nts he had the name of a stern 'sweater', one
not easily beaten where he had set his mind on excelling. He was not
generally liked, for his mood appeared unsocial, and a repelling
arrogance was sometimes felt in his talk. No doubt--said the more
fortunate young men--he came from a very poor home, and suffered from
the narrowness of his means. They noticed that he did not subscribe to
the College Union, and that he could never join in talk regarding the
diversions of the town. His two or three intimates were chosen from
among those contemporaries who read hard and dressed poorly.

The details of Godwin's private life were noteworthy. Accustomed
hitherto to a domestic circle, at Kingsmill he found himself isolated,
and it was not easy for him to surrender all at once the comforts of
home. For a time he felt as though his ambition were a delinquency
which entailed the punishment of loneliness. Nor did his relations with
Sir Job Whitelaw tend to mitigate this feeling. In his first interview
with the Baronet, Godwin showed to little advantage. A deadly
bashfulness forbade him to be natural either in attitude or speech. He
felt his dependence in a way he had not foreseen; the very clothes he
wore, then fresh from the tailor's, seemed to be the gift of charity,
and their stiffness shamed him. A man of the world, Sir Job could make
allowance for these defects. He understood that the truest kindness
would be to leave a youth such as this to the forming influences of the
College. So Godwin barely had a glimpse of Lady Whitelaw in her
husband's study, and thereafter for many months he saw nothing of his
benefactors. Subsequently he was twice invited to interviews with Sir
Job, who talked with kindness and commendation. Then came the Baronet's
death. Godwin received an assurance that this event would be no check
upon his career, but he neither saw nor heard directly from Lady
Whitelaw.

Not a house in Kingsmill opened hospitable doors to the lonely student;
nor was anyone to blame for this. With no family had he friendly
acquaintance. When, towards the end of his second year, he grew
sufficiently intimate with Buckland Warricombe to walk out with him to
Thornhaw, it could be nothing more than a scarcely welcome exception to
the rule of solitude. Impossible for him to cultivate the friendship of
such people as the Warricombes, with their large and joyous scheme of
life. Only at a hearth where homeliness and cordiality united to unt