"I see how it is!" remarked Sir Joshua; "you are the dupe of a resemblance. Your gaze is not resting upon Lord Mowbray, but upon my apprentice, Francis Monday. My dear Frank, be good enough to fall upon your knees before this fair young woman and look at her as if you adored her."
Pallid, mute, with lips tightly compressed, Frank stood motionless.
"I, Sir Joshua?" he faltered. "You wish me to—"
"Certainly! Now, then!"
With evident effort the young man slowly advanced as if he were going to execution. Beads of perspiration pearled upon his brow. Nevertheless, disturbed though he was, the beauty of his features and the innate nobility of his person prevented any awkwardness of carriage. With drooping eyelids he fell upon his knees at the girl's feet, while at the moment, as if actuated by some invincible power, he raised his glance full of a desperate passion. Truly, for a timid boy taken unawares, Frank played the comedy of love like a consummate master.
A rosy blush suffused Esther's features, entirely irradiating them, as a summer's sunrise illumines the delicious purity of the dawn. Astonishment, shame, pleasure, malice, every shade of sentiment was in an instant born, in an instant expired, fading in a most ravishing mélange. With head slightly inclined, bosom heaving, eyelids trembling, and lips quivering, her whole being vibrated in unison with the precipitate throbbing of her heart.
"Rosalind listening to Orlando's declaration!" exclaimed Sir Joshua. "I have it! The portrait is assured! I have no further need of you, Frank."
The young man rose, his eyes still fixed upon Esther; then without a word he directed his steps towards the masked door which had afforded him access to the studio and vanished.
By slow degrees the blush which had invaded the girl's cheeks and brow faded until not a vestige remained.