utmost triumph, could never be really popular:--why were these so
welcome to him but from the continuity of early mental habit? He
might renew the over-grown tonsure, and wait, devoutly, rapturously,
in this goodly sanctuary of earth and sky about him, for the
manifestation, at the moment of his own worthiness, of flawless
humanity, in some undreamed-of depth and perfection of the loveliness
of bodily form.

And therewith came the consciousness, no longer of mere bad-
neighbourship between what was old and new in his life, but of
incompatibility between two rival claimants upon him, of two ideals.
Might that new religion be a religion not altogether of goodness, a
profane religion, in spite of its poetic fervours? There were
"flowers of evil," among the rest. It came in part, avowedly, as a
kind of consecration of evil, and seemed to give it the beauty of
holiness. Rather, good and evil were distinctions inapplicable in
proportion as these new interests made themselves felt. For a
moment, amid casuistical questions as to one's indefeasible right to
liberty of heart, he saw himself, somewhat [72] wearily, very far
gone from the choice, the consecration, of his boyhood. If he could
but be rid of that altogether! Or if that would but speak with
irresistible decision and effect! Was there perhaps somewhere, in
some penetrative mind in this age of novelties, some scheme of truth,
some science about men and things, which might harmonise for him his
earlier and later preference, "the sacred and the profane loves," or,
failing that, establish, to his pacification, the exclusive supremacy
of the latter?