“Jane! No, sir. Pamela, Miss Byron, Clarissa,--females in Richardson, who, according to Dr. Johnson, ‘taught the passions to move at the command of virtue.’ I trust for your sake that Dr. Johnson did not err in that assertion, for I found all these females at night in your own private apartments.” “Oh!” said Sir Peter, “that’s all?” “All I remember at ten years old,” replied Kenelm. “And at Mr. Welby’s or at college,” proceeded Sir Peter, timorously, “was your acquaintance with females of the same kind?” Kenelm shook his head. “Much worse: they were very naughty indeed at college.” “I should think so, with such a lot of young fellows running after them.” “Very few fellows run after the females. I mean--rather avoid them.” “So much the better.” “No, my father, so much the worse; without an intimate knowledge of those females there is little use going to college at all.” “Explain yourself.” “Every one who receives a classical education is introduced into their society,--Pyrrha and Lydia, Glycera and Corinna, and many more of the same sort; and then the females in Aristophanes, what do you say to them, sir?” “Is it only females who lived two thousand or three thousand years ago, or more probably never lived at all, whose intimacy you have cultivated? Have you never admired any real women?” “Real women! I never met one. Never met a woman who was not a sham, a sham from the moment she is told to be pretty-behaved, conceal her sentiments, and look fibs when she does not speak them. But if I am to learn sham life, I suppose I must put up with sham women.” “Have you been crossed in love that you speak so bitterly of the sex?” “I don’t speak bitterly of the sex. Examine any woman on her oath, and she’ll own she is a sham, always has been, and always will be, and is proud of it.” “I am glad your mother is not by to hear you. You will think differently one of these days. Meanwhile, to turn to the other sex, is there no young man of your own rank with whom you would like to travel?” “Certainly not. I hate quarrelling.” “As you please. But you cannot go quite alone: I will find you a good travelling-servant. I must write to town to-day about your preparations, and in another week or so I hope all will be ready. Your allowance will be whatever you like to fix it at; you have never been extravagant, and--boy--I love you. Amuse yourself, enjoy yourself, and come back cured of your oddities, but preserving your honour.” Sir Peter bent down and kissed his son’s brow. Kenelm was moved; he rose, put his arm round his father’s shoulder, and lovingly said, in an undertone, “If ever I am tempted to do a base thing, may I remember whose son I am: I shall be safe then.” He withdrew his arm as he said this, and took his solitary way along the banks of the stream, forgetful of rod and line. CHAPTER XIV.