“Oh, dinna laugh, dinna laugh. I canna bear it, Mr. Harry; true or no’ true, it’s woven in with every fibre o’ her heart. You have nae parents, my bonnie man. Oh, could you no’ take it upon ye, true or no’ true? There’s naebody I can hear of that it would harm or wrong if you were to accept it. And there’s naebody kens but me how good she is. Her exterior is maybe no’ sae smooth as many; but her heart it is gold--oh, her heart it is gold! For God’s sake, who is the Father of all of us, and full of mercy--such peety as a father hath unto his children dear--oh, my young man, let her believe it, take her at her word! You will make her a happy woman at the end of a’ her trouble, and it will do ye nae harm.” “Not if it is a fiction all the time,” he said, shaking his head. “Who is to prove it’s a fiction? He would have been your age. She thinks you have your grandfather’s een. I’m no’ sure now I look at you but she’s right. She’s far more likely to be right than me: and now I look at you well I think I can see it. Oh, Mr. Harry, what harm would it do you? A good home and a good inheritance, and to make her happy. Is that no’ worth while, even if maybe it were not what you would think perfitly true?” “It can’t be half true, Gilchrist; it must be whole or nothing.” “Weel, then, it’s whole true; and I’ll gang to the stake for it. Is she not the one that should know? And if you were to cast her off the morn and break her heart, she would still believe it till her dying day. Turn round your head and let me look at you again. Oh, laddie, if I were to gang to the stake for it, you have--you have your grandfather’s een!” CHAPTER XXIV.