"Dorothy, my dear," said he, smelling about as he descended the staircase, "I don't smell paint; has Master Guy's promised work been delayed for my convenience? Has he not begun to paint the house yet?"
"Come and see," said Mistress Hazelwood, smiling; and taking his arm, she led him across the hall.
There, in the most conspicuous position favourable for the light, was a large handsome picture of the old Moat House; the time, morning; the scene, that in which the Squire, mounted on his favourite hunter, and equipped for the chase, was chatting with Mistress Hazelwood as she stood under the porch leaning over the balustrade while Evelyn was presenting the riding whip to her father. The whole was so well delineated, the animation of the figures so gracefully described, the group and colouring so skilfully arranged, that instantly recognising the moment, and comprehending now the reasons of playful detention that morning, the Squire uttered a loud exclamation of delight, which brought all the interested actors in the plot quickly around him.
"I must have the pleasure of buying your first picture, my young friend," said he, seating himself opposite to it with infinite gratification, "and at once commission you to paint a fellow to it. The subject shall be the same steed, only crest-fallen, the same rider, only well-nigh at the end of life's chapter, and a hero to the rescue with the spirit of the brave old barons of Falcon Range."
"Dear sir," said Guy, modestly, "that scene is too painfully painted on all our minds to need any such commemoration. Something that would express our thankfulness to God for your recovery would please us all much better."
"I knew he wouldn't paint that," cried Evelyn, the tears springing to her eyes as she wound herself within her father's arm, and stood gazing with him at the picture; "it is not fair to ask him, is it, mother?"
"No, Evelyn; nor could Guy, even after long years of study, ever imagine anything that would faithfully express our gratitude to God, and to him, God's instrument, for the mercy and lovingkindness bestowed upon us that day."
"May the life so saved be turned to better account in the future, than it has been in the past," said Mr. Hazelwood, humbly. "Then it seems I must find another subject to make the pair; and in the meantime, Guy having performed his part of Mistress Hazelwood's agreement, it remains for me to fulfil mine. But, Guy," he suddenly exclaimed, merrily, "am I not something of a lunatic? If I help you to become a great painter, is it not like pulling down my house over my head, seeing that, as a little bird whispered to me, all your money is to go to the repurchase of the old Moat?"
Guy blushed painfully. Somebody had betrayed him to the Squire, and the idea now seemed to his own mind so absurd and preposterous, that he would gladly have concealed it for ever.
"Sir, I am ashamed that I had such a thought," he stammered; "I never dreamed that anyone would tell you of it."