The very fact that her love (again, if love it were) must be indulged in defiance of universal opinion tended to keep emotion alive.  A woman is disposed to cling to a lover who has disgraced himself, especially if she can believe that the disgrace was incurred as a result of devotion to her.  Could love be separated from thought of marriage, Sidwell would have encouraged herself in fidelity, happy in the prospect of a life-long spiritual communion —­for she would not doubt of Godwin’s upward progress, of his eventual purification.  But this was a mere dream.  If Godwin’s passion were steadfast, the day would come when she must decide either to cast in her lot with his, or to bid him be free.  And could she imagine herself going forth into exile?

There came a letter from him, and she was fortunate enough to receive it without the knowledge of her relatives.  He wrote that he had obtained employment.  The news gave her a troubled joy, lasting for several days.  That no emotion appeared in her reply was due to a fear lest she might be guilty of misleading him.  Perhaps already she had done so.  Her last whisper—­’Some day!’—­was it not a promise and an appeal?  Now she had not the excuse of profound agitation, there must be no word her conscience could not justify.  But in writing those formal lines she felt herself a coward.  She was drawing back—­preparing her escape.

Often she had the letter beneath her pillow.  It was the first she had ever received from a man who professed to love her.  So long without romance in her life, she could not but entertain this semblance of it, and feel that she was still young.

It told much in Godwin’s favour that he had not ventured to write before there was this news to send her.  It testified to the force of his character, the purity of his purpose.  A weaker man, she knew, would have tried to excite her compassion by letters of mournful strain, might even have distressed her with attempts at clandestine meeting.  She had said rightly—­his nature was not base.  And she loved him!  She was passionately grateful to him for proving that her love had not been unworthily bestowed.

When he wrote again, her answer should not be cowardly.

The life of the household went on as it had been wont to do for years, but with the spring came events.  An old lady died whilst on a visit to the house (she was a half-sister of Mrs. Warricombe), and by a will executed a few years previously she left a thousand pounds, to be equally divided between the children of this family.  Sidwell smiled sadly on finding herself in possession of this bequest, the first sum of any importance that she had ever held in her own right.  If she married a man of whom all her kith and kin so strongly disapproved that they would not give her even a wedding present, two hundred and fifty pounds would be better than no dowry at all.  One could furnish a house with it.

Then Fanny had an attack of bronchitis, and whilst she was recovering Buckland came down for a few days, bringing with him a piece of news for which no one was prepared.  As if to make reparation to his elder sister for the harshness with which he had behaved in the affair of Godwin Peak, he chose her for his first confidante.