"Bless me!" repeated Mr. Ambler, "then the lad must go to India, that is clear--he may do great things in India. You see when I was there myself, there was the best opening for a lad of talent that could possibly be; but I had a yearning for home. I was always uncommonly fond of home, and so I am only a country Laird, when I might have been a Nabob. But if he were once in India I would have no fear for him--he would soon get up again." "India, Mr. Ambler!" exclaimed Mr. Coulter, "no doubt there are fortunes to be made in India; but _I_ fancy it's a shame to us to send our sons away to seek gold, when it is lying in our very fields for the digging--agriculture--" "What's that you're saying, Mr. Coulter?" exclaimed the Laird of Smoothlie. "Gold! where is't man? we'll all take a hand at that work, if it were but for poor auld Scotland's sake, who has ever been said to have but a scanty providing of the precious metal." "There are harvests lying in the cold breast of the great Strathoran moor," said the agriculturist, energetically, "of more import to man, Mr. Ambler, than if its sands were gold. If what we hear of Archibald Sutherland is true, _he_ may never be able to do it now; but a sensible man, with sufficient capital, might double the rent-roll of Strathoran." Mr. Ambler looked slightly contemptuous. "Well, well, Mr. Coulter, I'll not gainsay you; but to tell the truth, I've no notion of making young lads of family and breeding amateur ploughmen--I beg your pardon, Mr. Coulter, I mean no affront to you--you look upon it as a science, I know, and doubtless so it is; but--you see if Archie Sutherland could fall in with such an opening, as was waiting ready for me when I went to India, he might be home again, a wealthy man, before your harvests were grown." "James," interposed Mrs. Coulter, "you are not looking at our young people--how happy they all seem, poor things. I do not think you have seen my Ada, Mr. Ambler, since she returned from Edinburgh." Mr. Ambler adjusted his spectacles, with a smile. "No, I dare say not. Is that her with Lewis Ross? No, that's Mrs. Catherine's little friend. Ay, ay, I see her--like what her mother used to be, in my remembrance. Mrs. Coulter, you must have great pleasure in your fine family." Mrs. Coulter smiled, well pleased. "Do you know, Mr. Ambler," said Mrs. Bairnsfather, "who that Miss Aytoun is?" "Who she is? No, indeed, except a very bonnie little girlie. She is that, without dispute; but Mr. Foreman will know. Mr. Foreman, can you tell Mrs. Bairnsfather who that young lady is, at Lewis Ross's hand?" "Miss Aytoun, ma'am, a relative of Mrs. Catherine's," said the lawyer. "We know that," said Mr. Ambler. "Is that all her history? Aytoun--Aytoun--I have surely some associations with that name myself."