For some time Wilton stood still and silent, watching the small, white, deft fingers as they firmly and rapidly traced the outline, or put in the shading with broad, bold strokes; occasionally he quieted the horse with a word, while he stored his memory with the pretty graceful figure, from a tiny foot half-buried in the soft, short grass to the well-set, haughty head and neck. "It is curious," he thought; "here is a girl, in almost a menial position, with all the attributes of race, and a pair of eyes a king's daughter might pine to possess. Who can she be? What is her history? Why did she venture out alone when she ought to have been going to bed? I shall ask her." These ideas passed through Wilton's brain, although any clear continuity of thought was considerably impeded by the intermittent glimpses of a pair of full, deep-blue eyes, alternately upturned and downcast.
Suddenly Wilton was ordered, "Look away—over your horse's neck;" and when, having preserved this position for several moments, he attempted to assume a more agreeable attitude, he was met with an eager "Pray be still for a little longer."
At last he was released.
"There," said his new acquaintance, "I will keep you no longer; you have been very kind. See, how have I done it?"
Wilton looked eagerly at the page held out to him.
"It is wonderfully good for so hasty a sketch," he said; "the head and foreleg are capital, and as far as I can judge, the likeness to the back of my head first-rate."
"I can generally catch the likeness of people," she returned, looking at the page and touching it here and there.
"Was that the reason you told me to look away?" asked Wilton, smiling.
"No; I did not wish your face in my book." Then, coloring and looking up, "Not that I forget your kindness to me. No; but, you understand, if Lady Fergusson found Mr.—that is, Colonel—Wilton's face in my book it would be the most shocking—the superlative shocking! Ah, there is no word enormous enough for such a 'shocking!'" And she laughed low but merrily. Wilton found it catching and laughed too, though it puzzled him to reply. She went on, "You would have come in better for the picture had you had your soldier's dress on, holding the horse and looking thus; and then, with some bright coloring, it might have been called 'On the Alert,' or some such thing, and sold for a hundred pence. I have seen this sort of sketches often in picture-shops." She spoke quickly, as if to cover a slight embarrassment, as she put away her pencils and book.
"Well, Miss Rivers, both Omar here and myself will be most happy to sit, or rather stand, for you whenever you like."