Left to his own impulses, he would still have proceeded with all caution in his offers of friendly services to Peak.  A letter of carefully-worded admonition, which he received from his son, apprising him of Peak’s resolve to transfer himself to Exeter, scarcely affected his behaviour when the young man appeared.  It was but natural—­he argued—­that Buckland should look askance on a case of ‘conversion’; for his own part, he understood that such a step might be prompted by interest, but he found it difficult to believe that to a man in Peak’s position, the Church would offer temptation thus coercive.  Nor could he discern in the candidate for a curacy any mark of dishonourable purpose.  Faults, no doubt, were observable, among them a tendency to spiritual pride—­which seemed (Martin could admit) an argument for, rather than against, his sincerity.  The progress of acquaintance decidedly confirmed his favourable impressions; they were supported by the remarks of those among his friends to whom Peak presently became known.

It was not until Whitsuntide of the next year, when the student had been living nearly five months at Exeter, that Buckland again came down to visit his relatives.  On the evening of his arrival, chancing to be alone with Sidwell, he asked her if Peak had been to the house lately.

‘Not many days ago,’ replied his sister, ’he lunched with us, and then sat with father for some time.’

‘Does he come often?’

’Not very often.  He is translating a German book which interests father very much.’

‘Oh, what book?’

‘I don’t know.  Father has only mentioned it in that way.’

They were in a little room sacred to the two girls, very daintily furnished and fragrant of sweet-brier, which Sidwell loved so much that, when the season allowed it, she often wore a little spray of it at her girdle.  Buckland opened a book on the table, and, on seeing the title, exclaimed with a disparaging laugh: 

’I can’t get out of the way of this fellow M’Naughten!  Wherever I go, there he lies about on the tables and chairs.  I should have thought he was thoroughly smashed by an article that came out in~ The Critical~ last year.’

Sidwell smiled, evidently in no way offended.

‘That article could “smash” nobody,’ she made answer.  ’It was too violent; it overshot the mark.’

’Not a bit of it!—­So you read it, eh?  You’re beginning to read, are you?’

‘In my humble way, Buckland.’

‘M’Naughten, among other things.  Humble enough, that, I admit.’

‘I am not a great admirer of M’Naughten,’ returned his sister, with a look of amusement.

‘No?  I congratulate you.—­I wonder what Peak thinks of the book?’

‘I really don’t know.’

‘Then let me ask another question.  What do you think of Peak?’

Sidwell regarded him with quiet reflectiveness.

‘I feel,’ she said, ’that I don’t know him very well yet.  He is certainly interesting.’