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                                       II

In a by-way which declines from the main thoroughfare of Exeter, and bears the
name of Longbrook Street, is a row of small houses placed above long strips of
sloping garden. They are old and plain, 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 a
hill here interposed between the city and the inland-winding valley of Exe. The
little terrace may be regarded as urban or rural, according to the tastes and
occasions of those who dwell there. In one direction, a walk of five minutes
will conduct to the middle of High Street, and in the other it takes scarcely
longer to reach the open country.
    On the upper floor of one of these cottages, Godwin Peak had made his abode.
Sitting-room and bedchamber, furnished with homely comfort, answered to his
bachelor needs, and would allow of his receiving without embarrassment any
visitor whom fortune might send him. Of quietness he was assured, for a widow
and her son, alike remarkable for sobriety of demeanour, were the only persons
who shared the house with 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 duties, that Godwin seldom heard anything
except the voice of the cuckoo-clock, a pleasant sound to him. Her son, employed
at a nurseryman's, was a great sinewy fellow with a face of such ruddiness that
it seemed to diffuse warmth; on Sunday afternoon, whatever the state of the sky,
he sat behind the house in his shirt-sleeves, and smoked a pipe as he
contemplated the hart's-tongue which grew there upon a rockery.
    »The gentleman from London« - so Mrs. Roots was wont to style her lodger in
speaking with neighbours - had brought his books with him; they found place on a
few shelves. His microscope had its stand by the window, and one or two other
scientific implements lay about the room. The cabinets bequeathed to him by Mr.
Gunnery he had sent to Twybridge, to remain in his mother's care. In taking the
lodgings, he described himself merely as a student, and gave
