Defiance, then, of every foreboding, of every shame; and a life that moulded itself in the ardour of unchangeable resolve.

CHAPTER IV

Martin Warricombe was reconciled to the prospect of a metropolitan winter by the fact that his old friend Thomas Gale, formerly Geological Professor at Whitelaw College, had of late returned from a three years’ sojourn in North America, and now dwelt in London.  The breezy man of science was welcomed back among his brethren with two-fold felicitation; his book on the Appalachians would have given no insufficient proof of activity abroad, but evidence more generally interesting accompanied him in the shape of a young and beautiful wife.  Not every geologist whose years have entered the fifties can go forth and capture in second marriage a charming New England girl, thirty years his junior.  Yet those who knew Mr. Gale—­ his splendid physique, his bluff cordiality, the vigour of his various talk—­were scarcely surprised.  The young lady was no heiress; she had, in fact, been a school teacher, and might have wearied through her best years in that uncongenial pursuit.  Transplanted to the richest English soil, she developed remarkable aptitudes.  A month or two of London exhibited her as a type of all that is most attractive in American womanhood.

Between Mrs. Gale and the Warricombes intimacy was soon established.  Sidwell saw much of her, and liked her.  To this meditative English girl the young American offered an engrossing problem, for she avowed her indifference to all religious dogmas, yet was singularly tolerant and displayed a moral fervour which Sidwell had believed inseparable from Christian faith.  At the Gales’ house assembled a great variety of intellectual people, and with her father’s express approval (Martin had his reasons) Sidwell made the most of this opportunity of studying the modern world.  Only a few days after her arrival in London, she became acquainted with a Mr. Walsh, a brother of that heresiarch, the Whitelaw Professor, whose name was still obnoxious to herf mother.  He was a well-favoured man of something between thirty and forty, brilliant in conversation, personally engaging, and known by his literary productions, which found small favour with conservative readers.  With surprise, Sidwell in a short time became aware that Mr. Walsh had a frank liking for her society.  He was often to be seen in Mrs. Warricombe’s drawing-room, and at Mrs Gale’s he yet more frequently obtained occasions of talking with her.  The candour with which he expressed himself on most subjects enabled her to observe a type of mind which at present had peculiar interest for her.  Discretion often put restraint upon her curiosity, but none the less Mr. Walsh had plausible grounds for believing that his advances were not unwelcome.  He saw that Sidwell’s gaze occasionally rested upon him with a pleasant gravity, and noted the mood of meditation which sometimes came upon her when he had drawn apart.  The frequency of these dialogues was observed by Mrs Warricombe, and one evening she broached the subject to her daughter rather abruptly.