assical arbours with which the grounds of an adjacent
villa were adorned; the great gate-posts of the main entrances, the
school-house itself, looking grimly down from a great height, all these
held strange mysteries for the boy, sinking unconsciously into his
spirit.

But he made very few friends either with masters or boys. He had none
of the merry sociability of childhood; he confided in no one, he simply
lived his life reluctantly, hating the place, never sure that some ugly
and painful punishment, some ridicule or persecution might not fall on
him out of a clear sky for some offence unconsciously committed. He
had hardly a single pleasant memory connected with the school, except
of certain afternoons when the boys who had done well for the week were
allowed to go without supervision to the neighbouring shops, and
purchase simple provender. But if he made no friends, he at least made
no enemies; he was always friendly and good-tempered, and he was
preserved by his solitariness from all grossness and evil. It was a
big school, and occasionally he perceived in the talk and behaviour of
his companions the signs of some ugly and obscene mystery that he did
not understand, and that he had no wish to penetrate. But the result,
which in after days surprised him with a sense of deep gratitude and
thankfulness, was, that though he spent two years at this school, he
left it with absolutely untainted innocence, such innocence as in later
days he would have held to be almost inconceivable, as to all the
darker temptations of the senses. But the absence of close human
relationship was the strange thing. He had a few boys with whom he
associated in a familiar way. But he had no idea of the homes from
which they came, he knew nothing of their inner taste and fancies. And
though his own feelings and interests were definite enough and even
strong, though he read books of all kinds with intense avidity, he
never spoke of them to other boys, while at the same time he was averse
to writing letters home; his father complained once in the holidays
that he knew nothing of what the boy did at school. Hugh could not put
into words what he felt to be the truth, namely, that he hardly knew
himself. He submitted quietly and obediently to the dull routine of
the place, and felt so little interest in it, that he could not
conceive that his father should do so either. There were of course
occasional exciting incidents, but to relate t