"Well, Lansing," he began, sternly endeavouring to obscure the hope, pride, and affection that were welling up in his heart as he looked at the boy; "you're through preparatory; have qualified for college and, after this year, are ready for your career!" "I've done pretty well, Uncle Levi. I stand third in my class and I'm the youngest." "How old are you?" "Seventeen." "You'll be eighteen when you enter college? That's too young." "I'm older than my years," Lansing gave a boastful laugh, then did a bungling thing. "Won't you smoke, Uncle Levi?" and he passed a handsome silver case forward; "it's a great tie between--well, chums!" "I've lived over sixty years without the need of that tie," Markham returned stiffly; "I do not think I'll take it up now. I'm not much of a preacher, but at your age, Lansing, I'd advise the collection of good tastes and habits; let the doubtful luxuries await the years of discretion." Lansing pocketed his silver case and gave an embarrassed laugh. Levi went back to his former line of argument. "It's Cornell and the beggarly allowance," thought Lansing, but it was no such thing. "You are too young to go to college, Lans; too immature to really put yourself to any final test. Your assumption of dignity proves this more than anything else. Of course I do not know how much or how little you know of the past, but it is necessary, from now on, that you and I should understand each other perfectly. I was very"--Levi struggled for composure--"very fond of your mother." "Yes, uncle." "And I did not want her to marry your father. I feared he would not make her happy--he did not!" The crisp facts came out with force but with no malignity, and Lansing Hertford dropped his eyes as he replied: "Aunt Olive has told me they were very uncongenial." A flush rose to the young fellow's face. A pride, not altogether unworthy, rang in the words and for the first time Markham detected a resemblance to the father in the close-shut lips. "I do not wish to say anything against your father that is avoidable, but for your own safety and my own protection I realize that you and I must be quite open with each other." "Yes, uncle." "Your mother died more of a broken heart than of anything else." The boy set his jaw. "I know father loved life and took it as it came," he said. A brief silence rested between the two, then Markham went on: "Naturally you inherit from both your parents. To a certain extent, certainly, a man, under God, is master of his life and I want to give you the best possible choice that lies in my power, not only for your own sake and mine, but for your mother's and--yes! your father's!" "Thank you, Uncle Levi." And now the boy's eyes were raised once more. They swept the room, Markham's face, and then travelled to the broad acres in rich cultivation as far as one could see.