'I have asked Mr. Peak to come and see me this morning.'
Her mother knew that expostulation was useless, but could not refrain from a long harangue made up of warning and reproof.
'You have very little consideration for me,' was her final remark. 'Now we shan't get home till after dark, and of course my throat will be bad again.'
Glad of the anti-climax, Sidwell replied that the day was much warmer, and that with care no harm need come of the journey.
'It's easy to say that, Sidwell. I never knew you to behave so selfishly, never!'
'Don't be angry with me, mother. You don't know how grieved I am to distress you so. I can't help it, dear; indeed, I can't. Won't you sacrifice a few hours to put my mind at rest?'
Mrs. Warricombe once more gave expression to her outraged feelings. Sidwell could only listen silently with bent head.
If Godwin were coming at all, he would be here by eleven o'clock. Sidwell had learnt that her letter was put into his hands. She asked him to come at once, and nothing but a resolve not to meet her could delay him more than an hour or two.
At half-past ten the bell sounded. She was sitting in the library with her back turned to the door. When a voice announced 'Mr. Peak', she did not at once rise, and with a feeling akin to terror she heard the footstep slowly approaching. It stopped at some distance from her; then, overcoming a weakness which threatened to clog her as in a nightmare, she stood up and looked round.
Peak wore neither overcoat nor gloves, but otherwise was dressed in the usual way. As Sidwell fixed her eyes upon him, he threw his hat into a chair and came a step or two nearer. Whether he had passed the night in sleep or vigil could not be determined; but his look was one of shame, and he did not hold himself so upright as was his wont.