it--or even be vexed if the fountain tells the sea that it is not
reflecting the moon at all. Take my advice, my boy," he added, smiling,
"and never argue about religion--only try to make your own spirit as calm
and true as you can!"

XLIII

OF CRITICS

I came in from a stroll one day with Father Payne and Barthrop. Father
Payne opened a letter which was lying on the hall table, and saying,
"Hallo, Leonard, look at this. Gladwin is coming down for Sunday--that will
be rather fun!"

"I don't know about fun," said Barthrop; "at least I doubt if I should find
it fun, if I had the responsibility of entertaining him."

"Yes, it's a great responsibility," said Father Payne. "I feel that.
Gladwin is a man who has to be taken as you find him, but who never makes
any pretence of taking you as he finds you! But it will amuse me to put him
through his paces a bit!"

"Who on earth is Gladwin?" said I, consumed by curiosity.

Father Payne and Barthrop laughed. "I should like Gladwin to hear that!"
said Barthrop.

"Only it would grieve him still more if Duncan _had_ heard of him,"
said Father Payne; "there would be a commonness about that!" Then turning
to me, he said, "Gladwin? Well, he's about the most critical man in
England, I suppose. He does a little work--a very little: and I think he
might have been a great man, if he hadn't become so fearfully dry. He began
by despising everyone else, and ended by despising himself--and now it's
almost a torture to him to make up his mind. 'There's something base about
a _decision_,' he once said to me. But 'despising' isn't the right
word. He doesn't despise--that would be coarse. He only feels the
coarseness of things in general. He has got too fine an edge on his
mind--everything blunts it!"

"Do you remember Rose's song about him?" said Barthrop.

"Yes, what was it?" said Father Payne.

"The refrain," said Barthrop, "was

"'Not too much of whatever is best,
That is enough for me!'"

Father Payne laughed. "Yes, I remember!" he said; "'Not too much' is a good
stroke!"

I happened to be with Father Payne when Gladwin arrived. He was a small,
trim, compact man, about forty, unembarrassed and graceful, but with an air
of dejection. He had a short pointed beard and moustache, and his hair was
growing grey. He had fine thin hands, and he was dressed in old but
well-fitting clothes. He had an atmosphere of great distinction about him.
I had expected something inc