In the course of years Dick became a churchwarden and a philanthropist (he took the infection very mildly and in its most agreeable form), and a highly respected gambler on, or rather member of, the Stock Exchange. He was also joined "in the bands of holy matrimony" to a buxom young widow who was left-handedly connected with The Aristocracy Itself! The lady brought him a most desirable fortune to start with, and after some years made him a present of twins: so that Dick was now a notable man among his acquaintances, and had the ambition to become a bigger man still, by-and-by: a Common Councilman certainly, and an Alderman perhaps!
Meanwhile Rick had developed into a musty savant: a fellow whose tastes, if you might call them such, were of the most outré order—in advance of everything that was sober, respectable, and conventional; and in aggressive alliance with everything that was disturbing, and that was maliciously and wickedly critical (said the saints).
"The kernel of his life is unhealthy," said his brother: "it has a deadly fungus growing in it, I am afraid."
"The fungus of discontent, dear friend," said the clergyman.
"I am afraid so," said Dick, with a prodigious great sigh. "Still, we must none the less pray for him unceasingly: for prayer availeth much, as we know."
The clergyman dramatically clasped his white hands together, looking up as one who speechlessly admires.
Rick sat musing in his gloomy study: thinking of the ladder he had climbed, and of the scenery of his life that now stretched out like a map before him.
Presently the study door opened softly, and a Figure came in and took a chair at his side.
"You have come, then!" said Rick. "I thought your coming must be near."