s one out of
oneself. No man can be a better authority on this than I. For more than
eleven years I have worshipped one woman with absolute faithfulness'----

'Absolute?' interrupted Godwin, bluntly.

'What exception occurs to you?'

'As you challenge inquiry, forgive me for asking what your interest was
in one of your cousins at Twybridge?'

Christian started, and averted his face with a look of embarrassment.

'Do you mean to say that you knew anything about that?'

'I was always an observer,' Peak replied, smiling. 'You don't remember,
perhaps, that I happened to be present when a letter had just arrived
for you at your uncle's house--a letter which evidently disturbed you?'

'This is astonishing! Peak, you're a terrible fellow! Heaven forbid
that I should ever be at your mercy! Yes, you are quite right,' he
continued, despondently. 'But that was no real unfaithfulness. I don't
quite know how to explain it. I _did_ make love to poor Janet, and with
the result that I have never since seen any of the family. My uncle,
when he found I had drawn back, was very savage--naturally enough.
Marcella and I never again went to Twybridge. I liked Janet; she was a
good, kind girl. I believed just then that my love for Constance was
hopeless; my mood impelled me to the conviction that the best thing I
could do was to marry Janet and settle down to a peaceful domestic
life. Then came that letter--it was from Constance herself. It meant
nothing, yet it was enough to revive all my hopes. I rushed off--! How
brutally I had behaved! Poor little Janet!'

He let his face fall upon his hands.

'Allow me an indiscreet question,' said Peak, after a silence. 'Have
you any founded hope of marrying Constance if she becomes a widow?'

Christian started and looked up with wide eyes.

'Hope? Every hope! I have the absolute assurance of her love.'

'I see.'

'But I mustn't mislead you,' pursued the other, hurriedly. 'Our
relations are absolutely pure. I have only allowed myself to see her at
very long intervals. Why shouldn't I tell you? It was less than a year
after her marriage; I found her alone in a room in a friend's house;
her eyes were red with weeping. I couldn't help holding my hand to her.
She took it, and held it for a moment, and looked at me steadily, and
whispered my name--that was all. I knew then that she repented of her
marriage--who can say what led her into it? I was poor, you know;
perhaps--but in spite of all, s