“I had no religion at that time,” he writes, “with the exception of six months, when I got interested in it by forming a friendship with an attractive ritualistic curate; but my confirmation made no impression on me, and I think I had no moral feelings that I could distinguish.  I had no inherent hatred of wrong, or love for right; but I was fastidious, and that kept me from being riotous, and undemonstrative, which made me pure.”

CHAPTER II

Arthur went up to the University, Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1870; he did not distinguish himself there, or acquire more than he had done at Winchester:  “The one thing I learnt at Winchester that has been useful to me since, was how to tie up old letters:  my house-master taught me how to do that—­it was about all he was fit for.  The thing I learnt at Cambridge was to smoke:  my cousin Fred taught me that, and he was hardly fit for that.”

As it was at Cambridge that I first met him, I will give a short description of him as far as I can remember.

He was a tall, lounging fellow, rather clumsy in his movements, but with a kind of stateliness about him; he looked, and was, old for his years.  He was a little short-sighted and wore glasses; without them his brow had that puzzled, slightly bothered look often seen in weak-sighted people.  His face was not unattractive, though rather heavy; his hair was dark and curly—­he let it grow somewhat long from indolence—­and he had a drooping moustache.  He was one of the men who, without the slightest idea of doing so, always managed to create rather an impression.  As he lounged along the street with his hands in his pockets, generally alone, people used to turn and look at him.  If he had taken a line of any kind he would have been known everywhere—­but he did nothing.

The occasion on which I met him first was in the rooms of a common friend; there was a small gathering of men.  He was sitting in a low chair, smoking intently.  It was the one occupation he loved; he hardly said anything, though the conversation was very animated; silence was his latest phase; but as it was his first term, and he was not very well acquainted with the party, it appeared natural; not that being surrounded by dukes and bishops would have made the slightest difference to him if he had been disposed to talk, but he was not talkative, and held his tongue.

There had been some discussion about careers and their relative merits.  One rather cynical man had broken in upon the ambitious projects that were being advanced with, “Well, we must remember that we are after all only average men.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, slowly, from the depths of his chair, “no doubt; only not quite so average.”

The gentleman addressed, who was a senior man, stared for a moment at the freshman who had ventured to correct him, to whom he had not even been introduced; but Arthur was staring meditatively at the smoke rising from his pipe, and did not seem inclined to move or be moved, so he concluded not to continue the discussion.