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gown with warm tones, dyeing her
cheek with a deeper pink, and adding
new glory to the gold of her hair.
From where Miles stood and silently
gazed his fill the girl's face was silhouetted
softly against the shadowed
greenery beyond. She was quite
young,—perhaps twenty-one or two,—slender,
radiant with youth and
health, and beautiful beyond any pictured
princess of Miles's acquaintance.
She wore a white skirt and
waist, and a blue painting apron was
thrown across her lap as she sat.
Once while he looked she let the hand
with the brush fall dejectedly and
gazed for a moment at the canvas
before her; he could see the little
frown creep across the white forehead.
Then the brush sought the vivid palette
again, the golden head bent toward
the easel, and the work went on.
