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I have read 'Ariel, but have never read 'The Rape of the Lock. Braxton's opprobrious term for 'Ariel' may not, however, have been due to jealousy alone. Braxton had imagination, and his rival did not soar above fancy. But the point is that Maltby's fancifulness went far and well.
That night some malignant spirit kept Benham awake, and great American trotters with vast wide-striding feet and long yellow teeth, uncontrollable, hard-mouthed American trotters, pounded over his angry soul. "Prothero," he said in hall next day, "we are going to drive to-morrow." Next day, so soon as they had lunched, he led the way towards Maltby's, in Crosshampton Lane.
"The mystery in that quarter is thicker than ever," he said. "I have traced her to a shop at Frizinghall, kept by a linen draper named Maltby. She bought nothing whatever at any of the other drapers' shops, or at any milliners' or tailors' shops; and she bought nothing at Maltby's but a piece of long cloth. She was very particular in choosing a certain quality.
"Bless the Lord!" said Bradly to himself, as, after a silent pressure of Clara Maltby's hand, he stole out of the room. "All's working for good, I'm sure," he added, as he walked homewards. "We shall do grandly now. One great stone has just been struck out of our good vicar's path. Satan's a queer, knowing customer, but he often outwits himself; and there's One wiser and stronger than him."
Maltby might once more have been compared with Braxton. But Braxton was now forgotten. So was Maltby. This was not kind. This was not just. Maltby's first novel, and Braxton's, had brought delight into many thousands of homes. People should have paused to say of Braxton "Perhaps his third novel will be better than his second," and to say as much for Maltby.
"I was quite sure Miss Janice would be hungry enough to eat, too; so I found a kind woman who is willing to share her dinner with us. Come on! She and her daughter are all alone. The storm has kept their friends from coming to eat with them, so we're in luck." The three had quite a delightful dinner at the Widow Maltby's.
As both were 'firstlings, and Great Britain had therefore nothing else of Braxton's or Maltby's to fall back on, the horizon was much scanned for what Maltby, and what Braxton, would give us next. In the autumn Braxton gave us his secondling. It was an instantaneous failure. No more was he compared with Maltby. In the spring of '96 came Maltby's secondling. Its failure was instantaneous.
"I'll go with pleasure; and don't say a word about the expenses, for I shall feel it to be a privilege to give that little trouble and money if I can only lend a helping hand in settling poor Lydia in a better place than her own home, poor thing." Three days after the above conversation Bradly called again at the vicarage, by Mr Maltby's request. "All is arranged, Thomas," said the vicar.
Braxton, on the other hand, would let slip no opportunity for sneering at Maltby's work 'gimcrack, as he called it. This was not good for Maltby. Different men, different methods. 'The Rape of the Lock' was 'gimcrack, if you care to call it so; but it was a delicate, brilliant work; and so, I repeat, was Maltby's 'Ariel. Absurd to compare Maltby with Pope? I am not so sure.
He got down meekly enough, although he felt that the return to Maltby's yard might have many points of interest. But the spirit had gone out of him. For three days the two friends avoided each other, and then Prothero went to Benham's room.
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