In this matter fortune favoured him. It being Saturday afternoon, there was no school, and the schoolmistress was leaning in a listless attitude upon the low trellised gate. She welcomed the young painter with a nod and a bright smile, and readily assented to his proposition that she should stand for the figure in the picture. He took out his book and set to work.
Dora meanwhile chatted and laughed to make the time pass pleasantly, and sometimes, in answer to an invitation from him, she would run round the easel to take a peep at the figure of herself, which was gradually growing under his hand. At last their pleasant interview was brought to an end. Walter remembered the appointment which this chattering lady had made him forget. He put up his sketching materials, and prepared to take his leave. Then Dora stopped him.
“Surely, Mr. Hetherington, you will do me one favour,” she said: “you will honour me by stepping for a moment into the cottage which you have transferred so beautifully to paper. I have some cream and milk, some fresh strawberries from our garden, if that is any inducement to you.”
The invitation was tempting. Nevertheless, Walter, while wishing to accept, was about to refuse, pleading an engagement at the Vicarage when another voice broke in—
“Good day, Miss Greatheart!” it said.
The schoolmistress smiled, made a prim curtsey, and answered, “Good day, sir!” Then she waited to see if her visitor had anything more to say.
The new arrival was a man, and Walter, who was looking at him, thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen in his life. He was dressed as a clergyman, but the cut of his garments-was elegant and eminently becoming. As his eye fell upon Walter he raised his hat, and discovered a head beautifully shaped and slightly thinning at the temples. Walter remained fascinated, staring at the man, who moved here and there with easy grace, and whose face grew singularly handsome with every varying expression which flitted across it.
He had not much to say to the schoolmistress; and as he moved away his hat was again swept off to Walter, and the clergyman’s eyes rested upon him for a moment with a look one might love to paint in the eyes of a saint.
Walter turned to Miss Greatheart.
“A handsome fellow,” he said, “—a very handsome fellow; and a clergyman, I see, by his dress. Who is he? One of Mr. Santley’s curates, I suppose?”