“Look away over the river, if you please.”
He did not know how much these words implied. Her gaze was far away, and would ever be, for her real home was beyond.
He succeeded at the first effort, and asked her judgment upon it.
“Truthful and correct,” she said. “Now another for me, if you please.”
“This is yours. I shall idealize mine, and in it I shall sketch you as you appear to me. Mine would not please you, I know.”
“You judge me correctly. I wish my portrait to be exactly like myself.”
“Yet if you sketched, you would want to draw your friends profiles as they appeared to you, would you not?”
“Certainly. Is this your speciality, heads, or do you go to nature and reproduce her wonderous moods and shades with your pencil?”
“My great ideal is Nature. You, too, are an artist.”
“I have no talent whatever, but the deepest sympathy with Nature, and an appreciation of her harmonies.”