"I cared about her in a curious way.

I enjoyed the sensation of crying over imaginary evils; and I should not like to say how often in bed at night I used to act over in my mind an imaginary death-bed scene of my nurse, and the pathetic remarks she was to make about Master Arthur, and the edifying bearing I was to show.

This was calculated within a given time to produce tears, and then I was content." He went to a private school, which he hated, and then to Winchester, which he grew to love.

The interesting earnest little boy merged into the clumsy loose-jointed schoolboy, silent and languid.

There are hardly any records of this time.
"My younger sister died," he told me, "when I was at school.