"Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight good for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a drap o' hot tay till he comes."
So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture of "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined at once whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must be acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's conception of himself.
"I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has had a vera clear notion o' what he was doing."
Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his father's opinion that hour.
Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man of coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great sea swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his fathers felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up everything for an impossible loyalty.
The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life with a sigh.
"Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying pictures?"
"I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them."
"You mean Colin Crawford gave you them."
"That is what I mean."