FullReads

She found the children prancing with impatience to begin their ballet, much excited by the music, gaslight, and gay dresses, which made it seem like “a truly ball.” All welcomed Jessie, and she soon forgot the cheap slippers, mended gloves, and old dress, as she gayly led her troop through the pretty dance with so much grace and skill that the admiring mammas who lined the walls declared it was the sweetest thing they ever saw.

“Who is that little person?” asked one of the few gentlemen who hovered about the doorways.

His hostess told Jessie’s story in a few words, and was surprised to hear him say in a satisfied tone,–

“I’m glad she is poor. I want her head, and now there is some chance of getting it.”

“My dear Mr. Vane, what DO you mean?” asked the lady, laughing.

“I came to study young faces; I want one for a picture, and that little girl with the red leaves is charming. Please present me.”

“No use; you may ask for her hand by-and-by, if you like, but not for her head. She is very proud, and never would consent to sit as a model, I’m sure.”

“I think I can manage it, if you will kindly give me a start.”

“Very well. The children are just going down to supper, and Miss Delano will rest. You can make your bold proposal now, if you dare.”

A moment later, as she stood watching the little ones troop away, Jessie found herself bowing to the tall gentleman, who begged to know what he could bring her with as much interest as if she had been the finest lady in the room. Of course she chose ice-cream, and slipped into a corner to rest her tired feet, preferring the deserted parlor to the noisy dining-room,–not being quite sure where she belonged now.

Mr. Vane brought her a salver full of the dainties girls best love, and drawing up a table began to eat and talk in such a simple, comfortable way that Jessie could not feel shy, but was soon quite at her ease. She knew that he was a famous artist, and longed to tell him about poor Laura, who admired his pictures so much and would have enjoyed every moment of this chance interview. He was not a very young man, nor a handsome one, but he had a genial face, and the friendly manners which are so charming; and in ten minutes Jessie was chatting freely, quite unconscious that the artist was studying her in a mirror all the while. They naturally talked of the children, and after praising the pretty dance Mr. Vane quietly added,–

“I’ve been trying–to find a face among them for a picture I’m doing; but the little dears are all too young, and I must look elsewhere for a model for my wood-nymph.”

“Are models hard to find?” asked Jessie, eating her ice with the relish of a girl who does not often taste it.

“What I want is very hard to find. I can get plenty of beggar-girls, but this must be a refined face, young and blooming, but with poetry in it; and that does not come without a different training from any my usual models get. It will be difficult to suit me, for I’m in a hurry and don’t know where to look,”–which last sentence was not quite true, for the long glass showed him exactly what he wanted.

“I help Mademoiselle with her classes, and she has pupils of all ages; perhaps you could find some one there.”

Jessie looked so interested that the artist felt that he had begun well, and ventured a step further as he passed the cake-basket for the third time.

“You are very kind; but the trouble there is, that I fear none of the young ladies would consent to sit to me if I dared to ask them. I will confide to you that I HAVE seen a head which quite suits me; but I fear I cannot get it. Give me your advice, please. Should you think this pretty creature would be offended, if I made the request most respectfully?”