"As a man I was guilty; as an artist, guiltless, for an artist, above all things, loves and serves his art, and considers all he sees as subservient to it. I came to Downsbury in quest of studies in still life. For years I have had an ideal of a face that I wished to paint in my best mood: a face after which all should wonder. I have searched cities and country; I have wandered in my quest for that face through other lands; and when I saw you under the tree, I was all the artist--all lost in art--for yours is the face I have been seeking for my canvas." "Why, do you mean I would make a picture--a real picture?" demanded Doris, with studied simplicity. "Yes; ten thousand times yes! Under this greenwood tree, your basket at your feet, your hat swinging in your hand, your eyes lifted--yes, a picture to be known and praised forever. Child, I will make your beauty immortal." This was what she had dreamed. A poet was singing her praises, and would do so, whether she played him false or not; and here was an artist to paint her for a world to admire. Could she who so inspired men tie herself to the narrow bounds of one humble, rustic hearth? Never! "May I paint you?" demanded the artist. "May I set you in canvas, in immortal youth and loveliness, to live years, perhaps centuries hence, in deathless beauty?" "The picture--the face--will live! Where, in those far off ages, shall _I_ be?" asked Doris, earnestly. Gregory Leslie thought the word and mood strange. "The best part of you is immortal," he said, gently. "And what would you call my picture?" "'INNOCENCE.' Yes, 'INNOCENCE' should be its name!" "But what in me seems to you the image of '_Innocence_?'" Stranger question still. But he answered as an artist: "You have an ideal brow, rounded at the temples as the old masters painted their angels. Your eyes are large, bright, clear, as seeing more of heaven than earth. Your lips have the most exquisite curve. The form of your face, its coloring, your hair, are all simply perfect!" "You shall paint my picture!" cried Doris, joyously, changing her mood. "You need ask no consent but mine!" CHAPTER XIII. "FAITHLESS AND DEBONAIR." "Doris, you must not do it. I cannot bear it!" "I don't see what difference it makes to you, Earle, and you have no right to interfere, and do it I surely shall." Thus Doris and Earle on the theme of portrait painting.