I
really cannot copy more of this effusion. It was all the same old will-
shaking game and came practically to this, that Ernest was no good, and
that if he went on as he was going on now, he would probably have to go
about the streets begging without any shoes or stockings soon after he
had left school, or at any rate, college; and that he, Theobald, and
Christina were almost too good for this world altogether.

After he had written this Theobald felt quite good-natured, and sent to
the Mrs Thompson of the moment even more soup and wine than her usual not
illiberal allowance.

Ernest was deeply, passionately upset by his father's letter; to think
that even his dear aunt, the one person of his relations whom he really
loved, should have turned against him and thought badly of him after all.
This was the unkindest cut of all. In the hurry of her illness Miss
Pontifex, while thinking only of his welfare, had omitted to make such
small present mention of him as would have made his father's innuendoes
stingless; and her illness being infectious, she had not seen him after
its nature was known. I myself did not know of Theobald's letter, nor
think enough about my godson to guess what might easily be his state. It
was not till many years afterwards that I found Theobald's letter in the
pocket of an old portfolio which Ernest had used at school, and in which
other old letters and school documents were collected which I have used
in this book. He had forgotten that he had it, but told me when he saw
it that he remembered it as the first thing that made him begin to rise
against his father in a rebellion which he recognised as righteous,
though he dared not openly avow it. Not the least serious thing was that
it would, he feared, be his duty to give up the legacy his grandfather
had left him; for if it was his only through a mistake, how could he keep
it?

During the rest of the half year Ernest was listless and unhappy. He was
very fond of some of his schoolfellows, but afraid of those whom he
believed to be better than himself, and prone to idealise everyone into
being his superior except those who were obviously a good deal beneath
him. He held himself much too cheap, and because he was without that
physical strength and vigour which he so much coveted, and also because
he knew he shirked his lessons, he believed that he was without anything
which could deserve the name of a good quality; he was naturally bad, and