tained you; you have taken my best. I was always glad to see you; you were glad to see the one precious thing I had. You spoke me fair; and, meantime, I will not say you robbed me, but I am bereaved, and what I have lost, you, it seems, have won."
"Sir, I cannot repent."
"Repent! Not you! You triumph, no doubt: John Graham, you descended partly from a Highlander and a chief, and there is a trace of the Celt in all you look, speak, and think. You have his cunning and his charm. The red (Well, then, Polly, the fair) hair, the tongue of guile, and brain of wile, are all come down by inheritance."
"Sir, I feel honest enough," said Graham; and a genuine English blush covered its face with its warm witness of sincerity. "And yet," he added, "I won't deny that in some respects you accuse me justly. In your presence I have always had a thought which I dared not show you. I did truly regard you as the possessor of the most valuable thing the world owns for me. I wished for it; I tried for it. Sir, I ask for it now."
"John, you ask much."
"Very much, sir. It must come from your gene-
