Ivy Compton-Burnett - Two Worlds and Their Ways

Maria’s eyes rested on her husband, as though questioning if this could be the case.

“Is there not a good deal of simple selfishness in the feeling?” said Lesbia, in a tone of taking a purely theoretic view.

“Of course there is, or it would not be the kind worth giving,” said Sir Roderick. “How do you separate a personal feeling from yourself?”

“I believe it is the only kind,” said Juliet. “When people love other people better than themselves, it means that they are prepared to give them up, or not to see them for their own sakes, or do something else that shows indifference.”

“A good definition of sending people to school,” said Sir Roderick.

“I am arguing against my own advantage. No wonder Lucius is looking at me. I am almost on his plane.”

“Might it not be better for them to go to schools kept by strangers?”

“Yes, Roderick, that might be better,” said Lesbia, in a quiet tone, that yet had a faintly scolding note. “It would be necessary to look at the matter from all its sides.”

“What difference would it make to them to go to connections?” said Maria. “If one thing is better than the other, there must be some difference.”

“Well, we should have to be careful to show them no favour,” said Juliet. “And to let no sign of interest or affection escape us. And awkward things might reach home, that would otherwise escape notice. And their companions would see them as the relations — no, of course, the connections — of people who earned their living by service to themselves; and I believe they might see them as relations. And they would get a good deal of knowledge of life.”

“Yes. Yes. It would have that side. It would have that educational point,” said Lesbia. “And we are not related to them, you know.”

“It seems that you ought to be,” said Oliver.

“Yes, Oliver, it does seem so.”

“Would you advise us to send Sefton to you, Lucius?” said Sir Roderick.

“Well, well, I am the last person to give the advice. I might be prejudiced in favour of my own methods. It might be so, as I have given my life to them. I would rather hold aloof.”

“It was I who wrote the letter,” said Juliet. “And that was because I could not disobey Lesbia. Lucius only gets pupils in spite of himself. That is why he has so many. People like their boys to go where they are not wanted.”

“Why?” said Sir Roderick.

“They think they will get so much. If they were only to get a little, they would be wanted.”

“Lesbia, would you advise us to send Clemence to you?” said Maria, in a definite tone.

“I would, Maria, and for the reason that Lucius gave for not advising the same thing, that I am prejudiced in favour of my own methods, as I have given my life to them.”

“Well, I suppose the matter is settled,” said Maria, with a sigh.

“The two kinds of advice seem to lead along the same way,” said Sir Roderick.

“Settled need not be the word as yet,” said Lesbia, looking at the window, “though it is a good thing to have the lines of the matter clear. Questions will arise and will not be gainsaid, and among them is the matter of a vacancy. I do not generally allow such problems to follow me into the country.”

“Is there a vacancy or not?” said Sir Roderick.

“Letters arrive by every post,” said Lesbia, stooping to adjust her shoe. “When I have the data, the matter can be settled.”

“You are rash, Aunt Lesbia,” said Oliver. “Suppose letters do not arrive at such intervals?”

“Then I must say that they have not been forwarded,” said his aunt with a laugh. “They are waiting for me at home.”

“Why should other pupils have preference over Clemence?” said Sir Roderick.

“They may make a definite application,” said Lesbia, in an incidental tone.

“I did not think about vacancies,” said Juliet. “I am so undignified. And I do not know about them. Perhaps mere space does not attract my attention. Or I may be used to it.”

“We have plenty of room,” said her husband. “We are not running the school at full numbers.”

“Lucius, you have even less dignity than I have. And it is not true that people have nothing to fear, if they speak the truth. They have everything to fear. That is the reason of falsehood. And now we fear that they will not send Sefton to us. Why should they when there is a vacancy?”

“A school may not be any better for being so full,” said Sir Roderick.

“But when it is better, I suppose it is full,” said Juliet.

“It seems that my line was the right one,” said Lesbia, with a smile.

“So Clemence can go to you, if we wish to send her?” said Sir Roderick.

“No, seriously, Roderick, that question must wait.”

“Aunt Lesbia spoke, as she said, seriously,” said Oliver.

“What made you decide to be a schoolmaster, Lucius?” said Sir Roderick, keeping his tone neutral.

“I thought the work was of use and interest, and perhaps I had not much choice.”

“What a beautiful answer!” said his wife. “So open and uncringing. Simple, too, which is always creditable.”

“Yes, simplicity is to the good,” said Lesbia, half to herself, “if there is no reason to dispense with it.”

“We do not often avoid it,” said Oliver. “Complexity is so much more difficult.”

“That is what I should have thought,” said Juliet, “if I dared to think it. But I am never sure of myself.”

“Is no one going to ask me why I chose the profession?” said Lesbia.

“No, my dear,” said Mr. Firebrace. “A woman is a governess or nothing. But it is natural to ask to man.”

“Oliver, must you play the piano just while we are talking?” said Maria.

“Yes, I must, Maria. The need is upon me. And you have been talking more easily for my subdued and sensitive accompaniment.”

“I wish I had your services for a term,” said Lucius. “My music master is to have a rest, and it is difficult to get a substitute.”

“Well, why not make the boy a governess with the rest of you?” said Mr. Firebrace. “Why should we have exceptions in the family?”

“I should like to be one for a term,” said Oliver. “I should like to see the world of school from a different angle and know why it is called a world. And to know if schoolmasters do what they are supposed to; destroy each other in imagination, and treat boys with hysterical cruelty, and ruin them by romantic devotion, and lose heart and hope and become machines. Because it does not sound so very like machines. And I should like Grandpa to learn what it is to be without me. Some little thing that he takes for granted might return to him and loom larger than any great one. And Father would learn that he does not really want to be without his elder son. Maria would learn nothing, as she does want to be without me.”

“A governess is born, not made,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Well, may we regard it as settled?” said Lucius.

“Yes, sir. I must call you that now, instead of ‘Uncle Lucius’, or the masters would laugh at me. Or is it only the boys? There is so much I want to know.”

“Is this all nonsense, or is it serious?” said Maria.

“It is serious on my side,” said Lucius.

“It is both one thing and the other,” said Mr. Firebrace, looking from Lucius to his grandson. “But I think it is to be carried out.”

“Well, perhaps it would be good for Sefton to have a grown-up brother at the school,” said Maria. “It might give him a background.”

“You are given a real reason for your going, Oliver,” said Sir Roderick.

“It would make no difference,” said Lucius, “or anyhow would be no advantage. Their paths would not cross, and the boys would think no more of Sefton. They have little respect for labour held to be worthy of its hire.”