every
other horizon opened out before him. The Academy received both his
portrait of Miss Robinson and his great piece of allegory; and a couple
of the other paid portraits found a niche in the New Gallery. The Salon,
too, presently notified him of their acceptance of Lady Betty's
portrait, but that he had really been counting on with an almost
fatalistic confidence.

On varnishing day he was delighted that both his Academy exhibits were
hung on the line. His Press, too, was unmistakably good; the critics
seemed all to conspire to hail him as the man of the year. At the clubs
those who knew him accosted him enthusiastically, came thronging round
and pressing hospitality upon him. There were so many anxious to "get"
him for this and that occasion, to take possession of him, and have the
honour of dragging him here and there. New names and faces bombarded
him, and even his own special coterie were anxious to intensify their
various degrees of intimacy with him, contending for the privilege of
entertaining him, of being able to boast of an almost proprietorial
friendship. In Society, too, he felt himself the object of a curious
_empressement_; on all sides he was courted and flattered, and rival
dealers were inquiring the price he set on his wares. It was the
stampede of the world to acclaim Success!

Well might his eyes be dazzled by all this glare of sunshine! Was not
this success as persistent as the failure that had been his lot
previously? It made him think of the run of red that sometimes followed
a run of black at roulette. He was indeed a public personage now! And
rolling in prosperity to boot!

A touch of worldly bitterness indeed lingered with him; there was the
remembrance of the lean years behind him. But his nature was too
mercurial, too affable and genial, to dwell on that aspect of his career
for long. He took all this homage very seriously, and thought
tremendously well of himself as an artist, walking through the world
with elastic step and as one of the elect of the earth.

Yet in the still moments when he sat alone at night with his lamp for
sole company, he would lose himself in reverie; and then he would feel
saddened ineffably by the ironic side of the case, since the more
brilliant the success that came to him, the deeper his sense of the
mockery of things! How splendid if the woman he loved were by his side
to share it all with him! How near too he had come to attainment, yet
destiny had played