Each brooded for a while over his own affairs, then Christian reverted to the subject which concerned them both.
'Let us speak frankly. You will take this gift of Marcella's as it was meant?'
How was it meant? Critic and analyst as ever, Godwin could not be content to see in it the simple benefaction of a woman who died loving him. Was it not rather the last subtle device of jealousy? Marcella knew that the legacy would be a temptation he could scarcely resist—and knew at the same time that, if he accepted it, he practically renounced his hope of marrying Sidwell Warricombe. Doubtless she had learned as much as she needed to know of Sidwell's position. Refusing this bequest, he was as far as ever from the possibility of asking Sidwell to marry him. Profiting by it, he stood for ever indebted to Marcella, must needs be grateful to her, and some day, assuredly, would reveal the truth to whatever woman became his wife. Conflict of reasonings and emotions made it difficult to answer Moxey's question.
'I must take time to think of it,' he said, at length.
'Well, I suppose that is right. But—well, I know so little of your circumstances'——
'Is that strictly true?' Peak asked.
'Yes. I have only the vaguest idea of what you have been doing since you left us. Of course I have tried to find out.'
Godwin smiled, rather gloomily.
'We won't talk of it. I suppose you stay in St. Helen's for the night?'
'There's a train at 10.20. I had better go by it.'