Fenwick's Career

quaintance with dress-clothes. He had, indeed, dined once or twice at the tables of the Westmoreland gentry in the course of his portrait-painting exp

-hand dress-suit that very nearly fitted him, and he had duly provided himself with gloves and tie. When all was done he put his infinitesimal looking-glass on the floor of his attic, flanked it with two guttering cand

llowed Cuningham into the omnibus with nerves all on edge. He hated the notion, too, of taking an omnibus

was a Lady Findon. Cuningham, startled by the ignorance of h

nd, and a still better hater; two sons, silent, good-looking and clever, one in the brewery that provided his mother with her money

married-something queer about the husband. But I've nev

hirl of the West End. The clubs were at their busiest; men passed them in dress-suits and overcoats like themselves, a

rally wending his way to a Bloomsbury eating-house, where he dined for

was looking at the faces in the carriages, the jewels and feathers and shining stuffs, he thought suddenly and sharply of Phoebe sitting

the liveried servants within, Fenwick's pride asserted itself.

y knew, and she gave a careless glance and a touch of the hand to his companion. It was her husband's will to ask these raw, arti

nwick, as he stood awkwardly beside her, while her eyes searched the

s,' said Fenwick, nervously pulling at hi

ifted in amusement. She

Findon should wait till t

tractedly; and then, suddenly perceiving the exp

a few minutes later, in his ear, passing him with a nod and a smile. His gay, half-fatherly ways with these rising talents were wel

oad downstairs was the private secretary, who tried good-naturedly to point out the family portraits on the staircase wall. But Fenwick s

caught hold of him and piloted him to his seat. A lady in white

ere to be neighbours. I

withdrew it smiling, and he sat down, feeling himself an impulsive ass, intimidated by the lights, the flowers, t

roud cutting of the nose and mouth gave delight; it was a pride so unconscious, so masked in sweetness, that it challenged without wounding. The short upper lip was sensitive and gay; the eyes ranged in a smiling freedom; the neck and arms were beautiful

dean had said grace and the soup was served. Her voice was soft

the flo

s charmin

k hesi

said, bluntly, turn

d slightly

put me in the

enwick, also laughing. 'But I suppose

ll, then, I am not m

I like him, and my fat

admires that

father has a dreadfully catholic taste.

acknowle

l artists do-except'-she dropped h

n spectacles. As, however, the hair was of an orange colour and the eyes of a piercing and pinlike sharpness, the eclipse of feature was not a loss of effect. And as the flamboyant head was a tol

flushe

work?' he said, almost with fier

ctures and colle

body can make a clever drawing. It's putting on

nnas and saints encourage superstition. But what's the use of talking? They have to station a pol

as lost to him. He managed to get in another

and an art-critic, at whose name Fenwick curled his lip, f

se, you know

most the face of a Greek-pure in outline, bronzed by foreign suns, and lit by eyes expressing so strong a force of personality that, but for the sweetness with which it was tempered,

e it to-day,' the youth was saying.

nthusiasts,' said Lord F

of an old Roman family, lately brought to London and under off

ed upon that were wholly unknown to him! Pictures in foreign museums-Vienna, Berlin, St. Petersburg-the names of French or German experts-quotations from Italian books or newspapers-the three dealt lightly and familiarly with a world in which Fenwick had scarcely a single landmark. How clever she was! how charming! What

young aristocrat, no doubt, born silver spoon in mouth-one of your idle, insolent rich,

oked him to feel that their scrutiny made him self-conscious-anxious to please. They were so gentle, so gay!-and

cture,' she said, kin

re i

here. But father

then laughed

e finished yet with

the gentleman

sm

im? You must let me i

. Doesn't he

n with a readiness-a touch of eagerness indeed-whic

es, his musical voice full of cordiality. Fenwick made a muttered reply. It might have been thought he disliked being talked to

en Madame de Pastourelles and her neighbour talked to each other, endeavouring to draw in the stranger. In vain. They fell back,

the speeches at the Academy banquet; and already overwhelmed with more commissions than he could take-Welby should have been one of the best hated of men. On the contrary, his mere temperament had drawn the teeth of that wild beast, Success. Well-born, rich, a social favourite, trained in Paris and Italy, an archaeologist and student as well as a painter, he commanded the world as he pleased. Society asked him

on and reminiscence. In Fenwick's eyes, young as was their author, they were of the past rather than of the fu

nown Ambassador beside Lady Findon, with a shrewd, thin, sulky face, and very black eyes under whitish hair-eyes turned much more frequently on the pretty actress to his right than upon his hostess; a financier opposite, much concerned with great colonial projects; the Cabinet Minister-of no account, it seemed, either in

be in it, and at the same time scornful of it. It seemed

adame de Pastourelles was expressing a flattering wish t

a beautiful model-or, rather, bet

and saw no way of confronting or getting round it; not at the dinner-table, anyway-with all these eyes and ears about him-above all, with Lord Findon opposite. Why, they might think he had been ashamed

y led the talk to some other schemes he had in mind. With the sense of having escaped

how himself to the best advantage. And presently, at a moment of pause, she

all with a little

paint,' said Fe

N

ou are

all. I e

d Fenwick, trying for a

rea

ot need t

this readiness of rep

ve a Chin

er here; for a mongrel fox-terrier-taken, a starving waif, out of the streets-had been his companion since almost the first month of his solitude. Each stimulated the other, and they fell int

lysis. He was run over last summer. I

uld send for the vet. and ha

hall nur

you look on

sometimes he

king of th

quickly, 'for me-it is g

n entirely without the finer perceptions would have tried to penetrate. Fenwick, for all his surface gaucherie, did not attempt it. But he attacked her generalisation. With some vehemence he developed against it a Neo-pagan doctrine of joy-love of the earth and

mething behind-a spirit watchful and still-wrapt in a great melancholy-or perhaps a great rebellion? And by this sense of something concealed or strongly restrained, she began to affect his imagination, and so, presently, to absorb his attention. Something exquisite in her movements and looks, also

ow; and his ambition seized on the idea. But what chance that she would ever give a

it, of sending him down without a lady, still rankled; and last, but not least, he had drunk a good deal of champagne, to which he was quite unaccustomed. So that when Lord Findon fell into a discussion with the Ambassador of Irving's Hamlet and Othello, then among the leading topics of London-when the

ling urbanity welcomed him to the field. But in a few minutes the newcomer had ravaged the whole of it. The older men were silenced, and Fenwick was leaning across the table, gesticulating with one hand, and lifting h

the financier, after a few minutes, in his neighbour's ear. 'T

mit,' said the neighbour, with a shrug.

e young son of the house-wondering-to Arth

said Welby, whose mouth s

n actual attack upon the stately Frenchman opposite, whose slight sarcastic

n coloured

han I am myself,' he said, coldly. 'I am much oblig

eft him severely alone. None of the ladies in the drawing-room upstairs showed, as it seemed to him, any desire for his company, and he was reduced to looking at a stand of miniatures near the door, while his heart swelled fiercely. So this was what society meant?-a wretched pleasure purchased on degrading terms! A poo

at. Had he set Lord Findon against him?-ruined the chance of a purchaser for his picture and of a patron for the future? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cuningham, neat, amiable, and self-possessed, sitting in a corner by Lady Findon, who

an talk these people's lingo, and I can't. I can paint as well as they any day-and I'll be bound, if they l

d a few whispered words with

is hands-'a barbarian! C

enwick

I brought it on myself. I do these rash things, and must pay for

pa! Wher

ooking at things. Be

l feel himse

to be made to understand tha

did

ble!-as good as told De Chailles he had no right to talk about Irving

ck. I must go a

ose. Why should you tak

ever people are always getting into sc

and chagrin. How charmingly she was dressed to-night-his poor Eugénie! And how beautifully she moved!-with what grace a

alent than the circle of the dinner-table had been hostile. Lord Findon stopped to listen. Really the young man was now talking decently!-about matters he understood; Burne-Jones, Rossetti-some French pictures in Bond Street-and so forth. The ruffled host was half appeased, half wroth. For if he could make this agreeable impression, why such a superfluity of naughtiness downstairs?

st like her! He hoped the young man understood her condescension-and that to see her and talk with her was a privilege. Involuntarily Lord Findon glanced acro

f grateful good-humour, expressing himself effusively to hi

as asked me t

uming. 'He has never seen you before-and, be

urself his pictur

hink, Welby?' he said, impulsively addressing th

y sm

was rather charming to see

"!' Lord Findo

e laid a quieting hand on her father's arm. 'You know

bad,' said Lord Fi

will have to

said Lord Findon

Arthur Welby, turning, watched her move away, say 'Good-night' to Lady Findon, and disappear through a distant door