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come your room shall be cosy so that you may have a resting corner
to yourself。 Nineteen and sixpence is the price of a return…ticket
which covers a month。 Would you decide just as you would yourself
like； only if you come we would hope to try and make it bright for
you； but you must not feel it a burden on your mind if you feel
disinclined to come in this direction。〃
〃When I have a bad nightmare；〃 said Ernest to me； laughing as he
showed me this letter； 〃I dream that I have got to stay with
Charlotte。〃
Her letters are supposed to be unusually well written； and I believe
it is said among the family that Charlotte has far more real
literary power than Ernest has。 Sometimes we think that she is
writing at him as much as to say； 〃There nowdon't you think you
are the only one of us who can write； read this！ And if you want a
telling bit of descriptive writing for your next book； you can make
what use of it you like。〃 I daresay she writes very well； but she
has fallen under the dominion of the words 〃hope；〃 〃think；〃 〃feel；〃
〃try；〃 〃bright；〃 and 〃little；〃 and can hardly write a page without
introducing all these words and some of them more than once。 All
this has the effect of making her style monotonous。
Ernest is as fond of music as ever； perhaps more so； and of late
years has added musical composition to the other irons in his fire。
He finds it still a little difficult； and is in constant trouble
through getting into the key of C sharp after beginning in the key
of C and being unable to get back again。
〃Getting into the key of C sharp；〃 he said； 〃is like an unprotected
female travelling on the Metropolitan Railway； and finding herself
at Shepherd's Bush； without quite knowing where she wants to go to。
How is she ever to get safe back to Clapham Junction？ And Clapham
Junction won't quite do either； for Clapham Junction is like the
diminished seventhsusceptible of such enharmonic change； that you
can resolve it into all the possible termini of music。〃
Talking of music reminds me of a little passage that took place
between Ernest and Miss Skinner； Dr Skinner's eldest daughter； not
so very long ago。 Dr Skinner had long left Roughborough； and had
become Dean of a Cathedral in one of our Midland countiesa
position which exactly suited him。 Finding himself once in the
neighbourhood Ernest called； for old acquaintance sake； and was
hospitably entertained at lunch。
Thirty years had whitened the Doctor's bushy eyebrowshis hair they
could not whiten。 I believe that but for that wig he would have
been made a bishop。
His voice and manner were unchanged； and when Ernest remarking upon
a plan of Rome which hung in the hall； spoke inadvertently of the
Quirinal； he replied with all his wonted pomp： 〃Yes； the QuirInal
or as I myself prefer to call it； the QuirInal。〃 After this triumph
he inhaled a long breath through the corners of his mouth； and flung
it back again into the face of Heaven； as in his finest form during
his head…mastership。 At lunch he did indeed once say； 〃next to
impossible to think of anything else；〃 but he immediately corrected
himself and substituted the words； 〃next to impossible to entertain
irrelevant ideas；〃 after which he seemed to feel a good deal more
comfortable。 Ernest saw the familiar volumes of Dr Skinner's works
upon the book…shelves in the Deanery dining…room； but he saw no copy
of 〃Rome or the BibleWhich？〃
〃And are you still as fond of music as ever； Mr Pontifex？〃 said Miss
Skinner to Ernest during the course of lunch。
〃Of some kinds of music； yes； Miss Skinner； but you know I never did
like modern music。〃
〃Isn't that rather dreadful？Don't you think you rather〃she was
going to have added； 〃ought to？〃 but she left it unsaid； feeling
doubtless that she had sufficiently conveyed her meaning。
〃I would like modern music； if I could； I have been trying all my
life to like it； but I succeed less and less the older I grow。〃
〃And pray； where do you consider modern music to begin？〃
〃With Sebastian Bach。〃
〃And don't you like Beethoven？〃
〃No； I used to think I did； when I was younger； but I know now that
I never really liked him。〃
〃Ah！ how can you say so？ You cannot understand him； you never could
say this if you understood him。 For me a simple chord of Beethoven
is enough。 This is happiness。〃
Ernest was amused at her strong family likeness to her fathera
likeness which had grown upon her as she had become older； and which
extended even to voice and manner of speaking。 He remembered how he
had heard me describe the game of chess I had played with the doctor
in days gone by； and with his mind's ear seemed to hear Miss Skinner
saying； as though it were an epitaph：…
〃Stay：
I may presently take
A simple chord of Beethoven；
Or a small semiquaver
From one of Mendelssohn's Songs without Words。〃
After luncheon when Ernest was left alone for half an hour or so
with the Dean he plied him so well with compliments that the old
gentleman was pleased and flattered beyond his wont。 He rose and
bowed。 〃These expressions；〃 he said； voce sua； 〃are very valuable
to me。〃 〃They are but a small part； Sir；〃 rejoined Ernest； 〃of what
anyone of your old pupils must feel towards you；〃 and the pair
danced as it were a minuet at the end of the dining…room table in
front of the old bay window that looked upon the smooth shaven lawn。
On this Ernest departed； but a few days afterwards； the Doctor wrote
him a letter and told him that his critics were a ＇Greek text＇； and
at the same time ＇Greek text＇。 Ernest remembered ＇Greek text＇； and
knew that the other words were something of like nature； so it was
all right。 A month or two afterwards； Dr Skinner was gathered to
his fathers。
〃He was an old fool； Ernest；〃 said I； 〃and you should not relent
towards him。〃
〃I could not help it；〃 he replied； 〃he was so old that it was almost
like playing with a child。〃
Sometimes； like all whose minds are active； Ernest overworks
himself； and then occasionally he has fierce and reproachful
encounters with Dr Skinner or Theobald in his sleepbut beyond this
neither of these two worthies can now molest him further。
To myself he has been a son and more than a son； at times I am half
afraidas for example when I talk to him about his booksthat I
may have been to him more like a father than I ought； if I have； I
trust he has forgiven me。 His books are the only bone of contention
between us。 I want him to write like other people； and not to
offend so many of his readers； he says he can no more change his
manner of writing than the colour of his hair； and that he must
write as he does or not at all。
With the public generally he is not a favourite。 He is admitted to
have talent； but it is considered generally to be of a queer
unpractical kind； and no matter how serious he is； he is always
accused of being in jest。 His first book was a success for reasons
which I have already explained； but none of his others have been
more than creditable failures。 He is one of those unfortunate men；
each one of whose books is sneered at by literary critics as soon as
it comes out； but becomes 〃excellent readi