(_FRAGMENT FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY THAT IT IS HOPED WILL NEVER BE
WRITTEN._)
I was most anxious that my past should be concealed from him, as I
felt that once revealed, it would come between us as a barrier for
ever! So I dissembled. I adapted my conversation to his capabilities.
I learned to talk of lawn tennis, cricket, politics, even cookery.
Only on one occasion did I betray myself. With self-abasement I was
asking for an explanation of the electric telegraph. He gave me a
somewhat faulty definition.
"Dear me!" I cried. "How did they ever come to think of such a clever
thing?"
"_Omne ign[)o]tum pro magnifico_," he replied, with condescension.
I could not bear the false quantity even from _his_ lips, and I asked,
"Would not _ign[=o]tum_ be better, darling?"
I could have bitten out my tongue for such an indiscretion. He looked
at me sharply, with a glance of covert distrust.
"What do _you_ know about it?" he asked, somewhat brusquely.
"Nothing, nothing!" I said, confusedly. "I happened to be looking
through an Explanatory Pronouncing Dictionary of Latin Quotations, and
found the passage."
"Beware of consulting text-books," he returned, sententiously. "A
little knowledge is a dangerous thing."
For the moment I was safe, but I knew that the confidence that
hitherto had existed between us was shaken and lessened. When he left
me that day, he referred once more to the incident.
"Forgive me, SCHOLASTICA, I know I have been disagreeable. But I
confess I am upset--the fact is a man doesn't care to be picked up
sharp in his Latin."
"Forgive me!" I pleaded, "and you will love me?"
"_Ad f[)i]nem_!" he returned, making the first vowel short. I set my
teeth and was silent. He looked at me with a keen glance, as if he
would read my very soul, murmuring under his breath, "if she will
stand _that_, she will stand anything," and we parted! Once alone,
I gave vent to my feelings in a burst of passionate weeping. "_Ad
fïnem_!" Oh, it was hard to bear!
At length the day arrived for our marriage. Just as I was starting
for the Church a letter was handed to me. I recognised in the
shaky superscription (which seemed to tremble in every stroke) his
handwriting. The envelope contained a printed paper! It was the Oxford
Class List! Then the truth in all its hideousness dawned upon me. He
knew at last that I had taken a Double First!
* * * * *
This occurred many years ago. Well, time has brought its compensating
comforts, and I am at least able to exclaim, "_Quum multa injusta ac
prava fiunt moribus!_" without being guilty of using a false quantity!
* * * * *
"IN THE AIR!"