Rob Glen replied with an acquiescing nod and wave of his hand. But he said within himself, “if you find me,” and went along with a jubilant step and all kinds of dreams in his head. Sir Ludovic had not received Rob with enthusiasm when he had gone to Earl’s-hall. He had not applauded his drawings as Margaret did, who knew nothing about it, though he allowed them to be clever. But at the same time he had always tolerated Rob, never objected to his visits, nor to the hours which Margaret had spent flitting about his encampment among the potatoes. If he had disapproved of this association, surely he would have prevented it; and what could those words mean, as the old man grasped at his offered arm, “This is all I want?” Wonderful words! meaning all, and more than all, that the brightest hopes could look for. “This is all I want.” Margaret had taken no notice, but it did not seem possible to Rob that she could have heard such words unmoved. It is astonishing how easy it is to believe miracles on our own behalf. In any other case, Rob Glen would have had enough of the shrewd good-sense of his class to know how very unlikely it was that Sir Ludovic Leslie should choose for his young daughter, who was an heiress, in addition to every other advantage she possessed, an alliance with the son of a small farmer in the neighborhood, a “stickit minister,” not at all successful or satisfactory even to his own humble kith and kin. But the fact that it was he himself, Rob Glen, who was the hero, dazzled him, and threw a fictitious air of probability upon things the most unlikely. “This is all I want.” What could the fond father, who has selected an Admirable Crichton to insure his child’s happiness, say more? “Oh ay,” said Mrs. Glen, on her way home from church. “The Earl’s-hall family makes a great work with our Rob. He’s there morning, noon, and nicht. I never see him, for my part. Either he’s drawing pictures of the house, or he’s learning Miss Margret to draw them, or he’s doin’ something for Sir Ludovic. They take up a’ his time that he never does a hand’s turn for his ain affairs. It’s an awfu’ waste of time; but when there are young folk concerned, really you never can ken what’s the maist profitable occupation; just nonsense, in that kind of way, is sometimes mair for their advantage in the long-run; but that’s no my way of judging in the general, far enough from my way.”