Sidwell was lying back in a low chair, her eyes turned to the woody hills on the far side of the Exe.
'There's one thing I should like to say,' her friend pursued. 'It struck me as curious that you were not at all affected, by what to me would have been the one insuperable difficulty.'
'I know what you mean—the legacy.'
'Yes. It still seems to you of no significance?'
'Of very little,' Sidwell answered wearily, letting her eyelids droop.
'Then we won't talk about it. From the higher point of view, I believe you are right; but—still let it rest.'
In the afternoon, Sidwell penned the following lines which she enclosed in an envelope and placed on the study table, when her father was absent.
'The long letter which I promised you, dear father, is needless. I have to-day sent Mr. Peak a reply which closes our correspondence. I am sure he will not write again; if he were to do so, I should not answer.
'I have given up my intention of going away with Sylvia. Later, perhaps, I shall wish to join her somewhere on the Continent, but by that time you will be in no concern about me.'
To this Mr. Warricombe replied only with the joyous smile which greeted his daughter at their next meeting. Mrs. Warricombe remained in ignorance of the ominous shadow which had passed over her house. At present, she was greatly interested in the coming marriage of the Rev. Bruno Chilvers, whom she tried not to forgive for having disappointed her secret hope.