‘To quit Glasgow; to forgo all the pecuniary advantages that I may derive from my connexion with you--if’--and he made a full stop and looked his uncle severely in the face,--‘if,’ he resumed, ‘your kindness was dictated with a view to this proposal.’ A short silence ensued, in which Walkinshaw still kept his eye brightly and keenly fixed on his uncle’s face; but the Laird was too much a man of the world not to be able to endure this scrutiny. ‘You are a strange fellow,’ he at last said, with a smile, that he intended should be conciliatory; ‘but as I was prepared for a few heroics I can forgive you.’ ‘Forgive!’ cried the hot and indignant youth; ‘what have I done to deserve such an insult? I thought your kindness merited my gratitude. I felt towards you as a man should feel towards a great benefactor; but now it would almost seem that you have in all your kindness but pursued some sinister purpose. Why am I selected to be your instrument? Why are my feelings and affections to be sacrificed on your sordid altars?’ He found his passion betraying him into irrational extravagance, and, torn by the conflict within him, he covered his face with his hands, and burst into tears. ‘This is absolute folly, James,’ said his uncle soberly. ‘It is not folly,’ was again his impassioned answer. ‘My words may be foolish, but my feelings are at this moment wise. I cannot for ten times all your fortune, told a hundred times, endure to think I may be induced to barter my heart. It may be that I am ungrateful; if so, as I can never feel otherwise upon the subject than I do, send me away, as unworthy longer to share your favour; but worthy I shall nevertheless be of something still better.’ ‘Young man, you will be more reasonable to-morrow,’ said his uncle, contemptuously, and immediately left the room. Walkinshaw at the same moment also took his hat, and, rushing towards the door, quitted the house; but in turning suddenly round the corner, he ran against Robina, who, having some idea of the object of his visit, had been listening at the window to their conversation. CHAPTER LXVIII The agitation in which Walkinshaw was at the moment when he encountered Robina, prevented him from being surprised at meeting her, and also from suspecting the cause which had taken her to that particular place so late in the evening. The young lady was more cool and collected, as we believe young ladies always are on such occasions, and she was the first who spoke. ‘Where are you running so fast?’ said she. ‘I thought you would have stayed tea. Will you not go back with me? My mother expects you.’ ‘Your father does not,’ replied Walkinshaw tersely; ‘and I wish it had been my fortune never to have set my foot within his door.’