awareness of his Saviour, his awareness of sin? He cares less for Christ than for cricket. And yet Mr Hughes declares at the end of the book that the Doctor was satisfied with him.’
Onslow got up to poke the fire, and Louisa raised her head to look at him. It seemed to her that he was being unduly vehement, and she glanced across at her brother. Meditatively she sucked the end of a piece of silk before using it to thread her needle; this was a habit of which none of her governesses had succeeded in breaking her.
‘A manly character,’ said Onslow briskly to the fire, ‘is not one possessed of what I believe is called a punishing right, or left – do you remember Mr Hughes’s remarkable paean in favour of fisticuffs? – but one who is aware of the need to combat sin in himself and in others. Is there one hint in that book that this was our master’s view?’ It was rare for Onslow to talk in this firmly moral strain outside the pulpit. ‘Instead he is portrayed almost as believing that most schoolboy crimes are mere pieces of mischief, scarcely deserving the name of sin. How well I remember his teaching me otherwise.’
‘So do I, indeed,’ said Primrose.
Onslow turned to him, and said almost angrily:
‘My dear Martin, you were as innocent as a newborn kitten, you have never understood sin because you are incapable of committing it and you always were. Do not attempt to make me believe that Arnold ever found it necessary to show you the heinousness of your offences, for you committed none.’
‘What nonsense!’ Primrose said, though it was true that Dr Arnold had never once found it necessary to correct him. ‘Really, I am quite insulted to learn you think that I, in my profession, have no understanding of sin.’
‘Your goodness sprang from the heart, as everyone could see,’ Onslow went on regardless. He seemed about to say something else, but Louisa interrupted.
‘Were you ever naughty?’
‘Yes,’ said Onslow. ‘Yes, I was what you choose to call naughty. That was before I knew you, Martin – I was in the Fifth and you were already in the Sixth.’
‘What did you do?’ said Primrose, looking interested.
‘Oh, let us say I broke most of the rules devised for our social and spiritual benefit,’ said Onslow. ‘But I was never detected, possibly because whatever I did outside school, I was always careful not to neglect my schoolwork. Surely I have told you this before?’
‘And I suppose you must have been very careful in other ways,’ said Louisa.
‘Yes, Louisa, highly skilled in the art of deceit.’
‘If you were never detected,’ said Primrose, making a steeple of his fingers and raising them to his lips, ‘how and why did Arnold show you the error of your ways?’
There was a long pause. Then Onslow replied:
‘I entered the Sixth. Is that not a sufficient explanation – that I was thereafter constantly exposed to his mind and his eye?’ Having said this, he left his place by the fireplace, went to sit down again, and continued: ‘But knowing what I do of parents, I cannot be surprised that the book has been so successful. What a comfort it must be to them to think that the more loutish are their sons, the more they are possessed of Mr Hughes’s new cardinal virtue of Englishness.’
Louisa and Primrose both smiled, and the subject was changed.
*
The same evening, Christian found a letter from Bright waiting for him on the table in his room. It was in a sealed envelope, and when he opened it he read:
My dear Anstey-Ward,
I give you my word that what I told you in chapel is true, and I take it very hard that you refuse to believe me, only on the grounds, as I suppose, that what I wrote is shocking to your sensibilities.
It may seem improbable in your eyes, but Onslow is passionately in love with me, and if you will not believe me, I can show you all his letters. In the meantime, as I suppose you will doubt that I do in fact have such letters and will merely think I
Onslow got up to poke the fire, and Louisa raised her head to look at him. It seemed to her that he was being unduly vehement, and she glanced across at her brother. Meditatively she sucked the end of a piece of silk before using it to thread her needle; this was a habit of which none of her governesses had succeeded in breaking her.
‘A manly character,’ said Onslow briskly to the fire, ‘is not one possessed of what I believe is called a punishing right, or left – do you remember Mr Hughes’s remarkable paean in favour of fisticuffs? – but one who is aware of the need to combat sin in himself and in others. Is there one hint in that book that this was our master’s view?’ It was rare for Onslow to talk in this firmly moral strain outside the pulpit. ‘Instead he is portrayed almost as believing that most schoolboy crimes are mere pieces of mischief, scarcely deserving the name of sin. How well I remember his teaching me otherwise.’
‘So do I, indeed,’ said Primrose.
Onslow turned to him, and said almost angrily:
‘My dear Martin, you were as innocent as a newborn kitten, you have never understood sin because you are incapable of committing it and you always were. Do not attempt to make me believe that Arnold ever found it necessary to show you the heinousness of your offences, for you committed none.’
‘What nonsense!’ Primrose said, though it was true that Dr Arnold had never once found it necessary to correct him. ‘Really, I am quite insulted to learn you think that I, in my profession, have no understanding of sin.’
‘Your goodness sprang from the heart, as everyone could see,’ Onslow went on regardless. He seemed about to say something else, but Louisa interrupted.
‘Were you ever naughty?’
‘Yes,’ said Onslow. ‘Yes, I was what you choose to call naughty. That was before I knew you, Martin – I was in the Fifth and you were already in the Sixth.’
‘What did you do?’ said Primrose, looking interested.
‘Oh, let us say I broke most of the rules devised for our social and spiritual benefit,’ said Onslow. ‘But I was never detected, possibly because whatever I did outside school, I was always careful not to neglect my schoolwork. Surely I have told you this before?’
‘And I suppose you must have been very careful in other ways,’ said Louisa.
‘Yes, Louisa, highly skilled in the art of deceit.’
‘If you were never detected,’ said Primrose, making a steeple of his fingers and raising them to his lips, ‘how and why did Arnold show you the error of your ways?’
There was a long pause. Then Onslow replied:
‘I entered the Sixth. Is that not a sufficient explanation – that I was thereafter constantly exposed to his mind and his eye?’ Having said this, he left his place by the fireplace, went to sit down again, and continued: ‘But knowing what I do of parents, I cannot be surprised that the book has been so successful. What a comfort it must be to them to think that the more loutish are their sons, the more they are possessed of Mr Hughes’s new cardinal virtue of Englishness.’
Louisa and Primrose both smiled, and the subject was changed.
*
The same evening, Christian found a letter from Bright waiting for him on the table in his room. It was in a sealed envelope, and when he opened it he read:
My dear Anstey-Ward,
I give you my word that what I told you in chapel is true, and I take it very hard that you refuse to believe me, only on the grounds, as I suppose, that what I wrote is shocking to your sensibilities.
It may seem improbable in your eyes, but Onslow is passionately in love with me, and if you will not believe me, I can show you all his letters. In the meantime, as I suppose you will doubt that I do in fact have such letters and will merely think I
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