"This is an 'interior', David," he said excitedly; "it is the first I have
ever tried, and I am so pleased with the result;--what do you think of
it?"

David slowly approached the easel. The picture represented faithfully the
living room of his own cottage. All its breadths of light and shade, all
its telling contrasts, were used skilfully as a background for Maggie. She
was gazing with a white anxious face out of the little window seaward,
watching the gathering storm, and the fishing boats trying to make the
harbor through it.

"What do you think of it, David?"

"It is wonderfu', sir; but I dinna approve o' it. I think you will hae nae
right to put the fear o' death and dool, and the breaking hearts o' women
into a pictur'. Forbye, you might sell it, and I wouldna like my sister--no
to speak o' my hame--to be turned into siller. And there's mair to say,
sir. Some o' oor folk think it isna lawfu' in the sight o' God to mak' the
image o' anything; and seeing, sir, that I humbly hope some day to stand
upon the altar steps, it would ill become me to hurt the conscience o'
auld or young. I must walk circumspect for the vera hope's sake."

"I never thought of selling a picture, David; I would not sell one with
your sister in it, for all the gold in Scotland. And this is the first
time I have heard of your intention regarding the ministry. Why did you
not tell me before? How gladly I would have helped you!"

"It is a hope I dinna let mysel' think o' just yet, sir. Dr. Balmuto bid
me bide in the boats for a twelve months, and, you ken, I couldna leave
Maggie her lane, here."