Mr. Norbert Franks, the
young painter whose Academy picture had been so much discussed, was
about to paint the portrait of Lady Rockett, recently espoused wife
of Sir Samuel Rockett, the Australian millionaire. As every one
knew, Lady Rockett had made a brilliant figure in the now closing
Season, and her image had been in all the society journals. Mr.
Franks might be congratulated on this excellent opportunity for the
display of his admirable talent as an exponent of female beauty.--
"Exponent" was the word.
CHAPTER 20
In these summer days, whilst Norbert Franks was achieving
popularity, success in humbler guise came to the humorous and
much-enduring artist at Walham Green. For a year or two, Bertha
Cross had spent what time she could spare upon the illustration of a
quaint old story-book, a book which had amused her own childhood,
and still held its place in her affection. The work was now
finished; she showed it to a publisher of her acquaintance, who at
once offered to purchase it on what seemed to Bertha excellent
terms. Of her own abilities she thought very modestly in deed, and
had always been surprised when any one consented to pay--oftener
in shillings than in pounds--for work which had cost her an
infinity of conscientious trouble; now, however, she suspected that
she had done something not altogether bad, and she spoke of it in a
letter to Rosamund Elvan, still in the country of the Basques.
"As you know," Rosamund replied, "I have never doubted that you
would make a success one day, for you are wonderfully clever, and
only need a little more self-confidence in making yourself known.
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