te that, for a time, my
deep mourning was held by them to give me a claim to their forbearance.

But I had an unfortunate tendency to sudden floods of tears (apparently
for no cause whatever, really from some secret spring of association,
such as I remember was touched when I first found myself learning Latin
from the same primer over which my mother and I had puzzled together),
and these outbursts at first aroused my companions' contempt, and
finally their open ridicule.

I could not conceal my shrinking dislike to their society, which was not
calculated to make them more favourably disposed towards me; while my
tastes, my expressions, my ways of looking at things, were all at total
variance with their own standards.

The general disapproval might well have shown itself in a harsher manner
than that of merely ignoring my existence--and it says much for the tone
of the school that it did not; unfortunately, I felt their indifference
almost as keenly as I had dreaded their notice.

From my masters I met with more favour, for I had been thoroughly well
grounded, and found, besides, a temporary distraction in my school-work;
but this was hardly likely to render me more beloved by my fellows, and
so it came to pass that every day saw my isolation more complete.

Something, however, made me anxious to hide this from Marjory's eyes,
and whenever she happened to be looking on at us in the school grounds
or the playing fields, I made dismal attempts to appear on terms of
equality with the rest, and would hang about a group with as much
pretence of belonging to it as I thought at all prudent.

If she had had more opportunities of questioning me, she would have
found me out long before; as it was, the only occasion on which we were
near one another was at the weekly drawing lesson, when, although she
drew less and talked more than the Professor quite approved of, she was
obliged to restrict herself to a conversation which did not admit of
confidences.

But this negative neutral-tinted misery was not to last; I was harmless
enough, but then to some natures nothing is so offensive as
inoffensiveness. My isolation was certain to raise me up an enemy in
time, and he came in the person of one Clarence Ormsby.

He was a sturdy, good-looking fellow, about two years older than myself,
good at games, and, though not brilliant in other respects, rather idle
than dull. He was popular in the school, and I believe his general
disposi