Without looking at him, his sister replied: 

’Whether he is guilty or not, I can’t yet determine.  But the motive of his life here was not mercenary.’

‘Then how would you describe it?’ Buckland asked, in astonishment.

‘I only know that it can’t be called mercenary.’

’Then the distinction you draw must be a very fine one.—­He has abandoned the employment by which he lived, and by his own admission he looks to the Church for means of support.  It was necessary for him to make interest with people of social position; the closer his relations with them the better.  From month to month he has worked skilfully to establish his footing in this house, and among your friends.  What do you call this?’

She had no verbal answer to make, but her look declared that she held to another interpretation.

‘Well,’ Buckland added, impatiently, ’we will hear father’s opinion.  He, remember, has been deceived in a very gross and cruel way.  Possibly he may help you to see the thing in all its hatefulness.’

Sidwell turned to him.

‘You go to London this afternoon?’

‘In an hour or two,’ he replied, consulting his watch.

’Is it any use my asking you to keep silence about everything until
I am back in town?’

Buckland frowned and hesitated.

‘To mother as well as father, you mean?’

‘Yes.  Will you do me this kindness?’

’Answer me a question, Sidwell.  Have you any thought of seeing Peak?’

‘I can’t say,’ she replied, in agitation.  ’I must leave myself free.  I have a right to use my own judgment.’

‘Don’t see him!  I beg you not to see him!’

He was so earnest that Sidwell suspected some other reason in his request than regard for her dignity.

‘I must leave myself free,’ she repeated, with shaking voice.  ’In any case I shall be back in London to-morrow evening—­that is, if —­but I am sure mother will wish to go.  Grant me this one kindness; say nothing here or there till I am back and have seen you again.’

He turned a deaf ear, for the persistency with which she resisted proof of Peak’s dishonour had begun to alarm him.  Who could say what miserable folly she might commit in the next four-and-twenty hours?  The unavoidable necessity of his own return exasperated him; he wished to see her safe back in London, and under her father’s care.

‘No,’ he exclaimed, with a gesture of determination; ’I can’t keep such a thing as this secret for another hour.  Mother must know at once—­especially as you mean to invite that fellow into the house again.—­I have half a mind to telegraph to Godolphin that I can’t possibly be with him to-night.’

Sidwell regarded him and spoke with forced composure.

’Do as seems right to you, Buckland.  But don’t think that by remaining here you would prevent me from seeing Mr. Peak, if I wish to do so.  That is treating me too much like a child.  You have done your part—­doubtless your duty; now I must reflect and judge for myself.  Neither you nor anyone else has authority over me in such circumstances.’