"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 mere boy--who had shown genius
from an infant, as all true artists do. Sir -------- took him into his
studio and gave him lessons. It would have been unlike Sir --------, who