"Most gentlemen would keep it whether she would or no," answered the painter.
"Catch Langdon or Wyse giving it up," says Tom. "And Wyse said, that blackguard Oxon was coming to see it because he hath made a bet on her in open club, and hearing of the picture, said he would come to see if she were worth his trouble—and buy her to hang in his chambers, if she were—that he might tell her of it when he went to Gloucestershire to lay siege to her. He brags he will persuade her he has prayed to her image for a year."
"What is your price?" said my Lord Roxholm to the painter.
The man set one and 'twas high though 'twould not have seemed so in an age when art was patronised and well paid for in a country where 'twas more generously encouraged than in England in the days of good Queen Anne. In truth, the poor fellow did not expect to get half he asked, but hoped by beginning well to obtain from a Duke's son twice what another gentleman would give him—and he was prepared to haggle, if need be, for two hours.
But my lord Marquess did not haggle. There had come into his countenance the look of a man who has made up his mind to take the thing he wants. He drew forth his purse and paid down the sum in golden guineas and bank-notes, the painter's eyes gloating as they were counted on the table and his head growing giddy with his joy. He would have enough to live drunk for a year, after his own economical methods. A garret—and drink enough—were all he required for bliss. The picture was to be sent forthwith to Osmonde House, and these directions given, the two gentlemen turned to go. But at the door the Marquess paused and spoke again.
"If any should come here before it is sent to me," he said, "remember that 'tis already purchased and not on exhibition."
The artist bowed low a dozen times.
"On my sacred honour, your lordship," he replied, "none shall see it."
Roxholm regarded him for a moment as if a new thought had presented itself to his mind.
"And remember also," he added, "if any should ask you to try to paint a copy from memory—or to lie in wait for the young lady again and make another—'tis better"—and his voice had in it both meaning and command—"'tis far better to please a patron, than a purchaser who has a momentary caprice. Live soberly and do honest work—and bring to me what is worthy of inspection. You need not starve unless 'tis your wish."