“I do not ask him to stop in Borva; no, it iss a small place for one that hass lived in a town. But the Lewis, that is quite different; and there iss very good houses in Stornoway.” “But, surely, sir,” said Ingram, “you need not consider all this just yet. I am sure neither of them has thought any such thing.” “No,” said Mackenzie, recovering himself, “perhaps not. But we hef our duties to look at the future of young folks. And you will say that Mr. Lavender hass only expectations of money?” “Well, the expectation is almost a certainty. His aunt, I have told you, is a very rich old lady, who has no other near relations, and she is extremely fond of him, and would do anything for him. I am sure the allowance he has now is greatly in excels of what she spends on herself.” “But they might quarrel, you know--they might quarrel. You hef always to look to the future; they might quarrel and what will he do then?” “Why, you don’t suppose he couldn’t support himself if the worst were to come to the worst? He is an amazingly clever fellow--” “Ah, that is very good,” said Mackenzie in a cautious sort of way, “but has he ever made any money?” “Oh, I fancy not--nothing to speak of. He has sold some pictures, but I think he has given more away.” “Then it iss not easy, tek my word for it, Mr. Ingram, to begin a new trade when you are twenty-five years of age, and the people who will tek your pictures for nothing, will they pay for them if you wanted the money?” It was obviously the old man’s eager wish to prove to himself that, somehow or other, Lavender might come to have no money, and be made dependent on his father-in-law. So far, indeed, from sharing the sentiments ordinarily attributed to that important relative, he would have welcomed with a heartfelt joy the information that the man who, as he expected, was about to marry his daughter, was absolutely penniless. Not even all the attractions of that deer forest in Sutherlandshire--particularly fascinating as they must have been to a man of his education and surroundings--had been able to lead the old King of Borva even into hinting to his daughter that the owner of that property would like to marry her. Sheila was to choose for herself. She was not like a fisherman’s lass, bound to consider ways and means. And now that she had chosen, or at least indicated the possibility of her doing so, her father’s chief desire was that his future son-in-law should come and take and enjoy his money, so only that Sheila might not be carried away from him forever. “Well, I will see about it,” said Mackenzie, with an affectation of cheerful and practical shrewdness. “Oh, yes, I will see about it when Sheila has made up her mind. He is a very good young man, whatever--”