voice, and allowed his eyes to dwell longingly upon hers. 'I felt so at first,' she answered. 'And it would be wrong to pretend that I can still regard you as I did before.' It cost her a great effort to add these words. When they were spoken, she was at once glad and fearful. 'I am not so foolish, as to think it possible,' said Peak, half turning away. 'But that is no reason,' she pursued, 'why we should become strangers. You are still so young a man; life must be so full of possibilities for you. This year has been wasted, but when you leave Exeter'---- An impatient movement of Godwin's checked her. 'You are going to encourage me to begin the struggle once more,' he said, bitterly. 'Where? How? It is so easy to talk of "possibilities".' 'You are not without friends--I mean friends whose sympathy is of real value to you.' Saying this, she looked keenly at him. 'Friends,' he replied, 'who perhaps at this moment are laughing over my disgrace.' 'How do they know of--what has happened?' 'How did your brother get his information? I didn't care to ask him.--No, I don't even wish you to say anything about that.'