Under a tree she saw a man and a
woman. The man's arm was round the woman. A child four or five years old
was playing at their feet--at the feet of its father and mother. * * * The
girl came forward and faced the man--the man she had sworn to marry. As I
said, his ring was on her finger."
She paused. People were passing near, and she smiled and bowed once or
twice, but Hagar saw that the fire in her eyes had deepened.
"Is it strong enough for your picture?" she said quietly.
"It is as strong as it is painful. Yet there is beauty in it, too, for I
see the girl's face."
"You see much in her face, of course, for you look at it as an artist.
You see shame, indignation, bitterness--what else?"
"I see that moment of awe when the girl suddenly became a woman--as the
serious day breaks all at once through the haze of morning."
"I know you can paint the picture," she said, "but you have no model for
the girl. How shall you imagine her?"
"I said that I would paint you in the scene," he answered slowly.
"But I am not young, as she was; am not--so good to look at."
"I said that I saw beauty in the girl's face. I can only see it through
yours."
Her hands clasped tightly before her. Her eyes turned full on him for an
instant, then looked away into the dusk.
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