“You are right, Lilias,” he said, gravely, “there is yet one Graeme remaining of the blood; but even you must not speak to me of him.” Her face had been lifted to him full of eagerness: when he said that her countenance fell--she was silent. “Nay,” said her guardian, kindly, “I do not mean that there is anything, Lilias, of which you may not speak to me with the utmost freedom; but this youth, this Halbert--you do not and cannot know how strong my reasons are for resolving never to see him, nor to suffer his presence at Mossgray.” “Is it for himself; has he displeased you himself, Mossgray?” asked Lilias, with some timidity. Adam Graeme sat down near her, and met her shy glance with his own benign, unclouded smile. “We will speak of him no more, Lilias, if you are afraid.” “No, no, I am not afraid,” said Lilias, hurriedly; “but you must let me be proud--for myself and for you.” The old man smiled again. “Surely, Lilias, if you will tell me how and why.” “For myself,” said Lilias, with some tremor in her voice, “because I would fain have you believe, Mossgray, that it is your own tenderness I prize, and not any gift--not any inheritance.” “I believe it already, Lilias--I need no proof.” “And besides,” continued Lilias, “for everybody--all our neighbours--‘the haill water,’ Mossgray. I must vindicate myself. I cannot have these good people think ill of me. They know you have given me everything I have; but they must not fancy that I grasp at all.” “Hush, Lilias,” said the old man, “I cannot hear this. Well, I permit your own pride: it becomes you well enough; and now for me.” “And for you, Mossgray,” said Lilias. “I am jealous that any one should have cause to say that once in your life you dealt unjustly--that you alienated his inheritance from one of your own blood because your kind heart had compassion on a stranger. I could not hear this said. For the very name’s sake which you say I am to bear, I would shrink from such a reproach as this.” “It is unjust,” said the old man. “I almost believe you, Lilias; but suppose that I knew, and were sure, that far greater dishonour would come to the name, if Halbert Graeme inherited Mossgray, than could fall upon me for disowning him--what then? Would you still advise me to bestow all I have upon the son of a treacherous, false man?” “I do not know him,” said Lilias; “if he does otherwise than well, I am grieved for himself; but it has no effect upon me--it does not alter the right and the wrong; and you, Mossgray, who have never done injustice!” “How have you heard, Lilias, of Halbert Graeme?” said the old man. “Did you ever meet him in your wanderings that you plead his cause so warmly?” “No--oh, no. I have only heard of him, principally here at home, where they cannot forget that he is a son of the house,” said Lilias; “and some one has brought them word that he is good and generous, and worthy to be your successor. Will you not see with your own eyes whether it is so?”