came in, and somehow or other he began talking of Peak. I learned at once precisely what I expected, that Peak was known to all these people as a violent anti-Christian. Malkin refused to believe the story of his going in for the Church--it sounded to him a mere joke. Then came out the fact that he had written this article. They all knew about it.'
He saw a flush of shame upon Sidwell's half-hidden face. It gratified him. He was resolved to let her taste all the bitterness of her folly.
'It seems pretty clear that the Moxeys--at all events Miss Moxey--knew the rascally part he was playing. Whether they wished to unmask him, or not, I can't say. Perhaps not. Yet I caught an odd look on Miss Moxey's face when that man Malkin began to talk of Peak's characteristics and achievements. It came out, by-the-bye, that he had given all his acquaintances the slip; they had completely lost sight of him--I suppose until Miss Moxey met him by chance at Budleigh Salterton. There's some mystery still. She evidently kept Peak's secret from the Moorhouses and the Walworths. A nice business, altogether!'
Again there was a long silence. Then Sidwell raised her face and said, abruptly:
'You may be quite mistaken.'
'How?'
'You went to Mr. Peak in a spirit of enmity and anger. It is not likely he would explain himself. You may have quite misunderstood what he said.'
'Ridiculous! You mean that he was perhaps "converted" after writing this article?--Then why did he allow it to be published?'
'He did not sign it. He may have been unable to withdraw it from the editor's hands.'
'Bosh! He didn't sign it, because the idea of this Exeter campaign came between the reception and the appearance of his paper. In the ordinary course of things, he would have been only too glad to see his name in _The Critical_. The scoundrelly project was conceived perhaps the very day that I brought him here--perhaps in that moment--at lunch, do you remember?--when he began to talk of the sermon at the Cathedral?'
'Why did he go to the Cathedral and hear that sermon?'
'To amuse a Sunday morning, I suppose.'
'That is not very likely in a man who hates and ridicules religion.'
'It is decidedly more probable than the idea of his conversion.'
Sidwell fell back again into her brooding attitude.
'The reason of your mistake in judging him,' resumed Buckland, with emphasis, 'is that you have undervalued his intellect. I told you long ago that a man of Peak's calibre could not possibly be a supporter of dogmas and churches. No amount of plausible evidence would have made me believe in his sincerity. Let me beg you to appreciate the simple fact, that _no_ young man of brains and education is nowadays an honest defender of mediaeval Christianity--the Christianity of your churches. Such fellows may transact with their conscience, and make a more or less decent business of the clerical career; or, in rare cases, they may believe that society is served by the maintenance of a national faith, and accordingly preach with all manner of mental reserves and symbolical interpretations. These are in reality politicians, not priests. But Peak belongs to neither class. He is an acute cynic, bent on making the best of this world, since he believes in no other. How he must have chuckled after every visit to this house! He despises you, one and all. Believe me, he regards you with profound contempt.'
Buckland's obtuseness on the imaginative side spared him the understanding of his sister's state of mind. Though in theory he recognised that women were little amenable to reasoning, he took it for granted that a clear demonstration of Peak's duplicity must at once banish all thought of him from Sidwell's mind. Therefore he was unsparing in his assaults upon her delusion. It surprised him when at length Sidwell looked up with flashing, tear-dewed eyes and addressed him indignantly:
'In all this there is not one word of truth! You know that in representing the clergy as a body of ignorant and shallow men you speak out of prejudice. If you believed what you say, you would be yourself both ignorant and shallow. I can't trust your judgment of anyone whatever.'
She paused, but in a moment added the remark which would have come first had she spoken in the order of her thoughts.
'It is because the spirit of contempt is so familiar to you that you are so ready to perceive it in others. I consider that habit of mind worse than hypocrisy--yes, worse, far worse!'
Buckland was sorry for the pain he had given. The retort did not affect him, but he hung his head and looked uncomfortable. His next speech was in a milder strain:
'I feel it a duty, Sidwell, to represent this man to you in what I verily believe to be the true light. To be despised by one who is immeasurably contemptible surely can't distress you. If a butler gets into your house by means of a forged character, and then lays his plans for a great burglary, no doubt he scorns you for being so easily taken in,--and that is an exact parallel to Peak's proceedings. He has somehow got the exterior of a gentleman; you could not believe that one who behaved so agreeably and talked so well was concealing an essentially base nature. But I must remind you that Peak belongs by origin to the lower classes, which is as much as to say that he lacks the sense of honour generally inherited by men of our world. A powerful intellect by no means implies a corresponding development of the moral sense.'
Sidwell could not close her ears against the argument. But her features were still set in an expression of resentment, and she kept silence lest her voice should sound tearful.
'And don't be tempted by personal feeling,' pursued her brother, 'to make light of hypocrisy--especially this kind. The man who can act such a part as Peak's has been for the last twelve months must be capable of any depravity. It is difficult for you to estimate his baseness, because you are only half convinced that any one can really be an enemy of religious faith. You suspect a lurking belief even in the minds of avowed atheists. But take the assurance from me that a man like Peak (and I am at one with him in this matter) regards with absolute repugnance every form of supernaturalism. For him to affect belief in your religion, is a crime against conscience. Peak has committed this crime with a mercenary motive,--what viler charge could be brought against him?'
Without looking at him, his sister replied:
'Whether he is guilty or not, I can't yet determine. But the motive of his life here was not mercenary.'
'Then how would you describe it?' Buckland asked, in astonishment.
'I only know that it can't be called mercenary.'
'Then the distinction you draw must be a very fine one.--He has abandoned the employment by which he lived, and by his own admission he looks to the Church for means of support. It was necessary for him to make interest with people of social position; the closer his relations with them the better. From month to month he has worked skilfully to establish his footing in this house, and among your friends. What do you call this?'
She had no verbal answer to make, but her look declared that she held to another interpretation.
'Well,' Buckland added, impatiently, 'we will hear father's opinion. He, remember, has been deceived in a very gross and cruel way. Possibly he may help you to see the thing in all its hatefulness.'
Sidwell turned to him.
'You go to London this afternoon?'
'In an hour or two,' he replied, consulting his watch.
'Is it any use my asking you to keep silence about everything until I am back in town?'
Buckland frowned and hesitated.
'To mother as well as father, you mean?'
'Yes. Will you do me this kindness?'
'Answer me a question, Sidwell. Have you any thought of seeing Peak?'
'I can't say,' she replied, in agitation.