“I thought it was an Appearance sent to warn us of our end,” said Mrs Mense, solemnly, “and my heart failed me, Mossgray, because I kent, that whate’er your better spirit may have done, I had ne’er forgiven him, no when he was dead. But it was nae Appearance; the face is the face of a living man, and if it’s like him, it has that in it, that in his bravest days he never had. The lad’s face is a true face, Mr Adam. I have lived near fourscore years, and I have learned to ken.” “Who is it, Nancy?” said Mossgray. “He says they ca’ him Halbert Graeme. I pat him in the big room beside Miss Lilias; they’re a bonnie couple as e’e could look upon, and he’s Mr Charlie’s son.” There was a brief struggle; the old feeling of suspicion and distrust came up for a moment over the warm heart of Adam Graeme; but, like all unnatural things, it was shortlived, and he recovered himself. “I will judge him by his own merits,” said the just Laird of Mossgray, “for long ago, Charlie Graeme, long ago, when your treachery was scarcely done, I forgave you.” A footstep on the stair interrupted the conversation in the drawing-room; it brought the colour almost painfully to Halbert’s cheek as he sat in anxious expectation, and when Mossgray entered the room, the youth rose and stood before him, hesitating and embarrassed. He scarcely observed the stateliness of the old man’s demeanour; he did not see how the face, which at first was only gravely courteous, softened and melted as it looked upon his own. Lilias interposed, as they stood silently looking at each other. “Mossgray,” she said, her calm face and tone restoring them both to self-possession, “this is Halbert Graeme.” And then the old man bade him welcome to Mossgray. It was not in his generous, gentle nature to suffer any guest to remain uneasy under his roof; whatever his purpose might be towards the stranger he could not have been otherwise than kindly courteous as became an host; and Halbert was so ingenuous in his young, frank manhood, so fresh and confident in his untried hopes--so bold of venturing on the world which yet he did not know, that the heart of his kinsman warmed towards him. It _was_ a true face, honest, manful, and guileless, with the boyish bloom upon it still, half bashful, half bold. The old man could ill be stern at any time, but now the artificial restraint gradually gave way; he resigned himself to the natural guidance of his heart, and Halbert Graeme was installed that night a member of Mossgray’s family--another child. CHAPTER XIV. Simple, grave, sincere.--COWPER.