To inherit from the dead was an impressive experience to Godwin.  At the present stage of his development, every circumstance affecting him started his mind upon the quest of reasons, symbolisms, principles; the ‘natural supernatural’ had hold upon him, and ruled his thought whenever it was free from the spur of arrogant instinct.  This tendency had been strengthened by the influence of his friend Earwaker, a young man of singularly complex personality, positive and analytic in a far higher degree than Peak, yet with a vein of imaginative vigour which seemed to befit quite a different order of mind.  Godwin was not distinguished by originality in thinking, but his strongly featured character converted to uses of his own the intellectual suggestions he so rapidly caught from others.  Earwaker’s habit of reflection had much to do with the strange feelings awakened in Godwin when he transferred to his mother’s house the cabinets which had been Mr. Gunnery’s pride for thirty or forty years.  Joy of possession was subdued in him by the conflict of metaphysical questionings.

Days went on, and nothing was heard of Uncle Andrew.  Godwin tried to assure himself that he had been needlessly terrified; the eating-house project would never be carried out.  Practically dismissing that anxiety, he brooded over his defeat by Chilvers, and thought with extreme reluctance of the year still to be spent at Whitelaw, probably a year of humiliation.  In the meantime, should he or should he not present himself for his First B.A.?  The five pound fee would be a most serious demand upon his mother’s resources, and did the profit warrant it, was it really of importance to him to take a degree?

He lived as much as possible alone, generally avoiding the society of his relatives, save at meal times.  A careless remark (not intentionally offensive) with reference to Mr. Cusse had so affronted Charlotte that she never spoke to him save in reply to a question.  Godwin regretted the pain he had given, but could not bring himself to express this feeling, for a discussion would inevitably have disclosed all his mind concerning the draper’s assistant.  Oliver seemed to have forgiven his brother’s reproaches, but no longer behaved with freedom when Godwin was present.  For all this, the elder’s irritation was often aroused by things he saw and heard; and at length—­on a memorable Saturday afternoon—­debate revived between them.  Oliver, as his custom was, had attired himself sprucely for a visit to acquaintances, and a silk hat of the very newest fashion lay together with his gloves upon the table.

‘What is this thing?’ inquired Godwin, with ominous calm, as he pointed to the piece of head-gear.

‘A hat, I suppose,’ replied his brother.

‘You mean to say you are going to wear that in the street?’

‘And why not?’

Oliver, not venturing to raise his eyes, stared at the table-cloth indignantly.

‘Can’t you feel,’ burst from the other, ’that it’s a disgrace to buy and wear such a thing?’