d
and control?'

Though he spoke from the depths of his conviction, and was so moved
that his voice rose and fell in tones such as a drawing-room seldom
hears, he yet kept anxious watch upon Sidwell's countenance. That hint
afforded him by Fanny was invaluable; it had enabled him to appeal to
Sidwell's nature by the ardent expression of what was sincerest in his
own. She too, he at length understood, had the aristocratic
temperament. This explained her to him, supplied the key of doubts and
difficulties which had troubled him in her presence. It justified,
moreover, the feelings with which she had inspired him--feelings which
this hour of intimate converse had exalted to passion. His heart
thrilled with hope. Where sympathies so profound existed, what did it
matter that there was variance on a few points between his intellect
and hers? He felt the power to win her, and to defy every passing
humiliation that lay in his course.

Sidwell raised her eyes with a look which signified that she was
shaping a question diffidently.

'Have you always thought so hopelessly of our times?'

'Oh, I had my stage of optimism,' he answered, smiling. 'Though I never
put faith in the masses, I once believed that the conversion of the
educated to a purely human religion would set things moving in the
right way. It was ignorance of the world.'

He paused a moment, then added:

'In youth one marvels that men remain at so low a stage of
civilisation. Later in life, one is astonished that they have advanced
so far.'

Sidwell met his look with appreciative intelligence and murmured:

'In spite of myself, I believe that expresses a truth.'

Peak was about to reply, when Fanny and her friend reappeared. Bertha
approached for the purpose of taking leave, and for a minute or two
Sidwell talked with her. The young girls withdrew again together.

By the clock on the mantelpiece it was nearly six. Godwin did not
resume his seat, though Sidwell had done so. He looked towards the
window, and was all but lost in abstraction, when the soft voice again
addressed him:

'But you have not chosen your life's work without some hope of doing
good?'

'Do you think,' he asked, gently, 'that I shall be out of place in the
Christian Church?'

'No--no, I certainly don't think that. But will you tell me what you
have set before yourself?'

He drew nearer and leaned upon the back of a chair.

'I hope for what I shall perhaps never attain. Whatever m