The youth assented modestly; he thought it did not become him to do more. Mossgray stood for a moment longer, looking with loving eyes over his fair country, as it lay below the sunbeams, stirred with the spring; and then he turned to take Halbert’s arm, and they went on again, resuming their former conversation about crops and ploughs and draining. The old man was not so ignorant of these matters as he called himself, and could give valuable counsel to the young experimentalist. “But, Halbert,” said Mossgray, “Lilias tells me I am injuring you in keeping you here so long, where you cannot pursue your own course as you desire to do; we should rather talk of it than of those rural matters. What say you, Halbert?” Halbert was rather startled; he did not know what to say, for, to tell the truth, he had quite forgotten the “course” which his kinsman assumed he was so eager to begin, and at present was perfectly content, and had no wish for change. “I will be glad to do what you think best, Sir,” he said, with a little hesitation. “But the question is not what I think best, but what you wish,” said the old man. “Is it the case that you are impatient of losing time at Mossgray, Halbert?” Halbert was very honest. “Well, Sir, to speak truly, no--I have not been thinking of losing time; but no doubt it is very necessary that I should begin.” “Begin what, Halbert?” “To maintain myself, Sir; to cease to be a burden--” “My good Halbert,” said Mossgray, interrupting him, “I should never have spoken of it, if that were all; but Lilias does not hesitate to tell me that I do wrong to keep you undecided so long; so you must let me know what your own views are, and how I can help you most agreeably to yourself. Be honest and tell me frankly; and when I have heard your own ideas, you must give me the privilege of my age, and let me decide.” There was a pause. “I suppose,” said Halbert, hesitating a little, “that it must be business?” “Does your gift lie in that way?” said Mossgray, smiling. Halbert was a little annoyed, and jealous of ridicule. “I think I might be able to do as much as I undertook,” he answered, with a little warmth. “All sorts of men succeed in business. I do not think, with submission to your better judgment, Mossgray, that, except perseverance and industry, and a stout heart, there is any very special gift required.” “Bravely answered, Halbert,” said Mossgray; “but these are invaluable qualities all, and as necessary for a conscientious country Laird, as for your great merchant of Glasgow or Liverpool. But let us speak more gravely; before you were so wise and sensible as to come here to me, it was my custom to consider myself the last Graeme of Mossgray. Now, Halbert, supposing that our ancestors had entailed these lands, in what position would you have been?”