--Before long he will be rich. Can you imagine
N. F. _rich_? I shudder at the thought."
The paper rustled in Bertha's hand; her shoulders shook; she could
no longer restrain the merry laugh. When she sat down to answer
Rosamund, a roguish smile played about her lips.
"I grieve with you"--thus she began--"over the shocking prospect
of N. F.'s becoming _rich_. Alas! I fear the thing is past praying
for; I can all but see the poor young man in a shiny silk hat and an
overcoat trimmed with the most expensive fur. His Academy picture is
everywhere produced; a large photogravure will soon be published;
all day long a crowd stands before it at Burlington House, and his
name--shall we ever again dare to speak it?--is on the lips of
casual people in train and 'bus and tram. How shall I write on such
a painful subject? You see that my hand is unsteady. Don't blame
yourself too much. The man capable of becoming rich _will_ become
so, whatever the noble influences which endeavour to restrain him. I
suspect--I feel all but convinced--that N. F. could not help
himself; the misfortune is that his fatal turn for moneymaking did
not show itself earlier, and so warn you away. I don't know whether
I dare send you a paragraph I have cut from yesterday's _Echo_. Yet
I will--it will serve to show you that--as you used to write
from Egypt--all this is Kismet."
The newspaper cutting showed an item of news interesting alike to
the fashionable and the artistic world.
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