“It is lovely, but it isn’t paintable, that is to say, not very, and I haven’t dared to ask you before to sit.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. You seem to stay in a world of thought sometimes where I can’t find you, only I know you are there by a look in your eyes.”
“Oh.” Nan did not know what to say to this. She was not used to talk of this kind.
“And will you give me a sitting? I won’t keep you very long. Just sit there in the prow of the boat and I’ll get out my colors in a jiffy. There, like that, and will you take off your hat? Thank you. That’s great. Just what I’ve been longing for.”
Nan sat very quietly in a sort of dream. Once in a while her companion made a remark, but he was absorbed in his sketch and did not talk connectedly. It was enough for Nan that he was there, that she was alone in this romantic spot with this creature of genius. Oh, it was wonderful! The water rippled softly about the keel of the boat, the sky was blue overhead. Yonder was Walhalla. She was listening to the “Waldweben.” Her thoughts were indistinct, her emotions were not acute nor violent. She was in a dream. A gentle and serene content possessed her. She was satisfied to sit so always in this entrancing spot.
The absolute quiet was broken by Mr. Wells’ rising. “There,” he said, “I’m not going to martyrize you any longer. Thank you a thousand times, Miss Nan. This doesn’t begin to do you justice, but I’ve caught certain characteristics, I think.” He turned the sketch so Nan could see it. If she was a little disappointed she did not say so, but only remarked, “I don’t see how you did so much in such a short time.”
“Oh, one can do a mere sketch in a few minutes, sometimes. Please don’t consider this a finished thing.”
Nan could see it was not, and comforted herself by thinking it would have been much better if there had been more time.
“Now what can I do to repay you for your goodness?” said the young man. “You are a wonderfully patient sitter. You scarcely stirred.”