Of course I felt rather indignant, as every girl does, at being classed with “most women;” so I said no more, but only pursed up my lips; and I saw in the white face of Mrs. Rayner, who had been listening intently to this dialogue, a faint look of amazement at my presumption. After two hours’ work, Mr. Rayner called us to look at his sketch, which represented a very lovely girl with dark gray eyes a little larger than mine, a red-lipped mouth a little smaller, teeth a little whiter, and a complexion a little creamier in the white parts and a little rosier in the red; and the brown hair coiled on the top was just a little glossier and smoother than mine ever was. It was just a little like me all the same; and I was rather hurt when Mrs. Rayner summoned spirit enough to say that he had flattered me, although I knew it quite well. But Mr. Rayner said gravely that it was impossible for a portrait to flatter a handsome woman, and Mrs. Rayner raised her thin shoulders in a slight shrug and turned to leave the room. Haidee rose to follow her, but paused on the threshold to give a last fond gaze at the lion and to look round for me. “You are an excellent model, you sit so still. It is a pleasure to paint you for that and--for other reasons,” said he slowly and deliberately, as, without looking up, he went on putting finishing touches to the head. “What shall I give you as a reward for remaining so long without blinking or yawning as all professional models do?” “Nothing, Mr. Rayner; I like having it done. It flatters one’s vanity to be painted; and flattery is always reward enough for a woman, they say,” said I, laughing and following Haidee to the door. “I shall find something more substantial than that,” said Mr. Rayner, in a low voice, as if half to himself, looking up with a very kind smile as I left the room. That afternoon Haidee had just run out of the schoolroom at the conclusion of her lessons, when Mr. Rayner came in. He held in his hand an old and shabby little case. “The poor painter has not forgotten his promise, if he dares to call it a promise,” said he, with mock humility. “Now see what you have earned by sitting still.” He drew me to the window and opened the case, keeping his eyes fixed upon my face as he did so. The case was lined with old and worn red velvet, and had evidently not been made for the ornament it contained. This was a large pendant in the form of a heart, which was a blaze of what seemed to me the most magnificent diamonds I had ever seen. The sight of them inspired me not with pleasure, but terror. I drew a long breath of surprise and admiration. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” said I at last, not quite able to take in yet the fact that it was meant for me, and hoping against hope that it was not. “You like diamonds?” said he, in a low voice. “They are lovely--the most beautiful of all jewels, I think,” said I, with a break in my voice.