'Twas no gay
youthful rake who stood before him, but plainly a great gentleman, and
most amazing tall and stately. 'Twas not a boy come to look at a
peep-show, but might be a possible patron.
"Yes, your lordship," he stammered, bowing shakily, "I--I will bring it
forth. Your lordship will find the young lady a wonder." He went
swaying across the room, and opened a cupboard in the wall. The canvas
stood propped up within, and he took it out and brought it back to
them--keeping its face turned away.
"Let me set it in as good a light as the poor place can give," he said,
and dragged forth the rickety-legged chair that he might prop it
against its back, for the moment looking less drunk and less a vagabond
in his eagerness to do his work justice; there lurking somewhere,
perhaps, in his besotted being, that love which the artist soul feels
for the labour of its dreams.
"In sooth, my lord, 'tis a thing which should have been better done,"
he said. "I could have done the young lady's loveliness more justice,
had I but had the time. First I saw her for scarce more than a moment,
and her face so haunted me that I sketched it for my own pleasure--and
then I hung about her father's park for days, until by great fortune I
came upon her one morning standing under a tree, her dogs at her feet,
and she lost in thought--and with such eyes gazing before her--! I
stood behind a tree and did my best, trembling lest she should turn.
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