She sat at the piano. Cream colored, lace dress. Ivory skin, and fingers graced the white keys. It was her mother’s choice that she learn the piano. Her father said, “Only a fine, young lady  who held such grace on the keyboard, would draw the attention of a handsome, wealthy gentleman caller”.

She hated the piano. She hated the music that came out of it. She didn’t like being a lady, if this was what it was all about. Wealthy, young gentleman caller? She would rather be out of doors, with her chalk in hand, sitting under some nice, fat shade tree, drawing her heart away.

Her parents wanted nothing to do with her desire for art.What gentleman would be interested in a woman who sat and did nothing? She got so sick of hearing this nonsense talk. What about her own desires? Was she not to be happy? Did she have to give in to the demands of others who didn’t live within her skin?

Every day she practiced for two hours. She was granted a break, from which she would hastily go to her room, throw off that prissy dress, and return to her more comfortable clothes. Even though it had to be a dress, it was cotton. Much more breathable and easier to sit down upon the velvety grass with pad in hand.

As soon as her chores were done, as soon as her mother could find nothing else for her to practice being a lady with, she took off out the back door and ran to the field where her tree with the flowing branches seemed to call her by name.

It was there that she was sketching when a shadow came upon her. She turned and there stood a white stallion. On top of him, sat the most erect, handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

The smile he produced, made her heart skip a beat. She quickly turned from him and went about her business of finishing her first picture. He got off of his horse, and without an invitation, came and sat beside her.

He said nothing, but she could feel his eyes upon her. She dare not look at him or she would lose her concentration on her work. He said not a word, until she lay her chalk aside and held her pad up to the light, checking for any mistakes she may have made.

“Brilliant, just brilliant. I have run across a true artist. Please, my lady, may I know the name you are called? Could it be anything other than Rose? Such a beautiful lady should have no other birth name”.

“You really like my work? My parents don’t approve of what I do. They say it is a waste of time and that art is nothing that would draw a wealthy gentleman looking for a bride”. He took her hand in his and he ever so tenderly kissed it. He handed it back to her and looking her directly in her eyes said, ” I am a wealthy gentleman, looking for a bride”.


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