I knew that in returning to the society of my
healthy, boyish brothers, I was going back to a kind of life for
which I was no longer fitted. I had changed, but I had the sense to
see that it was a change that would not appeal to them, and that in
consequence I would have another and harder battle to fight before I
was allowed to go my own way.
I saw further still. I saw that after a month at home I would
not want to come back to school, and that I should have to
endure another period of despondency. I saw that my whole school
life would be punctuated by these violent uprootings, that the
alternation of term-time and holidays would make it impossible
for me to change life into a comfortable habit, and that even to
the end of my school-days it would be necessary for me to
preserve my new-found courage.
As I lay thinking in the dark I was proud of the clarity of my
mind, and glad that I had at last outwitted the tears that had made
my childhood so unhappy. I heard, the boys breathing softly around
me--those wonderful boys who could sleep even when they were
excited--and I felt that I was getting the better of them in thinking
while they slept. I remembered the prefect who had told me that we
were there only for a spell, but I did not speculate as to what
would follow afterwards. All that I had to do was to watch myself
ceaselessly, and be able to explain to myself everything that I felt
I and did. In that way I should always be strong I enough to guard
my weaknesses from the eyes of the jealous world in which I moved.
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