eir choice of location, and were enduring an existence barer than
the one they had left, without any of its redeeming features. Colin
gave them all he had, and left them with promises of future aid.

Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense
excitement over the struggle then going on in the little republic of
Texas. He found out something about the country; as for the struggle,
it was the old struggle of freedom against papal and priestly
dominion. That was a quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been
ready to draw the sword. It was Scotland's old quarrel in the New
World, and Colin went into it heart and soul. His reward had been an
immense tract of the noble rolling Colorado prairie. Then he
determined to bring the Crawfords down, and plant them in this garden
of the Lord. It was for this end he had written to his father for
L4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to their new home,
and give them a start. He had left them happy and contented, and felt
now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience of all wrong.

"But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It
was his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I
hate the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark."

"It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain."

"Colin, are you married?"

"Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife
was in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own."

"You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all.
What are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something."

"I am an artist--a successful one, if that is not also against me."

"Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray
from the old Crawford ways."

"I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am
sorry about father."

Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's
hopes and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as
he reasoned with him. And at this point his own son came into the
room. Perhaps for the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future
heir of Crawford. A strange thrill of family and national pride
stirred his heart. He threw the little fellow shoulder high, and in
that moment regretted that he had flung away the child's chance of
being Earl of Crawford. He understood then something of the anger and
suffer