follies, to
deem it inconceivable that this woman should ever lose her dominion over me, or
another reign in her stead, - then my passion falls short of the true oestrum,
and I am only dallying with fancies which might spring up as often as I
encountered a charming girl.
    All things considered, to encourage this amorous preoccupation was probably
the height of unwisdom. The lover is ready at deluding himself, but Peak never
lost sight of the extreme unlikelihood that he should ever become Martin
Warricombe's son-in-law, of the thousand respects which forbade his hoping that
Sidwell would ever lay her hand in his. That deep-rooted sense of class which
had so much influence on his speculative and practical life asserted itself,
with rigid consistency, even against his own aspirations; he attributed to the
Warricombes more prejudice on this subject than really existed in them. He, it
was true, belonged to no class whatever, acknowledged no subordination save that
of the hierarchy of intelligence; but this could not obscure the fact that his
brother sold seeds across a counter, that his sister had married a haberdasher,
that his uncle (notoriously) was somewhere or other supplying the public with
cheap repasts. Girls of Sidwell's delicacy do not misally themselves, for they
take into account the fact that such misalliance is fraught with elements of
unhappiness, affecting husband as much as wife. No need to dwell upon the
scruples suggested by his moral attitude; he would never be called upon to
combat them with reference to Sidwell's future.
    What, then, was he about? For what advantage was he playing the hypocrite?
Would he, after all, be satisfied with some such wife as the average curate may
hope to marry?
    A hundred times he reviewed the broad question, by the light of his six
months' experience. Was Sidwell Warricombe his ideal woman, absolutely speaking?
Why, no; not with all his glow of feeling could he persuade himself to declare
her that. Satisfied up to a certain point, admitted to the sphere of wealthy
refinement, he now had leisure to think of yet higher grades, of the women who
are not only exquisite creatures by social comparison but rank by divine right
among the foremost of their race. Sidwell was far from intolerant, and held her
faiths in a sincerely ethical spirit. She judged nobly, she often saw with clear
vision. But must not something of kindly condescension always blend with his
admiring devotedness? Were it but possible to win the love of a woman who looked
forth with eyes thoroughly purged from all mist of tradition and
conventionalism