some thriving little town at the ends of the earth,
where a young Englishman of good manners and unusual culture would easily be
admitted to the intimacy of the richest families; he saw the ideal colonist (a
man of good birth, but a sower of wild oats in his youth) with two or three
daughters about him - beautiful girls, wondrously self-instructed - living amid
romantic dreams of the old world, and of the lover who would some day carry them
off (with a substantial share of papa's wealth) to Europe and the scenes of
their imagination.
    The mind has marvellous methods of self-defence against creeping lethargy of
despair. At the point to which he had been reduced by several days of blank
despondency, Peak was able to find genuine encouragement in visions such as
this. He indulged his fancy until the vital force began to stir once more within
him, and then, with one angry sweep, all his theological books and manuscripts
were flung out of sight. Away with this detestable mummery! Now let Bruno
Chilvers pour his eloquence from the pulpit of St. Margaret's, and rear to what
heights he could the edifice of his social glory; men of that stamp were alone
fitted to thrive in England. Was not he almost certainly a hypocrite, masking
his brains (for brains he had) under a show of broadest Anglicanism? But his
career was throughout consistent. He trod in the footsteps of his father, and
with inherited aptitude moulded antique traditions into harmony with the taste
of the times. Compared with such a man, Peak felt himself a bungler. The wonder
was that his clumsy lying had escaped detection.
    Another day, and he had done nothing whatever, but was still buoyed up by
the reaction of visionary hope. His need now was of communicating his change of
purpose to some friendly hearer. A week had passed since he had exchanged a word
with anyone but Mrs. Roots, and converse he must. Why not with Mr. Warricombe?
That was plainly the next step: to see Martin and make known to him that after
all he could not become a clergyman. No need of hinting a conscientious reason.
At all events, nothing more definite than a sense of personal unfitness, a
growing perception of difficulties inherent in his character. It would be very
interesting to hear Mr. Warricombe's replies.
    A few minutes after this decision was taken, he set off towards the Old
Tiverton Road, walking at great speed, flourishing his stick - symptoms of the
nervous cramp (so to speak) which he was dispelling. He reached