'But in what?—Was there no truth in anything you said to me?'
'To you I have spoken far more truth than falsehood.'
A light shone in her eyes, and her lips quivered.
'Then,' she murmured, 'Buckland was not right in everything.'
'I understand. He wished you to believe that my love was as much a pretence as my religion?'
'He said that.'
'It was natural enough.—And you were disposed to believe it?'
'I thought it impossible. But I should have thought the same of the other things.'
Peak nodded, and moved away. Watching him, Sidwell was beset with conflicting impulses. His assurance had allayed her worst misgiving, and she approved the self-restraint with which he bore himself, but at the same time she longed for a passionate declaration. As a reasoning woman, she did her utmost to remember that Peak was on his defence before her, and that nothing could pass between them but grave discussion of the motives which had impelled him to dishonourable behaviour. As a woman in love, she would fain have obscured the moral issue by indulgence of her heart's desire. She was glad that he held aloof, but if he had taken her in his arms, she would have forgotten everything in the moment's happiness.
'Let us sit down, and tell me—tell me all you can.'