By Jove, it was good! Lord Findon had been evidently 'bowled over' by it--Cuningham too.

As for that sour-faced fellow, Watson, what did it matter what he thought?
It _must_ succeed! Suddenly he found himself on his knees beside his picture, praying that he might finish it prosperously, that it might be given a good place in the Academy, and bring him fame and fortune.
Then he got up sheepishly, looking furtively round the room to be sure that the door was shut, and no one had seen him.

He was a good deal ashamed of himself, for he was not in truth of a religious mind, and he had, by now, few or no orthodox beliefs.

But in all matters connected with his pictures the Evangelical tradition of his youth still held him.

He was the descendant of generations of men and women who had prayed on all possible occasions--that customers might be plentiful and business good--that the young cattle might do well, and the hay be got in dry--that their children might prosper--and they themselves be delivered from rheumatism, or toothache, or indigestion.
Fenwick's prayer to some 'magnified non-natural man' afar off, to come and help him with his picture, was of the same kind.