HIS REPUTATION OF KNOWING SOMETHING ABOUT EVERYBODY.

"Well met," said Darrell, the day after Alban had conveyed to him the
comforting assurances which had taken one thorn from his side-dispersed
one cloud in his evening sky. "Well met," said Darrell, encountering the
Colonel a few paces from his own door. "Pray walk with me as far as the
New Road. I have promised Lionel to visit the studio of an artist friend
of his, in whom he chooses to find a Raffaele, and in whom I suppose, 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."