if in the course of so harsh a journeying, as he lives and
breathes in his own universe of striving, his precise moral relation to
things external grows dim, intangible; and, if money one day give out,
he clutches at any crust for sustenance.

Wyndham began his journeyings. His advantages were many and obvious; his
disadvantages subtle and unseen. There was the danger that facile talent
and social prestige might bring him an early delusive success; a
failure, rightly seen, however tricked out with glamour.

His beginnings, indeed, were pleasant: it was great fun throwing himself
into this new queer Bohemian world of art. He worked hard as a student,
the sheer interest of his labours lightening them astonishingly. And,
after some preliminary swayings in varying directions, he at last "found
himself," as he supposed; developing a dexterous imitative craft, and
joining an advanced crowd with Whistler and Sargent for his deities.

Wherever he pursued his studies--in London, or Paris, or Italy--there he
was remarkably popular. Everybody said: "Wyndham belongs to very good
people. They're swells--tip-top!" And indeed he had obviously the stamp
of being "the real thing," and even the elect of Bohemia were flattered
and fascinated by personal association with him.

When ultimately he set up his studio here in Hampstead, he had his
policy definitely before him. With the means and the leisure to aim at a
high career, he would make no concessions to popularity or the market.
He had chosen the locality deliberately. It was London, and within reach
of the world; but not so near the world as to endanger his labours. The
little tide of fashion that rolled up to his door was not a tribute to
fame, but merely the fuss and interest of his non-Bohemian circle
pleased for a time with the novelty of having a studio and a genius
connected with them.

So in the early years he worked enthusiastically, and was able to win
some footing in the galleries. But, in the eyes of his numerous family
connections, he was seriously launched; especially when a couple of his
pictures at last attracted buyers, and he moreover found himself earning
guineas from the patronage of friendly editors whose humbler commissions
he carried out in the same spirit of the dignified, ambitious worker.

Then the financial crash came, leaving brother and sister entirely
dependent on their labours. Both met the crisis with commendable
philosophy. Mary, who had long bef