"Ah, I shall never have another opportunity," she replied, walking toward the next fence and swing-gate, which led into the wood.
"You threatened as much when I bade you good-by, that I was never to see you again, and yet we have met; so I shall not be utterly downcast by your present prophecy."
She did not reply for a minute, and then exclaimed, "Suppose I were ever to succeed in making painting my career, would you, when you are a great nobleman—as Miss Saville says you will be—sit to me for your picture? And then we should have in the catalogue of the year's exhibition, 'Portrait of the Earl—or Duke—of Blank, by Ella Rivers.'"
"I can only say I will sit to you when and where you will."
"Ah, the possibility of independent work is too charming! But I forget myself—what o'clock is it?"
"Quarter to three," said Wilton, looking at his watch.
"Then I have been out too long. See how low the sun is! What glorious sunset hues! But I must not stay. Oh, how I hate to go in! How I love the liberty of the open air—the free, unwalled space! I feel another being in the prison of a great house. If you met me there, you would not know me. I should not dare to look up; I should speak with bated breath, as if you were a superior. Can you fancy such a thing?"
"No; the wildest stretch of my imagination could not suggest such an idea. But can you not keep out a little longer?" There was a strained, yearning look in her eyes that touched Wilton to the heart.
"Impossible! My poor Donald will be cross and wretched. And you—you must go. I am foolish to have talked so much."
"You must let me come a little farther; that fence up there is considerably stiffer than the last, but I think Omar will take it."