prefix--never! I talk of Bella's education, but be assured that I regard my own as a matter of quite as much importance. I mean, that I shall strive incessantly to make myself worthy of her. No laxity! For these next three years I shall live as becomes a man who has his eyes constantly on a high ideal--the pure and beautiful girl whom he humbly hopes to win for a wife.'
The listener was moved. He raised his wine-glass to conceal the smile which might have been misunderstood. In his heart he felt more admiration than had yet mingled with his liking for this strange fellow.
'And Mrs. Jacox herself,' pursued Malkin; 'she has her weaknesses, as we all have. I don't think her a very strong-minded woman, to tell the truth. But there's a great deal of goodness in her. If there's one thing I desire in people, it is the virtue of gratitude, and Mrs Jacox is grateful almost to excess for the paltry exertions I have made on her behalf. You know that kind of thing costs me nothing; you know I like running about and getting things done. But the poor woman imagines that I have laid her under an eternal obligation. Of course I shall show her in time that it was nothing at all; that she might have done just as much for herself if she had known how to go about it.'
Earwaker was musing, a wrinkle of uneasiness at the corner of his eye.
'She isn't the kind of woman, you know, one can regard as a mother. But we are the best possible friends. She _may_, perhaps, think of me as a possible son-in-law. Poor thing; I hope she does. Perhaps it will help to put her mind at rest about the girls.'
'Then shall you often be down at Wrotham?' inquired the journalist, abstractedly.
'Oh, not often--that is to say, only once a month or so, just to look in. I wanted to ask you: do you think I might venture to begin a correspondence with Bella?'
'M--m--m! I can't say.'
'It would be so valuable, you know. I could suggest books for her reading; I could help her in her study of politics, and so on.'
'Well, think about it. But be cautious, I beg of you. Now I must be off. Only just time enough to get my traps to the station.'
'I'll come with you. Gare du Nord? Oh, plenty of time, plenty of time! Nothing so abominable as waiting for trains. I make a point of never getting to the station more than three minutes before time. Astonishing what one can do in three minutes! I want to tell you about an adventure I had in Boston. Met a fellow so devilish like Peak that I _couldn't_ believe it wasn't he himself. I spoke to him, but he swore that he knew not the man. Never saw such a likeness!'
'Curious. It may have been Peak.'
'By all that's suspicious, I can't help thinking the same! He had an English accent, too.'
'Queer business, this of Peak's. I hope I may live to hear the end of the story.'
They left the restaurant, and in a few hours Earwaker was again on English soil.
At Staple Inn a pile of letters awaited him, among them a note from Christian Moxey, asking for an appointment as soon as possible after the journalist's return. Earwaker at once sent an invitation, and on the next evening Moxey came. An intimacy had grown up between the two, since the mysterious retreat of their common friend. Christian was at first lost without the companionship of Godwin Peak; he forsook his studies, and fell into a state of complete idleness which naturally fostered his tendency to find solace in the decanter. With Earwaker, he could not talk as unreservedly as with Peak, but on the other hand there was a tonic influence in the journalist's personality which he recognised as beneficial. Earwaker was steadily making his way in the world, lived a life of dignified independence. What was the secret of these strong, calm natures? Might it not be learnt by studious inspection?
'How well you look!' Christian exclaimed, on entering. 'We enjoyed your Provencal letter enormously. That's a ramble I have always meant to do. Next year perhaps.'
'Why not this? Haven't you got into a dangerous habit of postponement?'
'Yes, I'm afraid I have. But, by-the-bye, no news of Peak, I suppose?'
Earwaker related the story he had heard from Malkin, adding:
'You must remember that they met only once in London; Malkin might very well mistake another man for Peak.'
'Yes,' replied the other musingly. 'Yet it isn't impossible that Peak has gone over there. If so, what on earth can he be up to? Why _should_ he hide from his friends?'
'_Cherchez la femme_,' said the journalist, with a smile. 'I can devise no other explanation.'
'But I can't see that it would be an explanation at all. Grant even--something unavowable, you know--are we Puritans? How could it harm him, at all events, to let us know his whereabouts? No such mystery ever came into my experience. It is too bad of Peak; it's confoundedly unkind.'
'Suppose he has found it necessary to assume a character wholly fictitious--or, let us say, quite inconsistent with his life and opinions as known to us?'
This was a fruitful suggestion, long in Earwaker's mind, but not hitherto communicated. Christian did not at once grasp its significance.
'How could that be necessary? Peak is no swindler. You don't imply that he is engaged in some fraud?'
'Not in the ordinary sense, decidedly. But picture some girl or woman of conventional opinions and surroundings. What if he resolved to win such a wife, at the expense of disguising his true self?'
'But what an extraordinary idea!' cried Moxey. 'Why Peak is all but a woman-hater!'
The journalist uttered croaking laughter.
'Have I totally misunderstood him?' asked Christian, confused and abashed.
'I think it not impossible.'
'You amaze me!--But no, no; you are wrong, Earwaker. Wrong in your suggestion, I mean. Peak could never sink to that. He is too uncompromising'----
'Well, it will be explained some day, I suppose.'
And with a shrug of impatience, the journalist turned to another subject. He, too, regretted his old friend's disappearance, and in a measure resented it. Godwin Peak was not a man to slip out of one's life and leave no appreciable vacancy. Neither of these men admired him, in the true sense of the word, yet had his voice sounded at the door both would have sprung up with eager welcome. He was a force--and how many such beings does one encounter in a lifetime?
CHAPTER II
In different ways, Christian and Marcella Moxey had both been lonely since their childhood. As a schoolgirl, Marcella seemed to her companions conceited and repellent; only as the result of reflection in after years did Sylvia Moorhouse express so favourable an opinion of her. In all things she affected singularity; especially it was her delight to utter democratic and revolutionary sentiments among hearers who, belonging to a rigidly conservative order, held such opinions impious. Arrived at womanhood, she affected scorn of the beliefs and habits cherished by her own sex, and shrank from association with the other. Godwin Peak was the first man with whom she conversed in the tone of friendship, and it took a year or more before that point was reached. As her intimacy with him established itself,
