“No, indeed, Mossgray,” she said, simply; “did I not say that Halbert was not free to be any one’s rival? I mean,” continued Lilias, with a deeper blush as she observed the inference to be drawn from her words, “that Halbert is very faithful to the northern Menie, and that I am Halbert’s very grave and elderly adviser and friend, and must always remain so, did we live under the same roof all our lives.” Mossgray desired to have his ward’s confidence; he did not smile at her inference nor at her blush; neither did he ask what they meant; the delicate old man felt it was meet that Lilias should be shy of such confidences, even to him. “Well,” he said, “I will give up that; it would be very desirable no doubt, Lilias, and would solve our problem beautifully. If Halbert and you were good bairns I have no doubt you would adopt this solution for my particular convenience; but if, as you say, Halbert is already in bondage, and you are so wise and old as you tell me you are, there is no more to be said on the subject, and we must think of some other plan. Let me hear your proposal, Lilias.” Lilias looked up in some surprise. “Did you think I was Helen Buchanan, Mossgray? No, indeed, I do not make plans. I only do what I am bidden when they please me, and dissent when they do not; but I am no originator, Mossgray--you know I am not.” Mossgray smiled again. “Well, Lilias, we shall suppose that I myself form the plan, according to your counsel, and that we make Halbert heir of Mossgray; and now there comes a grave consideration: what am I to do with you, my good Lilias? Will you be content with the little provision I can make for you, independent of these lands? Nay, if you are not like your friend Helen in making plans, I cannot have you resemble her in pride. I speak to you, you know, as if you had been Lilias Graeme; and your future--must I not provide for that?” “No, Mossgray.” Her head was bent down, but the animated unusual light played about her face like sunshine--her voice was very low, and trembled as with some hidden music. She did not meet the kindly inquiring look which her guardian turned upon her; she only answered--“No, Mossgray.” “The future is cared for then?” said the gentle old man, in his delicate tenderness. “I must not ask how, Lilias, but I may believe and infer, may I not?--and guess that there is some one labouring under warmer skies for my good child, and hope that he is wise and generous, and worthy of her. Tell him that I too will grow jealous for his honour and good report, though I am not told his name, and that together, you and I, who alone know him here, will bid God speed to his labour:--shall it not be so?”