ture success. Now
if you will be good enough to sit here, I will pose you."

He stepped toward a circular revolving-platform placed at the focus of
the massed easels: it was the model's rack of patience, the mount of
humiliation, the scaffold of exposure.

She had perhaps not understood that this would be required of her, this
indignity, that she must climb upon a block like an old-time slave at an
auction. For one instant her fighting look came back and her eyes,
though they rested on vacancy, blazed on vacancy and an ugly red rushed
over her face which had been whiter than colorless. Then as though she
had become disciplined through years of necessity to do the unworthy
things that must be done, she stepped resolutely though unsteadily upon
the platform. A long procession of men and women had climbed thither
from many a motive on life's upward or downward road.

He had specially chosen a chair for a three-quarter portrait, stately,
richly carved; about it hung an atmosphere of high-born things.

Now, the body has definite memories as the mind has definite memories,
and scarcely had she seated herself before the recollections of former
years revived in her and she yielded herself to the chair as though she
had risen from it a moment before. He did not have to pose her; she had
posed herself by grace of bygone luxurious ways. A few changes in the
arrangement of the hands he did make. There was required some separation
of the fingers; excitement caused her to hold them too closely together.
And he drew the entire hands into notice; he specially wished them to be
appreciated in the portrait. They were wonderful hands: they looked
eloquent with the histories of generations; their youthfulness seemed
centuries old. Yet all over them, barely to be seen, were the marks of
life's experience, the delicate but dread sculpture of adversity.

For a while it was as he had foreseen. She was aware only of the
brutality of her position; and her face, by its confused expressions and
quick changes of color, showed what painful thoughts surged. Afterward a
change came gradually. As though she could endure the ordeal only by
forgetting it and could forget it only by looking ahead into the
happiness for which it was endured, slowly there began to shine out upon
her face its ruling passion--the acceptance of life and the love of the
mother glinting as from a cloud-hidden sun across the world's storm.
When this expression had come out, i