at the price of truth, I shall be urbanely compelled to compliment a
dauber."

"Do you speak of Frank Vance?"

"The same."

"You could not visit a worthier man, nor compliment a more promising
artist. Vance is one of the few who unite gusto and patience, fancy and
brushwork. His female heads, in especial, are exquisite, though they
are all, I confess, too much like one another. The man himself is a
thoroughly fine fellow. He has been much made of in good society, and
remains unspoiled. You will find his manner rather off-hand, the reverse
of shy; partly, perhaps, because he has in himself the racy freshness
and boldness which he gives to his colours; partly, perhaps, also,
because he has in his art the self-esteem that patricians take from
their pedigree, and shakes a duke by the hand to prevent the duke
holding out to him a finger."

"Good," said Darrell, with his rare, manly laugh. "Being shy myself, I
like men who meet one half-way. I see that we shall be at our ease with
each other."

"And perhaps still more 'when I tell you that he is connected with
an old Eton friend of ours, and deriving no great benefit from that
connection; you remember poor Sidney Branthwaite?"

"To be sure. He and I were great friends at Eton somewhat in the same
position of pride and poverty. Of all the boys in the school we two
had the least pocket-money. Poor Branthwaite! I lost sight of him
afterwards. He went into the Church, got only a curacy, and died young."

"And left a son, poorer than himself, who married Frank Vance's sister."

"You don't say so. The Branthwaites were of good old family; what is Mr.
Vance's?"

"Respectable enough. Vance's father was one of those clever men who have
too many strings to their bow. He, too, was a painter; but he was also
a man of letters, in a sort of a way--had a share in a journal, in which
he wrote Criticisms on the Fine Arts. A musical composer, too.

"Rather a fine gentleman, I suspect, with a wife who was rather a fine
lady. Their house was much frequented by artists and literary men: old
Vance, in short, was hospitable--his wife extravagant. Believing that
posterity would do that justice to his pictures which his contemporaries
refused, Vance left to his family no other provision. After selling his
pictures and paying his debts, there was just enough left to bury him.
Fortunately, Sir --------, the great painter of that day, had already
conceived a liking to Frank Vance--then a me