Fanny and Bertha began to talk together of domestic affairs, and presently, when tea-cups were laid aside, the two girls went to another part of the room; then they withdrew altogether.  Peak was monologising on English art as represented at the Academy, but finding himself alone with Sidwell (it had never before happened) he became silent.  Ought he to take his leave?  He must already have been sitting here more than half-an-hour.  But the temptation of teae-a-teae was irresistible.

‘You had a visit from Mr. Chilvers the other day?’ he remarked, abruptly.

‘Yes; did he call to see you?’

Her tone gave evidence that she would not have introduced this topic.

’No; I heard from Mrs. Lilywhite.  He had been to the vicarage.  Has he changed much since he was at Whitelaw?’

‘So many years must make a difference at that time of life,’ Sidwell answered, smiling.

‘But does he show the same peculiarities of manner?’

He tried to put the question without insistency, in a tone quite compatible with friendliness.  Her answer, given with a look of amusement, satisfied him that there was no fear of her taking Mr Chilvers too seriously.

‘Yes.  I think he speaks in much the same way.’

‘Have you read any of his publications?’

‘One or two.  We have his lecture on Altruism.’

’I happen to know it.  There are good things in it, I think.  But I dislike his modern interpretation of old principles.’

‘You think it dangerous?’

He no longer regarded her frankly, and in the consciousness of her look upon him he knit his brows.

’I think it both dangerous and offensive.  Not a few clergymen nowadays, who imagine themselves free from the letter and wholly devoted to spirit, are doing their best in the cause of materialism.  They surrender the very points at issue between religion and worldliness.  They are so blinded by a vague humanitarian impulse as to make the New Testament an oracle of popular Radicalism.’

Sidwell looked up.

’I never quite understood, Mr. Peak, how you regard Radicalism.  You think it opposed to all true progress?’

‘Utterly, as concerns any reasonable limit of time.’

’Buckland, as you know, maintains that spiritual progress is only possible by this way.’

‘I can’t venture to contradict him,’ said Godwin; ’for it may be that advance is destined only to come after long retrogression and anarchy.  Perhaps the way does lie through such miseries.  But we can’t foresee that with certainty, and those of us who hate the present tendency of things must needs assert their hatred as strongly as possible, seeing that we may have a more hopeful part to play than seems likely.’

‘I like that view,’ replied Sidwell, in an undertone.

‘My belief,’ pursued Godwin, with an earnestness very agreeable to himself, for he had reached the subject on which he could speak honestly, ’is that an instructed man can only hold views such as your brother’s—­hopeful views of the immediate future—­if he has never been brought into close contact with the lower classes.  Buckland doesn’t know the people for whom he pleads.’