he time was away wasting herself in that insane
modern chase of the picturesque! He called her a perverted Celimene.

Redworth had less to regret than the rest of her male friends, as he was
receiving at intervals pleasant descriptive letters, besides manuscript
sheets of ANTONIA'S new piece of composition, to correct the proofs for
the press, and he read them critically, he thought. He read them with
a watchful eye to guard them from the critics. ANTONIA, whatever her
faults as a writer, was not one of the order whose Muse is the Public
Taste. She did at least draw her inspiration from herself, and there
was much to be feared in her work, if a sale was the object. Otherwise
Redworth's highly critical perusal led him flatly to admire. This was
like her, and that was like her, and here and there a phrase gave him
the very play of her mouth, the flash of her eyes. Could he possibly
wish, or bear, to, have anything altered? But she had reason to desire
an extended sale of the work. Her aim, in the teeth of her independent
style, was at the means of independence--a feminine method of attempting
to conciliate contraries; and after despatching the last sheets to the
printer, he meditated upon the several ways which might serve to, assist
her; the main way running thus in his mind:--We have a work of genius.
Genius is good for the public. What is good for the public should be
recommended by the critics. It should be. How then to come at them to,
get it done? As he was not a member of the honourable literary craft,
and regarded its arcana altogether externally, it may be confessed of
him that he deemed the Incorruptible corruptible;--not, of course, with
filthy coin slid into sticky palms. Critics are human, and exceedingly,
beyond the common lot, when touched; and they are excited by mysterious
hints of loftiness in authorship; by rumours of veiled loveliness;
whispers, of a general anticipation; and also Editors can jog them.
Redworth was rising to be a Railway King of a period soon to glitter
with rails, iron in the concrete, golden in the visionary. He had
already his Court, much against his will. The powerful magnetic
attractions of those who can help the world to fortune, was exercised by
him in spite of his disgust of sycophants. He dropped words to right and
left of a coming work by ANTONIA. And who was ANTONIA?--Ah! there hung
the riddle.--An exalted personage?--So much so that he dared not name
her even in confidence t