Born in Exile

n, with no architectural feature calling for mention, unless it be the latticed porch which gives the doors an awkward quaintness. Just beyond, the road crosses a hollow, and begins the ascent of

uct to the middle of High Street, and in the other

him. Mrs. Roots could not compare in grace and skill with the little Frenchwoman who had sweetened his existence at Peckham Rye, but her zeal made amends for natural deficiency, and the timorous respect with which she waited upon him was by no means disagreeable to Godwin. Her reply to a request or suggestion was always, 'If you please, sir.' Throughout the day she went so tranquilly about her domestic dutie

s care. In taking the lodgings, he described himself merely as a student, and gave his landlady to understand that he hoped to remain under her roof for at least a year. Of his extreme respectability, the widow could entertain no doubt, for he dressed with aristocratic finish, attended services at the Cathedral and elsewhere very frequently, and made the most punctua

ple in city or country. It seemed rather strange, however, that the postman so seldom brought anything for him. Thoug

direction, sometimes rambling up the valley to sleepy little towns where he could rest in the parlours of old inns, sometimes striking across country to this or that point of the sea-coast, or making his way to the nearer summits of Dartmoor, noble in their wintry desolation. He marked with delight every promise of returning spring. When he could only grant himself a walk of an hour or two in the sunny afternoon, there was many a deep lane within easy reach, where the gorse gleamed in masses of gol

gth in conflict with boisterous gusts and sudden showers, that give a taste of earth's nourishment. But Godwin had something else in view. After breakfast, he sat down to finish a piece of work which had occupied him for two or three days, a translation

Though already summoned twice or thrice by express invitation, he was sparing of voluntary visits. Having asked for Mr. Warricombe, he was forthwith conducte

in exclaimed, as he saw the foreig

ten a rough

to me by the dozen-I might say, by the cartload. My curiosity would hav

ly at first, but found myself drawn to it again. It states the point of view of the average scientific mind

ally did it on y

offered sheets and glanc

in 'in calling again so soon

gh he would tak

that pelting of spring rain against the window. In a minute or two we shall h

n the end Godwin sat down and began to read the translation he had made, Mr. Warricombe listening with a thoughtful smile. From time to time the reader paused and offered a comment, endeavouring to show that the arguments we

from Reusch's book on The Bible and Nature. If I am not mistaken

now th

on't possess it. I thought I remember

work of a

et been translated. Rather bulky, but I shouldn't mind

artin, musingly. 'What is his

d been silence for some moments, the latter spoke in a tone he had never yet used when conversing with P

and at Darwinism

nowledge, was far from possessing the scientific mind, and each conversation had supplied him with proofs of this defect; it was not at all in the modern spirit that the man of threescore years pursued his geological and kindred researches, but with the calm curiosity of a liberal intellect which has somehow taken this direction instead of devoting itself to literary study. At bottom, Godwin had no little sympathy with Mr. Warricombe; he too, in spite of his militant instincts, dwelt by preference amid purely human interests. He grasped with firm intelligence the modes of thought which distinguish scientific men, but his nature did not prompt him to a consi

s strenuously against the descent of man. If I understand

r-knife bent upon his knee, and his smooth

ow Hebrew,

could not help a momentary confusion, but h

that I am only now ta

aturedly. 'Even a mind as active as yours must postpone

o Mr. Warricombe attached importance to the

ied. 'He devotes whole chapters to

tely, when he had again reflected, 'I should be d

eared to

ed by English writers

dated a few years ago. Reusch has kept pace with the men of science. It woul

ould,

templative posture, Godwin ex

, I might address a proposal to some likely publisher. Ye

men would be the

ht do a few

e would have liked to take down, some with titles familiar to him, others which kindled his curiosity when he chanced to observe them. The library abounded in such works as only a wealthy man can purchase, and Godwin, who had examined some of them at the British Museum, was filled with the humaner kind of envy on seeing them in Mr. Warr

d in no haste to bring th

'Naughten's much

es

age attack in The Cr

d, and made

last word of scientific b

o Huxley, but that was preposterous. To begin with, Huxley would have signed his name; and, again, his English is better.

nymous author's style stung him to the quick,

ointed. M'Naughten is suggestive; but one comes across books of the same purpos

many such,' r

to a bookcase and too

There came into my mind a passage here at the beginning, apropos of what we were saying: "Il faut souven

ce he was able to laugh unfeignedly. The aphorism

't remember to ha

, if you

in Mr. Warricombe's friendliness. G

o?' Martin added, indicating the sheets of manuscript. 'I a

welve o'clock, and on the whole there was every reason for feeling satisfied with the results of his visit. Before long he would p

March weather in the country, close-fitting, defiant of gusts; and their cheeks glowed with health. As he exchanged greetings with them, Peak received a new impression of the sisters. He admired the physical vigour which enabled them to take delight in such a day

ing with interest to the quarter whence the wind came. 'How suddenly th

s she turned lau

etting wet? Hadn't you

ith quieter enjoyment. 'Take shelt

lstones, which drove horizontally before the shrieking wind. The prospect had wrapped itself in grey gloom. At a hundred yards' distance, scarcely

y that?' Fanny

eed

r and I were once caught in storms far worse than this-far better

, the hail ceased, the core of blackness was passing over to the

the sunlight

, independently of his wider ambitions, he was moved and gratified by the thought that kindly feeling towards him had sprung up in such a heart as this. Nor did conscience so much as whisper a reproach. With unreflecting ingenuousness he tasted the joy as if it were his right. Thus long he had waited, through years of

ses of rosy cloud sailed swiftly from horizon to horizon, the azure deepening about them. Yet before long t

ed the ever-changing face of heaven with rare grandeur. Godwin could not shut himself up

thought. It spoilt his holiday, but had no chance of persisting after his return to the atmosphere of Rotherhithe. That he should have been capable of such emotion was, he said to himself, in the just order of things; callousness in the first stages of an undertaking which demanded gro

conventional moralist would cry: Everyone with whom he came in slightest contact! But a mind such as Peak's has very little to do with conventional morality. Injury to himself he foresaw and accepted; he could never be the man nature designed in him; and he must frequently submit to a self-contempt which would be very hard to bear. Those whom he consistently deceived, how would they suffer? Martin Warricombe to begin with. Martin was a man who had lived his life, and whose chief care would now be to keep

atic liberators might undertake with vast self-approval. If by a word he could have banished religious dogma from the minds of the multitude, he would not have cared to utter it. Wherein lay, indeed, a scruple to be surmounted. The Christian priest must be a man of humble temper; he must be willing, even eager, to sit down among the poor in spirit as well as in estate, and impart to them his unworldly solaces. Yes, but it had always been recognised that some men who could do the Church good service were personally unfitted for those meek ministrations. His place was

f he allied himself with the Church, the Church must assign him leadership, whether titular or not was of small moment. In days to come, let people

ad for years contemplated the possibility of baseness at the impulse of a craving for love capable only of a social (one might say, of a political) definition. The woman throned in his imagination was no individual, but the type of an order. So strangely had circumstances moulded him, that he could not brood on a desire of spiritual affinities, could not, as is natural to most cultivated men, inflame himself with the ardour of soul reaching to soul; he was pre-occupied with the contemplation of qualities whi

ied to believe that he might win her love if he set himself to the endeavour. For the first time he was admitted to familiar intercourse with a woman whom he could make the object of his worship. He thought much of her; day and night her figure stood be

then be relegated. Admit the wrong. Grant that some woman whom he loved supremely must, on his account, pass through a harsh trial-would it not be in his power to compensate her amply? The wife whom he imagined (his idealism in this matter was of a crudity which made the strangest contrast with his habits of thought on every other subject) would be ruled by her emotions, and that part of her nature would be wholly under his governance. Religious fanaticism could not exist in her, for in that case she would never have

urb him, but his position was no longer a cause of uneasiness-save, indeed, at those moments when he feared lest any of his ol

letter, with his departure from London. 'It will be a long time before we again see each other-at least, I think so. Don't trouble your head about me. I can't promise to write, and shall be sorry not to hear how things go with you; but may all happen as you wish!' In the same way he had dealt with Earwaker, except that his letter to Staple Inn was much longer, and contained hints which the philosophic journalist might perchance truly interpret. '"He either fears his fate too much"-you know the old song. I have set out on my life's adventure. I have gone to seek that without which life is no longer worth having. Forgive my shabby treatment of you, old fri

ten frustrate years, and kept only their harvest of experience. Old in one sense, in another youthful, he had vast advantages over such men as would henceforth be his competitors-the complex brain, the fiery heart, passion to desire, and skill in attempting. If with such endowment he could not win the prize which most men claim as a mere matter of course, a wife of social

on his own character and his lot he gave much weight to these irregularities, no doubt with justice. In both cases he was turned aside from the way of natural development and opportunity. He would now complete his academic course by taking the London degree at which he had long ago aimed; the preliminary examination might without difficulty be passed this summ

ssociating with him on amicable terms. With Mrs. Lilywhite, the mother of six children and possessed of many virtues, he presently became a favourite,-she saw in him 'a great deal of quiet moral force'. One or two families of good standing made him welcome at their houses; society is very kind to those who seek its benefits with recognised credentials. The more he saw of t

ling into soft, graceful outline. In his walks he pried eagerly for the first violet, welcomed the earliest blackthorn blossom; every common flower of field and hedgerow gave him a new, keen pleasure. As was to be expected he found the same impulses strong in Sidwell Warricombe and her sister. Sidwell could tell him of secret spots where the wood-sorrel made haste to flower, or where the white violet breathed its fragranc

ction. This failure did not trouble him. What he really desired was to read through his version of Reusch with Martin Warricombe, and before long he had brought it to pass that Martin requested a perusal of the manuscript as it advanced, which it did but slowly. Godwin durst not endanger his success in the examination by encroaching upon hours o