“That is the worst mess of all!” Isabel assured the Colonel. “If you could only see Dan doing this grand ‘clear-up,’ you would not forget it. But, tell me, have you admired the ‘Madonna’?”
Colonel Lane had not even looked at it till now, and Dan had been disappointed, for he had put it in a good light, hoping to hear the Colonel exclaim something laudatory.
But now that the soldier did look, he was so struck with admiration, that at first he could say nothing; and when he did speak, it was not to compliment the young painter in the ordinary fashion.
“I don’t think I ever saw such a pure expression,” he said, gazing intently at the picture. “I think it is the best conception of the Blessed Virgin that I ever saw. To my mind, all the big painters have failed to paint the soul of the Virgin Mother. Here it is: love, sorrow, and infinite peace.”
“Say no more!” cried Dan. “Leave it there! That is what I saw in the face of Aimée Le Breton.”
Then Colonel Lane fell into ordinary compliment. “You are a great painter, Webster,” he said. “You not only see, but you can put on record what you see.”
Dan was filled with a wild joy. This was indeed praise. He knew, too, that Colonel Lane was the kind of man who never said more than he meant.
The young painter began instantly to build castles in Spain—such castles!
Ah! they would all see some day that he had made no mistake when he had chosen Art for a career.
“What are you going to do with it?” inquired the Colonel.