“I thought Clemence was a favourite of Miss Chancellor’s,” said Maria.
“Well, perhaps I was. And I think Gwendolen was too.”
“I have the same favourites,” said Sir Roderick, “though I should not have expected it. That was a nice little girl, quite untouched by all that Miss Petticoat said.”
“She has been at school for years,” said Clemence. “It must have done its worst for her.”
“Or done its best,” said Maria. “We must be fair.”
“I don’t think it does anything for her. She does not seem to take any notice of it.”
“That is the explanation,” said Roderick. “She keeps herself apart. The others are sunk in the slough up to the neck. Miss Petticoat is right.”
“Really, Sir Roderick, your powers of observation! We shall be afraid to meet you.”
“We are all sunk in a slough of some kind,” said Maria.
“No, no, my pretty, you are not fair to yourself. Things are not as bad as that. We all do some little things—have something on the debit side.”
“Clemence is in spirits,” said Maria, looking at her daughter. “Is it the result of a day with her friends?”
“A sense of duty well done, Lady Shelley,” said Miss Petticott.
“Which is it, Clemence?”
“Well, I am glad it was all a success. But I don’t think I want it again just yet.”
“I should hope not, as it has to happen in the term,” said Miss Petticott.
“You do not wish you were back at school?” said Maria.
“I don’t think it is a good thing to live in two places,” said Clemence, with a note of truth. “And, of course, you must have your home.”
“You would not like to have the best of both worlds?”
“I don’t think you do have it. You can’t have the best of home in a few months. And the long terms do not seem the best of school. They are the worst of it.”
Sir Roderick and Miss Petticott laughed.
“You would never find another term so long,” said Maria.
“Do not confuse their minds, Maria. They are quite clear. Come and befog your own with your charity accounts. It will not rest while they are on it.”
“Can I be of any help, Lady Shelley?”
“Well, if it were not at the end of a long day, Miss Petticott, and you were not tired out and only fit for bed——” Maria hesitated to ignore these circumstances.
“A fig Miss Petticoat cares for any of that,” said Sir Roderick, prepared to support the disregard.
“Tired out and fit for fiddlesticks, Lady Shelley! I have had a day of pleasure. It is you who have had the duties, you and poor Clemence here. Those accounts have been on my mind. I have had a sense that they were accumulating.”
“You will soon have evidence of it,” said Sir Roderick. “The library table is like a haystack, except that it has no shape.”
“Well, it will not be so for long, Sir Roderick,” said Miss Petticott, leading the way from the room with a firm step.
Sefton looked at his sister, as the door closed.
“We never seem to be alone until the end of the day. We always talk about things when we are tired. But I think we know about them.”
“It may be the best time to see them. It is no good for the morning to bring fresh hope. There is not enough reason for it.”
“You said we could not live in two places, and that seems to be the whole thing. Places do not understand each other.”
“And some places could never be understood. Homes are one of them. To think there are thousands of them, all over the world! The girls did not understand this one, even when they saw it. And I don’t suppose the boys did either.”
“We did not really want them to. It is somehow a thing we could not bear. And yet there is not anything really to be ashamed of.”
“There are things they would be ashamed of; and that would make us ashamed. Little things that do not matter, but that they would think mattered. You can’t help seeing them with their eyes. And they all seem to see them with the same ones.”
“And then we are ashamed of being ashamed. We should not like Father and Mother to know.”
“It is really the people at school we are ashamed of, or should be, if we cared for them enough. I don’t think people can often make friendships at school that last for their lives. The friendships would end when school ended. It would be as it was with us today. And people are not often with people they knew at school. They are with people they have known later, and that is what you would expect.”
“I think I could have a friendship with Bacon, if we knew each other better. I don’t think that would end.”
“That may be partly what it is. We did not have time to get far. But I don’t think the friendships would go on, even if they were real at the time.”
“But they would do for the time. And that is what matters then. It is a pity we went to school, if we were not going to stay. It would have been better not to know about it.”
“Of course it is a pity. No one is in any doubt. Now we think Mother is odd and shabby; and Father is simple; and Miss Petticott is on the level of the matrons; and none of them is different from what they were. And they see us as children who would get things by cheating, if they could. They do not think of us in the same way. And that is hardly an enrichment of our family life.”
Sefton laughed and his sister continued.
“And we think Aldom is an awkward little manservant, and should be ashamed of his acting before the schools, though we used to be proud of it. We know he wanted to act today, and let him be disappointed. The girls would laugh at his village ideas. They laugh at so much and are ashamed of so much, and yet they are not so much in themselves; they do not even know so very much. It is only that they know it in a way that makes it count.”
“The boys are not as bad as they are.”
“Those boys are too young. Older boys would not be different. You will find it when you go to a larger school.”
“But that will not be for years.”
“No, for years things will be the same. And there are three hundred and sixty-five days in every year. We shall get used to Miss Petticott; we are getting used to her now. We shall stop being surprised at her ordinariness, and go back to trying less, and that will have its bright side. The schools will get further behind, and be just a thing to be remembered. We shall not even talk about them, as no one will know what we mean. I hardly think the people from them will come here again. Mother did not suggest it, though I could see it came into her mind. She will not say what may not be the truth. And it is no use to know people whom you are not to go on knowing. It is only feeling ashamed, and then having to be grateful; and the two things do not fit, and neither is any good——” Clemence started as the door opened, but relaxed on perceiving Oliver.
“I have come to ask how you are, after what you have been through. It seemed heartless to let you go to bed without a word of human kindness. The same blood flows in our veins.”
“We are just as usual. Perhaps we are rather tired.”
“You have a brave heart, Clemence.”
“Why should there be anything wrong with us?”
“Things might have been too much for you. Something might have snapped.”
Clemence and Sefton smiled.
“You will find what is graven on your hearts. You will never face a greater demand. You have never faced one as great.”
The children raised their eyes.
“Except on the day of your exposure. I was speaking of the normal range of life. And that had the advantage of not being regarded as a festive occasion.”
“It had no others,” said Clemence.
“Did the girls admire you for having me for a brother?”
“Yes, I think they did. You are different from most brothers.”
“The boys did not seem to,” said Sefton. “You had been a master at their school. They don’t admire anyone who is
that.”
“The girls thought it was a joke,” said Clemence.
“Didn’t you tell them it was?” said Sefton.
“It was a wise and brave word,” said Oliver. “Did they think Maria’s dress was a joke, or did they know it was worn in earnest?”
“It was the one she wore on the day she took me to school.”
“Further words would add nothing. But yours was not the same?”
“Yes,” said Clemence, almost smiling. “And it had been altered.”
“And we wonder if you ought to return! Things had to happen to prevent it.”
“Well, they happened,” said Clemence. “And the same dress might be packed. It would be.”
“So we stop at nothing,” said Oliver. “And you could only do the same.”
“Are other people as ashamed as we are?” said Sefton.
“If they wear the same clothes, and if their mothers wear the same ones, and order economical households. Those are grounds for shame.”
“I suppose it is really false shame.”
“That is what it is called. It is shame in its strongest form.”
“The economy did not show much today,” said Clemence.
“No, Maria is hospitable. But she has not the right kind of pride, not the kind that is really the wrong kind. We could never rely on her. We can only hide our heads at home. Homes cause the shame, but they also provide a hiding-place for it, and we have to take one thing with another.”
“You would hardly think homes would be so fair,” said Clemence.
“No, we see the claim they have on us. And anyhow they impose it. You see life whole, Clemence. I leave you with a heavy heart, but with an easy mind.”
“I suppose the same words would apply to us,” said his sister, as the door closed.
“Well, anyhow, we have nothing to dread now,” said Sefton. “Everything seems to be over.”
“That is what it is. There is nothing left. Nothing good, nothing bad, nothing to dread, nothing to hope for. Nothing.”
“Really, Clemence, that is a needlessly negative view to take of life,” said Miss Chancellor’s voice at the door. “I think you might manage to be a little more on the positive side.”
“Oh, we still have Aldom!” said Sefton. “He will always be here. He almost seems to be given back to us.”
“He heard the talk downstairs. He knows as much as we do now. He may soon know more. Things in his mind seem to grow.”
Maria and Miss Petticott, coming upstairs, heard sounds of laughter and paused.
“What is it?” said Maria.
“Relief, Lady Shelley. Relief that the aftermath of school is over, and home life stretches before them in happiness and peace. That is what it is.”
This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader
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Copyright © Ivy Compton-Burnett 1949
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Two Worlds and Their Ways Page 31