of sacrilege was complete, housed at last in the Gin Palace of
Art, it stood, useless in its desecrated beauty, cumbering the shelves
whence no sale would remove it until either Rickman's or Pilkington
let go. So far the Hardens were avenged.

CHAPTER XLII

More than once, after that night when Rickman dined with him, Jewdwine
became the prey of many misgivings. He felt that in taking Rickman up
he was assuming an immense responsibility. It might have been better,
happier for Rickman, poor fellow, if after all he had left him in his
decent obscurity; but having dragged him out of it, he was in a manner
answerable to the world for Rickman and to Rickman for the world.
Supposing Rickman disappointed the world? Supposing the world
disappointed Rickman?

Jewdwine lived in the hope, natural to a distinguished critic, of some
day lighting upon a genius. The glory of that find would go far to
compensate him for his daily traffic with mediocrity. Genius was
rarely to be seen, but Jewdwine felt that he would be the first to
recognize it if he did see it; the first to penetrate its many curious
disguises; the first to give it an introduction (if it wanted one) to
his own superior world. And here was Rickman--manifestly in need of
that introduction--a man who unquestionably had about him some of the
marks by which a genius is identified; and yet he left you terribly
uncertain. He was the very incarnation of uncertainty. Jewdwine was
perfectly willing to help the man if only he were sure of the genius.
But was he sure? Had it really pleased the inscrutable divine thing to
take up its abode in this otherwise rather impossible person?

Meanwhile Rickman seemed to be settling down fairly comfortably to the
work of _The Museion_; and Jewdwine, having other things to think of,
began to forget his existence. He was in fact rapidly realizing his
dream. He had won for himself and his paper a position lonely and
unique. The reputation of _The Museion_ was out of all proportion to
its circulation, but Jewdwine was making himself heard. As an editor
and critic he was respected for his incorruptibility and for the
purity of his passion for literature. His utterances were considered
to carry authority and weight.

Just at first the weight was perhaps the more conspicuous quality of
the two. Jewdwine could not be parted from his "Absolute." He had
lived with it for years in Oxford, and he brought it up to town with
him; it walked b