The communication of a noble idea has the same effect upon the brains of certain men—­of one, let us say, in every hundred thousand—­as a wine that exalts and enraptures.  As Sidney listened to the old man telling of his wondrous vision, he became possessed with ardour such as he had known but once or twice in his life.  Idealism such as Michael Snowdon had developed in these latter years is a form of genius; given the susceptible hearer, it dazzles, inspires, raises to heroic contempt of the facts of life.  Had this story been related to him of some unknown person, Sidney would have admired, but as one admires the nobly impracticable; subject to the electric influence of a man who was great enough to conceive and direct his life by such a project, who could repose so supreme a faith in those he loved, all the primitive nobleness of his character asserted itself, and he could accept with a throbbing heart the superb challenge addressed to him.

‘If Jane can think me worthy to be her husband,’ he replied, ’your friend shall see that he has feared without cause.’

‘I knew it, Sidney; I knew it!’ exclaimed the old man.  ’How much younger I feel now that I have shared this burden with you!’

‘And shall you now tell Jane?’ the other inquired.

’Not yet; not just yet.  She is very young; we must wait a little.  But there can be no reason why you shouldn’t speak to her—­of yourself.’

Sidney was descending from the clouds.  As the flush of his humanitarian enthusiasm passed away, and he thought of his personal relations to Jane, a misgiving, a scruple began to make itself heard within him.  Worldly and commonplace the thought, but—­had he a right to ask the girl to pledge herself to him under circumstances such as these?  To be sure, it was not as if Jane were an heiress in the ordinary way; for all that, would it not be a proceeding of doubtful justice to woo her when as yet she was wholly ignorant of the most important item in her situation?  His sincerity was unassailable, but—­suppose, in fact, he had to judge the conduct of another man thus placed?  Upon the heated pulsing of his blood succeeded a coolness, almost a chill; he felt as though he had been on the verge of a precipice, and had been warned to draw back only just in time.  Every second showed him more distinctly what his duty was.  He experienced a sensation of thankfulness that he had not spoken definitely on Saturday evening.  His instinct had guided him aright; Jane was still too young to be called upon solemnly to decide her whole future.

‘That, too, had better wait, Mr. Snowdon,’ he said, after a pause of a minute.  ’I should like her to know everything before I speak to her in that way.  In a year it will be time enough.’

Michael regarded him thoughtfully.

’Perhaps you are right.  I wish you knew Mr. Percival; but there is time, there is time.  He still thinks I shall be persuaded to alter my plans.  That night you came to Hanover Street and found me away, he took me to see a lady who works among the poor in Clerkenwell; she knew me by name, because Mr. Percival had given her money from me to use, but we’d never seen each other till then.  He wants me to ask her opinion about Jane.’