A NOBLE LIFE

by

DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK

Author of _John Halifax, Gentleman_, _Christian's Mistake_, &c. , &c. , &c. 

New YorkHarper & Brothers, PublishersFranklin Square

Dedicated, with the affection of eighteen years, To Uncle George

Chapter 1

Many years ago, how many need not be recorded, there lived in hisancestral castle, in the far north of Scotland, the last Earl ofCairnforth. 

You will not find his name in "Lodge's Peerage, " for, as I say, he wasthe last earl, and with him the title became extinct. It had been bornefor centuries by many noble and gallant men, who had lived worthily ordied bravely. But I think among what we call "heroic" lives--livesthe story of which touches us with something higher than pity, anddeeper than love--there never was any of his race who left behind ahistory more truly heroic than he. 

Now that it is all over and done--now that the soul so mysteriouslygiven has gone back unto Him who gave it, and a little green turf in thekirk-yard behind Cairnforth Manse covers the poor body in which it dweltfor more than forty years, I feel it might do good to many, and would doharm to none, if I related the story--a very simple one, and morelike a biography than a tale--of Charles Edward Stuart Montgomerie, last Earl of Cairnforth. 

He did not succeed to the title; he was born Earl of Cairnforth, hisfather having been drowned in the loch a month before, the wretchedcountess herself beholding the sight from her castle windows. She livedbut to know she had a son and heir--to whom she desired might begiven his father's name: then she died--more glad than sorry todepart, for she had loved her husband all her life, and had only beenmarried to him a year. Perhaps, had she once seen her son, she mighthave wished less to die than to live, if only for his sake; however, itwas not God's will that this should be. So, at two days old, the "poorlittle earl"--as from his very birth people began compassionately tocall him--was left alone in the world, without a single near relativeor connection, his parents having both been only children, but with histitle, his estate, and twenty thousand a year. 

Cairnforth Castle is one of the loveliest residences in all Scotland. It is built on the extremity of a long tongue of land which stretchesout between two salt-water lochs--Loch Beg, the "little, " and LochMhor, the "big" lake. The latter is grand and gloomy, shut in by bleakmountains, which sit all round it, their feet in the water, and theirheads in mist and cloud. But Loch Beg is quite different. It hasgreen, cultivated, sloping shores, fringed with trees to the water'sedge, and the least ray of sunshine seems always to set it dimpling withwavy smiles. Now and then a sudden squall comes down from the chain ofmountains far away beyond the head of the loch, and then its watersbegin to darken--just like a sudden frown over a bright face; thewaves curl and rise, and lash themselves into foam, and any littlesailing boat, which has been happily and safely riding over them fiveminutes before, is often struck and capsized immediately. Thus ithappened when the late earl was drowned. 

The minister--the Rev. Alexander Cardross--had been sailing withhim; had only just landed, and was watching the boat crossing backagain, when the squall came down. Though this region is a populousdistrict now, with white villas dotted like daisies all along the greenshores, there was then not a house in the whole peninsula of Cairnforthexcept the Castle, the Manse, and a few cottages, called the "clachan. "Before help was possible, the earl and his boatman, Neil Campbell, wereboth drowned. The only person saved was little Malcolm Campbell--Neil's brother--a boy about ten years old. 

In most country parishes of Scotland or England there is an almostsuperstitious feeling that "the minister, " or "the clergyman, " must bethe fittest person to break any terrible tidings. So it ought to be. Who but the messenger of God should know best how to communicate Hisawful will, as expressed in great visitations of Calamity? In this caseno one could have been more suited for his solemn office than Mr. Cardross. He went up to the Castle door, as he had done to that of manya cottage bearing the same solemn message of sudden death, to whichthere could be but one answer--"Thy will be done. "

But the particulars of that terrible interview, in which he had to tellthe countess what already her own eyes had witnessed--though theyrefused to believe the truth--the minister never repeated to anycreature except his wife. And afterward, during the four weeks thatLady Cairnforth survived her husband, he was the only person, beyond hernecessary attendants, who saw her until she died. 

The day after her death he was suddenly summoned to the castle by Mr. Menteith, an Edinburg writer to the signet, and confidential agent, orfactor, as the office called in Scotland, to the late earl. 

"They'll be sending for you to baptize the child. It's early--butthe pair bit thing may be delicate, and they may want it done at once, before Mr. Menteith returns to Edinburg. "

"Maybe so, Helen; so do not expect me back till you see me. "

Thus saying, the minister quitted his sunshiny manse garden, where hewas working peacefully among his raspberry-bushes, with his wife lookingon, and walked, in meditative mood, through the Cairnforth woods, nowblue with hyacinths in their bosky shadows, and in every nook and cornerstarred with great clusters of yellow primroses, which in this part ofthe country grow profusely, even down to within a few feet of high-watermark, on the tidal shores of the lochs. Their large, round, smilingfaces, so irresistibly suggestive of baby smiles at sight of them, andbaby fingers clutching at them, touched the heart of the good minister, who had left two small creatures of his own--a "bit girlie" of five, and a two-year-old boy--playing on his grass-plot at home with sometoys of the countess's giving: she had always been exceedingly kind tothe Manse children. 

He thought of her, lying dead; and then of her poor little motherlessand fatherless baby, whom, if she had any consciousness in herdeath-hour, it must have been a sore pang to her to leave behind. Andthe tears gathered again and again in the good man's eyes, shutting outfrom his vision all the beauty of the spring. 

He reached the grand Italian portico, built by some former earl with ataste for that style, and yet harmonizing well with the smooth lawn, bounded by a circle of magnificent trees, through which came glimpses ofthe glittering loch. The great doors used almost always to stand open, and the windows were rarely closed--the countess like sunshine andfresh air, but now all was shut up and silent, and not a soul was to beseen about the place. 

Mr. Cardross sighed, and walked round to the other side of the castle, where was my lady's flower-garden, or what was to be made into one. Then he entered by French windows, from a terrace overlooking it, mylord's library, also incomplete. For the earl, who was by no means abookish man, had only built that room since his marriage, to please hiswife, whom perhaps he loved all the better that she was so exceedinglyunlike himself. Now both were away--their short dream of marriedlife ended, their plans and hopes crumbled into dust. As yet, noexternal changes had been made, the other solemn changes having come sosuddenly. Gardeners still worked in the parterres, and masons andcarpenters still, in a quiet and lazy manner, went on completing thebeautiful room; but there was no one to order them--no one watchedtheir work. Except for workmen, the place seemed so deserted that Mr. Cardross wandered through the house for some time before he found asingle servant to direct him to the person of whom he was in search. 

Mr. Menteith sat alone in a little room filled with guns and fishingrods, and ornamented with stag's heads, stuffed birds, and huntingrelics of all sorts, which had been called, not too appropriately, theearl's "study. " He was a little, dried-up man, about fifty years old, of sharp but not unkindly aspect. When the minister entered, he lookedup from the mass of papers which he seemed to have been trying to reduceinto some kind of order--apparently the late earl's private papers, which had been untouched since his death, for there was a sad andserious shadow over what otherwise have been rather a humorous face. 

"Welcome, Mr. Cardross; I am indeed glad to see you. I took the libertyof sending for you, since you are the only person with whom I canconsult--we can consult, I should say, for Dr. Hamilton wished itlikewise--on this--this most painful occasion. "

"I shall be very glad to be of the slightest service, " returned Mr. Cardross. "I had the utmost respect for those that are away. " He hadthe habit, this tender-hearted, pious man, who, with all his learning, kept a religious faith as simple as a child's, as speaking of the deadas only "away. "

The two gentlemen sat down together. They had often met before, forwhenever there were guests at Cairnforth Castle the earl always invitedthe minister and his wife to dinner, but they had never fraternizedmuch. Now, a common sympathy, nay, more, a common grief--forsomething beyond sympathy, keen personal regret, was evidently felt byboth for the departed earl and countess--made them suddenly familiar. 

"Is the child doing well?" was Mr. Cardross's first and most naturalquestion; but it seemed to puzzle Mr. Menteith exceedingly. 

"I suppose so--indeed, I can hardly say. This is a most difficultand painful matter. "

"It was born alive, and is a son and heir, as I heard?"

"Yes. "

"That is fortunate. "

"For some things; since, had it been a girl, the title would havelapsed, and the long line of Earls of Cairnforth ended. At one time Dr. Hamilton feared the child would be stillborn, and then, of course, theearldom would have been extinct. The property must in that case havepassed to the earl's distant cousins, the Bruces, of whom you may haveheard, Mr. Cardross?"

"I have; and there are few things, I fancy, which Lord Cairnforth wouldhave regretted more than such heir-ship. "

"You are right, " said the keen W. S. , evidently relieved. "It was myinstinctive conviction that you were in the late earl's confidence onthis point, which made me decide to send and consult with you. We musttake all precautions, you see. We are placed in a most painful andresponsible position--both Dr. Hamilton and myself. "

It was now Mr. Cardross's turn to look perplexed. No doubt it was amost sad fatality which had happened, but still things did not seem towarrant the excessive anxiety testified by Mr. Menteith. 

"I do not quite comprehend you. There might have been difficulties asto the succession, but are they not all solved by the birth of ahealthy, living heir--whom we must cordially hope will long continueto live?"

"I hardly know if we ought to hope it, " said the lawyer, very seriously. "But we must 'keep a calm sough' on that matter for the present--sofar, at least, Dr. Hamilton and I have determined--in order toprevent the Bruces from getting wind of it. Now, then, will you comeand see the earl?"

"The earl!" re-echoed Mr. Cardross, with a start; then recollectedhimself, and sighed to think how one goes and another comes, and all theworld moves on as before--passing, generation after generation, intothe awful shadow which no eye except that of faith can penetrate. Lifeis a little, little day--hardly longer, in the end, for the man inhis prime than for the infant of an hour's span. 

And the minister, who was of meditative mood, thought to himself much asa poet half a century later put into words--thoughts common to allmen, but which only such a man and such a poet could have crystallizedinto four such perfect lines:

 "Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why; He thinks he was not made to die, And Thou hast made him--Thou are just. "

Thus musing, Mr. Cardross followed up stairs toward the magnificentnursery, which had been prepared months before, with a loving eagernessof anticipation, and a merciful blindness to futurity, for the expectedheir of the Earls of Cairnforth. For, as before said, the only hope ofthe lineal continuance of the race was in this one child. It lay in acradle resplendent with white satin hangings and lace curtains, andbeside it sat the nurse--a mere girl, but a widow already--NeilCampbell's widow, whose first child had been born only two days afterher husband was drowned. Mr. Cardross knew that she had been suddenlysent for out of the clachan, the countess having, with her dying breath, desired that this young woman, whose circumstances were so like her own, should be taken as wet-nurse to the new-born baby. 

So, in her widow's weeds, grave and sad, but very sweet-looking--shehad been a servant at the Castle, and was a rather superior young woman--Janet Campbell took her place beside her charge with an expressionin her face as if she felt it was a charge left her by her lostmistress, which must be kept solemnly to the end of her days--as itwas. 

The minister shook hands with her silently--she had gone through soreaffliction--but the lawyer addressed her in his quick, sharp, business tone, under which he often disguised more emotion than he likedto show. 

"You have not been dressing the child? Dr. Hamilton told you not toattempt it. "

"Na, na, sir, I didna try, " answered Janet, sadly and gently. 

"That is well. I'm a father of a family myself, " added Mr. Menteith, more gently: "I've six of them; but, thank the Lord, ne'er a one of themlike this. Take it on your lap, nurse, and let the minister look at it!Ay, here comes Dr. Hamilton!"

Mr. Cardross knew Dr. Hamilton by repute--as who did not? Since atthat period it was the widest-known name in the whole medical professionin Scotland. And the first sight of him confirmed the reputation, andmade even a stranger recognize that his fame was both natural andjustifiable. But the minister had scarcely time to cast a glance on theacute, benevolent, wonderfully powerful and thoughtful head, when hisattention was attracted by the poor infant, whom Janet was carefullyunswathing from innumerable folds of cotton wool. 

Mrs. Campbell was a widow of only a month, and her mistress, to whom shehad been much attached, lay dead in the next room, yet she had still afew tears left, and they were dropping like rain over her mistress'schild. 

No wonder. It lay on her lap, the smallest, saddest specimen ofinfantile deformity. It had a large head--larger than most infantshave--but its body was thin, elfish, and distorted, every joint andlimb being twisted in some way or other. You could not say that anyportion of the child was natural or perfect except the head and face. Whether it had the power of motion or not seemed doubtful; at any rate, it made no attempt to move, except feebly turning its head from side toside. It lay, with its large eyes wide open, and at last opened itspoor little mouth also, and uttered a loud pathetic wail. 

"It greets, doctor, ye hear, " said the nurse, eagerly; "'deed, an' itgreets fine, whiles. "

"A good sign, " observed Dr. Hamilton. "Perhaps it may live after all, though one scarcely knows whether to desire it. "

"I'll gar it live, doctor, " cried Janet, as she rocked and patted it, and at last managed to lay it to her motherly breast; "I'll gar it live, ye'll see! That is God willing. "

"It could not live, it could never have lived at all, if He were notwilling, " said the minister, reverently. And then, after a long pause, during which he and the two other gentlemen stood watching, with sadpitying looks, the unfortunate child, he added, so quietly and naturallythat, though they might have thought it odd, they could hardly havethought it out of place or hypocritical, "Let us pray. "

It was a habit, long familiar to this good Presbyterian minister, whowent in and out among his parishioners as their pastor and teacher, consoler and guide. Many a time, in many a cottage, had he knelt down, just as he did here, in the midst of deep affliction, and said a fewsimple words, as from children to a father--the Father of all men. And the beginning and end of his prayer was, now as always, theexpression and experience of his own entire faith--"Thy will bedone. "

"But what ought we to do?" said the Edinburg writer, when, havingquitted, not unmoved, the melancholy nursery, he led the way to thescarcely less dreary dining-room, where the two handsome, bright-lookingportraits of the late earl and countess still smiled down from the wall--giving Mr. Cardross a start, and making him recall, as if theintervening six weeks had been all a dream, the last day he and Mr. Menteith dined together at that hospitable table. They stole a look atone another, but, with true Scotch reticence, neither exchanged a word. Yet perhaps each respected the other the more, both for the feeling andfor its instant repression. 

"Whatever we decide to do, ought to be decided now, " said Dr. Hamilton, "for I must be in Edinburg tomorrow. And, besides, it is a case inwhich no medical skill is of much avail, if any; Nature must strugglethrough--or yield, which I can not help thinking would be the bestending. In Sparta, now, this poor child would have been exposed onMount--what was the place? to be saved by any opportune death fromthe still greater misfortune of living. "

"But that would have been murder--sheer murder, " earnestly repliedthe minister. "And we are not Spartans, but Christians, to whom thebody is not every thing, and who believe that God can work out Hiswonderful will, if He chooses, through the meanest means--through thesaddest tragedies and direst misfortunes. In one sense, Dr. Hamilton, there is no such thing as evil--that is, there is no actual evil inthe world except sin. "

"There is plenty of that, alas!" said Mr. Menteith. "But as to thechild, I wished you to see it--both of you together--if only tobear evidence as to its present condition. For the late earl, in hiswill, executed, by a most providential chance, the last time I was here, appointed me sole guardian and trustee to a possible widow or child. Onme, therefore, depends the charge of this poor infant--the sole barbetween those penniless, grasping, altogether discreditable Bruces, andthe large property of Cairnforth. You see my position, gentlemen?"

It was not an easy one, and no wonder the honest man looked muchtroubled. 

"I need not say that I never sought it--never thought it possible itwould really fall to my lot; but it has fallen, and I must discharge itto the best of my ability. You see what the earl is--born alive, anyhow--though we can hardly wish him to survive. "

The three gentlemen were silent. At length Mr. Cardross said, "There is one worse doubt which has occurred to me. Do you think, Dr. Hamilton, that the mind is as imperfect as the body? In short, is itnot likely that the poor child may turn out to be an idiot?"

"I do not know; and it will be almost impossible to judge for monthsyet. "

"But, idiot or not, " cried Mr. Menteith--a regular old Tory, whoclung with true conservative veneration to the noble race which he, hisfather, and grandfather had served faithfully for a century and more---"idiot or not, the boy is undoubtedly Earl of Cairnforth. "

"Poor child!"

The gentlemen then sat down and thoroughly discussed the whole matter, finally deciding that, until things appeared somewhat plainer, it wasadvisable to keep the earl's condition as much as possible from theworld in general, and more especially from his own kindred. The Bruces, who lived abroad, would, it was naturally to be concluded--or Mr. Menteith, who had a lawyer's slender faith in human nature, believed so--would pounce down, like eagles upon a wounded lamb, the instant theyheard what a slender thread of life hung between them and these greatpossessions. 

Under such circumstances, for the infant to be left unprotected in thesolitudes of Loch Beg was very unadvisable; and, besides, it was theguardian's duty to see that every aid which medical skill and surgicalscience could procure was supplied to a child so afflicted, and uponwhose life so much depended. He therefore proposed and Dr. Hamiltonagreed, that immediately after the funeral the little earl should betaken to Edinburg, and placed in the house of the latter, to remainthere a year or two, or so long as might be necessary. 

Janet Campbell was called in, and expressed herself willing to take hershare--no small one--in the responsibility of this plan, if theminister would see to her "ain bairn;" that was, if the minister reallythought the scheme a wise one. 

"The minister's opinion seems to carry great weight here, " said Dr. Hamilton, smiling. 

And it was so; not merely because of his being a minister, but because, with all his gentle, unassuming ways, he had an excellent judgment--the clear, sound, unbiased judgment which no man can ever attain toexcept a man who thinks little of himself; to whom his own honor andglory come ever second, and his Master's glory and service first. Therefore, both as a man and a minister, Mr. Cardross was equally andwholly reliable: charitable, because he felt his own infirmities;placing himself at no higher level than his neighbor, he was alwayscalmly and scrupulously just. Though a learned, he was not exactly aclever man: probably his sermons, preached every Sunday for the last tenyears in Cairnforth Kirk, were neither better nor worse than thegenerality of country sermons; but that matters little. He was a wiseman and a good man, and all his parishioners, scattered over a parish offourteen Scotch miles, deeply and dearly loved him. 

"I think, " said Mr. Cardross, "that this plan has many advantages, andis, under the circumstances, the best that could have been devised. True, I should like to have had the poor babe under my own eye and mywife's, that we might try to requite in some degree the many kindnesseswe have received from his poor father and mother; but he will be betteroff in Edinburg. Give him every possible chance of life and health, anda sound mind, and then we must leave the rest to Him, who would not havesent this poor little one into the world at all if He had not had somepurpose in so doing, though what that purpose is we can not see. Isuppose we shall see it, and many other dark things, some time. "

The minister lifted his grave, gentle eyes, and sat looking out upon thefamiliar view--the sunshiny loch, the green shore, and the far-awaycircle of mountains--while the other two gentlemen discussed a fewother business matters. Then he invited them both to return with himand dine at the Manse, where he and his wife were accustomed to offer toall comers, high and low, rich and poor, "hospitality without grudging. "

So the three walked through Cairnforth woods, now glowing with fullspring beauty, and wandered about the minister's garden tilldinner-time. It was a very simple meal--just the ordinary familydinner, as it was spread day after day, all the year round: they couldafford hospitality, but show, with the minister's limited income wasimpossible, and he was too honest to attempt it. Many a time the earlhimself had dined, merrily and heartily, at that simple table, with themistress--active, energetic, cheerful, and refined--sitting at thehead of it, and the children, a girl and boy, already admitted to taketheir place there, quiet and well-behaved--brought up from the firstto be, like their parents, gentlemen and gentlewomen. The Manse tablewas a perfect picture of family sunshine and family peace, and, as such, the two Edinburg guests carried away the impression of it in theirmemories for many a day. 

In another week a second stately funeral passed out of the Castle doors, and then they were closed to all comers. By Mr. Menteith's orders, great part of the rooms were shut up, and only two apartments kept forhis own use when he came down to look after the estates. It was nowfully known that he was the young earl's sole guardian; but so great wasthe feudal fidelity of the neighborhood, and so entire the respect withwhich, during an administration of many years, the factor had imbued theCairnforth tenantry, that not a word was said in objection either to himor to his doings. There was great regret that the poor little earl--the representative of so long and honored a race--was taken away fromthe admiration of the country-side before even a single soul in theparish, except Mr. And Mrs. Cardross, had set eyes upon him; but stillthe disappointed gossips submitted, considering that if the ministerwere satisfied all must be right. 

After the departure of Mr. Mentieth, Mrs. Campbell, and her charge, afew rumors got abroad that the little earl was "no a'richt"--if anearl could be "no a' richt"--which the simple folk about Loch Beg andLoch Mhor, accustomed for generations to view the Earls of Cairnforthmuch as the Thibetians view their Dali Lama, thought hardly possible. But what was wrong with him nobody precisely knew. The minister did, itwas conjectured; but Mr. Cardross was scrupulously silent on thesubject; and, with all his gentleness, he was the sort of man to whomnobody ever could address intrusive or impertinent questions. 

So, after a while, when the Castle still remained shut up, curiositydied out, or was only roused at intervals, especially at Mr. Menteith'speriodical visits. And to all questions, whether respectfully anxiousor merely inquisitive, he never gave but one answer--that the earl was"doing pretty well, " and would be back at Cairn forth "some o' thesedays". 

However, that period was so long deferred that the neighbors at lastceased to expect it, or to speculate concerning it. They went abouttheir own affairs, and soon the whole story about the sad death of thelate earl and countess, and the birth of the present nobleman, began tobe told simply as a story by the elder folk, and slipped out of theyounger ones' memories--as, if one only allows it time, every tale, however sad, wicked, or strange, will very soon do. Had it not been forthe silent, shut-up castle, standing summer and winter on the loch-side, with its flower-gardens blossoming for none to gather, and its woods--the pride of the whole country--budding and withering, with scarcelya foot to cross, or an eye to notice their wonderful beauty, peoplewould ere long have forgotten the very existence of the last Earl ofCairnforth. 

Chapter 2

It was on a June day--ten years after that bright June day when theminister of Cairnforth had walked with such a sad heart up to CairnforthCastle, and seen for the first time its unconscious heir--the poorlittle orphan baby, who in such apparent mockery was called "the Earl. "The woods, the hills, the loch, looked exactly the same--nature neverchanges. As Mr. Cardross walked up to the Castle once more--thefirst time for many months--in accordance with a request of Mr. Menteith's, who had written to say the earl was coming home, he couldhardly believe it was ten years since that sad week when the baby-heirwas born, and the countess's funeral had passed out from that nowlong-closed door. 

Mr. Cardross's step was heavier and his face sadder now than then. Hewho had so often sympathized with others' sorrows had had to sufferpatiently his own. From the Manse gate as from that of the Castle, themother and mistress had been carried, never to return. A new Helen--only fifteen years old--was trying vainly to replace to father andbrothers her who was--as Mr. Cardross still touchingly put it--"away. " But, though his grief was more than a year old, the ministermourned still. His was one of those quiet natures which make no show, and trouble no one, yet in which sorrow goes deep down, and grows intothe heart, as it were, becoming a part of existence, until existenceitself shall cease. 

It did not, however, hinder him from doing all his ordinary duties, perhaps with even closer persistence, as he felt himself sinking intothat indifference to outside things which is the inevitable result of aheavy loss upon any gentle nature. The fierce rebel against it; theimpetuous and impatient throw it off; but the feeble and tender soulsmake no sign, only quietly pass into that state which the outer worldcalls submission: and resignation, yet which is, in truth, merepassiveness--the stolid calm of a creature that has suffered till itcan suffer no more. 

The first thing which roused Mr. Cardross out of this condition, or atleast the uneasy recognition that it was fast approaching, and must bestruggled against, conscientiously, to the utmost of his power, was Mr. Menteith's letter, and the request therein concerning Lord Cairnforth. 

Without entering much into particulars--it was not the way of thecautious lawyer--he had stated that, after ten years' residence inDr. Hamilton's house, and numerous consultations with every surgeon ofrepute in Scotland, England--nay, Europe--it had been decided, andespecially at the earnest entreaty of the poor little earl himself, toleave him to Nature; to take him back to his native air, and educatehim, so far as was possible, in Cairnforth Castle. 

A suitable establishment had accordingly been provided--moreservants, and a lady housekeeper or governante, who took all externalcharge of the child, while the personal care of him was left, as before, to his nurse, Mrs. Campbell, now wholly devoted to him, for at sevenyears old her own boy had died. He had another attendant, to whom, witha curious persistency, he had strongly attached himself ever since hisbabyhood--young Malcolm Campbell, Neil Campbell's brother, who wassaved by clinging to the keel of the boat when the late Lord Cairnforthwas drowned. Beyond these, whose fond fidelity knew no bounds, therewas hardly need of any other person to take charge of the little earl, except a tutor, and that office Mr. Menteith entreated Mr. Cardross toaccept. 

It was a doubtful point with the minister. He shrank from assuming anynew duty, his daily duties being now made only too heavy by the loss ofthe wife who had shared and lightened them all. But he named the matterto Helen, whom he had lately got into the habit of consulting--shewas such a wise little woman for her age--and Helen said anxiously, "Papa, try. " Besides, there were six boys to be brought up, and putinto the world somehow, and the Manse income was small, and the salaryoffered by Mr. Manteith very considerable. So when, the second time, Helen's great soft eyes implored silently, "Papa, please try, " theminister kissed her, went into his study and wrote to Edinburg hisacceptance of the office of tutor to Lord Cairnforth. 

What sort of office it would turn out--what kind of instruction hewas expected to give, or how much the young earl was capable ofreceiving, he had not the least idea; but he resolved that, in any case, he would do his duty, and neither man nor minister could be expected todo more. 

In pursuance of this resolution, he roused himself that sunny Junemorning, when he would far rather have sat over his study-fire and letthe world go on without him--as he felt it would, easily enough--and walked down to the Castle, where, for the first time these tenyears, windows were opened and doors unbarred, and the sweet light andwarm air of day let in upon those long-shut rooms, which seemed, intheir dumb, inanimate way, glad to be happy again--glad to be made ofuse once more. Even the portraits of the late earl and countess--hein his Highland dress, and she in her white satin and pearls--both soyoung and bright, as they looked on the day they were married, seemed togaze back at each other from either side the long dining-room, as if tosay, rejoicing, "Our son is coming home. "

"Have you seen the earl?" said Mr. Cardross to one of the new servantswho attended him round the rooms, listening respectfully to all theremarks and suggestions as to furniture and the like which Mr. Menteithhad requested him to make. The minister was always specially popularwith servants and inferiors of every sort, for he possessed, in aremarkable degree, that best key to their hearts, the gentle dignitywhich never needs to assert a superiority that is at once felt andacknowledged. 

"The earl, sir? Na, na"--with a mysterious shake of the head--"naebody sees the earl. Some say--but I hae nae cause to think itmysel'--that he's no a' there. "

The minister was sufficiently familiar with that queer, but veryexpressive Scotch phrase, "not all there, " to pursue no fartherinquiries. But he sighed, and wished he had delayed a little beforeundertaking the tutorship. However, the matter was settled now, and Mr. Cardross was not the man ever to draw back from an agreement or shrinkfrom a promise. 

"Whatever the poor child is--even if an idiot, " thought he, "I willdo my best for him, for his father's and mother's sake. "

And he paused several minutes before those bright and smiling portraits, pondering on the mysterious dealings of the great Ruler of the universe--how some are taken and some are left: those removed who seem mosthappy and most needed; those left behind whom it would have appeared, inour dim and short-sighted judgment, a mercy, both to themselves andothers, quietly to have taken away. 

But one thing the minister did in consequence of these somewhat sad andpainful musings. On his return to the clachan--where, of course, thenews of the earl's coming home had long spread, and thrown the wholecountry-side into a state of the greatest excitement--he gave orders, or at least, advice--which was equivalent to orders, since everybodyobeyed him--that there should be no special rejoicings on the earl'scoming home; no bonfire on the hill-side, or triumphal arches across theroad, and at the ferry where the young earl would probably land--where, ten years before, the late Earl of Cairnforth had been notlanded, but carried, stone-cold, with his dripping, and his dead handsstill clutching the weeds of the loch. The minister vividly recalledthe sight, and shuddered at it still. 

"No, no, " said he, in talking the matter over with some of his people, whom he went among like a father among his children, true pastor of amost loving flock, "no; we'll wait and see what the earl would likebefore we make any show. That we are glad to see him he knows wellenough, or will very soon find out. And if he should arrive on such anight as this"--looking round on the magnificent June sunset, coloring the mountains at the head of the loch--"he will hardly needa brighter welcome to a bonnier home. "

But the earl did not arrive on a gorgeous evening like this, such ascome sometimes to the shores of Loch Beg, and make it glow into aperfect paradise: he arrived in "saft" weather--in fact, on a pouringwet Saturday night, and all the clachan saw of him was the outside ofhis carriage, driving, with closed blinds, down the hill-side. He hadtaken a long round, and had not crossed the ferry; and he was carried asfast as possible through the dripping wood, reaching, just as darknessfell, the Castle door. 

Mr. Cardross, perhaps, should have been there to welcome the child--his conscience rather smote him that he was not--but it was theminister's unbroken habit of years to spend Saturday evening alone inhis study. And it might be that, with a certain timidity, inherent inhis character, he shrank from this first meeting, and wished to put offas long as possible what must inevitably be awkward, and might be verypainful. So, in darkness and rain, unwelcomed save by his own servants, most of whom even had never yet seen him, the poor little earl came tohis ancestral door. 

But on Sunday morning all things were changed, with one of those suddenchanges which make this part of the country so wonderfully beautiful, and so fascinating through its endless variety. 

A perfect June day, with the loch glittering in the sun, and the hillsbeyond it softly outlined with the indistinctness that mountains usuallywear in summer, but with the soft summer coloring too, greenish-blue, lilac, and silver-gray varying continually. In the woods behind, wherethe leaves were already gloriously green, the wood-pigeons were cooing, and the blackbirds and mavises singing, just as if it had not beenSunday morning, or rather as if they knew it was Sunday, and werestraining their tiny throats to bless the Giver of sweet, peaceful, cheerful Sabbath-days, and of all other good things, meant for man'susage and delight. 

At the portico of Cairnforth Castle, for the first time since the hearsehad stood there, stood a carriage--one of those large, roomy, splendid family carriages which were in use many years ago. Looking atit, no passerby could have the slightest doubt that it was my lord'scoach, and that my lord sat therein in solemn state, exacting andreceiving an amount of respect little short of veneration, such as, forgenerations, the whole country-side had always paid to the Earls ofCairnforth. This coach, though it was the identical family coach, hadbeen newly furnished; its crimson satin glowed, and its silver harnessand ornaments flashed in the sun; the coachman sat in his place, and twofootmen stood up in their place behind. It was altogether a verysplendid affair, as became the equipage of a young nobleman who wasknown to possess twenty thousand a year, and who, from his castle tower--it had a tower, though nobody ever climbed there--might, if hechose, look around upon miles and miles of moorland, loch, hill-side, and cultivated land, and say to himself--or be said to by his nurse, as in the old song--

"These hills and these vales, from this tower that ye see, They all shall belong, my young chieftain, to thee. "

The horse pawed the ground for several minutes of delay, and then thereappeared Mr. Menteith, followed by Mrs. Campbell, who was quite a grandlady now, in silks and satins, but with the same sweet, sad, gentleface. The lawyer and she stood aside, and made way for a big, stalwartyoung Highlander of about one-and-twenty or thereabouts, who carried inhis arms, very gently and carefully, wrapped in a plaid, even althoughit was such a mild spring day, what looked like a baby, or a very youngchild. 

"Stop a minute, Malcolm. "

At the sound of that voice, which was not an infant's, though it wasthin, and sharp, and unnatural rather for a boy, the big Highlanderpaused immediately. 

"Hold me up higher; I want to look at the loch. "

"Yes, my lord. "

This, then--this poor little deformed figure, with every limbshrunken and useless, and every joint distorted, the head just able tosustain itself and turn feebly from one side to the other, and the thinwhite hands piteously twisted and helpless-looking--this, then, wasthe Earl of Cairnforth. 

"It's a bonnie loch, Malcolm. "

"It looks awful' bonnie the day, my lord. "

"And, " almost in a whisper, "was it just there my father was drowned?"

"Yes, my lord. "

No one spoke while the large, intelligent eyes, which seemed theprincipal feature of the thin face, that rested against Malcolm'sshoulder, looked out intently upon the loch. 

Mrs. Campbell pulled her veil down and wept a little. People said NeilCampbell had not been the best of husbands to her, but he was herhusband; and she had never been back in Cairnforth till now, for her sonhad lived, died, and been buried away in Edinburg. 

At last Mr. Menteith suggested that the kirk bell was beginning to ring. 

"Very well; put me into the carriage. "

Malcolm placed him, helpless as an infant, in a corner of thesilken-padded coach, fitted with cushions especially suited for hiscomfort. There he sat, in his black velvet coat and point-lace collar, with silk stockings and dainty shoes upon the poor little feet thatnever had walked, and never would walk, in this world. The one bit ofhim that could be looked at without pain was his face, inherited fromhis beautiful mother. It was wan, pale, and much older than his years, but it was a sweet face--a lovely face; so patient, thoughtful--nay, strange to say, content. You could not look at it without acertain sense of peace, as if God, in taking away so much had givensomething--which not many people have--something which was thedivine answer to the minister's prayer over the two-days-old child--"Thy will be done. "

"Are you comfortable, my lord?"

"Quite, thank you, Mr. Menteith. Stop--where are you going, Malcolm?"

"Just to the kirk, and I'll be there as soon as your lordship. "

"Very well, " said the little earl, and watched with wistful eyes thetall Highlander striding across brushwood and heather, leaping dikes andclearing fences--the very embodiment of active vigorous youth. 

Wistful I said the eyes were, and yet they were not sad. Whateverthoughts lay hidden in that boy's mind--he was only ten years old, remember--they were certainly not thoughts of melancholy or despair. "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, " and "the back is fitted to theburden, " are phrases so common that we almost smile to repeat them orbelieve in them, and yet they are true. Any one whose enjoyments havebeen narrowed down by long sickness may prove their truth byrecollecting how at last even the desire for impossible pleasures passesaway. And in this case the deprivation was not sudden; the child hadbeen born thus crippled, and had never been accustomed to any other sortof existence than this. What thoughts, speculations, or regrets mighthave passed through his mind, or whether he had as yet reflected uponhis own condition at all, those about him could not judge. He wasalways a silent child, and latterly had grown more silent than ever. Itwas this silence, causing a fear lest the too rapidly developing mindmight affect still more injuriously the imperfect and feeble body, whichinduced his guardian, counseled by Dr. Hamilton, to try a total changeof life by sending him home to the shores of Loch Beg. 

One thing certainly Mr. Cardross need not have dreaded--the child wasno idiot. An intelligence, precocious to an almost painful extent, wasvisible in that poor little face, which seemed thirstingly to take inevery thing, and to let nothing escape its observation. 

The carriage drove slowly through the woods and along the shore of theloch, Mr. Menteith and Mrs. Campbell sitting opposite to the earl, notnoticing him much--even as a child he was sensitive of being watched--but making occasional comments on the scenery and other things. 

"There is the kirk tower; I mind it weel, " said Mrs. Campbell, who stillkept some accent of the clachan, though, like many Highlanders, she hadit more in tone than in pronunciation, and often spoke almost pureEnglish, which, indeed, she had taken pains to acquire, lest she mightbe transferred from her charge for fear of teaching him to speak as ayoung nobleman ought not to speak. But at sight of her native placesome touch of the old tongue returned. 

"That is the kirk, nurse, where my father and mother are buried?"

"Yes, my lord. "

"Will there be many people there? You know I never went to church butonce before in all my life. "

"Would ye like not to go now? If so, I'll turn back with ye thisminute, my lamb--my lord, I mean. "

"No, thank you, nurse, I like to go. You know Mr Menteith promised me Ishould go about every where as soon as I came to live at Cairnforth. "

"Every where you like that is not too much trouble to your lordship, "said Mr. Menteith, who was always tenaciously careful about the respect, of word and act, that he paid, and insisted should be paid, to his pooryoung ward. 

"Oh, it's no trouble to me; Malcolm takes care of that. And I like tosee the world. If you and Dr. Hamilton would have let me, I think Iwould so have enjoyed going to school like other boys. "

"Would you, my lord?" answered Mr. Menteith, compassionately; but Mrs. Campbell, who never could bear that pitying look and tone directedtoward her nursling, said, a little sharply, "It's better as it is--dinna ye ken? Far mair fitting for hislordship's rank and position that he should get his learning all byhimsel' at his ain castle, and with his ain tutor, and that sic agentleman as Mr. Cardross--"

"What is Mr. Cardross like?"

"Ye'll hear him preach the day. "

"Will he teach me all by myself, as nurse says? Has he any children--any boys, like me?"

"He has boys, " said Mr. Menteith, avoiding more explicit information;for with a natural, if mistaken precaution, he had always kept his ownsturdy, stalwart boys quite out of the way of the poor little earl, andhad especially cautioned the minister to do the same. 

"I do long to play with boys. May I?"

"If you wish it, my lord. "

"And may I have a boat on that beautiful loch, and be rowed about justwhere I please? Malcolm says it would not shake me nearly so much asthe carriage. May I go to the kirk every Sunday, and see every thingand every body, and read as many books as ever I choose? Oh, How happyI shall be!--as happy as a king!"

"God help thee, my lamb!" muttered Mrs. Campbell to herself, while evenMr. Menteith turned his face sedulously toward the loch and took snuffviolently. 

By this time, they had reached the church door, where the congregationwere already gathering and hanging about, as Scotch congregations do, till service begins. But of this service and this Sunday, which was sostrangely momentous a day in more lives than one, the next chapter musttell. 

Chapter 3

The carriage of the Earl of Cairnforth, with its familiar and yet longunfamiliar liveries, produced a keen sensation among the simple folk whoformed the congregation of Cairnforth. But they had too much habitualrespect for the great house and great folk of the place, mingled withtheir national shyness and independence, to stare very much. A fewmoved aside to make way for the two grand Edinburg footmen who leapeddown from their perch in order to render customary assistance to theoccupants of the carriage. 

Mrs. Campbell and Mr. Menteith descended first, and then the two footmenlooked puzzled as to what they should do next. 

But Malcolm was before them--Malcolm, who never suffered mortal manbut himself to render the least assistance to his young master; whowatched and tended him; waited on and fed him in the day, and slept inhis room at night; who, in truth, had now, for a year past, slipped intoall the offices of a nurse as well as servant, and performed them with awoman's tenderness, care, and skill. Lord Cairnforth's eyes brightenedwhen he saw him; and, carried in Malcolm's arms--a few stragglers ofthe congregation standing aside to let them pass--the young earl wasbrought to the door of the kirk where his family had worshiped forgenerations. 

Two elders stood there beside the plate--white-headed farmers, whoremembered both the late lord and the one before him. 

"You's the earl, " whispered they, and came forward respectfully; then, startled by the unexpected and pitiful sight, they shrank back; buteither the boy did not notice this, or was so used to it that he showedno surprise. 

"My purse, Malcolm, " the small, soft voice was heard to say. 

"Ay, my lord. What will ye put into the plate?"

"A guinea, I think, today, because I am so very happy. "

This answer, which the two elders overheard, was told by them next dayto every body, and remembered along the loch-side for years. 

Cairnforth Kirk, like most other Scotch churches of ancient date, isvery plain within and without, and the congregation then consistedalmost entirely of hillside farmers, shepherds, and the like, whoarrived in families--dogs, and all, for the dogs always came tochurch, and behaved there as decorously as their masters. Many thepeople walked eight, ten, and even twelve miles, from the extremeboundary of the parish, and waited about in the kirk or kirk-yard onfine Sundays, and in the Manse kitchen on wet ones--which were muchthe most frequent--during the two hours' interval between sermons. 

In the whole congregation there was hardly a person above the laboringclass except in the minister's pew and that belonging to the Castle, which had been newly lined and cushioned, and in a corner of which, safely deposited by Malcolm, the little earl now sat--sat always, even during the prayer, at which some of the congregation lookedreprovingly round, but only saw the little figure wrapped in a plaid, and the sweet, wan, childish, and yet unchild-like face, with the curlydark hair, and large dark eyes. 

Whatever in the earl was "no a'richt, " it certainly could not be hismind, for a brighter, more intelligent countenance was never seen. Itquite startled the minister with the intentness of its gaze from themoment he ascended the pulpit; and though he tried not to look that way, and was very nervous, he could not get over the impression it made. Itwas to him almost like a face from the grave--this strange, eeriechild's face, so strongly resembling that of the dead countess, who, despite the difference in rank, had, during the brief year she lived andreigned at Cairnforth, been almost like an equal friend and companion tohis own dead wife. Their two faces--Lady Cairnforth's as she lookedthe last time he saw her in her coffin, and his wife's as she lay inhers--mingled together, and affected him powerfully. 

The good minister was not remarkable for the brilliance of his sermons, which he wrote and "committed"--that is, learned by heart, to deliverin pseudo-extempore fashion, as was the weary custom of most Scotchministers of his time. But this Sunday, all that he had committedslipped clean out of his memory. He preached as he had never been knownto preach before, and never preached again--with originality, power, eloquence; speaking from his deepest heart, as if the words thencepouring out had been supernaturally put into it; which, with asuperstition that approached to sublimest faith, he afterward solemnlybelieve they had been. 

The text was that verse about "all things working together for good tothem that love God;" but, whatever the original discourse had been, itwandered off into a subject which all who knew the minister recognizedas one perpetually close to his heart--submission to the will of God, whatever that will might be, and however incomprehensible it seemed tomortal eyes. 

"Not, my friends, " said he, after speaking for a long time on this head--speaking rather than sermonizing, which, like many cultivated butnot very original minds, he was too prone to do--"not that I wouldencourage or excuse that weak yielding to calamity which looks likesubmission, but is, in fact, only cowardice; submitting to all things asto a sort of fatality, without struggling against them, or trying todistinguish how much of them is the will of God, and how much our ownweak will; daunted by the first shadow of misfortune, especiallymisfortunes in our worldly affairs, wherein so much often happens forwhich we have ourselves only to blame. Submission to man is one thing, submission to God another. The latter is divine, the former is oftenmerely contemptible. But even to the Almighty Father we should yieldnot a blind, crushed resignation, but an open-eyed obedience, like thatwe would fain win from our own children, desiring to make of themchildren, not slaves. 

"My children--for I speak to the very youngest of you here, and dotry to understand me if you can, or as much as you can--it is right--it is God's will--that you should resist, to the very last, anytrial which is not inevitable. There are in this world countlesssorrows, which, so far appears, we actually bring on ourselves andothers by our own folly, wickedness, or weakness--which is often asfatal as wickedness; and then we blame providence for it, and sink intototal despair. But when, as sometimes happens, His heavy hand is laidupon us in a visible, inevitable misfortune which we can not struggleagainst, and from which no human aid can save us, then we ought to learnHis hardest lesson--to submit. To submit--yet still, while saying'Thy will be done, ' to strive, so far as we can, to do it. If He havetaken from us all but one talent, even that, my children, let us notbury in a napkin. Let us rather put it out a usury, leaving to Him todetermine how much we shall receive again; for it is according to ouruse of what we have, and not of what we have not, that He will call us'good and faithful servants, ' and at last, when the long struggle ofliving shall be over, will bid us 'enter into the joy of our Lord. '"

When the minister sat down, he saw, as he had seen consciously orunconsciously, all through the service, and above the entirecongregation, those two large intent eyes fixed upon him from theCairnforth pew. 

Children of ten years old do not usually listen much to sermons, but thelittle earl had heard very few, for it was difficult to take him tochurch without so many people staring at him. Nevertheless, he listenedto this sermon, so plain and clear, suited to the capacity of ignorantshepherds and little children, and seemed as if he understood it all. If he did not then, he did afterward. 

When service was over, he sat watching the congregation pass out, especially noticing a family of boys who occupied the adjoining pew. They had neither father nor mother with them, but an elder sister, asshe appeared to be--a tall girl of about fifteen. She marshaled themout before her, not allowing them once to turn, as many of the otherpeople did, to look with curiosity at the poor little earl. But inquitting the kirk she stopped at the vestry door, apparently to say aword to the minister; after which Mr. Cardross came forward, his gownover his arm, and spoke to Mr. Menteith--

"Where is Lord Cairnforth? I was so glad to see him here. "

"Thank you, Mr. Cardross, " replied a weak but cheerful voice fromMalcolm's shoulder, which so startled the good minister that he foundnot another word for a whole minute. At last he said, hesitating, "Helen has just been reminding me that the earl and countess used alwaysto come and rest at the Manse between sermons. Would Lord Cairnforthlike to do the same? It is a good way to the Castle--or perhaps he istoo fatigued for the afternoon service?"

"Oh no, I should like it very much. And, nurse, I do so want to see Mr. Cardross's children; and Helen--who is Helen?"

"My daughter. Come here, Helen, and speak to the earl. "

She came forward--the tall girl who had sat at the end of the pew, incharge of the six boys--came forward in her serious, gentle, motherlyway--alas! She was the only mother at the Manse now--and put outher hand, but instinctively drew it back again; for oh! what poor, helpless, unnatural-looking fingers were feebly advanced an inch or soto meet hers! They actually shocked her--gave her a sick sense ofphysical repulsion; but she conquered it. Then, by a sudden impulse ofconscience, quite forgetting the rank of the earl, and only thinking ofthe poor, crippled, orphaned baby--for he seemed no more than a baby--Helen did what her warm, loving heart was in the habit of doing, assilent consolation for every thing, to her own tribe of "motherlessbairns"--she stooped forward and kissed him. 

The little earl was so astonished that he blushed up to the very brow. But from that minute he loved Helen Cardross, and never ceased lovingher to the end of his days. 

She led the way to the Manse, which was so close behind the kirk thatthe back windows of it looked on the grave-yard. But in front there wasa beautiful lawn and garden--the prettiest Manse garden that ever wasseen. Helen stepped through it with her light, quick step, a childclinging to each hand, often turning round to speak to Malcolm or to theearl. He followed her with his eyes and thought she was like a picturehe had once seen of a guardian angel leading two children along, thoughthere was not a bit of the angel about Helen Cardross--externally atleast, she being one of those large, rosy, round-face, flaxen-hairedScotch girls who are far from pretty even in youth, and in middle agesometimes grow quite coarse and plain. She would not do so, and didnot; for any body so good, so sweet, so bright, must always carry aboutwith her, even to old age, something which, if not beauty's self, isbeauty's atmosphere, and which often creates, even around unlovelypeople, a light and glory as perfect as the atmosphere round the sun. 

She took her seat--her poor mother's that used to be--at the headof the Manse table--which was a little quieter on Sundays thanweek-days, and especially this Sunday, when the children were all awedand shy before their new visitor. Helen had previously taken them allaside, and explained to them that they were not to notice any thing inthe earl that was different from other people--that he was a poorlittle crippled boy who had neither father, mother, brother, nor sister, that they were to be very kind to him, but not to look at him much, andto make no remarks upon him on any account whatever. 

And so, even though he was placed on baby's high chair, and fed byMalcolm almost as if he were a baby--he who, though no bigger than ababy, was in reality a boy of ten years old, whom papa talked to, andwho talked with papa almost as cleverly as Helen herself--still theManse children were so well behaved that nothing occurred to make anybody uncomfortable. 

For the little earl, he seemed to enjoy himself amazingly. He sat inhis high chair, and looked round the well-filled table with mingledcuriosity and amusement; inquired the children's names, and was greatlyinterested in the dog, the cat, a rabbit, and two kittens, which afterdinner they successively brought to amuse him. And then he invited themall to the Castle next day, and promised to take them over his gardenthere. 

"But how can you take us?" said the youngest, in spite of Helen's frown. "We can run about, but you--"

"I can't run about, that is true; but I have a little carriage, andMalcolm draws it, or Malcolm carries me, and then I can see such a deal. I used to see nothing--only lie on a sofa all day, and have doctorscoming about me and hurting me, " added the poor little earl, growingconfidential, as one by one the boys slipped away, leaving him alonewith Helen. 

"Did they hurt you very much:" asked she. 

"Oh, terribly; but I never told. You see, there was no use in telling;it could not be helped, and it would only have made nurse cry--shealways cries over me. I think that is why I like Malcolm; he alwayshelps me, and he never cries. And I am getting a great boy now; I wasten years old last week. "

Ten years old, though he seemed scarcely more than five, except by theold look of his face. But Helen took no notice, only saying "that shehoped the doctors did not hurt him now. "

"No, that is all over. Dr Hamilton says I am to be left to Nature, whatever that is; I overheard him say it one day. And I begged of Mr. Menteith not to shut me up any longer, or take me out only in mycarriage, but to let me go about as I like, Malcolm carrying me--isn't he a big, strong fellow? You can't think how nice it is to becarried about, and see every thing--oh, it makes me so happy!"

The tone in which he said "so happy" made the tears start to Helen'seyes. She turned away to the window, where she saw her own bigbrothers, homely-featured, and coarsely clad, but full of health, andstrength, and activity, and then looked at this poor boy, who had everything that fortune could give, and yet--nothing! She thought howthey grumbled and squabbled, those rough lads of hers; how she herselfoften felt the burden of the large narrow household more than she couldbear, and lost heart and temper; then she thought of him--poor, helpless soul!--you could hardly say body--who could neither movehand nor foot--who was dependent as an infant on the kindness orcompassion of those about him. Yet he talked of being "so happy!" Andthere entered into Helen Cardross's good heart toward the Earl of Cairnforth a deep tenderness, which from that hour nothing ever altered orestranged. 

It was not pity--something far deeper. Had he been fretful, fractious, disagreeable, she would still have been very sorry for himand very kind to him. But now, to see him as he was--cheerful, patient; so ready with his interest in others, so utterly withoutenvying and complaining regarding himself--changed what wouldotherwise have been mere compassion into actual reverence. As she satbeside him in his little chair, not looking at him much, for she stillfound it difficult to overcome the painful impression of the sight ofthat crippled and deformed body, she felt a choking in her throat and adimness in her eyes--a longing to do any thing in the wide world thatwould help or comfort the poor little earl. 

"Do you learn any lessons?" asked she, thinking he seemed to enjoytalking with her. "I thought at dinner today that you seemed to know agreat many things. "

"Did I? That is very odd, for I fancied I knew nothing; and I want tolearn every thing--if Mr. Cardross will teach me. I should like tosit and read all day long. I could do it by myself, now that I havefound out a way of holding the book and turning over the leaves withoutnurse's helping me. Malcolm invented it--Malcolm is so clever and sokind. "

"Is Malcolm always with you?"

"Oh yes; how could I do without Malcolm? And you are quite sure yourfather will teach me every thing I want to learn?" pursued the littleearl, very eagerly. 

Helen was quite sure. 

"And there is another thing. Mr. Menteith says I must try, if possible, to learn to write--if only so as to be able to sign my name. Ineleven more years, when I am a man, he says I shall often be required tosign my name. Do you think I could manage to learn?"

Helen looked at the poor, twisted, powerless fingers, and doubted itvery much. Still she said cheerfully, "It would anyhow be a good thingto try. "

"So it would--and I'll try. I'll begin tomorrow. Will you"--witha pathetic entreaty in the soft eyes--"it might be too much troublefor Mr. Cardross--but will you teach me?"

"Yes, my dear!" said Helen, warmly, "that I will. "

"Thank you. And"--still hesitating--"please would you always callme 'my dear' instead of 'my lord;' and might I call you Helen?"

So they "made a paction 'twixt them twa"--the poor little helpless, crippled boy, and the bright, active, energetic girl--the earl's sonand minister's daughter--one of those pactions which grow out of aninner similitude which counteracts all outward dissimilarity; and theynever broke it while they lived. 

"Has my lamb enjoyed himself?" inquired Mrs. Campbell, anxiously andaffectionately, when she reappeared from the Manse kitchen. Then, witha sudden resumption of dignity, "I beg your pardon, Miss Cardross, butthis is the first time his lordship has ever been out to dinner. "

"Oh, nurse, how I wish I might go out to dinner every Sunday! I am surethis has been the happiest day of all my life. "

Chapter 4

If the "happiest day in all his life" had been the first day the earlspent at Cairnforth Manse, which very likely it was, he took the firstpossible opportunity of renewing his happiness. 

Early on Monday forenoon, while Helen's ever-active hands were stillbusy clearing away the six empty porridge plates, and the one tea-cupwhich had contained the beverage which the minister loved, but which wastoo dear a luxury for any but the father of the family, MalcolmCampbell's large shadow was seen darkening the window. 

"There's the earl!" cried Helen, whose quick eye had already caughtsight of the white little face muffled up in Malcolm's plaid, and thesoft black curls resting on his shoulder, damp with rain, and blownabout by the wind, for it was what they called at Loch Beg a "coarse"day. 

"My lord was awful' set upon coming, " said Malcolm apologetically; "andwhen my lord taks a thing into his heid, he'll aye do't, ye ken. "

"We are very glad to see the earl, " returned the minister, whonevertheless looked a little perplexed; for, while finishing hisbreakfast, he had been confiding to Helen how very nervous he felt aboutthis morning's duties at the Castle--how painful it would be to teacha child so afflicted, and how he wished he had thought twice before heundertook the charge. And Helen had been trying to encourage him bytelling him all that had passed between herself and the boy--howintelligent he had seemed, and how eager to learn. Still, the very factthat they had been discussing him made Mr. Cardross feel slightlyconfused. Men shrink so much more than women from any physicalsuffering or deformity; besides, except those few moments in the church, this was really the first time he had beheld Lord Cairnforth; for onSundays it was the minister's habit to pass the whole time betweensermons in his study, and not join the family table until tea. 

"We are very glad to see the earl at all times, " repeated he, buthesitatingly, as if not sure that he was quite speaking the truth. 

"Yes, very glad, " added Helen, hastily, fancying she could detect in theprematurely acute and sensitive face a consciousness that he was notaltogether welcome. "My father was this minute preparing to start forthe Castle. "

"My Lord didna like to trouble the minister to be walking out thiscoarse day, " said Malcolm, with true Highland ingenuity of politeness. "His lordship thocht that instead o' Mr. Cardross coming to him, hewould just come to Mr. Cardross. "

"No, Malcolm, " interposed the little voice, "it was not exactly that. Iwished for my own sake to come to the Manse again, and to ask if I mightcome every day and take my lessons here--it's so dreary in that biglibrary. I'll not be much trouble, indeed, sir, " he added, entreatingly; "Malcolm will carry me in and carry me out. I can sit onalmost any sort of chair now; and with this wee bit of stick in my handI can turn over the leaves of my books my very own self--I assure youI can. "

The minister walked to the window. He literally could not speak for aminute, he felt so deeply moved, and in his secret heart so very muchashamed of himself. 

When he turned round Malcolm had placed the little figure in anarm-chair by the fire, and was busy unswathing the voluminous folds ofthe plaid in which it had been wrapped. Helen, after a glance or two, pretended to be equally busy over her daily duty--the common duty ofScotch housewives at that period--of washing up the delicate chinawith her own neat hands, and putting it safe away in the parlor press;for, as before said, Mr. Cardross's income was very small, and, likethat of most country ministers, very uncertain, his stipend alteringyear by year, according to the price of corn. They kept one "lassie" tohelp, but Helen herself had to do a great deal of the housework. Shewent on doing it now, as probably she would in any case, being at oncetoo simple and too proud to be ashamed of it; still, she was glad toseem busy, lest the earl might have fancied she was watching him. 

Her feminine instinct had been right. Now for the first time taken outof his shut-up nursery life, where he himself had been the principalobject--where he had no playfellows and no companions save those hehad been used to from infancy--removed from this, and brought intoordinary family life, the poor child felt--he could not but feel--the sad, sad difference between himself and all the rest of the world. His color came and went--he looked anxiously, deprecatingly, at Mr. Cardross. 

"I hope, sir, you are not displeased with me for coming to-day. I shallnot be very much trouble to you--at least I will try to be as littletrouble as I can. "

"My boy, " said the minister, crossing over to him and laying his handupon his head, "You will not be the least trouble; and if you were everso much, I would undertake it for the sake of your father and mother, and--" he added, more to himself than aloud--"for your own. "

That was true. Nature, which is never without her compensations, hadput into this child of ten years old a strange charm, and inexpressibleloveableness which springs from lovingness, though every loving natureis not fortunate enough to possess it. But the earl's did; and as helooked up into the minister's face, with that touchingly gratefulexpression he had, the good man felt his heart melt and brim over at hiseyes. 

"You don't dislike me, then, because--because I am not like otherboys?"

Mr. Cardross smiled, though his eyes were still dim, and his voice notclear; and with that smile vanished forever the slight repulsion he hadfelt to the poor child. He took him permanently into his good heart, and from his manner the earl at once knew that it was so. 

He brightened up immediately. 

"Now, Malcolm, carry me in; I'm quite ready, " said he, in a tone whichindicated that quality, discernible even at so early an age--a "willof his own. " To see the way he ordered Malcolm about--the big fellowobeying him, with something beyond even the large limits of that feudalrespect which his forbears had paid to the earl's forbears for many ageneration, was a sight at once touching and hopeful. 

"There--put me into the child's chair I had at dinner yesterday. Nowfetch me a pillow--or rather roll up your plaid into one--don'ttrouble Miss Cardross. That will make me quite comfortable. Pull outmy books from your pouch, Malcolm, and spread them out on the table, andthen go and have a crack with your old friends at the clachan; you cancome for me in two hours. "

It was strange to see the little figure giving its orders, and settlingitself with the preciseness of an old man at the study-table; but stillthis removed somewhat of the painful shyness and uncomfortableness fromevery body, and especially from Mr. Cardross. He sat himself down inhis familiar arm-chair, and looked across the table at his poor littlepupil, who seemed at once so helpless and so strong. 

Lessons begun. The child was exceedingly intelligent--precociously, nay, preternaturally so, it appeared to Mr. Cardross, who, like manyanother learned father, had been blessed with rather stupid boys, wholiked any thing better than study, and whom he had with great labordragged through a course of ordinary English, Latin, and even a fragmentof Greek. But this boy seemed all brains. His cheeks flushed, his eyesglittered, he learned as if he actually enjoyed learning. True, as Mr. Cardross soon discovered, his acquirements were not at all in theregular routine of education; he was greatly at fault in many simplethings; but the amount of heterogeneous and out-of-the-way knowledgewhich he had gathered up, from all available sources, was quitemarvelous. And, above all, to teach a boy unto whom learning seemed apleasure rather than a torment, a favor instead of a punishment, wassuch an exceeding and novel delight to the good minister, that soon heforgot the crippled figure--the helpless hands that sometimes withfingers, sometimes even with teeth, painfully guided the ingeniously cutforked stick, and the thin face that only too often turned white andweary, but quickly looked up, as if struggling against weakness, andconcentrating all attention on the work that was to be done. 

At twelve o'clock Helen came in with her father's lunch--a foamingglass of new milk, warm from the cow. The little earl looked at it witheager eyes. 

"Will I bring you one too?" said Helen. 

"Oh--thank you; I am so thirsty. And, please, would you move me alittle--just a very little; I don't often sit so long in oneposition. It won't trouble you very much, will it?"

"Not at all, if you will only show me how, " stammered Helen, turning hotand red. But, shaking off her hesitation, she lifted up the poor childtenderly and carefully, shook his pillows and "sorted" him according toher own untranslatable Scotch word, then went quickly out of the room tocompose herself, for she had done it all, trembling exceedingly thewhile. And yet, somehow, a feeling of great tenderness--tendererthan even she had felt successively toward her own baby brothers, hadgrown up in her heart toward him, taking away every possible feeling ofrepulsion on account of his deformity. 

She brought back the glass of creamy milk and a bit of oatcake, and laidthem beside the earl. He regarded them wistfully. 

"How nice the milk looks! I am so tired--and so thirsty. Please--would you give me some? Just hold the glass, that's all, and I canmanage. "

Helen held it to his lips--the first time she ever did so, but notthe last by many. Years and years from then, when she herself was quitean old woman, she remembered, giving him that drink of milk, and how, afterward, two large soft eyes were turned upon hers so lovingly, sogratefully, as if the poor cripple had drank in something besides milk---the sweet draught of human affection, not dried up even to suchheavily afflicted ones as he. 

"Are the lessons all done for to-day, papa?" said she, noticing that, eager as it was, the little face looked very wan and wearied, but alsonoticing with delight that her father's expression was brighter and moreinterested than it had been this long time. 

"Done, Helen? Well, if my pupil is tired, certainly. "

"But I'm not tired, sir. "

Helen shook her motherly head: "Quite enough for to-day. You may comeback again to-morrow. "

He did come back. Day after day, in fair weather or foul, big Malcolmwas to be seen stepping with his free Highland step--Malcolm was alissome, handsome young fellow--across the Manse garden, carryingthat small frail burden, which all the inhabitants of the clachan hadceased to stare at, and to which they all raised their bonnets ortouched their shaggy forelocks. "It's the wee earl, ye ken, " and oneand all treated with the utmost respect the tiny figure wrapped in aplaid, so that nothing was visible except a small child's face, whichalways smiled at sight of other children. 

It was surprising in how few days the clachan, and indeed the wholeneighborhood, grew accustomed to the appearance of the earl and his sadstory. Perhaps this was partly due to Helen and Mr. Cardross, who, seeing no longer any occasion for mystery, indeed regretting a littlethat any mystery had ever been made about the matter, took everyopportunity of telling every body who inquired the whole facts of thecase. 

These were few enough and simple enough, though very sad. The Earl--the last Earl of Cairnforth--was a hopeless cripple for life. Allthe consultations of all the doctors had resulted in that conclusion. It was very unlikely he would ever be better than he was now physically, but mentally he was certainly "a' richt"--or "a' there, " as thecountry-folk express it. There was, as Mr. Cardross carefully explainedto every body, not the slightest ground for supposing him deficient inintellect; on the contrary, his intellect seemed almost painfully acute. The quickness with which he learned his lessons surpassed that of anyboy of his age the minister had ever known; and he noticed every thingaround him so closely, and made such intelligent remarks, that to talkwith him was like talking with a grown man. Before the first week wasover Mr. Cardross began actually to enjoy the child's company, and tolook forward to lesson hours as the pleasantest hours of his day; for, since the Castle was close, the minister's lot had been the almostinevitable lot of a country clergyman, whose parish contains manyexcellent people, who look up to him with the utmost reverence, and forwhom he entertains the sincere respect that worth must always feeltoward worth, but with whom he had very few intellectual sympathies. Intruth, since Mrs. Cardross died the minister had shut himself up almostentirely, and had scarcely had a single interest out of his own studyuntil the earl came home to Cairnforth. 

Now, after lessons, he would occasionally be persuaded to quit thatbeloved study, and take a walk along the loch side, or across the moor, to show his pupil the country of which he, poor little fellow! was ownerand lord. He did it at first out of pure kindness, to save the earlfrom the well-meant intrusion of neighbors, but afterward from sheerpleasure in seeing the boy so happy. To him, mounted in Malcolm's armsand brought for the first time into contact with the outer world, everything was a novelty and delight. And his quick perception let nothingescape him. He seemed to watch lovingly all nature, from the grandlights and shadows which moved over the mountains, to the littlemoorland flowers which he made Malcolm stop to gather. All livingthings too, from the young rabbit that scudded across their path, to thelark that rose singing up into the wide blue air--he saw and noticedevery thing. 

But he never once said, what Helen, who, as often as her house dutiesallowed, delighted to accompany them on these expeditions, was alwaysexpecting he would say, Why had God given these soulless creatures legsto run and wings to fly, strength, health, and activity to enjoyexistence, and denied all these things to him? Denied them, not for aweek, a month, a year, but for his whole lifetime--a lifetime soshort at best;--"few of days, and full of trouble. " Why could He nothave made it a little more happy?

Thousands have asked themselves, in some form or other, the sameunanswered, unanswerable question. Helen had done so already, young asshe was; when her mother died, and her father seemed slowly breakingdown, and the whole world appeared to her full of darkness and woe. Howthen must it have appeared to this poor boy? But, strange to say, thatbitter doubt, which so often came into Helen's heart, never fell fromchild's lips at all. Either he was still a mere child, accepting lifejust as he saw it, and seeking no solution of its mysteries, or else, though so young, he was still strong enough to keep his doubts tohimself, to bear his own burden, and trouble no one. 

Or else--and when she watched his inexpressibly sweet face, which hadthe look you sometimes see in blind faces, of absolutely untroubledpeace, Helen was forced to believe this--God, who had taken away fromhim so much, had given him something still more--a spiritual insightso deep and clear that he was happy in spite of his heavy misfortune. She never looked at him but she thought involuntarily of the text, outof the only book with which unlearned Helen was very familiar--that"in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which isin heaven. "

After a fortnight's stay at the Castle Mr. Menteith felt convinced thathis experiment had succeeded, and that, onerous as the duty of guardianwas, he might be satisfied to leave his ward under the charge of Mr. Cardross. 

"Only, it those Bruces should try to get at him, you must let me know atonce. Remember, I trust you. "

"Certainly, you may. Has any thing been heard of them lately?"

"Nothing much, beyond the continual applications for advances of theannual sum which the late earl gave them, and which I continue to pay, just to keep them out of the way. "

"They are still abroad?"

"I suppose so; but I hear very little about them. They were relationson the countess's side, you know--it was she who brought the money. Poor little fellow, what an accumulation it will be by the time he is ofage, and what small good it will do him!"

And the honest man sighed as he looked from Mr. Cardross's dining-roomwindow across the Manse garden, where, under a shady tree, was placedthe earl's little wheel-chair, which was an occasional substitute forMalcolm's arms. In it he sat, with a book on his lap, and with theaspect of entire content which was so very touching. Helen sat besidehim on the grass, sewing--she was always sewing; and, indeed, she hadneed, if her needle were to keep pace with its requirements in the largefamily of boys. 

"That's a good girl of yours, and his lordship seems to have taken toher amazingly. I am very glad, for he had no feminine company at allexcept Mrs. Campbell, and, good as she is, she isn't quite the thing--not exactly a lady, you see. Eh, Mr. Cardross--what a lady hismother was! We'll never again see the like of the poor countess, nor, in all human probability, will we ever again see another Countess ofCairnforth. 

"No. "

"Yet, " continued Mr. Menteith, after a long pause, "Dr. Hamilton thinkshe may live many years. Strange to say, his constitution is healthy andsound, and his sweet, placid nature--his mother's own nature (isn'the very like her sometimes?)--gives him so much advantage instruggling through every ailment. If he can be made happy, as you andHelen will, I doubt not, be able to make him, and kept strictly to awholesome, natural country life here, it is not impossible he may liveto enter upon his property. And then--for the future, God knows!"

"It is well for us, " replied the minister, gravely, "That He does know--every thing. "

"I suppose it is. "

And then for another hour the two good men--one living in the worldand the other out of it--both fathers of families, carrying their ownburden of cares, and having gone through their own personal sorrows eachin his day, talked over, the minutest degree, the present, and, so faras they could divine it, the future of this poor boy, who, through sostrange a combination of circumstances, had been left entirely to theircharge. 

"It is a most responsible charge, Mr. Cardross, and I feel almostselfish in shifting it so much from my own shoulders upon yours. "

"I am willing to undertake it. Perhaps it may do me good, " returned theminister, with a slight sigh. 

"And you will give him the best education you can--your own, inshort, which is more than sufficient for Lord Cairnforth; certainly morethan the last earl had, or his father either. "

"Possibly, " said Mr. Cardross, who remembered both--stalwart, active, courtly lords of the soil, great at field-sports and festivities, butnot over given to study. "No, the present earl does not take after hisprogenitors in any way. You should just see him, Mr. Menteith, over hisVirgil; and I have promised to begin Homer with him tomorrow. It doesone's heart good to see a boy so fond of his books, " added the minister, warming up into an enthusiasm which delighted the other extremely. 

"Yes, I think my plan was right, " said he, rubbing his hands. "It willwork well on both sides. There could not be found any where a bettertutor than yourself for the earl. He never can go much into the world;he may not even live to be of age; still, as long as he does live, hislife ought to be made as pleasant--I mean, as little painful to himas possible. And he ought to be fitted, in case he should live, for asmany years as he can fulfill of the duties of his position; itsenjoyments, alas! he will never know. "

"I am not so sure of that, " replied Mr. Cardross. "He loves books; hemay turn out a thoroughly educated and accomplished student--perhapseven a man of letters. To have a thirst for knowledge, and unlimitedmeans to gratify it, is not such a bad thing. Why, " continued theminister, glancing round on his own poorly-furnished shelves, whereevery book was bought almost at the sacrifice of a meal, "he will berich enough to stock from end to end that wilderness of shelves in thehalf-finished Castle library. How pleasant that must be!"

Mr. Menteith smiled as if he did not quite comprehend this sort offelicity. "But, in any case, Lord Cairnforth seems to have, what willbe quite as useful to him as brains, a very kindly heart. He does notshut himself up in a morbid way, but takes an interest in all about him. Look at him, now, how heartily he is laughing at something your daughterhas said. Really, those two seem quite happy. "

"Helen makes every body happy, " fondly said Helen's father. 

"I believe so. I shall be sending down one of my big lads to look afterher some day. I've eight of them, Mr. Cardross, all to be educated, settled, and wived. It's a 'sair fecht, ' I assure you. "

"I know it; but still it has its compensations. "

"Ay, they're all strong, likely, braw fellows, who can push their ownway in the world and fend for themselves. Not like--" he glanced overto the group on the grass, and stopped. Yet at that moment a heartytrill of thoroughly childish laughter seemed to rebuke the regrets ofboth fathers. 

"That child certainly has the sweetest nature--the most remarkablefaculty for enjoying other people's enjoyments, in which he himself cannever share. "

"Yes, it was always so, from the time he was a mere infant. Dr. Hamilton often noticed it, and said it was a good omen. "

"I believe so, " rejoined Mr. Cardross, earnestly. "I feel sure that ifLord Cairnforth lives, he will neither have a useless nor an unhappylife. "

"Let us hope not. And yet--poor little fellow!--to be the lastEarl of Cairnforth, and to be--such as he is!"

"He is what God made him, what God willed him to be, " said the minister, solemnly. "We know not why it should be so; we only know that it is, and we can not alter it. We can not remove from him his heavy cross, but I think we can help him to bear it. "

"You are a good man, Mr. Cardross, " replied the Edinburg writer, huskily, as he rose from his seat, and declining another glass of theclaret, of which, under some shallow pretext, he had sent a supply intothe minister's empty cellar, he crossed the grass-plot, and spent therest of the evening beside his ward and Helen. 

Chapter 5

Days, months, and years slip smoothly by on the shores of Loch Beg. Even now, though the cruelly advancing finger of Civilization hastouched it, dotted it with genteel villas on either side, plowed it withsmoky steam boats, and will shortly frighten the innocent fishes bydropping a marine telegraph wire across the mouth of the loch, it is apeaceful place still. But when the last Earl of Cairnforth was a childit was all peace. In summertime a few stray tourists would wander pastit, wondering at its beauty; but in winter it had hardly anycommunication with the outer world. The Manse, the Castle, and theclachan, with a few outlying farm-houses, comprised the whole of theCairnforth; and the little peninsula, surrounded on three sides bywater, and on the fourth by hills, was sufficiently impregnable andisolated to cause existence to flow on there very quietly, in whattownspeople call dullness, and country people repose. 

For, whatever repose there may be in country life--real country--there is certainly no monotony. The perpetual change of seasons, varying the aspect of the outside world every month, every week--nay, almost every day, is a continual interest to observant minds, andespecially so to intelligent children, who are as yet lying on thebreast of Mother Nature only, nor have begun to feel or understand thedarker and sadder interests of human passion and emotion. 

The little Earl of Cairnforth was one of these; and many a time, throughall the summers of his life; he recalled tenderly that first summer atCairnforth, when, no longer pent up between walls and roofs, or draggedabout in carriages, he learned, by Molcolm's aid and under Helen'steaching, to chronicle time in different ways; first by the hyacinthsand primroses vanishing, and giving place to the wild roses--thoseexquisite deep-red roses which belong especially to this country-side;then by the woods--his own woods--growing fragrant withinnumerable honeysuckles; and lastly by the heather on the moorland--Scotland's own flower--which clothes entire hillsides as with agarment of gorgeous purple, and fills the whole atmosphere with thescent of a spice-garden; and when it faded into a soft brown, dyingdelicately, beautiful to the last, there appeared the brambles, trailingevery where, with their pretty yellowing leaves and their deliciousberries. How blithe, even like a mere "callant, " big Malcolm was, when, leaving the earl on the sunny hill-side under Miss Cardross's charge, heused to wander off, and come back with his hands all torn and scratched, to feed his young master with blackberries!

"He is not unhappy--I am sure the child is not unhappy, " Helen oftensaid to her father, when--as was his way--Mr. Cardross would getfits of uncertainty and downheartedness, and think he was killing hispupil with study, or wearying him, and risking his health by letting himdo as much as his energetic mind, always dominant over the frail body, prompted him to do. "Only let him love his life, and put as much in itas he can, be it long or short, and then it will never be a sad life ora life thrown away. "

"Helen, you're not clever, but you're a wise little woman, my dear, " theminister would say, patting the flaxen curls or the busy hands--largeand brown, yet with a certain grace about them, too--helpful hands, made to hold children, or tend sick folk, or sustain the feeble steps ofold age. She was "no bonnie" Helen Cardross; it was just a round, rosy, sonsie face, with no features in particular, but she was pleasant tolook upon, and inexpressibly pleasant to live with; for it was such awholesome nature, so entirely free from moods, or fancies, or crochetsof any kind--those sad vagaries of ill-health, ill-humor, andill-conditionedness of every sort, which are sometimes only amisfortune, caused by an unhappy natural temperament, but oftener arisefrom pure egotism, of which there was not an atom in Helen Cardross. Her life was like the life of a flower--as natural, unconscious, fresh, and sweet: she took in every influence about her, and gave outfreely all she had to give; desired no better things than she possessed, and where she was planted there she grew. 

It was not wonderful that the little earl loved her, and that under hersunshiny soul his life too blossomed out as it might never otherwisehave done, but have drooped and faded, and gone back into the darkness, imperfect and unfulfilled; for, though each human life is, in a sense, complete to itself, and must work itself out independently, clinging tono other, still there is a great and beautiful mystery in the way onelife seems to influence an other, sometimes for ill, but far, faroftener for good. 

Lord Cairnforth was not much with the Cardross boys. He liked them, andevidently craved after their company, but they were very shy of him. Sometimes they let Malcolm bring him into their boat, and condescendedto row him up and down the loch, a mode of locomotion in which hegreatly delighted, for, at best, the shaking of the great lumberingcoach was not easy to him, and he always begged to be carried inMalcolm's arms till he found how pleasantly he could lie in the stern ofthe Manse boat, and float about on the smooth water, watching themountains and the shores. 

True, he could not stir an inch from where he was laid down, but he laythere so contentedly, enjoying everything, and really looked, what heoften said he was, "as happy as a king. "

And by degrees, with a little home persuasion from Helen, the boys gotreconciled to his company--found, indeed, that he was not such badcompany after all; for often, when they were tired of pulling, and letthe boat drift into some quiet little bay, or rock lazily in the middleof the loch, the little earl would begin talking--telling stories, which soon caught the attention of the minister's boys. These wereeither fragments out of the books he had read, which seemed countless tothe young Cardrosses, or, what they liked still better, tales "out ofhis own head;" and these tales were always the last that they would haveexpected from one like him--wild exploits; wanderings over SouthAmerican prairies, or shipwrecks on desert islands; astonishing feats ofriding, or fighting, or traveling by land and sea--every thing, inshort, belonging to that sort of active, energetic, adventurous life, ofwhich the relator could never have had the least experience, and neverwould have in this world. Perhaps for that very reason his fancydelighted therein the more. 

And his stories were enjoyed by others as much as by himself, which nodoubt added to the charm of them. When winter came, and all the boatingdays were done, many a night, round the fire of the Manse parlor, or inthe "awful eerie" library at the Castle, the earl used to have a wholecircle of young people, and some elder ones too, gathered round hiswheel-chair, listening to his wonderful tales of adventure by flood andfield. 

"Why don't you write them out properly?" the boys would ask sometimes, forgetting--what Helen would never have forgotten. But he onlylooked down on his poor helpless fingers and smiled. 

However, he had, with great difficulty and pains, managed to learn towrite--that is, to sign his name, or indite any short letter to Mr. Menteith or others, which, as he grew older, sometimes became necessary. But writing was always a great trouble to him; and, fortunately, peoplewere not expected to write much in those days. Had he been born alittle later in his century, the Earl of Cairnforth might havebrightened his sad life by putting his imagination forth in print, andbecoming a great literary character; as it was, he merely told his talesfor his own delight and that of those about him, which possibly was abetter thing than fame. 

Then he made jokes, too. Sometimes, in his quiet, dry way, he said suchdroll things that the Cardross boys fell into shouts of laughter. Hehad the rare quality of seeing the comical side of things, without aparticle of ill-nature being mixed up with his fun. His wit dancedabout as brilliantly and harmlessly as the Northern lights that flashedand flamed of winter nights over the mountains at the head of the loch;and the solid, somewhat heavy Manse boys, gradually growing up to men, often wondered why it was that, miserable as the earl's life was, orseemed to them, they always felt merrier instead of sadder when theywere in his company. 

But sometimes when with Helen alone, and more especially as he grew tobe a youth in his teens, and yet no bigger, no stronger, and scarcelyless helpless than a child, the young earl would let fall a word or twowhich showed that he was fully and painfully aware of his own condition, and all that it entailed. It was evident that he had thought much anddeeply of the future which lay before him. If, as now appearedprobable, he should live to man's estate, his life must, at best, be onelong endurance, rendered all the sharper and harder to bear becausewithin that helpless body dwelt a soul, which was, more than that ofmost men, alive to every thing beautiful, noble, active, and good. 

However, though he occasionally betrayed these workings of his mind, itwas only to Helen, and not to her very much, for he was exceedinglyself-contained from his childhood. He seemed to feel by instinct thatto him had been allotted a special solitude of existence, into which, try as tenderly as they would, none could ever fully penetrate, and withwhich none could wholly sympathize. It was inevitable in the nature ofthings. 

He apparently accepted the fact as such, and did not attempt to breakthrough it. He took the strongest interest in other people, and inevery thing around him, but he did not seem to expect to have the likereturned in any great degree. Perhaps it was one of those mercifulcompensations that what he could not have he was made strong enough todo without. 

So things went on, without any other variety than an occasional visitfrom Mr. Menteith or Dr. Hamilton, for seven years, during which theminister's pupil had acquired every possible learning that his teachercould give, and was fast becoming less a scholar than an equal companionand friend--so familiar and dear, that Mr. Cardross, like all whoknew him, had long since almost forgotten that the earl was--what hewas. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that he should sitthere in his little chair, doing nothing; absolutely passive to allphysical things; but interested in every thing and every body, and, whether at the Manse or the Castle, as completely one of the circle asif he took the most active part therein. Consulted by one, appealed toby another, joked by a third--he was ever ready with a joke--itwas only when strangers happened to see him, and were startled by thesight, that his own immediate friends recognized how different he wasfrom other people. 

It was one day when he was about nineteen that Helen, coming in to seehim with a message from her father, who wanted to speak to him aboutsome parish matters, found Lord Cairnforth deeply meditating over aletter. He slipped it aside, however, and it was not until the wholeparish question had been discussed and settled, as somehow he and Helenvery often did settle the whole affairs of the parish between them, thathe brought it out again, fidgeting it out of his pocket with his poorfingers, which seemed a little more helpless than usual. 

"Helen, I wish you would read that, and tell me what you think aboutit"?

It was a letter somewhat painful to read, with the earl sitting by andwatching her, but Helen had long learned never to shrink from these sortof things. He felt them far less if every body else faced them asboldly as he had himself always done. 

The letter was from Dr. Hamilton, written after his return from a threedays' visit at Cairnforth Castle. It explained, after a long apologeticpreamble, the burden of which was that the earl was now old enough andthoughtful enough to be the best person to speak to on such a difficultsubject, that there had been a certain skillful mechanician lately inEdinburg who declared he would invent some support by which LordCairnforth could be made, not indeed to walk--that was impossible--but to be by many degrees more active than now. But it would benecessary for him to go to London, and there submit to a great amount oftrouble and inconvenience--possibly some pain. 

"I tell you this last, my dear lord, " continued the good doctor, "because I ought not to deceive you; and because, so far as I have seen, you are a courageous boy--nay, almost a man--or will be soon. Imust forewarn you also that the experiment, is only an experiment--that it may fail; but even in that case you would be only where you werebefore--no better, no worse, except for the temporary annoyance andsuffering. "

"And if it succeeded?" said Helen, almost in a whisper, as she returnedthe letter. 

The earl smiled--a bright, vague, but hopeful smile--"I might be alittle more able to do things--to live my life with a little lesstrouble to myself, and possibly to other people. Well, Helen? Youdon't speak, but I think your eyes say 'Try!'"

"Yes, my dear. " She sometimes, though not often now, lest it might vexhim by making him still so much a child, called him "my dear. "

This ended the conversation, which Helen did not communicate to anybody, nor referred to again with Lord Cairnforth, though she ponderedover it and him continually. 

A week after this, Mr. Menteith unexpectedly appeared at the Castle, andafter a long consultation with Mr. Cardross, it was agreed that whatseemed the evident wish of the earl should be accomplished if possible;that he, Malcolm, Mrs. Campbell, and Mr. Menteith should start forLondon immediately. 

Such a journey was then a very different thing from what it is now, andto so helpless a traveler as Lord Cairnforth its difficulties weredoubled. He had to post the whole distance in his own carriage, whichwas fitted up so as to be as easy as possible in locomotion, besidesbeing so arranged that he could sleep in it if absolutely necessary, forordinary beds and ordinary chairs were sometimes very painful to him. Had he been poor, in all probability he would long ago have died--ofsheer suffering. 

Fortunately, it was summer time. He staid at Cairnforth till after hisbirthday, "for I may never see another, " said he, with that gentle smilewhich seemed to imply that he would be neither glad nor sorry, and thenhe started. He was quite cheerful himself, but Mr. Menteith and Mrs. Campbell looked very anxious. Malcolm was full of superstitiousforebodings, and Helen Cardross and her father, when they bade himgood-by and watched the carriage drive slowly from the Castle doors, felt as sad as if they were parting from him, not for London, but forthe other world. 

Not until he was gone did they recognize how much they missed him: inthe Manse parlor where "the earl's chair" took its regular place--inthe pretty Manse garden, where its wheels had made in the gravel walksdeep marks which Helen could not bear to have erased--in his pew atthe kirk, where the minister had learned to look Sunday after Sunday forthat earnest, listening face. Mr. Cardross, too, found it dull nolonger to have his walk up to the Castle, and his hour or two's rest inthe yet unfinished library, which he and Lord Cairnforth had alreadybegun to consult about, and where the earl was always to be found, sitting at his little table with his books about him, and Malcolmlurking within call, or else placed contentedly by the French window, looking out upon that blaze of beauty into which the countess'sflower-garden had grown. How little they had thought--the youngfather and mother, cut off in the midst of their plans, that their poorchild would one day so keenly enjoy them all, and have such sore needfor these or any other simple and innocent enjoyments. 

"Papa, how we do miss him!" said Helen one day as she walked with herfather through the Cairnforth woods. "Who would have thought it when hefirst came here only a few years ago?"

"Who would indeed?" said the minister, remembering a certain walk he hadtaken through these very paths nineteen years before, when he hadwondered why providence had sent the poor babe into the world at all, and thought how far, far happier it would have been lying dead on itsdead mother's bosom--that beautiful young mother, whose placid faceupon the white satin pillows of her coffin Mr. Cardross yet vividlyrecalled; for he saw it often reflected in the living face of the son, whom, happily, she had died without beholding. 

"That was a wise saying of King David's, 'Let me fall into the hands ofthe Lord, and not into the hands of men, '" mused Mr. Cardross, who hadjust been hearing from Mr. Mentieth a long story of his perplexitieswith "those Bruces, " and had also had lately a few domestic dissensionsin his own parish, which did quarrel among itself occasionally, andalways brought its quarrels to be settled by the minister. "It is astrange thing, Helen, my dear, what wonderful peace there often is ingreat misfortunes. They are quite different from the petty miserieswhich people make for themselves. "

"I suppose so. But do you think, papa, that any good will come out ofthe London journey?"

"I can not tell; still, it was right to try. You yourself said it wasright to try. "

"Yes;" and then, seeing it was done now, the practical, brave Helenstilled her uncertainties and let the matter rest. 

No one was surprised that weeks elapsed before there came any tidings ofthe travelers. Then Mr. Menteith wrote, announcing their safe arrivalin London, which diffused great joy throughout the parish, for of courseevery body knew whither Lord Cairnforth had gone, and many knew why. Scarcely a week passed that some of the far-distant tenantry even, wholived on the other side of the peninsula, did not cross the hills, walking many miles for no reason but to ask at the Manse what was thelatest news of "our earl. "

But after the first letter there came no farther tidings, and indeednone were expected. Mr. Menteith had probably returned to Edinburg, andin those days there was no penny post, and nobody indulged inunnecessary correspondence. Still, sometimes Helen thought, with a soreuneasiness, "If the earl had had good news to tell, he would have surelytold it. He was always so glad to make any body happy. "

The long summer twilights were ended, and one or two equinoctial galeshad whipped the waters of Loch Beg into wild "white horses, " yet stillLord Cairnforth did not return. At last, one Monday night, when Helenand her father were returning from a three days' absence at the"preachings'--that is, the half-yearly sacrament--in a neighboringparish, they saw, when they came to the ferry, the glimmer of lightsfrom the Castle windows on the opposite shore of the loch. 

"I do believe Lord Cairnforth is come home!"

"Ou ay, Miss Helen, " said Duncan, the ferryman, "his lordship crossedwi' me the day; an' I'm thinking, minister, " added the old manconfidentially, "that ye suld just gang up to the Castle an' see him;for it's ma opinion that the earl's come back as he gaed awa, nae betterand nae waur. "

"What makes you thinks so? Did he say any thing?"

"Ne'er a word but just 'How are ye the day, Duncan?' and he sat andglowered at the hills and the loch, and twa big draps rolled down hispuir bit facie--it's grown sae white and sae sma', ye ken--and Isaid, 'My lord, it's grand to see your lordship back. Ye'll no be gaunto London again, I hope?' 'Na, na, ' says he; 'na, Duncan, I'm best athame--best at hame!' And when Malcolm lifted him, he gied a bitskreigh, as if he'd hurted himself--Minister, I wish I'd thae Londondoctors here by our loch side, " muttered Duncan between his teeth, andpulling away fiercely at his oar; but the minister said nothing. 

He and Helen went silently home, and finding no message, walked on assilently up to the Castle together. 

Chapter 6

Old Duncan's penetration had been correct--the difficult and painfulLondon journey was all in vain. Lord Cairnforth had returned homeneither better nor worse than he was before; the experiment had failed. 

Helen and her father guessed this from their first sight of him, thoughthey had found him sitting as usual in his arm-chair at his favoritecorner, and when they entered the library he had looked up with a smile--the same old smile, as natural as though he had never been away. 

"Is that you, Mr. Cardross? Helen too? How kind of you to come and seeme so soon!"

But, in spite of his cheerful greeting, they detected at once theexpression of suffering in the poor face--"sae white and sae sma', "as Duncan had said; pale beyond its ordinary pallor, and shrunken andwithered like an old man's; the more so, perhaps, as the masculine downhad grown upon cheek and chin, and there was a matured manliness ofexpression in the whole countenance, which formed a strange contrast tothe still puny and childish frame--alas! Not a whit less helpless orless distorted than before. Yes, the experiment had failed. 

They were so sure of this, Mr. Cardross and his daughter, that neitherput to him a single question on the subject, but instinctively passed itover, and kept the conversation to all sorts of commonplace topics: thejourney--the wonders of London--and the small events which hadhappened in quiet Cairnforth during the three months that the earl hadbeen away. 

Lord Cairnforth was the first to end their difficulty and hesitation byopenly referring to that which neither of his friends could bear tospeak of. 

"Yes, " he said, at last, with a faint, sad smile, "I agree with oldDuncan--I never mean to go to London any more. I shall stay for therest of my days among my own people. "

"So much the better for them, " observed the minister, warmly. 

"Do you think that? Well, we shall see. I must try and make it so, aswell as I can. I am but where I was before, as Dr. Hamilton said. PoorDr. Hamilton! He is so sorry. "

Mr. Cardross did not ask about what, but turned to the table and begancutting open the leaves of a book. For Helen, she drew nearer to LordCairnforth's chair, and laid over the poor, weak, wasted fingers hersoft, warm hand. 

The tears sprang to the young earl's eyes. "Don't speak to me, " hewhispered; "it is all over now; but it was very hard for a time. "

"I know it. "

"Yes--at least as much as you can know. "

Helen was silent. She recognized, as she had never recognized before, the awful individuality of suffering which it had pleased God to layupon this one human being--suffering at which even the friends wholoved him best could only stand aloof and gaze, without the possibilityof alleviation. 

"Ay, " he said, at last, "it is all over: I need try no more experiments. I shall just sit still and be content. "

What was the minute history of the experiments he had tried, how muchbodily pain they had cost him, and through how much mental pain he hadstruggled before he attained that "content, " he did not explain even toHelen. He turned the conversation to the books which Mr. Cardross wascutting, and many other books, of which he had bought a whole cart-loadfor the minister's library. Neither then, nor at any other time, did heever refer, except in the most cursory way, to his journey to London. 

But Helen noticed that for a long while--weeks, nay, months, heseemed to avoid more than ever any conversation about himself. He wasslightly irritable and uncertain of mood, and disposed to shut himselfup in the Castle, reading, or seeming to read, from morning till night. It was not till a passing illness of the minister's in some degreeforced him that he reappeared at the Manse, and fell into his old waysof coming and going, resuming his studies with Mr. Cardross, and hiswalks with Helen--or rather drives, for he had ceased to be carriedin Malcolm's arms. 

"I am a man, now, or ought to be, " he said once, as a reason for this, after which no one made any remarks on the subject. Malcolm stillretained his place as the earl's close attendant--as faithful as hisshadow, almost as silent. 

But the next year or so made a considerable alteration in LordCairnforth. Not in growth--the little figure never grew any biggerthan that of a boy of ten or twelve; but the childish softness passedfrom the face; it sharpened, and hardened, and became that of a youngman. The features developed; and a short black beard, soft and curly, for it had never known the razor, added character to what, in ordinarymen, would have been considered a very handsome face. It had none ofthe painful expression so often seen in deformed persons, but moreresembled those sweet Italian heads of youthful saints--SaintSebastian's, for instance--which the old masters were so fond ofpainting; and though there was a certain melancholy about it when inrepose, during conversation it brightened up, and was the cheerfullest, most sunshiny face imaginable. 

That is, it ultimately became so; but for a long time after the journeyto London a shadow hung over it, which rarely quite passed away exceptin Helen's company. Nobody could be dreary for long beside HelenCardross; and either through her companionship, or his own inherentstrength of will, or both combined, the earl gradually recovered fromthe bitterness of lost hopes, whatsoever they had been, and became oncemore his own natural self, perhaps even more cheerful, since it was nownot so much the gayety of a boy as the composed, equable serenity of athoughtful man. 

His education might be considered complete: it had advanced to theutmost limit to which Mr. Cardross could carry it; but the pupilinsisted on retaining, nominally and pecuniarily, his position at theManse. 

Or else the two would spend hours--nay, days, shut up together in theCastle Library, the beautiful octagon room, with its painted ceiling, and its eight walls lined from floor to roof with empty shelves, to planthe filling of which was the delight of the minister's life, since, butfor his poor parish and his large family, Mr. Cardross would have been athorough bibliomaniac. Now, in a vicarious manner, the hobby of hisyouth reappeared, and at every cargo of books that arrived at the Castlehis old eyes brightened--for he was growing to look really an old mannow--and he would plunge among them with an ardor that sometimes madeboth the earl and Helen smile. But Helen's eyes were dim too, for shesaw through all the tender cunning, and often watched Lord Cairnforth ashe sat contentedly in his little chair, in the midst of a pile of books, examining, directing, and sympathizing, though doing nothing. Alas!nothing could he do. But it was one of the secrets which made thesethree lives so peaceful, that each could throw itself out of itself intothat of another, and take thence, secondarily, the sunshine that wasdenied to its own. 

Beyond the family at the Manse the earl had no acquaintance whatsoever, and seemed to desire none. His rank lifted him above the smallproprietors who lived within visitable distance of the Castle: theynever attempted to associate with him. Sometimes a stray callerappeared, prompted by curiosity, which Mrs. Campbell generally foundingenious reasons for leaving ungratified, and Lord Cairnforth'sexcessive shyness and dislike to appear before strangers did the rest. It is astonishing how little the world cares to cultivate those out ofwhom it can get nothing; and the small establishment at CairnforthCastle, with its almost invisible head, soon ceased to be an object ofinterest to any body--at least to any body in that sphere of lifewhere the earl would otherwise have moved. 

Among his own tenantry, the small farmers along the shores of the twolochs which bounded the peninsula, his long minority and mysteriousaffliction made him personally almost unknown. They used to come twicea year, at WhitSunday and Martinmas, to pay their rents to Mr. Menteith;to inquire for my lord's health, and to drink in abundance of whisky;but the earl himself they never saw, and their feelings toward him werea mixture of reverence and awe. 

It was different with the earl's immediate neighbors, the humbleinhabitants of the clachan. These, during the last nine years, hadgradually grown familiar, first with the little childish form, carriedabout tenderly in Malcolm's arms, and then with the muffled figure, scarcely less of a child to look at, which Malcolm, and sometimes MissCardross, drove about in a pony-chaise. At the kirk especially, thoughhe was always carefully conveyed in first, and borne out last of all thecongregation, his face--his sweet, kind, beautiful face was known tothem all, and the children were always taught to doff their bonnets orpull their forelocks to the earl. 

Beyond that, nobody knew any thing about him. His large property, accumulating every year, was entirely under the management of Mr. Menteith; he himself took no interest in it; and the way by which theformer heirs of Cairnforth had used to make themselves popular fromboyhood, by going among the tenantry, hunting, shooting, fishing, andboating, was impossible to this earl. His distant dependents hardlyremembered his existence, and he took no heed of theirs, until a fewmonths before he came of age, when one of these slight chances whichoften determine so much changed the current of affairs. 

If was just before the "term. " Mr. Menteith had been expected all day, but had not arrived, and the earl had taken a long drive with Helen andher father through the Cairnforth woods, where the wild daffodils werebeginning to succeed the fading snowdrops, and the mavises had beenheard to sing those few rich notes which belong especially to thetwilights of early spring, and earnest of all the richness, and glory, and delight of the year. The little party seemed to feel it--thatsoft, dreamy sense of dawning spring, which stirs all the soul, especially in youth, with a vague looking forward to some pleasantnesswhich never comes. They sat, silent and talking by turns, beside thenot unwelcome fire, in a corner of the large library. 

"We shall miss Alick a good deal this spring, " said Helen, recurring toa subject of which the family heart was full, the departure of theeldest son to "begin the world" in Mr. Menteith's office in Edinburg. He was not a very clever lad, but he was sensible and steady, andblessed with that practical mother-wit which is often better thanbrains. The minister, though he had been bemoaning his boy's "littleLatin and less Greek, " and comparing Alick's learning verydisadvantageously with that of the earl, to whom Mr. Cardross confidedall his troubles, nevertheless seemed both proud and hopeful of hiseldest son, the heir to his honest name, which Alick would now carry outinto a far wider world than that of the poor minister of Cairnforth, and doubtless, in good time, transmit honorably to a third generation. 

"Yes, " added the father, when innumerable castles in the air had beenbuilt and rebuilt for Alick's future, "I'll not deny that my lad is agood lad. He is the hope of the house, and he knows it. It's little ofworldly gear that he'll get for many a day, and he tells me he will haveto work from morning till night; but he rather enjoys the prospect thannot. "

"No wonder. Work must be a happy thing, " said, with a sigh, the youngEarl of Cairnforth. 

Helen's heart smote her for having let the conversation drift into thisdirection, as it did occasionally when, from their long familiarity withhim, they forgot how he must feel about many things, natural enough tothem, but to him, unto whom the outer world, with all its duties, energies, enjoyments, could never be any thing but a name, full ofsharpest pain. She said, after a few minutes watching of the grave, still face--not exactly sad, but only very still, very grave--

"Just look at papa, how happy he is among those books you sent for!Your plan of his arranging the library is the delight of his life. "

"Is it? I am so glad, " said the earl, brightening up at once. 'What agood thing I thought of it!"

"You always do think of every thing that is good and kind, " said Helen, softly. 

"Thank you, " and the shadow passed away, as any trifling pleasure alwayshad power to make it pass. Sometimes Helen speculated vaguely on what agrand sort of man the earl would have been had he been like other people--how cheerful, how active, how energetic and wise. But then onenever knows how far circumstances create and unfold character. We oftenlearn as much by what is withheld as by what is enjoyed. 

"Helen, " he said, moving his chair a little nearer her--he hadbrought one good thing from London, a self-acting chair, in which hecould wheel himself about easily, and liked doing it--"I wonderwhether your father would have taken as much pleasure in his booksthirty years ago. Do you think one could fill up one's whole life withreading and study?"

"I can not say; I'm not clever myself, you know. "

"Oh, but you are--with a sort of practical cleverness. And so isAlick, in his own way. How happy Alick must be, going out into theworld, with plenty to do all day long! How bright he looked thismorning!"

"He sees only the sunny side of things, he is still no more than a boy. "

"Not exactly; he is a year older than I am. "

Helen hardly knew what to reply. She guessed so well the current of theearl's thoughts, which were often her own too, as she watched his absentor weary looks, though he tried hard to keep his attention to what Mr. Cardross was reading or discussing. But the distance between twenty andsixty--the life beginning and the life advancing toward its close--was frequently apparent; also between an active, original mind, requiring humanity for its study, and one whose whole bent was among thedry bones of ancient learning--the difference, in short, betweenlearning and knowledge--the mere student and the man who only usesstudy as a means to the perfecting of his whole nature, his completeexistence as a human being. 

All this Helen felt with her quick, feminine instinct, but she did notclearly understand it, and she could not reason about it at all. Sheonly answered in a troubled sort of way that she thought every body, somehow or other, might in time find enough to do--to be happy indoing--and she was trying to put her meaning into more connected andintelligible form, when, greatly to her relief, Malcom entered thelibrary. 

Malcolm, being so necessary and close a personal attendant on the earl, always came and went about his master without any body's noticing him;but now Helen fancied he was making signals to her or to some one. LordCairnforth detected them. 

"Is any thing wrong, Malcolm? Speak out; don't hide things from me. Iam not a child now. "

There was just the slightest touch of sharpness in the gentle voice, andMalcolm did speak out. 

"I wadna be troubling ye, my lord, but it's just an auld man, Dougal McDougal, frae the head o' Loch Mhor--a puir doited body, wha says hemaun hae a bit word wi' your lordship. But I tellt him ye coulna befashed wi' the like o' him. "

"That was not civil or right, Malcolm--an old man, too. Where ishe?"

"Just by the door--eh--and he's coming ben--the ill-manneredloon!" cried Malcolm, angrily, as he interrupted the intruder--atall, gaunt figure wrapped in a shepherd's plaid, with the bonnet setupon the grizzled head in that sturdy independence--nay, more thanindependence--rudeness, rough and thorny as his own thistle, which isthe characteristic of the Scotch peasant externally, till you get belowthe surface to the warm, kindly heart. 

"I'm no ill-mannered, and I'll just gang through the hale house till Ifind my lord, " said the old man, shaking off Malcolm with a strengththat his seventy odd years seemed scarcely to have diminished. "I'mwushing ane harm to ony o' ye, but I maun get speech o' my lord. He'sno bairn; he'll be ane-and-twenty the thirtieth o' June: I mind the dayweel, for the wife was brought to bed o' her last wean the same day asthe countess, and our Dougal's a braw callant the noo, ye ken. Gin theearl has ony wits ava, whilk folk thocht was aye doubtful', he'll haegotten them by this time. I maun speak wi' himself', unless, as theysaid, he's no a' there. "

"Haud your tongue, ye fule!" cried Malcolm, stopping him with a fiercewhisper. "Yon's my lord!"

The old shepherd started back, for at this moment a sudden blaze-up ofthe fire showed him, sitting in the corner, the diminutive figure, attired carefully after the then fashion of gentlemen's dress, everything rich and complete, even to the black silk stockings and shoes onthe small, useless feet, and the white ruffles half hiding the twistedwrists and deformed hands. 

"Yes, I am the Earl of Cairnforth. What did you want to say to me?"

He was so bewildered, the rough shepherd, who had spent all his life onthe hill-sides, and never seen or imagined so sad a sight as this, thatat first he could not find a word. Then he said, hanging back andspeaking confusedly and humbly, "I ask your pardon, my lord--I dinaken--I'll no trouble ye the day. "

"But you do not trouble me at all. Mr. Menteith is not here yet, and Iknow nothing about business; still, if you wished to speak to me, do so;I am Lord Cairnforth. "

"Are ye?" said the shepherd, evidently bewildered still, so that heforgot his natural awe for his feudal superior. "Are ye the countess'sbairn, that's just the age o' our Dougal? Dougal's ane o' thegamekeepers, ye ken--sic a braw fellow--sax feet three. Ye'll haeseen him, Maybe?"

"No, but I should like to see him. And yourself--are you a tenant ofmine, and what did you want with me?"

Encouraged by the kindly voice, and his own self-interest becomingprominent once more, old Dougal told his tale--not an uncommon one--of sheep lost on the hill-side, and one misfortune followinganother, until a large family, children and orphan grandchildren, weredriven at last to want the "sup o' parritch" for daily food, sinking tosuch depths of poverty as the earl in secluded life had never even heardof. And yet the proud old fellow asked nothing except the remission ofone year's rent, after having paid rent honestly for half a lifetime. That stolid, silent endurance, which makes a Scotch beggar of any sortabout the last thing you ever meet with in Scotland, supported him tothe very end. 

The earl was deeply touched. As a matter of course, he promised allthat was desired of him, and sent the old shepherd away happy; but longafter Dougal's departure he sat thoughtful and grave. 

"Can such things be, Helen, and I never heard of them? Are some of mypeople--they are my people, since the land belongs to me--asterribly poor as that man?"

"Ay, very many, though papa looks after them as much as he can. Dougalis out of his parish, or he would have know him. Papa knows every body, and takes care of every body, as far as possible. "

"So ought I--or I must do it when I am older, " said the earl, thoughtfully. 

"There will be no difficulty about that when you come of age and enteron your property. "

"Is it a very large property? For I never heard or inquired. "

"Very large. "

"Show me its boundary; there is the map. "

Helen took it down and drew with a pencil the limits of the Cairnforthestates. They extended along the whole peninsula, and far up into themain land. 

"There, Lord Cairnforth, every bit of this is yours. "

"To do exactly what I like with?"

"Certainly. "

"Helen, it is an awfully serious thing. "

Helen was silent. 

"How strange!" He continued, after a pause. "And this was really allmine from the very hour of my birth?"

"Yes. "

"And when I come of age I shall have to take my property into my ownhands, and manage it just as I choose, or as I can?"

"Of course you will; and I think you can do it, if you try. "

For it was not the first time that Helen had pondered over these things, since, being neither learned nor poetical, worldly-minded nor selfish, in her silent hours her mind generally wandered to the practicalconcerns of other people, and especially of those she loved. 

"'Try' ought to be the motto of the Cardross arms--of yours certainly, "said Lord Cairnforth, smiling. "I should like to assume it on mine, instead of my own 'Virtute et fide, ' which is of little use to me. How can I--I--be brave or faithful?"

"You can be both--and you will, " said Helen, softly. Years from thatday she remembered what she had said, and how true it was. 

A little while afterward, while the minister still remained buried inhis beloved books, Lord Carinforth recurred again to Dougal Mac Dougal. 

"The old fellow was right. If I am ever to have 'ony wits ava, ' I oughtto have them by this time. I am nearly twenty-one. Any other youngman would have been a man long ago. And I will be a man--why shouldI not? True manliness is not solely outside. I dare say you could findmany a fool and a coward six feet high. "

"Yes, " answered Helen, all she could find to say. 

"And if I have nothing else, I have brains--quite as good brains, Ithink, as my neighbors. They can not say of me now that I'm 'no a'there. ' Nay, Helen, don't look so fierce; they meant me no ill; it wasbut natural. Yes, God has left me something to be thankful for. "

The earl lifted his head--the only part of his frame which he couldmove freely, and his eyes flashed under his broad brows. Thoroughlymanly brows they were, wherein any acute observer might trace that clearsound sense, active energy, and indomitable perseverance which make thereal man, and lacking which the "brawest" young follow alive is a merebody--and animal wanting the soul. 

"I wonder how I should set about managing my property. The duty willnot be as easy for me as for most people, you know, " added he, sadly;"still, if I had a secretary--a thorough man of business, to teach meall about business, and to be constantly at my side, perhaps I might beable to accomplish it. And I might drive about the country--drivingis less painful to me now--and get acquainted with my people; seewhat they wanted, and how I could best help them. They would get usedto me, too. I might turn out to be a very respectable laird, and becomeinterested in the improvement of my estates. "

"There is great opportunity for that, I know, " replied Helen. And thenshe told him of a conversation she had heard between her father and Mr. Menteith, when the latter had spoken of great changes impending overquiet Cairnforth: how a steamer was to begin plying up and down the loch--how there were continual applications for land to be feued--andhow all these improvements would of necessity require the owner of thesoil to take many a step unknown to and undreamed of by his forefathers--to make roads, reclaim hill and moorland, build new farms, churches, and school-houses. 

"In short, as Mr. Menteith said, the world is changing so fast that thepresent Earl of Cairnforth will have any thing but the easy life of hisfather and grandfather. 

"Did Mr. Menteith say that?" cried the earl, eagerly. 

"He did, indeed; I heard him. "

"And did he seem to think that I should be able for it?"

"I can not tell, " answered truthful Helen. "He said not a word one wayor the other about your being capable of doing the work; he only saidthe work was to done. "

"Then I will try and do it. "

The earl said this quietly enough, but his eyes gleamed and his lipsquivered. 

Helen laid her hand upon his, much move. "I said you were brave--always; still, you must think twice about it, for it will be a veryresponsible duty--enough, Mr. Menteith told papa, to require a man'swhole energies for the next twenty years. "

"I wonder if I shall live so long. Well, I am glad, Helen. It will besomething worth living for. "

Chapter 7

Malcolm's saying that "if my lord taks a thing into his heid he'll do't, ye ken, " was as true now as when the earl was a little boy. 

Mr. Mentieth hardly knew how the thing was accomplished--indeed, hehad rather opposed it, believing the mere physical impediments to hisward's overlooking his own affairs were insurmountable; but LordCairnforth contrived in the course of a day or two to initiate himselfvery fairly in all the business attendant upon the "term;" to find outthe exact extent and divisions of his property, and to whom it wasfeued. And on term-day he proposed, though with an evident effort whichtouched the old lawyer deeply, to sit beside Mr. Menteith while thetenants were paying their rents, so as to become personally known toeach of them. 

Many of these, like Dougal Mac Dougal, were over come with surprise, nay, something more painful than surprise, at the sight of the smallfigure which was the last descendant of the noble Earls of Cairnforth, and with whom the stalwart father and the fair young mother looking downfrom the pictured walls, contrasted so piteously; but after the firstshock was over they carried away only the remembrance of his sweet, grave face, and his intelligent and pertinent observations, indicating ashrewdness for which even Mr. Menteith was unprepared. When he ownedthis, after business was done, the young earl smiled, evidently muchgratified. 

"Yes, I don't think they can say of me that I'm 'no a' there!" Also hethat evening confessed to Helen that he found "business" nearly asinteresting as Greek and Latin, perhaps even more so, for there wassomething human in it, something which drew one closer to one'sfellow-creatures, and benefited other people besides one's own self. "Ithink, " he added, "I should rather enjoy being what is called 'a goodman of business. '"

He pleaded so hard for farther instruction in all pertaining to hisestate that Mr. Menteith consented to spare two whole weeks out of hisbusy Edinburg life, during which Lord Cairnforth and he were shut uptogether for a great part of every day, investigating matters connectedwith the property, and other things which hitherto in the young man'seducation had been entirely neglected. 

"For, " said his guardian, sadly, "I own, I never thought of him as ayoung man--or as a man at all; nevertheless, he is one, and willalways be. That clear, cool head of his, just for brains, pure brains, is worth both his father's and grandfather's put together. "

And when Helen repeated this saying to Lord Cairnforth, he smiled hisexceedingly bright smile, and was more cheerful, joyous, for days after. 

On Mr. Menteith's return home, he sent back to the Castle one of his oldclerks, who had been acquainted with the Cairnforth affairs for nearlyhalf a century; he also was astonished at the capacity which the youngearl showed. Of course, physically, he was entirely helpless; thelittle forked stick was still in continual requisition; nor could hewrite except with much difficulty; but he had the faculty of arrangementand order, and the rare power--rarer than is supposed--of guidingand governing, so that what he could not do himself he could directothers how to do, and thus attain his end so perfectly, that even thosewho knew him best were oftentimes actually amazed at the result heeffected. 

Then he enjoyed his work; took such an interest in the plans for feuingland along the loch-side, and the sort of houses that was to be builtupon each feu, the roads he would have to make, and especially in thegrand wooden pier which, by Mr. Menteith's advice, was shortly to beerected in lieu of the little quay of stones at the ferry, which hadhitherto served as Cairnforth's chief link with the outside world. 

If Mr. Cardross and Helen grieved a little over this advancing tide ofcivilization, which might soon sweep away many things old and dear fromthe shores of beautiful Loch Beg, they grew reconciled when they saw thelight in the earl's eyes, and heard him talk with an interest andenthusiasm quite new to him of what he meant to do when he came of age. Only in all his projects was one peculiarity rather uncommon in youngheirs--the entire absence of any schemes for personal pleasure. Conforts he had, of course; his faithful friends and servants took carethat his condition should have every alleviation that wealth couldfurnish; but of enjoyments, after the fashion of youth, he plannednothing; for, indeed, what of them was left him to enjoy?

And so, faster than was usual, being so well filled with occupations, the weeks and months slipped by, until the important thirtieth of June, when Mr. Menteith's term of guardianship would end, and a man's freelife and independent duties, so far as he could perform them, wouldlegally begin for the Earl of Cairnforth. 

There had been great consultations on this topic all along the twolochs, and beyond them, for Dougal Mac Dougal had carried his story ofthe earl and his goodness to the extreme verge of the Cairnforthterritory. Throughout June the Manse was weekly haunted by tenantsarriving from all quarters to consult the minister, the universalreferee, as to how best they could celebrate the event, which, wheneverit occurred, had for generations been kept gloriously in the littlepeninsula, though no case was known of any earl's attaining his majorityas being already Earl of Cairnforth. The Montgomeries were usually along-lived race, and their heirs rarely came to their titles tillmiddle-aged fathers of families. 

"But we maun hae grand doings this time, ye ken, " said an old farmer tothe minister, "for I doubt there'll ne'er be anither Earl o'Cairnforth. "

Which fact every one seemed sorrowfully to recognize. It was not onlyprobable, but right, that in this Lord Cairnforth--so terriblyafflicted--the long line should end. 

As the day of the earl's majority approached, the minister's feelingswere of such a mingled kind that he shrank from these demonstrations ofjoy, and rather repressed the warm loyalty which was springing up everywhere toward the young man. But after taking counsel with Helen, whosaw into things a little deeper than he did, Mr. Cardross decided thatit was better all should be done exactly as if the present lord were notdifferent from his forefathers, and that he should be helped both to actand to feel as like other people as possible. 

Therefore, on a bright June morning, as bright as that of his sadbirth-day and his mother's death-day, twenty-one years before, the earlawoke to the sound of music playing--if the national pipes of thepeninsula could be called music--underneath his window, and heard hisgood neighbors from the clachan, young and old, men, women, and bairns, uniting their voices in one hearty shout, wishing "A lang life and amerry ane" to the Earl of Cairnforth. 

Whether or not the young man's heart echoed the wish, who could tell?It was among the solemn secrets which every human soul has to keep andever must keep between itself and its Maker. 

Very soon the earl appeared out of doors, wheeling himself along theterrace in his little chair, answering smilingly the congratulations ofevery body, and evidently enjoying the pleasant morning, the sunshine, and the scent of the flowers in what was still called "The countess'sgarden. " People notice afterward how very like he looked that day tohis beautiful mother; and many a mother out of the clachan, whoremembered the lady's face still, and how, during her few brief monthsof married happiness and hope, she used to stop her pretty pony-carriageto notice every poor woman's baby she chanced to pass--many of thesenow regarded pitifully and tenderly her only son, the last heir of thelast Countess of Cairnfoth. 

Yet he certainly enjoyed himself, there could be no doubt of it; andwhen, later in the day, he discovered a conspiracy between the Castle, the Manse, and the clachan, which resulted in a grand feast on the lawn, he was highly delighted. 

"All this for me!" he cried, almost childish in his pleasure. "How goodevery body is to me!"

And he insisted on mixing with the little crowd, and seeing them sitdown to their banquet, which they ate as if they had never eaten intheir lives before, and drank--as Highlanders can drink, andHighlanders alone. But, before the whisky began to grow dangerous, theoldest man among the tenantry, who declared that he could remember threeEarls of Cairnfoth, proposed the health of this earl, which was receivedwith acclamations long and loud, the pipers playing the family tune of"Montgomerie's Reel, " which was chiefly notable for having neitherbeginning, middle, nor ending. 

Lord Cairnforth bowed his head in acknowledgment. 

"Ought not somebody to make a little speech of thanks to them?"whispered he to Helen, who stood close behind his chair. 

"You should; and I think you could, " was her answer. 

"Very well; I will try. "

And in his poor feeble voice, which trembled much, yet was distinct andclear, he said a few words, very short and simple, to the people nearhim. He thanked them for all this merry-making in his honor, and said, "he was exceedingly happy that day. " He told them he meant always toreside at Cairnforth, and to carry out all sorts of plans for theimprovement of his estates, both for his tenants' benefits and his own. That he hoped to be both a just and kind landlord, working with and forhis tenantry to the utmost of his power. 

"That is, " he added, with a slight fall of the voice, "to the utmost ofthose few powers which it has pleased Heaven to give me. "

After this speech there was a full minute's silence, tender, touchingsilence, and the arose a cheer, long and loud, such had rarely echoedthrough the little peninsula on the coming of age of any LordCairnforth. 

When the tenantry had gone away to light bonfires on the hill-side, andperform many other feats of jubilation, a little dinner-party assembledin the large dining-room, which had been so long disused, for the earlalways preferred the library, which was on a level with his bedroom, whence he could wheel himself in and out as he pleased. To-day thefamily table was outspread, and the family plate glittered, and thefamily portraits stared down from the wall as the last Earl ofCairnforth moved--or rather was moved--slowly down the long room. Malcolm was wheeling him to a side seat well sheltered and comfortable, when he said, "Stop! Remember I am twenty-one to-day. I think I ought to take myseat at the head of my own table. "

Malcolm obeyed. And thus, for the first time since the late earl'sdeath, the place--the master's place--was filled. 

"Mr. Cardross, will you say grace?"

The minister tried once--twice--thrice; but his voice failed him. His tender heart, which had lived through so many losses, and this daysaw all the past brought before him vivid as yesterday, entirely brokedown. Thereupon the earl, from his seat at the head of his own table, repeated simply and naturally the few words which every head of ahousehold--as priest in his own family--may well say, "For theseand all other mercies, Lord, make us thankful. "

After that, Mr. Menteith took snuff vehemently, and Mr. Cardross openlywiped his eyes. But Helen's, if not quite dry, were very bright. Herwoman's heart, which looked beyond the pain of suffering into the beautyof suffering nobly endured, even as faith looks through "the grave andgate of death" into the glories of immortality--Helen's heart wasscarcely sad, but very glad and proud. 

The day after Lord Cairnforth's coming of age Mr. Menteith formallyresigned his trust. He had managed the property so successfully duringthe long minority that even he himself was surprised at the amount ofmoney, both capital and income, which the earl was now master of, without restriction or reservation, and free from the control of anyhuman being. 

"Yes, my lord, " said he, when the young man seemed subdued and almostovercome by the extent of his own wealth, "it is really all your own. You may make ducks and drakes of it, as the saying goes, as soon as everyou please. You are accountable for it to no one--except One, " addedthe good, honest, religious man, now growing an old man, and a littlegentler, grave, as well as a little more demonstrative than he had beentwenty years before. 

"Except One. I know that; I hope I shall never forget it, " replied theEarl of Cairnforth. 

And then they proceeded to wind up their business affairs. 

"How strange it is, " observed the earl, when they had nearly concluded, "how very strange that I should be here in the world, an isolated humanbeing, with not a single blood relation, not a soul who has any realclaim upon me!"

"Certainly not--no claim whatsoever; and yet you are not quitewithout blood relations. "

Lord Cairnforth looked surprised. "I always understood that I had nonear kindred. "

'Of near kindred you have none. But there are certain far-away cousins, of whom, for many reasons, I never told you, and begged Mr. Cardross notto tell you either. "

"I think I ought to have been told. "

Mr. Menteith explained his strong reasons for silence, such as the latelord's unpleasant experience--and his own--of the Bruce family, and the necessity he saw for keeping his ward quite out of theirassociation and their influence till his character was matured, and hewas of age to judge for himself, and act for himself, concerning them. All the more, because remote as their kinship was, and difficult to beproved, still, if proved, they would be undoubtedly his next heirs. 

"My next heirs, " repeated the earl--"of course. I must have an heir. I wonder I never thought of that. If I died, there must be somebody tosucceed me in the title and estates. "

"Not in the title, " said Mr. Menteith, hesitating, for he saw it wasopening a subject most difficult and painful, yet which must be openedsometime or other, and the old was too hones to shrink from so doing, ifnecessary. 

"Why not the title?"

"It is entailed, and can be inherited in the direct male line only. "

"That is, it descends from father to son?"

"Exactly so. "

"I see, " said the young man, after a long pause. 

"Then I am the last Earl of Cairnforth. "

There was no answer. Mr. Menteith could not for his life have givenone; besides, none seemed required. The earl said it as if merelystating a fact beyond which there is no appeal, and neither expectingnor desiring any refutation or contradiction. 

"Now, " Lord Cairnforth continued, suddenly changing the conversation, "let us speak once more of the Bruces, who, you say, might any daysucceed to my fortune, and would probably make a very bad use of it. "

"I believe so; upon my conscience I do!" said Mr. Menteith, earnestly, "else I never should have felt justified in keeping them out of your wayas I have done. "

"Who are they? I mean, of what does the family consist?"

"An old man--Colonel Bruce he calls himself, and is known as such inevery disreputable gambling town on the Continent; a long tribe ofgirls, and one son, eldest or youngest, I forget which, who was sent toIndia through some influence I used for your father's sake, but who maybe dead by now for aught I know. Indeed, the utmost I have had to dowith the family of late years has been paying the annuity granted themby the late earl, which I continued, not legally, but through charity, on trust that the present earl would never call me to account for thesame. "

"Most certainly I never shall. "

"Then you will take my advice, and forgive my intruding upon you alittle more of it?"

"Forgive? I am thankful, my good old friend, for every wise word yousay to me. "

Again the good lawyer hesitated: "There is a subject, one exceedinglydifficult to speak of, but it should be named, since you might not thinkof it yourself. Lord Cairnforth, the only way in which you can secureyour property against these Bruces is by at once making your will. "

"Making my will!" replied the earl, looking as if the newresponsibilities opening upon him were almost bewildering. 

"Every man who has any thing to leave ought to make a will as soon asever he comes of age. Vainly I urged this upon your father. "

"My poor father! That he should die--so young and strong--and Ishould live--how strange it seems! You think, then--perhaps Dr. Hamilton also thinks--that my life is precarious?"

"I can not tell; my dear lord, how could any man possibly tell?"

"Well, it will not make me die one day sooner or later to have made mywill: as you say, every man ought to do it; I ought especially, for mylife is more doubtful than most people's, and it is a solemn charge toposses so large a fortune as mine. "

"Yes. The good--or harm--that might be done with it isincalculable. "

"I feel that--at least I am beginning to feel it. "

And for a time the earl sat silent and thoughtful; the old lawyerfussing about, putting papers and debris of all sorts into their rightplaces, but feeling it awkward to resume the conversation. 

"Mr. Menteith, are you at liberty now? For I have quite made up mymind. This matter of the will shall be settled at once. It can bedone?"

"Certainly. "

"Sit down, then, and I will dictate it. But first you must promise notto interfere with any disposition I may see fit to make of my property. "

"I should not have the slightest right to do so, Lord Cairnforth. "

"My good old friend! Well, now, how shall we begin?"

"I should recommend your first stating any legacies you may wish toleave to dependents--for instance, Mrs. Campbell, or Malcolm, andthen bequeathing the whole bulk of your estates to some one person--some young person likely to outlive you, and upon whom you can depend tocarry out all your plans and intentions, and make as good a use of yourfortune as you would have done yourself. That is my principle as tochoice of an heir. There are many instances in which blood is notthicker than water, and a friend by election is often worthier anddearer, besides being closer than any relative. "

"You are right. "

"Still, consanguinity must be considered a little. You might leave acertain sum to these Bruces--or if, on inquiry, you found among themany child whom you approved, you could adopt him as your heir, and hecould take the name Montgomerie. "

"No, " replied the ear, decisively, "that name is ended. All I have toconsider is my own people here--my tenants and servants. Whoeversucceeds me ought to know them all, and be to them exactly what I havebeen, or rather what I hope to be. "

"Mr. Cardross, for instance. Were you thinking of him as your heir?"

"No, not exactly, " replied Lord Cairnforth, slightly coloring. "He is alittle too old. Besides, he is not quite the sort of person I shouldwish--too gentle and self-absorbed--too little practical. "

"One of his sons, perhaps?"

"No, nor one of yours either; to whom, by the way you will please to setdown a thousand pounds apiece. Nay, don't look so horrified; it willnot harm them. But personally I do not know them, nor they me. And myheir should be some one whom I thoroughly do know, thoroughly respect, thoroughly love. There is but one person in the world--one youngperson--who answers to all those requisites. "

"Who is that?"

"Helen Cardross. "

Mr. Menteith was a good deal surprised. Though he had a warm corner inhis heart for Helen, still, the idea of her as heiress to so large anestate was novel and startling. He did not consider himself justifiedin criticizing the earl's choice; still, he thought it odd. True, Helenwas a brave, sensible, self-dependent woman--not a girl any longer--and accustomed from the age of fifteen to guide a household, to beher father's right hand, and her brothers' help and counselor--one ofthose rare characters who, without being exactly masculine, are yet nottoo feebly feminine--in whom strength is never exaggerated toboldness, nor gentleness deteriorated into weakness. She was firm, too;could form her own opinion and carry it out; though not accomplished, was fairly well educated, possessed plenty of sound practical knowledgeof men and things, and, above all, had habits of extreme order andregularity. People said, sometimes, that Miss Cardross ruled not onlythe Manse, but the whole parish; however, if so, she did it in so sweeta way that nobody ever objected to her government. 

All these things Mr. Menteith ran over in his acute mind within the nextfew minutes, during which he did not commit himself to any remarks atall. At last he said, "I think, my lord, you are right. Helen's no bonnie, but she is a rarecreature, with the head of a man and the heart of a woman. She is worthall her brothers put together, and, under the circumstances, I believeyou could not do better than make her your heiress. "

"I am glad you think so, " was the brief answer. Though, by theexpression of the earl's face, Mr. Menteith clearly saw that, whether hehad thought it or not, the result would have been just the same. Hesmiled a little to himself, but he did not dispute the matter. He knewthat one of the best qualities the earl possessed--most blessed anduseful to him, as it is to every human being--was the power of makingup his own mind, and acting upon it with that quiet resolution which isquite distinct from obstinacy--obstinacy, usually the laststrong-hold of cowards, and the blustering self-defense of fools. 

"There is but one objection to your plan, Lord Cairnforth. MissCardross is young--twenty-six, I think. "

"Twenty-five and a half. "

"She may not remain always Miss Cardross. She may marry; and we can nottell what sort of man her husband may be, or how fit to be trusted withso large a property. "

"So good a woman is not likely to choose a man unworthy of her, " saidLord Cairnforth, after a pause. "Still, could not my fortune be settledupon herself as a life-rent, to descend intact to her heirs--that is, her children?"

"My dear lord, how you must have thought over every thing!"

"You forget, my friend, I have nothing to do but to sit thinking. "

There was a sad intonation in the voice which affected Mr. Menteithdeeply. He made no remark, but busied himself in drawing up the will, which Lord Cairnforth seemed nervously anxious should be completed thatvery day. 

"For, suppose any thing should happen--if I died this night, forinstance! No, let what is done be done as soon as possible, and asprivately. "

"You wish, then, the matter to be kept private?" asked Mr. Menteith. 

"Yes. "

So in the course of the next few hours the will was drawn up. It wassomewhat voluminous with sundry small legacies, no one being forgottenwhom the earl desired to benefit or thought needed his help; but thebulk of his fortune he left unreservedly to Helen Cardross. Malcolm andanother servant were called in as witnesses, and the earl saying to themwith a cheerful smile "that he was making his will, but did not mean todie a day the sooner, " signed it with that feeble, uncertain signaturewhich yet had cost him years of pains to acquire, and never might havebeen acquired at all but for his own perseverance and the unweariedpatience of Helen Cardross. 

"She taught me to write, you know, " said he to Mr. Menteith, as--thewitnesses being gone--he, with a half-amused look, regarded his ownautograph. 

"You have used the results of her teaching well on her behalf today. Itis no trifle--a clear income of ten thousand a year; but she willmake a good use of it. "

"I am sure of that. So, now, all is safe and right, and I may die assoon as God pleases. "

He leaned his head back wearily, and his face was overspread by thatmelancholy shadow which it wore at times, showing how, at best, life wasa heavy burden, as it could not but be--to him. 

"Come, now, " said the earl, rousing himself, "we have still a good manythings to talk over, which I want to consult you about before you go, "whereupon the young man opened up such a number of schemes, chiefly forthe benefit of his tenantry and the neighborhood, that Mr. Menteith wasquite overwhelmed. 

"Why, my lord, you are the most energetic Earl of Cairnforth that evercame to the title. It would take three lifetimes, instead of a singleone, even if that reached threescore and ten, to carry out all you wantto do. "

"Would it? Then let us hope it was not for nothing that those good folkyesterday made themselves hoarse with wishing me 'a lang life and amerry ane. ' And when I die--but we'll not enter upon that subject. My dear old friend, I hope for many and many a thirtieth of June I shallmake you welcome to Cairnforth. And now let us take a quiet drivetogether, and fetch all the Manse people up to dinner at the Castle. "

Chapter 8

The same evening the earl and his guests were sitting in the Junetwilight--the long, late northern twilight, which is nowhere morelovely than on the shores of Loch Beg. Malcolm had just come in withcandles, as a gentle hint that it was time for his master, over whosepersonal welfare he was sometimes a little too solicitous, to retire, when there happened what for the time being startled every body present. 

Malcolm, going to the window, sprang suddenly back with a shout and ascream. 

"I kent it weel. It was sure to be! Oh, my lord, my lord!"

"What is the matter?" said Mr. Menteith, sharply. "You're gone daft, man;" for the big Highlander was trembling like a child. 

"Whisht! Dinna speak o't. It was my lord's wraith, ye ken. It justkeekit in and slippit awa. "

"Folly! I saw nothing. "

"But I think I did, " said Lord Cairnforth. 

"Hear him! Ay, he saw't his ain sel. Then it maun be true. Oh my dearlord!"

Poor Malcolm fell on his knees by the earl's little chair in suchagitation that Mr. Cardross looked up from his book, and Helen from herpeaceful needle-work, which was rarely out of her active hands. 

"He thinks he has seen his master's wraith; and because the earl signedhis will this morning, he is sure to die, especially as Lord Cairnforthsaw the same thing himself. Will you say, my lord, what you did see?"

"Mr. Menteith, I believe I saw a man peering in at that window. "

"It wasna a man--it was a speerit, " moaned Malcolm. "My lord'swraith, for sure. "

"I don't think so, Malcolm; for it was a tall, thin figure that movedabout lightly and airily--was come and gone in a moment. Not verylike my wraith, unless wraith of myself as I might have been. "

The little party were silent till Helen said, "What do you think it was, then?"

"Certainly a man, made of honest flesh and blood, though not much ofeither, for he was excessively thin and sickly-looking. He just'keerkit in, ' as Malcolm says, and disappeared. "

"What an odd circumstance!" said Mr. Menteith. 

"Not a robber, I trust. I am much more afraid of robbers than ofghosts. "

"We never rob at Cairnforth; we are very honest people here. No, Ithink it is far likelier to be one of those stray tourists who arebrought here by the steamers. They sometimes take great liberties, wandering into the Castle grounds, and perhaps one of them thought hemight as well come and stare in at my windows. "

"I hope he was English; I should not like a Scotsman to do such a rudething, " cried Helen, indignantly. 

Lord Cairnforth laughed at her impulsiveness. There was much of thechild nature mingled in Helen's gravity and wisdom, and she sometimesdid both speak and act from impulse--especially generous and kindlyimpulse--as hastily and unthinkingly as a child. 

"Well, Malcolm, the only way to settle this difficulty is to search thehouse and grounds. Take a good thick stick and a lantern, and whateveryou find--be it tourist or burglar, man or spirit--bring him atonce to me. "

And then the little group waited, laughing among themselves, but stillnot quite at ease. Lord Cairnforth would not allow Mr. Cardross andHelen to walk home; the carriage was ordered to be made ready. 

Presently, Malcolm appeared, somewhat crestfallen. 

"It is a man, my lord, and no speerit. But he wadna come ben. He sayshe'll wait your lordship's will, and that's his name, " laying a cardbefore the earl, who looked at it and started with surprise. 

"Mr. Menteith, just see--'Captain Ernest Henry Bruce. ' What an oddcoincidence!"

"Coincidence, indeed!" repeated the lawyer, skeptically. "Let me seethe card. "

"Earnest Henry! was that the name of the young man whom you sent out toIndia?"

"How should I remember? It was ten or fifteen years ago. Veryannoying! However, since he is a Bruce, or says he is, I suppose yourlordship must just see him. "

"Certainly, " replied, in his quiet, determined tone, the Earl ofCairnforth. 

Helen, who looked exceedingly surprised, offered to retire, but the earlwould not hear of it. 

"No, no; you are a wise woman, and an acute one too. I would like youto see and judge of this cousin of mine--a faraway cousin, who wouldlike well enough, Mr. Menteith guesses, to be my heir. But we will notjudge him harshly, and especially we will not prejudge him. His fatherwas nothing to boast of, but this may be a very honest man for all weknow. Sit by me, Helen and take a good look at him. "

And, with a certain amused pleasure, the earl watched Helen's puzzledair at being made of so much importance, till the stranger appeared. 

He was a man of about thirty, though at first sight he seemed older, from his exceedingly worn and sickly appearance. His lank black hairfell about his thin, sallow face; he wore what we now call the Byroncollar and Byron tie--for it was in the Byron era, whensentimentalism and misery-making were all the fashion. Certainly thepoor captain looked miserable enough, without any pretense of it; for, besides his thin and unhealthy aspect, his attire was in the lowestdepth of genteel shabbiness. Nevertheless, he looked gentlemanly, andclever too; nor was it an unpleasant face, though the lower half of itindicated weakness and indecision; and the eyes--large, dark, andhollow--were a little too closely set together, a peculiarity whichalways gives an uncandid, and often a rather sinister expression to anyface. Still there was something about the unexpected visitor decidedlyinteresting. 

Even Helen looked up from her work once--twice--with no smallcuriosity; she saw so few strangers, and of men, and young men, almostnone, from year's end to year's end. Yet it was a look as frank, asunconscious, as maidenly as might have been Miranda's first glance atFerdinand. 

Captain Bruce did not return her glance at all. His whole attention wasengrossed by Lord Cairnforth. 

"My lord, I am so sorry--so very sorry--if I startled you by myrudeness. The group inside was so cheering a sight, and I was a poorweary wayfarer. "

"Do not apologize, Captain Bruce. I am happy to make youracquaintance. "

"It has been the wish of my life, Lord Cairnforth, to make yours. "

Lord Cairnforth turned upon him eyes sharp enough to make a less acuteperson than the captain feel that honesty, rather than flattery, was thesafest tack to go upon. He took the hint. 

"That is, I have wished, ever since I came home from India, to thank youand Mr. Menteith--this is Mr. Menteith, I presume?--for mycadetship, which I got through you. And though my ill health hasblighted my prospects, and after some service--for I exchanged fromthe Company's civil into the military service--I have returned toEngland an invalided and disappointed man, still my gratitude is exactlythe same, and I was anxious to see and thank you, as my benefactor andmy cousin. "

Lord Cairnforth merely bent his head in answer to this long speech, which a little perplexed him. He, like Helen, was both unused andindifferent to strangers. 

But Captain Bruce seemed determined not to be made a stranger. Afterthe brief ceremony of introduction to the little party, he sat downclose to Lord Cairnforth, displacing Helen, who quietly retired, andbegan to unfold all his circumstances, giving as credentials of identitya medal received for some Indian battle; a letter from his father, thecolonel, whose handwriting Mr. Menteith immediately recognized, andother data, which sufficiently proved that he really was the person heassumed to be. 

"For, " said he, with that exceedingly frank manner he had, the sort ofmanner particularly taking with reserved people, because it saves themso much trouble--"for otherwise how should you know that I am not animpostor--a swindler--instead of your cousin, which I hope youbelieve I really am, Lord Cairnforth?"

"Certainly, " said the earl, smiling, and looking both amused aninterested by this little adventure, so novel in his monotonous life. 

Also, his kindly heart was touched by the sickly and feeble aspect ofthe young man, by his appearance of poverty, and by something in his airwhich the earl fancied implied that brave struggle against misfortune, more pathetic than misfortune itself. With undisguised pleasure, theyoung host sat and watched his guest doing full justice to the very bestsupper that the Castle could furnish. 

"You are truly a good Samaritan, " said Captain Bruce, pouring out freelythe claret which was then the universal drink of even the middle classesin Scotland. "I had fallen among thieves (literally, for my smallbaggage was stolen from me yesterday, and I have no worldly goods beyondthe clothes I stand in); you meet me, my good cousin, with oil and wine, and set me on your own beast, which I fear I shall have to ask you todo, for I am not strong enough to walk any distance. How far is it tothe nearest inn?"

"About twenty miles. But we will discuss that question presently. Inthe mean time, eat and drink; you need it. "

"Ah! Yes. You have never known hunger--I hope you never may; but itis not a pleasant thing, I assure you, actually to want food. "

Helen looked up sympathetically. As Captain Bruce took not theslightest notice of her, she had ample opportunity to observe him. Pityfor his worn face made her lenient. Lord Cairnforth read her favorablejudgment in her eyes, and it inclined him also to judge kindly of thestranger. Mr. Menteith alone, more familiar with the world, and goadedby it into that sharp suspiciousness which is the last hardening of akindly and generous heart--Mr. Menteith held aloof for some time, till at last even he succumbed to the charm of the captain'sconversation. Mr. Cardross had already fallen a willing victim, for hehad latterly been deep in the subject of Warren Hastings, and to meetwith any one who came direct from that wondrous land of India, then asmysterious and far-away a region as the next world, to people inEngland, and especially in the wilds of Scotland, was to the goodminister a delight indescribable. 

Captain Bruce, who had at first paid little attention to any body buthis cousin, soon exercised his faculty of being "all things to all men, "gave out his stores of information, bent all his varied powers togratify Lord Cairnforth's friends, and succeeded. 

The clock had struck twelve, and still the little party were gatheredround the supper-table. Captain Bruce rose. 

"I am ashamed to have detained you from your natural rest, LordCairnforth. I am but a poor sleeper myself; my cough often disturbs memuch. Perhaps, as there is no inn, one of your servants could direct meto some cottage near, where I could get a night's lodging, and go on myway to-morrow. Any humble place will do; I am accustomed to rough it;besides, it suits my finances: half-pay to a sickly invalid is hardenough--you understand?"

"I do. "

"Still, if I could only get health! I have been told that this part ofthe country is very favorable to people with delicate lungs. Perhaps Imight meet with some farm-house lodging?"

"I could not possibly allow that, " said Lord Cairnforth, unable, inspite of all Mr. Menteith's grave warning looks, to shut up his warmheart any longer. "The Castle is your home, Captain Bruce, for as longas you may find it pleasant to remain here. "

The invitation, given so unexpectedly and cordially, seemed to surprise, nay, to touch the young man exceedingly. 

"Thank you, my cousin. You are very kind to me, which is more than Ican say of the world in general. I will thankfully stay with you for alittle. It might give me a chance of health. "

"I trust so. "

Still, to make all clear between host and guest, let me name some end tomy visit. This is the first day of July; may I accept your hospitalityfor a fortnight--say till the 15th?"

"Till whenever you please, " replied the earl, courteously and warmly;for he was pleased to find his cousin, even though a Bruce, so veryagreeable; glad, too, that he had it in his power to do him a kindness, which, perhaps, had too long been neglected. Besides, Lord Cairnforthhad few friends, and youth so longs for companionship. This wasactually the first time he had had a chance of forming an intimacy witha young man of his own age, education, and position, and he caught at itwith avidity, the more so because Captain Bruce seemed likely to supplyall the things which he had not and never could have--knowledge ofthe world outside; "hair-breadth 'scapes" and adventurous experiences, told with a point and cleverness that added to their charm. 

Besides, the captain was decidedly "interesting. " Young ladies wouldhave thought him so, with his pale face and pensive air, which, seeingthat the Byron fever had not yet attacked the youths of Cairnforth, appeared to his simple audience a melancholy quite natural and notassumed. And his delicacy of health was a fact only too patent. Therewas a hectic brilliant color on his cheek, and his cough interrupted himcontinually. His whole appearance implied that, in any case, a longlife was scarcely probable, and this alone was enough to soften anytender heart toward him. 

"What does Helen think of my new cousin?" whispered Lord Cairnforth, looking up to her with his affectionate eyes, as she bent over his chairto bid him goodnight. 

"I like him, " was the frank answer. "He is very agreeable, and then helooks so ill. "

"Was I right in asking him to stay here?"

"Yes, I think so. He is your nearest relation, and, as the proverbsays, 'Bluid is thicker than water. '"

"Not always. "

"But now you will soon be able to judge how you like him, I hope youwill be very kind to him. "

"Do you, Helen? Then I certainly will. "

The earl kept his word. Many weeks went by; the 15th of July was longpast, and still Captain Bruce remained a guest at the Castle--quitedomesticated, for he soon made himself as much at home as if he haddwelt there all his days. He fluctuated a little between the Castle andthe Manse, but soon decided that the latter was "rather a dull house"--the boys rough--the minister too much of a student--and MissCardross "a very good sort of girl, but certainly no beauty, " whichdictum delivered in an oracular manner, as from one well accustomed tocriticize the sex, always amused the earl exceedingly. 

To Lord Cairnforth, his new-found cousin devoted himself in the mostcousinly way. Tender, respectful, unobtrusive, bestowing on him enough, and not too much of his society; never interfering, and yet always athand with any assistance required: he was exactly the companion whichthe earl needed, and liked constantly beside him. For, of course, Malcolm, fond and faithful as he was, was only a servant; a friend, whowas also a gentleman, yet who did not seem to feel or dislike the manysmall cares and attentions which were necessities to Lord Cairnforth, was quite a different thing. It was a touching contrast to see the twotogether; the active, elegant young man--for, now he waswell-dressed, Captain Bruce looked remarkably elegant and gentlemanly, and the little motionless figure, as impassive and helpless almost as animage carved in stone, but yet who was undoubtedly the Earl ofCairnforth, and sole master of Cairnforth Castle. 

Perhaps the wisest bit of the captain's proceedings was the tact withwhich he always recognized this fact, and paid his cousin that respectand deference, and that tacit acknowledgment of his rights of manhoodand government which could not but be soothing and pleasant to one soafflicted. Or perhaps--let us give the kindest interpretationpossible to all things--the earl's helplessness and loveablenesstouched a chord long silent, or never stirred before in the heart of theman of the world. Possibly--who can say?--he really began to likehim. 

At any rate, he seemed as if he did, and Lord Cairnforth gave back tohim in double measure all that he bestowed. 

As a matter of course, all the captain's pecuniary needs were at oncesupplied. His threadbare clothes became mysteriously changed into awardrobe supplied with every thing that a gentleman could desire, and arather luxurious gentleman too; which, owing to his Indian habits andhis delicate health, the young captain turned out to be. At first heresisted all this kindness; but all remonstrances being soon overcome, he took his luxuries quite naturally, and evidently enjoyed them, thoughscarcely so much as the earl himself. 

To that warm heart, which had never had half enough of its ties whereonto expend itself and its wealth of generosity, it was perfectlydelicious to see the sick soldier daily gaining health by riding theCairnforth horses, shooting over the moors, or fishing in the lochs. Never had the earl so keenly enjoyed his own wealth, and the blessingsit enabled him to lavish abroad; never in his lifetime had he looked sothoroughly contented. 

"Helen, " he said one day, when she had come up for an hour or two to theCastle, and then as usual, Captain Bruce had taken the opportunity ofriding out--he owned he found Miss Cardross's company andconversation "slow"--"Helen, that young man looks stronger and betterevery day. What a bright-looking fellow he is! It does one good to seehim. " And the earl followed with his eyes the graceful steed andequally graceful rider, caracoling in front of the Castle window. 

Helen said nothing. 

"I think, " he continued, "that the next best thing to being happy one'sself is to be able to make other people so. Perhaps that may be thesort of happiness they have in the next world. I often speculate aboutit, and wonder what sort of creature I shall find myself there. But. "added he, abruptly, "now to business. You will be my secretary thismorning instead of Bruce?"

"Willingly;" for, though she too, like Malcolm, had been a littledisplaced by this charming cousin, there was not an atom of jealousy inher nature. Hers was that pure and unselfish affection which could bearto stand by and see those she loved made happy, even though it was byanother than herself. 

She fell to work in her old way, and the earl employed as much as herequired her ready handwriting, her clear head, and her fullacquaintance with every body and every thing in the district; for Helenwas a real minister's daughter--as popular and as necessary in theparish as the minister himself; and she was equally important at theCastle, where she was consulted, as this morning, on every thing LordCairnforth was about to do, and on the wisest way of expending--hedid not wish to save--the large yearly income which he now seemedreally beginning to enjoy. 

Helen, too, after a long morning's work, drew her breath with a sigh ofpleasure. 

"What a grand thing it is to be as rich as you are!"

"Why so?"

"One can do such a deal of good with plenty of money. "

"Yes. Should you like to be very rich, Helen?" watching her with anamused look. 

Helen shook her head and laughed. "Oh, it's no use asking me thequestion, for I shall never have the chance of being rich. "

"You can not say; you might marry, for instance. "

"That is not likely. Papa could never do without me; besides, as thefolk say, I'm 'no bonnie, ye ken. ' But, " speaking more seriously, "indeed, I never think of marrying. If it is to be it will be; if not, I am quite happy as I am. And for money, can I not always come to youwhenever I want it? You supply me endlessly for my poor people. And, as Captain Bruce was saying to papa the other night, you are a perfectmine of gold--and of generosity. "

"Helen, " Lord Cairnforth said, after he had sat thinking a while, "Iwanted to consult you about Captain Bruce. How do you like him? Thatis, do you still continue to like him, for I know you did at first?"

"And I do still. I feel so very sorry for him. "

"Only, my dear"--Lord Cairnforth sometimes called her "my dear, " andspoke to her with a tender, superior wisdom--"one's link to one'sfriends ought to be a little stronger than being sorry for them; oneought to respect them. One must respect them before one can trust themvery much--with one's property, for instance. "

"Do you mean, " said straightforward Helen, "that you have any thoughtsof making Captain Bruce your heir?"

"No, certainly not; but I have grave doubts whether I ought not toremember him in my will, only I wished to see his health re-establishedfirst, since, had he continued as delicate as when he came, he might noteven have outlived me. "

"How calmly you talk of all this, " said Helen, with a little shiver. She, full of life and health, could hardly realize the feeling of onewho stood always on the brink of another world, and looking to thatworld only for real health--real life. 

"I think of it calmly, and therefore speak calmly. But, dear Helen, Iwill not grieve you to-day. There is plenty of time, and all is safe, whatever happens. I can trust my successor to do rightly. As for mycousin, I will try him a little longer, lest he prove

 "'A little more than kin, and less than kind. '"

"There seems no likelihood of that. He always speaks in the warmestmanner of you whenever he comes to the Manse; that is what makes me likehim, I fancy; and also, because I would always believe the best ofpeople until I found out to the contrary. Life would not be worthhaving if we were continually suspecting every body--believing everybody bad till we had found them out to be good. If so, with many, Ifear we should never find the good out at all. That is--I can't putit cleverly, like you, but I know what I mean. "

Lord Cairnforth smiled. "So do I, Helen, which is quite enough for ustwo. We will talk this over some other time; and meanwhile"--helooked at her earnestly and spoke with meaning--"if ever you have anopportunity of being kind to Captain Bruce, remember he is my next ofkin, and I wish it. "

"Certainly, " answered Helen. "But I am never likely to have the chanceof doing any kindness to such a very fine gentleman. "

Lord Cairnforth smiled to himself once more, and let the conversationend; afterward--long afterward, he recalled it, and thought with astrange comfort that then, at least, there was nothing to conceal;nothing but sincerity in the sweet, honest face--not pretty, but soperfectly candid and true--with the sun shining on the lint-whitehair, and the bright blue eyes meeting his, guileless as a child's. Ay, and however they were dimmed with care and washed with tears--oceansof bitterness--that innocent, childlike look never, even when she wasan old woman, quite faded out of Helen's eyes. 

"Ay, " Lord Cairnforth said to himself, when she had gone away, and hewas left alone in that helpless solitude which, being the inevitablenecessity, had grown into the familiar habit of his life, "ay, it is allright. No harm could come--there would be nothing neglected--evenwere I to die to-morrow. "

That "dying to-morrow, " which might happen to any one of us, how fewreally recognize it and prepare for it! Not in the ordinary religioussense of "preparation for death"--often a most irreligious thing--a frantic attempt of sinning and terror-stricken humanity to strikea balance-sheet with heaven, just leaving a sufficient portion on thecredit side--but preparation in the ordinary worldly meaning--keeping one's affairs straight and clear, that no one may be perplexedtherewith afterward; forgiving and asking forgiveness of offenses;removing evil done, and delaying not for a day any good that it ispossible to do. 

It was a strange thing; but, as after his death it was discovered, thetrue secret of the wonderful calmness and sweetness which, year by year, deepened more and more in Lord Cairnforth's character, ripening it to aperfectness in which those who only saw the outside of his could hardlybelieve, consisted in this ever-abiding thought--that he might dieto-morrow. Existence was to him such a mere twilight, dim, imperfect, and sad, that he never rested in it, but lived every day, as it were, inprospect of the eternal dawn. 

Chapter 9

This summer, which, as it glided away, Lord Cairnforth often declared tobe the happiest of his life, ended by bringing him the first heavyaffliction--external affliction--which his life had ever known. 

Suddenly, in the midst of the late-earned rest of a very toilsomecareer, died Mr. Menteith, the earl's long-faithful friend, who had beenalmost as good to him as a father. He felt it sorely; the more so, because, though his own frail life seemed always under the imminentshadow of death, death had never touched him before as regarded otherpeople. He had lived, as we all unconsciously do, till the great enemysmites us, feeling as if, whatever might be the case with himself, thosewhom he loved could never die. This grief was something quite new tohim, and it struck him hard. 

The tidings came on a gloomy day in late October, the season whenCairnforth is least beautiful; for the thick woods about it make thealways damp atmosphere heavy with "the moist, rich smell of the rottingleaves, " and the roads lying deep in mud, and the low shore hung withconstant mists, give a general impression of dreariness. The far-awayhills vanish entirely for days together, and the loch itself takes aleaden hue, as if it never could be blue again. You can hardly believethat the sun will ever again shine out upon it; the white waves rise, the mountains reappear, and the whole scene grows clear and lovely, aslife does sometimes if we have only patience to endure through the wearywinter until spring. 

But for the good man, John Menteith, his springs and winter were alikeended; he was gathered to his fathers, and his late ward mourned himbitterly. 

Mr. Cardross and Helen, coming up to the Castle as soon as the newsreached them, found Lord Cairnforth in a state of depression such asthey had never before witnessed in him. One of the things which seemedto affect him most painfully, as small things sometimes do in the midstof deepest grief, was that he could not attend Mr. Menteith's funeral. 

"Every other man, " said he, sadly, "every other man can follow his dearfriends and kindred to the grave, can give them respect in death as hehas given them love and help during life--I can do neither. I canhelp no one--be of use to no one. I am a mere cumberer of theground. It would be better if I were away. "

"Hush! Do not dare to say that, " answered Mr. Cardross. And he sentthe rest away, even Helen, and sat down beside his old pupil, not merelyas a friend, but as a minister--in the deepest meaning of the word, even as it was first used of Him who "came not to be ministered unto, but to minister. "

Helen's father was not a demonstrative man under ordinary circumstances;he was too much absorbed in his books, and in a sort of languidindifference to worldly matters, which had long hung over him, more orless, ever since his wife's death; but, when occasion arose, he couldrise equal to it; and he was one of those comforters who knew the waythrough the valley of affliction by the marks which their own feet havetrod. 

He and the earl spent a whole hour alone together. Afterward, whensorrow, compared to which the present grief was calm and sacred, fellupon them both, they remembered this day, and were not afraid to opentheir wounded hearts to one another. 

At last Mr. Cardross came out of the library, and told Helen that LordCairnforth wanted to speak to her. 

"He wishes to have your opinion, as well as my own, about a journey heis projecting to Edinburg, and some business matters which he desires toarrange there. I think he would have like to see Captain Bruce too. Where is he?"

The captain had found this atmosphere of sorrow a little toooverpowering, and had disappeared for a long ride; so Miss Cardross hadbeen sitting alone all the time. 

"Your father has been persuading me, Helen, " said the earl, when shecame in, "that I am not quite so useless in the world as I imagined. Hesays he has reason to believe, from things Mr. Menteith let fall, thatmy dear old friend's widow is not very well provided for, and she andher children will have a hard battle even now. Mr. Cardross thinks Ican help her very materially, in one way especially. You know I havemade my will?"

"Yes, " replied unconscious Helen, "you told me so. "

"Mr. Menteith drew it up the last time he was here. How little wethought it would be really the last time! Ah! Helen, if we could onlylook forward!"

"It is best not, " said Helen, earnestly. 

"Well, my will is made. And though in it I left nothing to Mr. Menteithhimself, seeing that such a return of his kindness would be veryunwelcome, I insisted doing what was equivalent--bequeathing athousand pounds to each of his children. Was I right in that? You donot object"?

"Most assuredly not, " answered Helen, though a little surprised at thequestion. Still, she was so long accustomed to be consulted by theearl, and to give her opinion frankly and freely on all points, that thesurprise was only momentary. 

"And, by the way, I mean to leave the same sum--one thousand pounds--to my cousin, Captain Bruce. Remember that, Helen; remember itparticularly, will you? In case any thing should happen before I havetime to add this to my will. But to the Menteiths. Your father thinks, and I agree with him, that the money I design for them will be farbetter spent now, or some portion of it, in helping these fatherlesschildren on in the world, than in keeping them waiting for my death, which may not happen for years. What do you think?"

Helen agreed heartily. It would cause a certain diminution of yearlyincome, but then the earl had far more than enough for his own wants, and if not spent thus, the sum would certainly have been expended by himsome other form of benevolence. She said as much. 

"Possibly it might. What else should I do with it?" was LordCairnforth's answer. "But, in order to get at the money, and alter mywill, so that in no case should this sum be paid twice over, to theinjury of my heir--I must take care of my heir, " and he slightlysmiled, "I ought to go at once to Edinburg. Shall I?"

Helen hesitated. The earl's last journey had been so unpropitious--he had taken so long a time to recover from it--that she hadearnestly hoped he would never attempt another. She expressed this asdelicately as she could. 

"No, I never would have attempted it for myself. Change is only painand weariness to me. I have no wish to leave dear, familiar Cairnforthtill I leave it for--the place where my good old friend is now. Andsometimes, Helen, I fancy the hills of Paradise will not be very unlikethe hills about our loch. You would think of me far away, when you werelooking at them sometimes?"

Helen fixed her tender eyes upon him--"It is quite as likely that youmay have to think of me thus, for I may go first; I am the elder of ustwo. But all that is in God's hands alone. About Edinburg now. Whenshould you start?"

"At once, I think; though, with my slow traveling, I should not be intime for the funeral; and even if I were, I could not attend it withoutgiving much trouble to other people. But, as your father has shown me, the funeral does not signify. The great matter is to be of use to Mrs. Menteith and the children in the way I explained. Have I your consent, my dear!"

For an answer, Helen pointed to a few lines in a Bible which lay open onthe library table: no doubt her father had been reading out of it, forit was open at that portion which seems to have plumbed the depth of allhuman anguish--the Book of Job. She repeated the verses:

"'When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me;

"'Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and himthat had none to help him:

"'The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and Icaused the widow's heart to sing for joy. '

"That is what will be said of you one day, Lord Cairnforth. Is not thissomething worth living for?"

"Ay, it is!" replied the earl, deeply moved; and Helen was scarcely lessso. 

They discussed no more the journey to Edinburg; but Lord Cairnforth, inhis decided way, gave orders immediately to prepare for it, taking withhim, as usual, Malcolm and Mrs. Campbell. By the time Captain Brucereturned from his ride, the guest was startled by the news that his hostmeant to quit Cairnforth at daylight the next morning, which appeared todisconcert the captain exceedingly. 

"I would volunteer to accompany you, cousin, " said he, after expressinghis extreme surprise and regret, "but the winds of Edinburg are ruin tomy weak lungs, which the air here suits so well. So I must prepare toquit pleasant Cairnforth, where I have received so much kindness, andwhich I have grown to regard almost like home--the nearest approachto home that in my sad, wandering life I ever knew. "

There was an unmistakable regret in the young man's tone which, in spiteof his own trouble, went to the earl's good heart. 

"Why should you leave at all?" said he. "Why not remain here and awaitmy return, which can not be long delayed--two months at most--evencounting my slow traveling? I will give you something to do meanwhile:I will make you viceroy of Cairnforth during my absence--that is, under Miss Cardross, who alone knows all the parish affairs--andmine. Will you accept the office?"

"Under Miss Cardross?" Captain Bruce laughed, but did not seem quite torelish it. However, he expressed much gratitude at having been thoughtworthy of the earl's confidence. 

"Don't be humble, my good cousin and friend. If I did not trust you, and like you, I should never think of asking you to stay. Mr. Cardross--Helen--what do you say to my plan"?

Both gave a cordial assent, as was indeed certain. Nothing ill wasknown of Captain Bruce, and nothing noticed in him unlikeable, orunworthy of liking. And even as to his family, who wrote to himconstantly, and whose letters he often showed, there had appearedsufficient evidence in their favor to counterbalance much of thesuspicions against them, so that the earl was glad he had leaned to thecharitable side in making his cousin welcome to Cairnforth; glad, too, that he could atone by warm confidence and extra kindness for what nowseemed too long a neglect of those who were really his nearest kith andkin. 

Mr. Cardross also; any prejudices he had from his knowledge of the lateearl's troubles with the Bruces were long ago dispersed. And Helen wastoo innocent herself ever to have had a prejudice at all. She said, when appealed to pointedly by the earl, as he now often appealed to herin many things, that she thought the scheme both pleasant and advisable. 

"And now, papa, " added she, for her watchful eye detected LordCairnforth's pale face and wearied air, "let us say good-night--andgood-by. "

Long after, they remembered, all of them, what an exceedingly quiet andordinary good-by it was, none having the slightest feeling that it wasmore than a temporary parting. The whole thing had been so sudden, andthe day's events appeared quite shadowy, and as if every body would wakeup to-morrow morning to find them nothing but a dream. 

Besides, there was a little hurrying and confusion consequent on theearl's insisting on sending the Cardrosses home, for the dull, calm dayhad changed into the wildest of nights--one of those suddenequinoctial storms, that in an hour or two alter the whole aspect ofthings this region. 

"You must take the carriage, Helen--you and your father; it is thelast thing I can do for you--and I would do every thing in the worldfor you if I could; but I shall, one day. Good-by. Take care ofyourself, my dear. "

These were the earl's farewell words to her. She was so accustomed tohis goodness and kindness that she never thought much about them tilllong afterward, when kindness was gone, and goodness seemed the merestdelusion and dream. 

When his friends had departed, Lord Cairnforth sat silent andmelancholy. His cousin good-naturedly tried to rouse him into the usualcontest at chess with which they had begun to while away the long winterevenings, and which just suited Lord Cairnforth's acute, accurate, andintrospective brain, accustomed to plan and to order, so that hedelighted in the game, and was soon as good a player as his teacher. But now his mind was disturbed and restless; he sat by the fireside, listening to the fierce wind that went howling round and round theCastle, as the wind can howl along the sometimes placid shores of LochBeg. 

"I hope they have reached the Manse in safety. Let me know, Malcolm, when the carriage returns. I will go to bed then. I wish they wouldhave remained here; but the minister never will stay; he dislikessleeping a single night from under his own roof. Is he not a good man, cousin--one of a thousand?"

"I have not the slightest doubt of it. "

"And his daughter--have you in any way modified your opinion of her, which at first was not very favorable?"

"Not as to her beauty, certainly, " was the careless reply. "She's 'nobonnie, ' as you say in these parts--terribly Scotch; but she is verygood. Only don't you think good people are just a little wearisomesometimes?"

The earl smiled. He was accustomed to, and often rather amused by hiscousin's honest worldliness and outspoken skepticisms--that candidconfession of badness which always inclines a kindly heart to believethe very best of the penitent. 

"Nevertheless, though Miss Cardross may be 'no bonnie, ' and too good toplease your taste, I hope you will go often to the Manse in my absence, and write me word how they are, otherwise I shall hear little--theminister's letters are too voluminous to be frequent--and MissCardross is not given to much correspondence. "

Captain Bruce promised, and again the two young men sat silent, listening to the eerie howling of the wind. It inclined both of them tograver talk than was their habit when together. 

"I wonder, " said the earl, "whether this blast, according to popularsuperstition, is come to carry many souls away with it 'on the wings ofthe wind!' Where will they fly to the instant they leave the body? Howfree and happy they must feel!"

"What an odd fancy! And not a particularly pleasant one, " replied thecaptain, with a shiver. 

"Not unpleasant, to my mind. I like to think of these things. If Iwere out of the body, I should, if I could fly back to Cairnforth. "

"Pray don't imagine such dreadful things. May you live a hundredyears!"

"Not quite, I hope. A hundred years--of my life! No. The mostloving friend I have would not wish it for me. " Then, suddenly, as withan impulse created by the sad events of the day--the stormy night--and the disturbed state of his own mental condition, inclining him toany sort of companionship, "Cousin, I am going to trust you, specially, in a matter of business which I wish named to the Cardrosses. I shouldhave done so before they left to-night. May I confide to you themessage?"

"Willingly. What is it about?" and the captain's keen black eyesassumed an expression which, if the earl had noticed, he might haverepented of his trust. But no, he never would have noticed it. Hisupright, honest nature, though capable of great reserve, was utterlyincapable of false pretense, deceit, or self-interested diplomacy. Andwhat was impossible in himself he never suspected in other people. Hethought his cousin shallow sometimes, but good-natured; a littleworldly, perhaps, but always well-meaning. That Captain Bruce couldhave come to Cairnforth for any other purpose than mere curiosity, andremained there for any motive except idleness and the pursuit of health, did not occur to Lord Cairnforth. 

"It is on the subject that you so much dislike my talking about--myown death; a probability which I have to consider, as being rathernearer to me than it is to most people. Should I die, will you rememberthat my will lies at the office of Menteith and Ross, Edinburg?"

"So you have made your will?" said the captain, rather eagerly; thenadded, "What a courageous man you are! I never durst make mine. Butthen, to be sure, I have nothing to leave--except my sword, which Ihereby make over to you, well-beloved cousin. "

"Thank you, though I should have very little use it. And that remindsme to explain something. The day I made my will was, by an odd chance, the day you arrived here. Had I know you then, I should have named youin it, leaving you--I may as well tell you the sum--a thousandpounds, in token of cousinly regard. "

"You are exceedingly kind, but I am no fortune-hunter. "

"I know that. Still, the legacy may not be useless. I shall make itlegally secure as soon as I get to Edinburg. In any case you are quitesafe, for I have mentioned you to my heir. "

"Your heir! Who do you mean?" interrupted Captain Bruce, thrown off hisguard by excessive surprise. 

The earl said, with a little dignity of manner, "It is scarcely needfulto answer your question. The title, you are aware, will be extinct; Imeant the successor to my landed property. "

"Do I know the gentleman?"

"I named no gentleman. "

"Not surely a lady? Not--" a light suddenly breaking in upon him, sostartling that it overthrew all his self-control, and even his goodbreeding. "It can not possibly be Miss Helen Cardross?"

"Captain Bruce, " said the earl, the angry color flashing all over hispale face, "I was simply communicating a message to you; there was noneed for any farther questioning. "

"I beg your pardon, Lord Cairnforth, " returned the other, perceiving howgreat a mistake he had made. "I have no right whatever to question, oreven to speculate concerning your heir, who is doubtless the fittestperson you could have selected. "

"Most certainly, " replied the earl, in a manner which put a final stopto the conversation. 

It was not resumed on any other topics; and shortly afterward, Malcolmhaving come in with the announcement that the carriage had returnedfrom the Manse (at which Captain Bruce's sharp eyes were bentscrutinizing on the earl's face, but learned nothing thence), thecousins separated. 

The captain had faithfully promised to be up at dawn to see thetravelers off, but an apology came from him to the effect that themorning air was too damp for his lungs, and that he had spent asleepless night owning to his cough. 

"An' nae wonder, " remarked Malcolm, cynically, as he delivered themessage, "for I heard him a' through the wee hours walkin' and walkin'up and doun, for a' the world like a wolf in a cage. And eh, but he'sdour the day!"

"A sickly man finds it difficult not to be dour at times, " said the Earlof Cairnforth. 

Chapter 10

The earl reached Edinburg in the beginning of winter, and in those daysan Edinburg winter was a very gay season. That brilliant society, whichhas now become a matter of tradition, was then in its zenith. Thoserenowned support-parties, where great wits, learned philosophers, andclever and beautiful women met together, a most enjoyable company, weregoing on almost every night, and drawing into their various smallcircles every thing that was most attractive in the larger circleoutside. 

Lord Cairnforth was a long time before he suffered himself to be drawnin likewise; but the business which detained him in Edinburg grew moreand more tedious; he found difficulties arise on every hand, and yet hewas determined not to leave until he had done all he wanted to do. Notonly in money, but by personal influence, which, now that he tried touse it, he found was considerable, he furthered, in many ways, theinterests of Mr. Menteith's sons. The widow, too, a gentle, helplesswoman, soon discovered where to come to, on all occasions, for counseland aid. Never had the earl led such a busy life--one more active, as far as his capabilities allowed. 

Still, now and then time hung on his hands, and he felt a great lack ofcompanionship, until, by degrees, his name and a good deal of hishistory got noised abroad, and he was perfectly inundated withacquaintances. Of course, he had it at his own option how much or howlittle he went out into the world. Every advantage that rank or fortunecould give was his already; but he had another possession still--hisown as much here as in the solitudes of Cairnforth, the art of makinghimself "weel likit. " The mob of "good society, " which is not betterthan any other mob, will run after money, position, talent, beauty, fora time; but it requires a quality higher and deeper than these, anddistinct from them all, to produce lasting popularity. 

This the earl had. In spite of his infirmities, he possessed the rarepower of winning love, of making people love him for his own sake. Atfirst, of course, his society was sought from mere curiosity, or eventhrough meaner motives; but gradually, like the good clergyman with whom

 "Fools who came to scoff remained to pray, "

Those who visited him to stare at, or pity a fellow-creature soafflicted, remained, attached by his gentleness, his patience, hiswonderful unselfishness. And some few, of noble mind, saw in him thegrandest and most religious spectacle that men can look upon--ahuman soul which has not suffered itself to be conquered by adversity. 

Very soon the earl gathered round him, besides acquaintances, a knot ofreal friends, affectionate and true, who, in the charm of his cultivatedmind, and the simplicity of his good heart, found ample amends for everything that nature had denied him, the loss of which he bore socheerfully and uncomplainingly. 

By-and-by, induced by these, the excellent people whom, as by mesmericattraction, goodness soon draws to itself, he began to go out a littleinto society. It could be done, with some personal difficulty and pain, and some slight trouble to his friends, which last was for a long timehis chief objection; for a merciful familiarity with his own afflictionhad been brought about by time, and by the fact that he had never knownany other sort of existence, and only, as a blind person guesses atcolors, could speculate upon how it must feel to move about freely, towalk and run. He had also lost much of his early shyness, and ceased tofeel any actual dread of being looked at. His chief difficulty was thepractical one of locomotion, and this for him was solved much easierthan if he had been a man of limited means. By some expenditure ofmoney, and by a good deal of ingenious contrivance, he managed to betaken about as easily in Edinburg as at Cairnforth; was present atchurch and law-court, theatre and concert-room, and at many a pleasantreunion of pleasant people every where. 

For in his heart Lord Cairnforth rather liked society. To him, whoseexternal resources were so limited, who could in truth do nothing forhis own amusement but read, social enjoyments were very valuable. Hetook pleasure in watching the encounter of keen wits, the talk of cleverconversationalists. His own talent in that line was not small, thoughhe seldom used it in large circles; but with two or three only abouthim, the treasures of his well-stored mind came out often verybrilliantly. Then he was so alive to all that was passing in the worldoutside, and took as keen an interest in politics, social ethics, andschemes of philanthropy as if he himself had been like other men, instead of being condemned (or exalted--which shall we say? Disaliter visum!) to a destiny of such solemn and awful isolation. 

Yet he never put forward his affliction so as to make it painful tothose around him. Many, in the generation now nearly passed away, longand tenderly remembered the little figure, placed motionless in thecentre of a brilliant circle--all clever men and charming women--yet of whose notice the cleverest and most charming were always proud. Not because he was an earl--nobility was plentiful enough at Edinburgthen--but because he was himself. It was a pleasure just to sitbeside him, and to meet his pleasantness with cheerful chat, gay banter, or affectionate earnestness. 

For every body loved him. Women, of course, did; they could not helpit; but men were drawn to him likewise, with the sort of reverentialtenderness that they would feel toward a suffering child or woman--and something more--intense respect. His high sense of honor, histrue manliness, attracted the best of all the notabilities thenconstituting that brilliant set; and there was not one of them worthhaving for a friend at all who was not, in greater or less degree, thefriend of the Earl of Cairnforth. 

But there was another side of his Edinburg life which did not appeartill long after he had quitted Modern Athens forever--nor even thenfully; not until he had passed quite away from the comments of thismortal world. Then, many a struggling author, or worn-out professionalman, to whom life was all up-hill, or to whom sudden misfortune had madethe handful of "siller" (i. E. "silver") a matter of absolute salvationto both body and soul--scores of such as these afterward recalledhours or half hours spent in the cozy study in Charlotte Square, besidethe little figure in its chair--outwardly capable of so little, yetendowed with both the power and will to do so much. Doing it sogenerously, too, and withal so delicately, that the most sensitive wentaway with their pride unwounded, and the most hardened and irreligiouswere softened by it into thankfulness to One higher than their earthlybenefactor, who was only the medium through whom the blessings came. 

These were accidental offices, intermingled with the principal dutywhich the earl had undertaken, and which he carried out with unremittingdiligence--the care of his old friend's children. He placed some atschool, and others at college; those who were already afloat in theworld he aided with money and influence--an earl's name was so veryinfluential, as, with an amused smile, he occasionally discovered. 

But, busy as his new life was, he never forgot his old life and his oldfriends. He turned a deaf ear to all persuasions to take up hispermanent abode, according as his rank and fortune warranted, inEdinburg. He was not unhappy there--he had plenty to do and toenjoy; but his heart was in quiet Cairnforth. Several times, troublesome, and even painful as the act of penmanship was to him, hesent a few lines to the Manse. But it happened to be a very severewinter, which made postal communication difficult. Besides, in thosedays people neither wrote nor expected letters very often. During thethree months that Lord Cairnforth remained in Edinburg he only receivedtwo epistles from Mr. Cardross, and those were in prolix and Johnsonianstyle, on literary topics, and concerning the great and learned, withwhom the poor learned country minister had all his life longed to mix, and had never been able. 

Helen, who had scarcely penned a dozen letters in her life, wrote to himonce only, in reply to one of his, telling him she was doing everything as she thought he would best like; that Captain Bruce had assistedher and her father in many ways, so far as his health allowed, but hewas very delicate still, and talked of going abroad, to the south ofFrance probably, as soon as possible. The captain himself never wroteone single line. 

At first the earl was a little surprised at this: however, it was nothis habit easily to take offense at his friends. He was quite withoutthat morbid self-esteem which is always imagining affronts or injuries. If people liked him, he was glad; if they showed it, he believed them, and rested in their affection with the simple faith of a child. But ifthey seemed to neglect him, he still was ready to conclude the slightwas accidental, and he rarely grieved over it. Mere acquaintances hadnot the power to touch his heart. And this gentle heart which, likingmany, loved but few, none whom he loved ever could really offend. He

 "Grappled them to his soul with hooks of steel, "

And believed in them to the last extremity of faith that was possible. 

So, whether Captain Bruce came under the latter category or the former, his conduct was passed over, waiting for future explanation when LordCairnforth returned home, as now, every day, he was wearying to do. 

"But I will be back again in pleasant Edinburg next winter, " said he toone of his new friends, who had helped to make his stay pleasant, andwas sorely regretting his departure. "And I shall bring with me somevery old friends of mine, who will enjoy it as much as I shall myself. "

And he planned, and even made preliminary arrangements for a house to betaken, and an establishment formed, where the minister, Helen, and, indeed, all the Cardross family, if they chose, might find a hospitablehome for the ensuing winter season. 

"And how they will like it!" said he, in talking it over with Malcolmone day. "How the minister will bury himself in old libraries, and MissCardross will admire the grand shops and the beautiful views. And howthe boys will go skating on Dunsappi Loch, and golfing over BruntsfieldLinks. Oh, we'll make them all so happy!" added he, with pleasureshining in those contented eyes, which drew half their light from thejoy that they saw, and caused to shine in the eyes around him. 

It was after many days of fatiguing travel that Lord Cairnforth reachedthe ferry opposite Cairnforth. 

There the Castle stood, just as he had left it, its white front gleamingagainst the black woods, then yellow and brown with autumn, but now onlyblack, or with a faint amber shadow running through them, preparatory tothe green of spring. Between lay the beautiful loch, looking ten timesmore beautiful than ever to eyes which had not seen it for many longmonths. How it danced and dimpled, as it had done before the squall inwhich the earl's father was drowned, and as it would do many a timeagain, after the fashion of these lovely, deceitful lochs, and of manyother things in this world. 

"Oh, Malcolm, it's good to be at home!" said the earl, as he gazedfondly at his white castle walls, at the ivy-covered kirk, and the gableend of the Manse. He had been happy in Edinburg, but it was far sweeterto come to the dear old friends that loved him. He seemed as if he hadnever before felt how dear they were, and how indispensable to hishappiness. 

"You are quite sure, Malcolm, that nobody knows we are coming? I wishedto go down at once to the Manse, and surprise them all. "

'Ye'll easy do that, my lord, for there's naebody in sight but Sandy theferryman, wha little kens it's the earl himsel he's kepit waiting saelang. "

"And how's a' wi' ye, Sandy?" said Lord Cairnforth, cheerily, when theold man was rowing him across. "All well at home--at the Castle, theManse, and the clachan"?

"Ou ay, my lord. Except maybe the minister. He's no weel. He'smissing Miss Helen sair. "

"Missing Miss Helen!" echoed the earl, turning pale. 

"Ay, my lord. She gaed awa--it's just twa days sin syne. She wassair vexed to leave Cairnforth and the minister. "

"Leave her father?"

"A man maun leave father and mither, and cleave unto his wife--thescripture says it. And a woman maun just do the like for her man, yeken. Miss Helen's awa to France, or some sic place, wi' her husband, Captain Bruce. "

The earl was sitting in the stern of the ferry-boat alone, no one beingnear him but Sandy, and Malcolm, who had taken the second oar. To oldSandy's communication he replied not a word--asked not a singlequestion more--and was lifted out at the end of the five-minutes'passage just as usual. But the two men, though they also said nothing, remembered the expression of his face to their dying day. 

"Take me home, Malcolm; I will go to the Manse another time. Carry mein your arms--the quickest way. "

Malcolm lifted his master, and carried him, just as in the days when theearl was a child, through the pleasant woods of Cairnforth, up to theCastle door. 

Nobody had expected them, and there was nothing ready. 

"It's no matter--no matter, " feebly said the earl, and allowedhimself to be placed in an arm-chair by the fire in the housekeeper'sroom. There he sat passive. 

"Will I bring the minister?" whispered Malcolm, respectfully. "Maybeye wad like to see him, my lord. "

"No, no. "

"His lordship's no weel please, " said the housekeeper to Mrs. Campbell, when the earl leant his head back, and seemed to be sleeping. "Is itabout the captain's marriage: Did he no ken?"

"Ne'er a word o't"

"That was great lack o'respect on the part o' Captain Bruce, and he sica pleasant young man; and Helen, too. Miss Helen tauld me her ain selthat the earl was greatly set upon her marriage, for the captain gaed toEdinburg just to tell him o't. And he wrote her word that his lordshipwished him no to bide a single day, but to marry Miss Helen and tak herawa'. She'd never hae done it, in my opinion, but for that. For thecaptain was at her ilka day an a' day lang, looking like a ghaist, andtelling' her he couldna live without her--she's a tender heart, MissHelen--and she was sae awfu' vexed for him, ye ken. For, sure, Malcolm, the captain did seem almost like deein'. "

"Deein'!" cried Malcolm, contemptuously, and then stopped. For whilethey were talking the earl's eyes had open wide, and fixed with astrange, sad, terrified look upon vacancy. 

He remembered it all now--the last night he had spent at Cairnforthwith his cousin--the conversation which passed between them--thequestions asked, which, from his not answering, might have enabled thecaptain to guess at the probable disposal of his property. He couldcome to no other conclusion than that Captain Bruce had married Helenwith the same motive which must have induced his appearance at thecastle, and his eager and successful efforts to ingratiate himself there--namely, money; that the fortune which he had himself missed mightaccrue to him through his union with Lord Cairnforth's heiress. 

How had he possibly accomplished this? How had he succeeded in makinggood, innocent, simple Helen love him? For that she would never havemarried without love the earl well knew. By what persuasions, entreaties, or lies--the housekeeper's story involved some evidentlies--he had attained his end, remained, and must ever remain, amongthe mysteries of the many mysterious marriages which take place everyday. 

And it was all over. She was married, and gone away. Doubtless thecaptain had taken his precautions to prevent any possible hinderance. That it was a safe marriage legally, even though so little was known ofthe bridegroom's antecedent life, seemed more than probable--certain, seeing that the chief object he would have in this marriage was itslegality, to assure himself thereby of the property which should fall toHelen in the event of the earl's decease. That he loved Helen forherself, or was capable of loving her or any woman in the one noble, true way, the largest limit of charitable interpretation could hardlysuppose possible. 

Still, she had loved him--she must have done so--with that strange, sudden idealization of love which sometimes seizes upon a woman who hasreached--more than reached--mature womanhood, and neverexperienced the passion. And she had married him, and gone away withhim--left, for his sake, father, brothers, friends--her onespecial friend, who was now nothing to her--nothing!

Whatever emotions the earl felt--and it would be almost sacrilegiousto intrude upon them, or to venture on any idle speculation concerningthem--one thing was clear; in losing Helen, the light of his eyes, the delight of his life was gone. 

He sat in his chair quite still, as indeed he always was, but now it wasa deathlike quietness, without the least sign of the wonderful mobilityof feature and cheerfulness of voice and manner which made people sosoon grow used to his infirmity--sat until his room was prepared. Then he suffered himself to be carried to his bed, which, for the firsttime in his life, he refused to leave for several days. 

Not that he was ill--he declined any medical help, and declared thathe was only "weary, weary"--at which, after his long journey, no onewas surprised. He refused to see any body, even Mr. Cardross, and wouldsuffer no one beside him but his old nurse, Mrs. Campbell, whom heseemed to cling to as when he was a little child. For hours she sat byhis bed, watching him, but scarcely speaking a word; and for hours helay, his eyes wide open, but with that blank expression in them whichMrs. Campbell had first noticed when he sat by the housekeeper's fire. 

"My bairn! My bairn!" was all she said--for she loved him. And, somehow, her love comforted him. "Ye maun live, ye maun live. Maybethey'll need ye yet, " sobbed she, without explaining--perhaps withoutknowing--who "they" meant. But she knew enough of her "bairn" toknow that if any thing would rouse him it was the thought of other folk. 

"Do you think so, nurse? Do you think I can be of any good to anycreature in this world?"

"Ay, ye can, ye can, my lord--ye'd be awfully missed gin ye were todee. "

"Then I'll no dee"--faintly smiling, and using the familiar speech ofhis childhood. "Call Malcolm. I'll try to rise. And, nurse, if youwould have the carriage ordered--the pony carriage--I will drivedown to the Manse and see how Mr. Cardross is. He must be rather dullwithout his daughter. "

The earl did not--and it was long before he did--call her by name. But after that day he always spoke of her as usual to every body; andfrom that hour he rose from his bed, and went about his customary workin his customary manner, taking up all his duties as if he had neverleft them, and as if nothing had ever happened to disturb the even tenorof his life--the strange, peaceful, and yet busy life led by thesolitary master of Cairnforth. 

Chapter 11

It happened that, both this day and the day following, Mr. Cardross wasabsent on one of his customary house-to-house visitings in remotecorners of his parish. So the earl, before meeting Helen's father, hadtime to hear from other sources all particulars about her marriage--at least all that were known to the little world of Cairnforth. 

The minister himself had scarcely more to communicate, except the fact, of which he seemed perfectly certain, that her absence would not exceedsix months, when Captain Bruce had faithfully promised to come back andlive upon his half pay in the little peninsula. Otherwise Mr. Cardrosswas confident his "dear lassie" would never have left her father for anyman alive. 

It was a marriage, externally, both natural and suitable; the youngcouple being of equal age and circumstances, and withal tolerably wellacquainted with one another, for it appeared the captain had begun dailyvisits to the Manse from the very day of Lord Cairnforth's departure. 

"And he always spoke so warmly of you, expressed such gratitude towardyou, such admiration of you--I think it was that which won Helen'sheart. And when he did ask her to marry him, she would not accept himfor a good while, not till after he had seen you in Edinburg. "

"Seen me in Edinburg!" repeated the earl, amazed, and then suddenlystopped himself. It was necessary for Helen's sake, for every body'ssake, to be cautious over every word he said; to arrive at fullconfirmation of his suspicions before he put into the poor father'sheart one doubt that Helen's marriage was not as happy or as honorableas the minister evidently believed it to be. 

"He told us you seemed so well, " continued Mr. Cardross; "that you werein the very whirl of Edinburg society, and delighted in it; that youhad said to him that nothing could be more to your mind than thismarriage, and that if it could be carried out without waiting for yourreturn, which was so very uncertain, you would be all the happier. Wasthat not true?"

"No, " said the earl. 

"You wish she had waited till your return?"

"Yes. "

The minister looked sorry; but still he evidently had not the slightestsuspicion that aught was amiss. 

"You must forgive my girl, " said he. "She meant no disrespect to herdear old friend; but messages are so easily misconstrued. And then, yousee, a lover's impatience must be considered. We must excuse CaptainBruce, I think. No wonder he was eager to get our Helen. "

And the old man smiled rather sadly, and looked wistfully round theManse parlor, whence the familiar presence had gone, and yet seemedlingering still--in her flower-stand, her little table, herwork-basket; for Mr. Cardross would not have a single article moved. "She will like to see them all when she comes back again, " said he. 

"And you--were you quite satisfied with the marriage?" asked theearl, making his question and the tone of it as commonplace and cautiousas he could. 

"Why not? Helen loved him, and I loved Helen. Besides, my own marriedlife was so happy; God forbid I should grudge any happiness to mychildren. I knew nothing but good of the lad; and you liked him too;Helen told me you had specially charged her, if ever she had anopportunity, to be kind to him. "

Lord Cairnforth almost groaned. 

"Captain Bruce declared you must have said it because you knew of hisattachment, which he had not had courage to express before, but hadrather appeared to slight her, to hide his real feelings, until he wasassured of your consent. "

The earl listened, utterly struck dumb. The lies were so plausible, sosystematic, so ingeniously fitted together, that he could almost havedeluded himself into supposing them truth. No wonder, then, that theyhad deluded simple Helen, and her even simpler and more unworldlyfather. 

And now the cruel question presented itself, how far the father was tobe undeceived?

The earl was, both by nature and circumstances, a reserved character;that is, he did not believe in the duty of every body to tell out everything. Helen often argued with him, and even laughed at him, for this;but he only smiled silently, and held to his own opinion, taught byexperience. He knew well that her life--her free open, happy life, was not like his life, and never could be. She had yet to learn thatbitter but salutary self-restraint, which, if it has to suffer, oftenfor others' sake as well as for its own, prefers to suffer alone. 

But Lord Cairnforth had learned this to the full. Otherwise, as he satin the Manse parlor, listening patiently to Helen's father, and in thenewness and suddenness of her loss, and the strong delusion of his ownfond fancy, imagining every minute he heard her step on the stair andher voice in the hall, he must have utterly broken down. 

He did not do so. He maintained his righteous concealment, his nobledeceit--to the very last; spending the whole evening with Mr. Cardross, and quitting him without having betrayed a word of what hedreaded--what he was almost sure of. 

Though the marriage might be, and no doubt was, a perfectly legal andcreditable marriage in the eye of the world, still, in the eyes ofhonest men, it would be deemed altogether unworthy and unfortunate, andhe knew the minister would think it so. How could he tell the poor oldfather, who had so generously given up his only daughter for the onesimple reason--sufficient reason for any righteous marriage--"Helen loved him, " that his new son-in-law was proved by proofirresistible to be a deliberate liar, a selfish, scheming, mercenaryknave?

So, under this heavy responsibility, Lord Cairnforth decided to do what, in minor matters, he had often noticed Helen do toward her gentle andeasily-wounded father--to lay upon him no burdens greater than hecould bear, but to bear them herself for him. And in this instance theearl's only means of so doing, for the present at least, was by takingrefuge in that last haven of wounded love and cruel suffering--silence. 

The earl determined to maintain a silence unbroken as the graveregarding all the past, and his own relations with Captain Bruce--that is, until he saw the necessity for doing otherwise. 

One thing, however, smote his heart with a sore pang, which, after aweek or so, he could not entirely conceal from Mr. Cardross. Had Helenleft him--him, her friend from childhood--no message, no letter?Had her happy love so completely blotted out old ties that she could goaway without one word of farewell to him?

The minister thought not. He was sure she had written; she had said sheshould, the night before her marriage, and he had heard her moving aboutin her room, and even sobbing, he fancied, long after the house was goneto rest. Nay, he felt sure he had seen her on her wedding morning givea letter to Captain Bruce, saying "it was to be posted to Edinburg. "

"Where, you know, we believed you then were, and would remain for sometime. Otherwise I am sure my child would have waited, that you mighthave been present at her marriage. And to think you should have comeback the very next day! She will be so sorry!"

"Do you think so?" said the earl, sadly, and said no more. 

But, on his return to the Castle, he saw lying on his study-table aletter, in the round, firm, rather boyish hand, familiar to him as thatof his faithful amanuensis of many years. 

"It's surely frae Miss Helen--Mrs. Bruce, that is, " said Malcolm, lifting it. "But folk in love are less mindfu' than ordinar. She'sdirected it to Charlotte Square, Edinburg, and then carried it up toLondon wi' hersel', and some other body, the captain, I think, hasredirected it to Cairnforth Castle. "

"No remarks, Malcolm, " interrupted the earl, with unwonted sharpness. "Break the seal and lay the letter so that I can read it. Then you maygo. "

Bur, when his servant had gone, he closed his eyes in utter hopelessnessof dejection, for he saw how completely Helen had been deceived. 

Her letter ran thus--her poor, innocent letter--dated ever so longago--indeed, the time when she had told her father she should write--the night before her marriage-day:

"MY DEAR FRIEND, --I am very busy, but have striven hard to find anhour in which to write to you, for I do not think people forget theirfriends because they have gotten other people to be mindful of too. Ithink a good and happy love only makes other loves feel closer anddearer. I am sure I have been greeting (Old English: weeping) like abairn, twenty times a day, ever since I knew I was to be married, whenever I called to mind you and my dear father. You will be very goodto him while I am away? But I need not ask you that. Six months, hesays--I mean Captain Bruce--will, according to the Edinburgdoctor's advice, set up his health entirely, if he travels about in awarm climate; and, therefore, by June, your birthday, we are sure to beback in dear old Cairnforth, to live there for the rest of our days, forhe declares he likes no other place half so well. 

"I am right to go with him for these six months--am I not? But Ineed not ask; you sent me word so yourself. He had nobody to take careof him--nobody in the world but me. His sisters are gay, livelygirls, he says, and he has been so long abroad that they are almoststrangers. He tells me I might as well send him away to die at once, unless I went with him as his wife. So I go. 

"I hope he will come home quite strong and well, and able to beginbuilding our cottage on that wee bit of ground on the hill-side aboveCairnforth which you have promised to give to him. I am inexpressiblyhappy about it. We shall all live so cheerily together--and meetevery day--the Castle, the Manse, and the Cottage. When I think ofthat, and of my coming back, I am almost comforted for this sad goingaway--leaving my dear father, and the boys, and you. 

"Papa has been so good to me, you do not know. I shall never forget it--nor will Ernest. Ernest thought he would stand in the way of ourmarriage, but he did not. He said I must choose for myself, as he haddone when he married my dearest mother; that I had been a good girl tohim, and a good daughter would make a good wife; also that a good wifewould not cease to be a good daughter because she was married--especially living close at hand, as we shall always live: Ernest haspromised it. 

"Thus, you see, nobody I love will lose me at all, nor shall I forgetthem: I should hate myself if it were possible. I shall be none theless a daughter to my father--none the less a friend to you. I willnever, never forget you, my dear!" (here the writing became blurred, asif large drops had fallen on the paper while she wrote. ) "It is twelveo'clock, and I must bid you good-night--and God bless you ever andever! The last time I sign my dear old name (except once) is thus toyou. 

"Your faithful and loving friend, "Helen Cardross. "

Thus she had written, and thus he sat and read--these two, who hadbeen and were so dear to one another. Perhaps the good angels, whowatch over human lives and human destinies, might have looked with pityupon both. 

As for Helen's father, and Helen herself too, if (as some severe judgesmay say) they erred in suffering themselves to be thus easily deceived--in believing a man upon little more than his own testimony, and inloving him as bad men are sometimes loved, under a strong delusion, byeven good women, surely the errors of unworldliness, unselfishness, andthat large charity which "thinketh no evil" are not so common in thisworld as to be quite unpardonable. Better, tenfold, to be sinnedagainst than sinning. 

 "Better trust all, and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart which, if believed, Had bless'd one's life with true believing. "

Lord Cairnforth did not think this at the time, but he learned to do soafterward. He learned, when time brought round its divine amende, neither to reproach himself so bitterly, nor to blame others; and heknew it was better to accept any sad earthly lot, any cruelty, deceit, or wrong inflicted by others, than to have hardened his heart againstany living soul by acts of causeless suspicion or deliberate injustice. 

Meanwhile, the marriage was accomplished. All that Helen's fondestfriend could do was to sit and watch the event of things, as the earldetermined to watch--silently, but with a vigilance that never slept. Not passively neither. He took immediate steps, by means which hislarge fortune and now wide connection easily enable him to employ, tofind out exactly the position of Helen's husband, both his presentcircumstances, and, so far as was possible, his antecedents, at home orabroad. For after the discovery of so many atrocious, deliberate lies, every fact that Captain Bruce had stated concerning himself remainedopen to doubt. 

However, the lies were apparently that sort of falsehood which springsfrom a brilliant imagination, a lax conscience, and a ready tongue--prone to say whatever comes easiest and upper most. Also, becauseprobably following the not uncommon Jesuitical doctrine that the endjustifies the means, he had, for whatever reason he best knew, determined to marry Helen Cardross, and took his own measuresaccordingly. 

The main facts of his self-told history turned out to be correct. Hewas certainly the identical Ernest Henry Bruce, only surviving son ofColonel Bruce, and had undoubtedly been in India, a captain in theCompany's service. His medals were veritable--won by creditablebravery. No absolute moral turpitude could be discovered concerning him--only a careless, reckless life; and utter indifference to debt; anda convenient readiness to live upon other people's money rather than hisown--qualities not so rare, or so sharply judged in the world atlarge, as they were likely to be by the little world of innocent, honestCairnforth. 

And yet he was young--he had married a good wife--he might mend. At present, plain and indisputable, his character stood--good-natured, kindly--perhaps not even unlovable--but destitute ofthe very foundations of all that constitutes worth in a man--or womaneither--truthfulness, independence, honor, honesty. And he wasHelen's husband--Helen, the true and the good; the poor minister'sdaughter, who had been brought up to think that it was better to starveupon porridge and salt than to owe any one a halfpenny! What sort of amarriage could it possibly turn out to be?

To this question, which Lord Cairnforth asked himself continually, in anagony of doubt, no answer came--no clue whatsoever, though, from eventhe first week, Helen's letters reached the Manse as regularly as clockwork. But they were merely outside letters--very sweet and loving--telling her father every thing that could interest him about foreignplaces, persons, and things; only of herself and her own feelings sayingalmost nothing. It was unlikely she should: the earl laid this comfortto his soul twenty times a day. She was married now; she could not beexpected to be frank as in her girlhood; still, this total silence, sounnatural to her candid disposition, alarmed him. 

But there was no resource--no help. Into that secret chamber whichher own hand thus barred, no other hand could presume to break. No onecould say--ought to say to a wife, "Your husband is a scoundrel. "

And besides, (to this hope Lord Cairnforth clung with a desperationheroic as bitter), Captain Bruce might not be an irredeemable scoundrel;and he might--there was still a chance--have married Helen notaltogether from interested motives. She was so lovable that he mighthave loved her, or have grown to love her, even though he had slightedher at first. 

"He must have loved her--he could not help it, " groaned the earl, inwardly, when the minister and others stabbed him from time to timewith little episodes of the courting days--the captain's devotednessto Helen, and Helen's surprised, fond delight at being so much "made of"by the first lover who had ever wooed her, and a lover whom externallyany girl would have been proud of. And then the agonized cry of anotherfaithful heart went up to heaven--"God grant he may love her; thatshe may be happy--anyhow--any where!"

But all this while, with the almost morbid prevision of his character, Lord Cairnforth took every precaution that Helen should be guarded, asmuch as was possible, in case there should befall her that terriblecalamity, the worst that can happen to a woman--of being compelled totreat the husband and father, the natural protector, helper, and guideof herself and her children, as not only her own, but their naturalenemy. 

The earl did not cancel Helen's name from his will; he let every thingstand as before her marriage; but he took the most sedulous care tosecure her fortune unalienably to herself and her offspring. This, because, if Captain Bruce were honest, such precaution could not affecthim in the least: man and wife are one flesh--settlements were a mereform, which love would only smile at, and at which any honorable manmust be rather glad of than otherwise. But if her husband weredishonorable, Helen was made safe, so far as worldly matters went--safe, except for the grief from which, alas! no human friend can protectanother--a broken heart!

Was her heart broken or breaking?

The earl could not tell nor even guess. She left them at home not aloophole whereby to form a conjecture. Her letters came regularly, fromJanuary until May, dated from all sorts of German towns, chieflygambling towns; but the innocent dwellers at Cairnforth (save the earl)did not know this fact. They were sweet, fond letters as ever--mindful, with a pathetic minuteness, of every body and every thing atthe dear old home; but not a complaint was breathed--not a murmur ofregret concerning her marriage. She wrote very little of her husband;gradually, Lord Cairnforth fancied, less and less. They had not been tothe south of France, as was ordered by the physicians, and intended. Hepreferred, she said, these German town, where he met his own family--his father and sisters. Of these, as even the minister himself atlength noticed with surprise, Helen gave no description, favorable orotherwise; indeed, did not say of her husband's kindred, beyond the barefact that she was living with them, one single word. 

Eagerly the earl scanned her letters--those long letters, which Mr. Cardross brought up immediately to the Castle and then circulated theircontents round the whole parish with the utmost glee and pride; for thewhole parish was in its turn dying to hear news of "Miss Helen. " Still, nothing could be discovered of her real life and feelings. And at lasther friend's fever of uneasiness calmed down a little; he contentedhimself with still keeping a constant watch over all her movements--speaking to no one, trusting no one, except so far as he was obliged totrust the old clerk who was once sent down by Mr. Menteith, and who hadnow come to end his days at Cairnforth, in the position of the earl'sprivate secretary--as faithful and fond as a dog, and as safelysilent. 

So wore the time away, as it wears on with all of us, through joy andsorrow, absence or presence, with cheerful fullness or aching emptinessof heart. It brought spring back, and summer--the sunshine to thehills, and the leaves, and flowers, and birds to the woods; it broughtthe earl's birthday--kept festively as ever by his people, who lovedhim better every year; but it did not bring Helen home to Cairnforth. 

Chapter 12

Life, when we calmly analyze it, is made up to us all alike of threesimple elements--joy, sorrow, and work. Some of us get tolerablyequal proportions of each of these; some unequal--or we fancy so; butin reality, as the ancient sage says truly, "the same things come aliketo all. "

The Earl of Cairnforth, in his imperfect fragment of a life, had hadlittle enough of enjoyment; but he knew how to endure better than mostpeople. He had, however, still to learn that existence is not whollyendurance; that a complete human life must have in it not onlysubmission but resistance; the fighting against evil and in defense ofgood; the struggle with divine help to overcome evil with good; andfinally the determination not to sit down tamely to misery but to striveafter happiness--lawful happiness, both for ourselves and others. Inshort, not only passively to accept joy or grief, but to take means tosecure the one and escape the other; to "work out our own salvation" foreach day, as we are told to do it for an eternity, though with the samedivine limitation--humbling to all pride, and yet encouraging toceaseless effort--"for it is God that worketh in us both to will andto do of His good pleasure. "

That self-absorption of loss, which follows all great anguish; thatshrinking up unto one's self, which is the first and most naturalinstinct of a creature smitten with a sorrow not unmingled with cruelwrong, is, with most high natures, only temporary. By-and-by comes themerciful touch which says to the lame, "Arise and walk;" to the sick, "Take up thy bed and go into thine house. " And the whisper of peace is, almost invariably, a whisper of labor and effort: there is not onlysomething to be suffered, but something to be done. 

With the earl this state was longer in coming, because the priorcollapse did not come to him at once. The excitement of perpetualexpectation--the preparing for some catastrophe, which he felt surewas to follow, and the incessant labor entailed by his wide enquiries, in which he had no confidant but Mr. Mearns, the clerk, and him hetrusted as little as possible, lest any suspicion or disgrace shouldfall upon Helen's husband--all this kept him in a state of unnaturalactivity and strength. 

But when the need for action died away; when Helen's letters betrayednothing; and when, though she did not return, and while expressing mostbitter regret, yet gave sufficiently valid reasons for not returning inher husband's still delicate health--after June, Lord Cairnforth fellinto a condition, less of physical than mental sickness, which lasted along time, and was very painful to himself, as well as to those thatloved him. He was not ill, but his usual amount of strength--sosmall always--became much reduced; neither was he exactly irritable--his sweet temper never could sink into irritability; but he was, asMalcolm expressed it, "dour, " difficult to please; easily fretted abouttrifles; inclined to take sad and cynical views of things. 

This might have been increased by certain discoveries, which, during thesummer, when he came to look into his affairs, Lord Cairnforth made. Hefound that money which he had entrusted to Captain Bruce for variouspurposes had been appropriated, or misappropriated, in different ways--conduct scarcely exposing the young man to legal investigation, andcapable of being explained away as "carelessness"--"unpunctuality inmoney matters"--and so on, but conduct of which no strictly upright, honorable person would ever have been guilty. This fact accounted foranother--the captain's having expressed ardent gratitude for a sumwhich he said the earl had given him for his journey and marriageexpenses, which, though Mr. Cardross's independent spirit ratherrevolted from the gift, at least satisfied him about Helen's comfortduring her temporary absence. And once more, for Helen's sake, the earlkept silence. But he felt as if every good and tender impulse of hisnature were hardening into stone. 

Hardened at the core Lord Cairnforth could never be; no man can whoseheart has once admitted into its deepest sanctuary the love of One who, when all human loves fail, still whispers, "We will come in unto him, and make our abode with him"--ay, be it the forlornest bodilytabernacle in which immortal soul ever dwelt. But there came an outercrust of hardness over his nature which was years before it quite meltedaway. Common observers might not perceive it--Mr. Cardross even didnot; still it was there. 

The thing was inevitable. Right or wrong, deservedly or undeservedly, most of us have at different crises of our lives known this feeling--the bitter sense of being wronged; of having opened one's heart to thesunshine, and had it all blighted and blackened with frost; of havinglaid one's self down in a passion of devotedness for beloved feet towalk upon, and been trampled upon, and beaten down to the dust. And asmonths slipped by, and there came no Helen, this feeling, even againsthis will and his conscience, grew very much upon Lord Cairnforth. Intime it might have changed him to a bitter, suspicious, disappointedcynic, had there not also come to him, with strong conviction, one truth--a truth preached on the shores of Galilee eighteen hundred years ago--the only truth that can save the wronged heart from breaking--that he who gives away only a cup of cold water shall in no wise losehis reward. Still, the reward is not temporal, and is rarely rewardedin kind. He--and He alone--to whom the debt is due, repays it;not in our, but in his own way. One only consolation remains to thesufferers from ingratitude, but that one is all-sufficing: "Inasmuch asye have done it unto the least of these little ones, ye have done itunto Me. "

All autumn, winter, and during another spring and summer, Helen'sletters--most fond, regular, and (to her father) satisfactory--contained incessant and eager hopes of return, which were neverfulfilled. And gradually she ceased to give any reason for theirnon-fulfillment, simply saying, with a sad brevity of silence, whichone, at least, of her friends knew how to comprehend and appreciate, that her coming home at present was "impossible. "

"It's very true, " said the good minister, disappointed as he was: "a manmust cleave to his wife, and a woman to her husband. I suppose thecaptain finds himself better in warm countries--he always said so. My bairn will come back when she can--I know she will. And the boysare very good--specially Duncan. "

For Mr. Cardross had now, he thought, discovered germs of ability in hisyoungest boy, and was concentrating all his powers in educating him forcollege and the ministry. This, and his growing absorption in hisbooks, reconciled him more than might have been expected to hisdaughter's absence; or else the inevitable necessity of things, which, as we advance in years, becomes so strange and consoling an influenceover us, was working slowly upon the good old minister. He did not seemheart-broken or even heart-wounded--he did his parish work withunfailing diligence; but as, Sunday after Sunday, he passed from theManse garden through the kirk-yard, where, green and moss-covered now, was the one white stone which bore the name of "Helen Lindsay, wife ofthe Reverend Alexander Cardross, " he was often seen to glance at it lesssorrowfully than smilingly. Year by year, the world and its cares werelessening and slipping away from him, as they had long since slippedfrom her who once shared them all. She now waited for him in thateternal reunion which the marriage union teaches, as perhaps none othercan, to realize as a living fact and natural necessity. 

But it was different with the earl. Sometimes, in an agony ofbitterness, he caught himself blaming her--Helen--whom her oldfather never blamed; wondering how much she had found out of herhusband's conduct and character; speculating whether it was possible totouch pitch and not be defiled; and whether the wife of Captain Brucehad become in any way different from, and inferior to, innocent HelenCardross. 

Lord Cairnforth had never answered her letter--he could not, withoutbeing a complete hypocrite; and she had not written again. He did notexpect it--scarcely wished it--and yet the blank was sore. Moreand more he withdrew from all but necessary associations, shuttinghimself up in the Castle for weeks together--neither reading, nortalking much to any one, but sitting quite still--he always sat quitestill--by the fireside in his little chair. He felt creeping over himthat deadness to external things which makes pain itself seemcomparatively almost sweet. Once he was heard to say, looking wistfullyat Mrs. Campbell, who had been telling him with many tears, of a "freendo' hers" who had just died down at the clachan, "Nurse, I wish I couldgreet like you. "

The first thing which broke up in his heart this bitter, blighting frostwas, as so often happens, the sharp-edged blow of a new trouble. 

He had not been at the Manse for two or three weeks, and had not evenheard of the family for several days, when, looking up from his seat inchurch, he was startled by the apparition of an unfamiliar face in thepulpit--a voluble, flowery-tongued, foolish young assistant, evidently caught haphazard to fill the place which Mr. Cardross, duringa long term of years, had never vacated, except at communion seasons. It gave his faithful friend and pupil a sensation almost of pain to seeany new figure there, and not the dear old minister's, with his longwhite hair, his earnest manner, and his simple, short sermon. Shorterand simpler the older he grew, till he often declared he should end bypreaching like the beloved apostle John, who, tradition says, in hislatter days, did nothing but repeat, over and over again, to all aroundhim, his one exhortation--he, the disciple whom Jesus loved--

"Little children, love one another. "

On inquiry after service, the earl found that Mr. Cardross had beenailing all week, and had had on Saturday to procure in haste thissubstitute. But, on going to the Manse, the earl found him much asusual, only complaining of a numbness in his arm. 

"And, " he said, with a composure very different from his usualnervousness about the slightest ailment, "Now I remember, my mother diedof paralysis. I wish Helen would come home. "

"Shall she be sent for?" suggested Lord Cairnforth. 

"Oh no--not the least necessity. Besides, she says she is coming. "

"She has long said that. "

"But now she is determined to make the strongest effort to be with us atthe New Year. Read her letter--it came yesterday; a week later thanusual. I should have sent it up to the Castle, for it troubled me alittle, especially the postscript; can you make it out? part of it isunder the seal. It is in answer to what I told her of Duncan; he wasalways her pet, you know. How she used to carry him about the garden, even when he grew quite a big boy! Poor Helen!"

While the minister went on talking, feebly and wanderingly, in a waythat at another time would have struck the earl as something new andrather alarming, Lord Cairnforth eagerly read the letter. It endedthus:

"Tell Dunnie I am awfully glad he is to be a minister. I hope all mybrothers will settle down in dear old Scotland, work hard, and pay theirway like honest men. And bid them, as soon as ever they can, to marryhonest women--good, loving Scotch lassies--no fremd (archaic:strange, foreign) folk. Tell them never to fear for 'poortith cauld, 'as Mr. Burns wrote about; it's easy to bear, when it's honest poverty. I would rather see my five brothers living on porridge and milk--wives, and weans, and all--than see them like these foreigners, counts, barons, and princes though they be. Father, I hate them all. And I mind always the way I was brought up, and that I was once aminister's daughter in dear and bonnie Cairnforth. "

"What can she mean by that?" said Mr. Cardross, watching anxiously theearl's countenance as he read. 

I suppose, what Helen always means, exactly what she says. "

"That is true. You know we used always to say Helen could hold hertongue, though it wasn't easy to her, the dear lassie; but she could notsay what was not the fact, nor even give the impression of it. Therefore, if she were unhappy, she would have told me?"

This was meant as a question, but it gained no answer. 

"Surely, " entreated the father, anxiously, "surely you do not think thelassie is unhappy?"

"This is not a very happy world, " said the earl, sadly. "But I dobelieve that if any thing had been seriously wrong with her Helen wouldhave told us. "

He spoke his real belief. But he did not speak of a dread far deeper, which had sometimes occurred to him, but which that sad and even bitterpostscript now removed, that circumstances could change character, andthat Helen Cardross and Helen Bruce were two different women. 

As he went home, having arranged to come daily every forenoon to sitwith the minister, and to read a little Greek with Duncan, lest thelad's studies should be interrupted, he decided that, in her father'sstate, which appeared to him the more serious the longer he consideredit, it was right Helen should come home, and somebody, not Mr. Cardross, ought to urge it upon her. He determined to do this himself. And, lestmeans should be wanting--though of this he had no reason to fear, hisinformation from all quarters having always been that the Bruce familylived more than well--luxuriously--he resolved to offer a giftwith which he had not before dared to think of insulting independentHelen--money. 

With difficulty and pains, not intrusting this secret to even hisfaithful secretary, he himself wrote a few lines, in his own feeble, shaky hand, telling her exactly how things were; suggesting her cominghome, and inclosing wherewithal to do it, from "her affectionate oldfriend and cousin, " from whom she need not hesitate to accept any thing. But though he carefully, after long consideration, signed himself her"cousin, " he did not once name Captain Bruce. He could not. 

This done, he waited day after day, till every chance of Helen's nothaving had time to reply was long over, and still no answer came. Thatthe letter had been received was more than probable, almost certain. Every possible interpretation that common sense allowed Lord Cairnforthgave to her silence, and all failed. Then he let the question rest. Todistrust her, Helen, his one pure image of perfection, was impossible. He felt it would have killed him--not his outer life, perhaps, butthe life of his heart, his belief in human goodness. 

So he still waited, nor judged her either as daughter or friend, butcontented himself with doing her apparently neglected duty for her--making himself an elder brother to Duncan, and a son to the minister, and never missing a day without spending some hours at the Manse. 

For almost the first time since her departure, Helen's regular monthlyletter did not arrive, and the earl grew seriously alarmed. In theutmost perplexity, he was resolving in his own mind what next step totake--how, and how much he ought to tell of his anxieties to herfather--when all difficulties were solved in the sharpest and yeteasiest way by a letter from Helen herself--a letter so unlikeHelen's, so un-neat, blurred, and blotted, that at first he did not evenrecognize it as hers. 

"To the Right Honorable the Earl of Cairnforth:

"My Lord, --I have only just found your letter. The money inclosedwas not there. I conclude it had been used for our journey hither; butit is gone, and I can not come to my dearest father. My husband is veryill, and my little baby only three weeks old. Tell my father this, andsend me news of him soon. Help me, for I am almost beside myself withmisery!

"Yours gratefully, "Helen Bruce

"---- Street, Edinburg. "

Edinburg! Then she was come home!

The earl had opened and read the letter with his secretary sitting byhim. Yet, dull and not prone to notice things as the old man was, hewas struck by an unusual tone of something very like exultation in hismaster's voice as he said, "Mr. Mearns, call Malcolm to me; I must start for Edinburg immediately. "

In the interval Lord Cairnforth thought rapidly over what was best to bedone. To go at once to Helen, whatever her misery was, appeared to himbeyond question. To take Mr. Cardross in his present state, or the ladDuncan, was not desirable: some people, good as they may be, are not thesort of people to be trusted in calamity. And Helen's other brotherswere out and away in the world, scattered all over Scotland, earning, diligently and hardly, their daily bread. 

There was evidently not a soul to go to her help except himself. Herbrief and formal letter, breaking down into that piteous cry of "helpme, " seemed to come out of the very depths of despair. It pierced tothe core of Lord Cairnforth's heart; and yet--and yet--he feltthat strange sense of exultation and delight. 

Even Malcolm noticed this. 

"Your lordship has gotten gude news, " said he. "Is it about Miss Helen?She's coming home?"

"Yes. We must start for Edinburg at once, and we'll bring her back withus. " He forgot for the moment the sick husband, the newborn baby--every thing but Helen herself and her being close at hand. "It's onlyforty-eight hours journey to Edinburg now. We will travel post; I amstrong enough, Malcolm; set about it quickly, for it must be done. "

Malcolm knew his master too well to remonstrate. In truth, the wholehousehold was so bewildered by this sudden exploit--for the wheels oflife moved slowly enough ordinarily at Cairnforth--that before anybody was quite aware what had happened, the earl and his two necessaryattendants, Malcolm and Mr. Mearns--also Mrs. Campbell--Helenmight want a woman with her--were traveling across country as fast asthe only fast traveling of that era--relays of post-horses day andnight--could carry them. 

Lord Cairnforth, after much thought, left Helen's letter behind withDuncan Cardross, charging him to break the tidings gradually to theminister, and tell him that he himself was then traveling to Edinburgwith all the speed that, in those days, money, and money alone, couldprocure. Oh, how he felt the blessing of riches! Now, whatever hercircumstances were, or might have been once, misery, poverty, couldnever afflict Helen more. He was quite determined that from the time hebrought them home, his cousin and his cousin's wife should inhabitCairnforth Castle; that, whether Captain Bruce's life proved to be longor short, worthy or unworthy, he should be borne with, and forgivenevery thing--for Helen's sake. 

All the journey--sleeping or waking, day or night--Lord Cairnfortharranged or dreamed over his plans, until at ten o'clock the secondnight he found himself driving along the familiar Princes Street, withthe grim Castle rock standing dark against the moonlight; while beyond, on the opposite side of what was then a morass, but is now railways andgardens, rose tier upon tier, like a fairy palace, the glittering lightsof the old town of Edinburg. 

Chapter 13

The earl reached Edinburg late at night. Mrs. Campbell entreated him togo to bed, and not seek out the street where the Bruces lived tillmorning. 

"For I ken the place weel, " said she, when she heard Lord Cairnforthinquiring for the address Helen had given. "It's ane o' thae high landsin the New Town--a grand flat wi' a fine ha' door--and then yegang up an' up, till at the top flat ye find a bit nest like a bird's--and the folk living there are as ill off as a bird in winter-time. "

The earl, weary as he had been, raised his head at this, and spokedecisively, "Tell Malcolm to fetch a coach. I will go there tonight. "

"Eh! Couldna ye bide till the morn? Ye'll just kill yourself, ' mylamb, " cried the affectionate woman, forgetting all her respect in heraffection; but Lord Cairnforth understood it, and replied in the goodold Scotch, which he always kept to warm his nurse's heart, "Na, na, I'll no dee yet. Keep your heart content; we'll all soon besafe back at Cairnforth. "

It seemed, in truth, as if an almost miraculous amount of endurance andenergy had been given to that frail body for this hour of need. Theearl's dark eyes were gleaming with light, and every tone of his voicewas proud and manly, as the strong, manly soul, counteracting allphysical infirmities, rose up for the protection for the one creature inall the world who to him had been most dear. 

"You'll order apartments in the hotel, nurse. See that every thing isright and comfortable for Mrs. Bruce. I shall bring them back at once, if I can, " was his last word as he drove off, alone with Malcolm: hewished to have no one with him who could possibly be done without. 

It was nearly midnight when they stood at the foot of the high stair--six stories high--and Captain Bruce, they learned, was inhabiting thetopmost flat. Malcolm looked at the earl uneasily. 

"The top flat! Miss Helen canna be vera well aff, I doubt. Will I gangup and see, my lord"?

"No, I will go myself. Carry me, Malcolm. "

And, in the old childish way, the big Highlander lifted his master up inhis arms, and carried him, flight after flight, to the summit of thelong dark stair. It narrowed up to a small door, very mean andshabby-looking, from the keyhole of which, when Malcolm hid his lantern, a light was seen to gleam. 

"They're no awa' to their beds yet, my lord. Will I knock?"

Lord Cairnforth had no time to reply, if indeed he could have replied;for Malcolm's footsteps had been heard from within, and opening the doorwith an eager "Is that you, doctor?" there stood before them, in hervery own likeness, Helen Cardross. 

At least a woman like enough to the former Helen to leave no doubt itwas herself. But a casual acquaintance would never have recognized her. 

The face, once so round and rosy, was sharp and thin; the cheek-bonesstood out; the bright complexion was faded; the masses of flaxen curls--her chief beauty--were all gone; and the thin hair was drawn upclose under a cap. Her dress, once the picture of neatness, was neatstill, but the figure had become gaunt and coarse, and the shabby gownhung upon her in forlorn folds, as if put on carelessly by one who hadneither time nor thought to give to appearances. 

She was evidently sitting up watching, and alone. The rooms which herdoor opened to view were only two, this topmost flat having been dividedin half, and each half made into just "a but and a ben, " and furnishedin the meanest fashion of lodgings to let. 

"Is it the doctor?" she said again, shading her light and peering downthe dark stair. 

"Helen!"

She recognized at once the little figure in Malcolm's arms. 

"You--you! And you have come to me--come your own self! Oh, thank God!"

She leant against the doorway--not for weeping; she looked like onewho had wept till she could weep no more, but breathing hard in heavybreaths, like sobs. 

"Set me down, Malcolm, somewhere--any where. Then go outside. "

Malcolm obeyed, finding a broken arm-chair and settling his mastertherein. Then, as he himself afterward told the story, though not tillmany years after, when nothing he told about that dear master's concernscould signify any more, he "gaed awa' doun and grat like a bairn. "

Lord Cairnforth sat silent, waiting till Helen had recovered herself--Helen, whom, however changed, he would have known among a thousand. Andthen, with his quick observation, he took in as much of hercircumstances as was betrayed by the aspect of the room, evidentlykitchen, dining-room, and bedroom in one; for at the far end, close tothe door that opened into the second apartment, which seemed a merecloset, was one of those concealed beds so common in Scotland, and on itlay a figure which occasionally stirred, moaned, or coughed, but veryfeebly, and for the most part lay still--very still. 

Its face, placed straight on the pillow--and as the fire blazed up, the sharp profile being reflected in grotesque distinctness on the wallbehind--was a man's face, thin and ghastly, the skin tightly drawnover the features, as is seen in the last stage of consumption. 

Lord Cairnforth had never beheld death--not in any form. But hefelt, by instinct, that he was looking upon it now, or the near approachto it, in the man who lay there, too rapidly passing intounconsciousness even to notice his presence--Helen's husband, CaptainBruce. 

The dreadful fascination of the sight drew his attention even from Helenherself. He sat gazing at his cousin, the man who had deceived andwronged him, and not him only, but those dearer to him than himself---the man whom, a day or two ago, he had altogether hated and despised. He dared do neither now. A heavier hand than that of mortal justice wasupon his enemy. Whatever Captain Bruce was, whatever he had been, hewas now being taken away from all human judgment into the immediatepresence of Him who is at once the Judge and the Pardoner of sinners. 

Awe-struck, the earl sat and watched the young man (for he could not bethirty yet), struck down thus in the prime of his days--carried awayinto the other world--while he himself, with his frail, flickeringtaper of a life, remained. Wherefore? At length, in a whisper, hecalled "Helen!" and she came and knelt beside the earl's chair. 

"He is fast going, " said she. 

"I see that. "

"In an hour or two, the doctor said. "

"Then I will stay, if I may?"

"Oh yes. "

Helen said it quite passively; indeed, her whole appearance as she movedabout the room, and then took her seat by her husband's side, indicatedone who makes no effort either to express or to restrain grief--whohas, in truth, suffered till she can suffer no more. 

The dying man was not so near death as the doctor had thought, for aftera little he fell into what seemed a natural sleep. Helen leant her headagainst the wall and closed her eyes. But that instant was heard fromthe inner room a cry, the like of which Lord Cairnforth had never heardbefore--the sharp, waking cry of a very young infant. 

In a moment Helen started up--her whole expression changed; and when, after a short disappearance, she re-entered the room with her child, whohad dropped contentedly asleep again, nestling to her bosom, she wasperfectly transformed. No longer the plain, almost elderly woman; shehad in her poor worn face the look--which makes any face young, nay, lovely--the mother's look. Fate had not been altogether cruel toher; it had given her a child. 

"Isn't he a bonnie bairn?" she whispered, as once again she knelt downby Lord Cairnforth's chair, and brought the little face down so that hecould see it and touch it. He did touch it with his feeble fingers--the small soft cheek--the first baby-cheek he had ever beheld. 

"It is a bonnie bairn, as you say; God bless it!" which, as sheafterward told him, was the first blessing ever breathed over the child. "What is its name:" he asked by-and-by, seeing she expected more noticetaken of it. 

"Alexander Cardross--after my father. My son is a born Scotsman too--an Edinburg laddie. We were coming home, as fast as we could, toCairnforth. He"--glancing toward the bed--"he wished it. "

Thus much thought for her, the dying man had shown. He had beenunwilling to leave his wife forlorn in a strange land. He had come"fast as he could, " that her child might be born and her husband die atCairnforth--at least so the earl supposed, nor subsequently found anyreason to doubt. It was a good thing to hear then--good to rememberafterward. 

For hours the earl sat in the broken chair, with Helen and her babyopposite, watching and waiting for the end. 

It did not come till near morning. Once during the night Captain Bruceopened his eyes and looked about him, but either his mind was confused, or--who knows?--made clearer by the approach of death, for heevinced no sign of surprise at the earl's presence in the room. He onlyfixed upon him a long, searching, inquiring gaze, which seemed to compelan answer. 

Lord Cairnforth spoke:

"Cousin, I am come to take home with me your wife and child. Are yousatisfied?"

"Yes. "

"I promise you they shall never want. I will take care of them always. "

There was a faint assenting movement of the dying head, and then, justas Helen went out of the room with her baby, Captain Bruce followed herwith his eyes, in which the earl thought was an expression almostapproaching tenderness. "Poor thing--poor thing! Her long troubleis over. "

These were the last words he ever said, for shortly afterward he againfell into a sleep, out of which he passed quietly and without pain intosleep eternal. They looked at him, and he was still breathing; theylooked at him a few minutes after, and he was, as Mr. Cardross wouldhave expressed it, "away"--far, far away--in His safe keeping withwhom abide the souls of both the righteous and the wicked, the livingand the dead. 

Let Him judge him, for no one else ever did. No one ever spoke of himbut as their dead can only be spoken of either to or by the widow andthe fatherless. 

Without much difficulty--for, after her husband's death, Helen'sstrength suddenly collapsed, and she became perfectly passive in theearl's hands and in those of Mrs. Campbell--Lord Cairnforth learnedall he required about the circumstances of the Bruce family. 

They were absolutely penniless. Helen's boy had been born only a day ortwo after their arrival at Edinburg. Her husband's illness increasedsuddenly at the last, but he had not been quite incapacitated till shehad gained a little strength, so as to be able to nurse him. But howshe had done it--how then and for many months past she had contrivedto keep body and soul together, to endure fatigue, privation, mentalanguish, and physical weakness, was, according to good Mrs. Campbell, who heard and guessed a great deal more than she chose to tell, "justwonderful'. " It could only be accounted for by Helen's natural vigor ofconstitution, and by that preternatural strength and courage whichNature supplies to even the saddest form of motherhood. 

And now her brief term of wifehood--she had yet not been married twoyears--was over forever, and Helen Bruce was left a mother only. Itwas easy to see that she would be one of those women who remain such--mothers, and nothing but mothers, to the end of their days. 

"She's ower young for me to say it o' her, " observed Mrs. Campbell, inone of the long consultations that she and the earl held togetherconcerning Helen, who was of necessity given over almost exclusively tothe good woman's charge; "but ye'll see, my lord, she will look nae mairat any mortal man. She'll just spend her days in tending that wean o'hers--and a sweet bit thing it is, ye ken--by-and-by she'll getblithe and bonnie again. She'll be aye gentle and kind, and no dreary, but she'll never marry. Puir Miss Helen! She'll be ane o' thae widowsthat the apostle tells o'--that are 'widows indeed'. "

And Mrs. Campbell, who herself was one of the number, heaved a sigh--perhaps for Helen, perhaps for herself, and for one whose very name wasnow forgotten; who had gone down to the bottom of Loch Beg when theEarl's father was drowned, and never afterward been seen, living ordead, by any mortal eye. 

The earl gave no answer to his good nurse's gossip. He contentedhimself with making all arrangements for poor Helen's comfort, andtaking care that she should be supplied with every luxury befitting notalone Captain Bruce's wife and Mr. Cardross's daughter, but the "cousin"of the Earl of Cairnforth. And now, whenever he spoke of her, it wasinvariably and punctiliously as "my cousin. "

The baby too--Mrs. Campbell's truly feminine soul was exalted toinfinte delight and pride at being employed by the earl to procure themost magnificent stock of baby clothes that Edinburg could supply. Noyoung heir to a peerage could be appareled more splendidly than was, within a few days, Helen's boy. He was the admiration of the wholehotel; and when his mother made some weak resistance, she received agentle message to the effect that the Earl of Cairnforth begged, as aspecial favor, to be allowed to do exactly as he liked with his little"cousin". 

And every morning, punctual to the hour, the earl had himself taken upstairs into the infantile kingdom of which Mrs. Campbell was installedonce more as head nurse, where he would sit watching with an amusedcuriosity, that was not without its pathos, the little creature solately come into the world--to him, unfamiliar with babies, such awondrous mystery. Alas! A mystery which it was his lot to behold--asall the joys of life--from the outside. 

But, though life's joys were forbidden him, its duties seemed toaccumulate daily. There was Mr. Cardross to be kept patient by theassurance that all was well, and that presently his daughter and hisgrandchild would be coming home. There was Alick Cardross, now a youngclerk in the office of Menteith & Ross, to be looked after, and keptfrom agitating his sister by any questionings; and there was a tribe ofyoung Menteiths always needing assistance or advice--now and thensomething more tangible than advice. Then there were the earl'sEdinburg friends, who thronged round him in hearty welcome as soon asever they heard he was again in the good old city, and would willinglyhave drawn him back again into that brilliant society which he hadenjoyed so much. 

He enjoyed it still--a little; and during the weeks that elapsedbefore Helen was able to travel, or do any thing but lie still and betaken care of, he found opportunity to mingle once more among his formerassociates. But his heart was always in that quiet room which he onlyentered once a day, where the newly-made widow sat with her orphan childat her bosom, and waited for Time, the healer, to soothe and bind up theinevitable wounds. 

At last the day arrived when the earl, with his little cortege of twocarriages, one his own, and the other containing Helen, her baby, andMrs. Campbell, quitted Edinburg, and, traveling leisurely, neared theshores of Loch Beg. They did not come by the ferry, Lord Cairnforthhaving given orders to drive round the head of the loch, as the easiestand most unobtrusive way of bringing Helen home. Much he wondered howshe bore it--the sight of the familiar hills--exactly the same--for it was the same time of year, almost the very day, when she had leftCairnforth; but he could not inquire. At length, after much thought, during the last stage of the journey, he bade Malcolm ask Mrs. Bruce ifshe would leave her baby for a little and come into the earl's carriage, which message she obeyed at once. 

These few weeks of companionship, not constant, but still sufficientlyclose, had brought them back very much into their old brother and sisterrelation, and though nothing had been distinctly said about it, Helenhad accepted passively all the earl's generosity both for herself andher child. Once or twice, when he had noticed a slight hesitation ofuneasiness in her manner, Lord Cairnforth had said, "I promised him, youremember, " and this had silenced her. Besides she was too utterly wornout and broken down to resist any kindness. She seemed to open herheart to it--Helen's proud, sensitive, independent heart--much asa plant, long dried up, withered, and trampled upon, opens itself to thesunshine and the dew. 

But now her health, both of body and mind, had revived a little; and asshe sat opposite him in her grave, composed widowhood, even the disguiseof the black weeds could not take away a look that returned again andagain, reminding the earl of the Helen of his childhood--the bright, sweet, wholesome-natured, high-spirited Helen Cardross. 

"I asked you to come to me in the carriage, " said he, after they hadspoken a while about ordinary things. "Before we reach home, I think weought to have a little talk upon some few matters which we have neverreferred to as yet. Are you able for this?"

"Oh yes, but--I can't--I can't!" and a sudden expression oftrouble and fear darkened the widow's face. "Do not ask me anyquestions about the past. It is all over now; it seems like a dream--as if I had never been away from Cairnforth. "

"Let it be so then, Helen, my dear, " replied the earl, tenderly. "Indeed, I never meant otherwise. It is far the best. "

Thus, both at the time and ever after, he laid, and compelled others tolay, the seal of silence upon those two sad years, the secrets of whichwere buried in Captain Bruce's quiet grave in Grayfriars' church-yard. 

"Helen, " he continued, "I am not going to ask you a single question; Iam only going to tell you a few things, which you are to tell yourfather at the first opportunity, so as to place you in a right positiontoward him, and whatever his health may be, to relieve his mind entirelyboth as to you and Boy. "

"Boy" the little Alexander had already begun to be called. "Boy" parexcellence, for even at that early period of his existence he gavetokens of being a most masculine character, with a resolute will of hisown, and a power of howling till he got his will which delighted NurseCampbell exceedingly. He was already a thorough Cardross--not in theleast a Bruce; he inherited Helen's great blue eyes, large frame, andhealthy temperament, and was, in short, that repetition of the mother inthe son which Dame Nature delights in, and out of which she sometimesmakes the finest and noblest men that the world ever sees. 

"Boy has been wide awake these two hours, noticing every thing, " saidhis mother, with a mother's firm conviction that this rather imaginativefact was the most interesting possible to every body. "He might haveknown the loch quite well already, by the way he kept staring at it. "

"He will know it well enough by-and by, " said the earl, smiling. "Youare aware, Helen, that he and you are permanently coming home. "

"To the Manse? yes! My dear father! he will keep us there during hislife time. Afterward we must take our chance, my boy and I. "

"Not quite that. Are you not aware--I thought, from circumstances, you must have guessed it long ago--that Cairnforth Castle, and mywhole property, will be yours sometime?"

"I will tell you no untruth, Lord Cairnforth. I was aware of it. Thatis, he--I mean it was suspected that you had meant it once. I foundthis out--don't ask me how--shortly after I was married; and Idetermined, as the only chance of avoiding it--and several otherthings--never to write to you again; never to take the least means ofbringing myself--us--back to your memory. "

"Why so?"

"I wished you to forget us, and all connected with us, and to choosesome one more worthy, more suitable, to inherit your property. "

"But, Helen, that choice rested with myself alone, " said the earl, smiling. "Has not a man the right to do what he likes with his own?"

"Yes, but--oh, " cried Helen, earnestly, "do not talk of this. Itcaused me such misery once. Never let us speak of it again. "

"I must speak of it, " was the answer, equally earnest. "All my comfort--I will not say happiness; we have both learned, Helen, not to counttoo much upon happiness in this world--but all the peace of my futurelife, be it short or long, depends upon my having my heart's desire inthis matter. It is my heart's desire, and no one shall forbid it. Iwill carry out my intentions, whether you agree to them or not. I willspeak of them no more, if you do not wish it, but I shall certainlyperform them. And I think it would be far better if we could talkmatters out together, and arrange every thing plainly and openly beforeyou go home to the Manse, if you prefer the Manse, though I could havewished it was to the Castle. "

"To the Castle!"

"Yes. I intended to have brought you back from Edinburgh--all ofyou, " added the earl, with emphasis, "to the Castle for life!"

Helen was much affected. She made no attempt either to resist or toreply. 

"But now, my dear, you shall do exactly what you will about the home youchoose--exactly what makes you most content, and your father also. Only listen to me just for five minutes, without interrupting me. Inever could bear to be interrupted, you know. "

Helen faintly smiled, and Lord Cairnforth, in a brief, business-likeway, explained how, the day after his coming of age, he haddeliberately, and upon what he--and Mr. Menteith likewise--considered just grounds, constituted her, Helen Cardross, as his soleheiress; that he had never altered his will since, and therefore she nowwas, and always would have been, and her children after her, rightfulsuccessors to the Castle and broad acres of Cairnforth. 

"The title lapses, " he added: "there will be no more Earls ofCairnforth. But your boy may be the founder of a new name and family, that may live and rule for generations along the shores of our loch, andperhaps keep even my poor name alive there for a little while. "

Helen did not speak. Probably she too, with her clear common sense, sawthe wisdom of the thing. For as, as the earl said, he had a right tochoose his own heir--and as even the world would say, what betterheir could he choose than his next of kin--Captain Bruce's child?What mother could resist such a prospect for her son? She sat, hertears flowing, but still with a great light in her blue eyes, as if shesaw far away in the distance, far beyond all this sorrow and pain, thehappy future of her darling--her only child. 

"Of course, Helen, I could pass you over, and leave all direct to thatyoung man of yours, who is, if I died intestate, my rightful heir. ButI will not--at least, not yet. Perhaps, if I live to see him of age, I may think about making him take my name, as Bruce-Montgomerie. Butmeanwhile I shall educate him, send him to school and college, and athome he shall be put under Malcolm's care, and have ponies to ride andboats to row. In short, Helen, " concluded the earl, looking earnestlyin her face with that sad, fond, and yet peaceful expression he had, "Imean your boy to do all that I could not do, and to be all that I oughtto have been. You are satisfied?"

"Yes--quite. I thank you. And I thank God. "

A minute more, and the carriage stopped at the wicket-gate of the Mansegarden. 

There stood the minister, with his white locks bared, and his wholefigure trembling with agitation, but still himself--stronger andbetter than he had been for many months. 

"Papa! papa!" And Helen, his own Helen, was in his arms. 

"Drive on, " said Lord Cairnforth, hurriedly; "Malcolm, we will gostraight to the Castle now. "

And so, no one heeding him--they were too happy to notice any thingbeyond themselves--the earl passed on, with a strange smile, not ofthis world at all, upon his quiet face, and returned to his own statelyand solitary home. 

Chapter 14

Good Mrs. Campbell had guessed truly that from this time forward HelenBruce would be only a mother. Either she was one of those women in whomthe maternal element predominates--who seem born to take care ofother people and rarely to be taken care of themselves--or else hercruel experience of married life had forever blighted in her all wifelyemotions--even wifely regrets. She was grave, sad, silent, for manymonths during her early term of widowhood, but she made no pretense ofextravagant sorrow, and, except under the rarest and most necessarycircumstances, she never even named her husband. Nothing did she betrayabout him, or her personal relations with him, even to her nearest anddearest friends. He had passed away, leaving no more enduring memorythan the tomb-stone which Lord Cairnforth had erected in Grayfriars'church-yard. 

---Except his child, of whom it was the mother's undisguised delightthat, outwardly and inwardly, the little fellow appeared to be wholly aCardross. With his relatives on the father's side, after the one formalletter which she had requested should be written to Colonel Bruceannouncing Captain Bruce's death, Helen evidently wished to keep up noacquaintance whatever--nay, more than wished; she was determined itshould be so--with that quiet, resolute determination which wassometimes seen in every feature of her strong Scotch face, once sogirlish, but it bore tokens of what she had gone through--of a battlefrom which no woman ever comes out unwounded or unscarred. 

But, as before said, she was a mother, and wholly a mother, whichblessed fact healed the young widow's heart better and sooner than anything else could have done. Besides, in her case, there was nosuspense, no conflict of duties--all her duties were done. Had theylasted after her child's birth the struggle might have been too hard;for mothers have responsibilities as well as wives, and when theseconflict, as they do sometimes, God help her who has to choose betweenthem! But Helen was saved this misfortune. Providence had taken herdestiny out of her own hands, and here she was, free as Helen Cardrossof old, in exactly the same position, and going through the same simpleround of daily cares and daily avocations which she had done as theminister's active and helpful daughter. 

For as nothing else but the minister's daughter would she, for thepresent, be recognized at Cairnforth. Lord Cairnforth's intentionstoward herself or her son she insisted on keeping wholly secret, except, of course, as regarded that dear and good father. 

"I may die, " she said to the earl--"die before yourself; and if myboy grows up, you may not love him, or he may not deserve your love, inwhich case you must choose another heir. No, you shall be bound in noway externally; let all go on as heretofore. I will have it so. "

And of all Lord Cairnforth's generosity she would accept of nothing forherself except a small annual sum, which, with her widow's pension fromthe East India Company, sufficed to make her independent of her father;but she did not refuse kindness to her boy. 

Never was there such a boy. "Boy" he was called from the first, never"baby;" there was nothing of the baby about him. Before he was a yearold he ruled his mother, grandfather, and Uncle Duncan with a rod ofiron. Nay, the whole village were his slaves. "Miss Helen's bairn" wasa little king every where. It might have gone rather hard for the poorwee fellow thus allegorically

 "Wearing on his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty"

That dangerous sovereignty--any human being--to wield, had therenot been at least one person who was able to assume authority over him. 

This was, strange to say--and yet not strange--the Earl ofCairnforth. 

From his earliest babyhood Boy had been accustomed to the sight of thesight of the motionless figure in the moving chair, who never touchedhim, but always spoke so kindly and looked around so smilingly; whom, hecould perceive--for children are quicker to notice things than wesome times think--his mother and grandfather invariably welcomed withsuch exceeding pleasure, and treated with never-failing respect andtenderness. And, as soon as he could crawl, the footboard of themysterious wheeled chair became to the little man a perfecttreasure-house of delight. Hidden there he found toys, picture-books, "sweeties"--such as he got nowhere else, and for which, beforeappropriating them, he was carefully taught to express thanks in his owninfantile way, and made to understand fully from whom they came. 

"It's bribery, and against my principles, " the earl would say, halfsadly. "But, if I did not give him things, how else could Boy learn tolove me?"

Helen never answered this, no more than she used answer many similarspeeches in the earl's childhood. She knew time would prove them all tobe wrong. 

What sort of idea the child really had of this wonderful donor, thesource of most of his pleasures, who yet was so different externallyfrom every body else; who never moved from the wheel-chair; who neithercaressed him nor played with him, and whom he was not allowed to playwith, but only lifted up sometimes to kiss softly the kind face whichalways smiled down upon him with a sort of "superior love"--what thechild's childish notion of his friend was no one could of coursediscover. But it must have been a mingling of awe and affectionateness;for he would often--even before he could walk--crawl up to thelittle chair, steady himself by it, and then look into Lord Cairnforth'sface with those mysterious baby eyes, full of questioning, but yetwithout the slightest fear. And once, when his mother was teaching himhis first hymn--

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child, "

Boy startled her by the sudden remark--one of the divine profanitiesthat are often falling from the innocent lips of little children--

"I know Jesus. He is the earl. "

And then Helen tried, in some simple way, to make the child understandabout Lord Cairnforth, and how he had been all his life so heavilyafflicted; but Boy could not comprehend it as affliction at all. Thereseemed to him something not inferior, but superior to all other peoplein that motionless figure, with its calm sweet face--who was nevertroubled, never displeased--whom every body delighted to obey, and atwhose feet lay treasures untold. 

"I think Boy likes me, " Lord Cairnforth would say, when he met theupturned beaming face as the child, in an ecstasy of expectation, ran tomeet him. "His love may last as long as the playthings do. "

But the earl was mistaken, as Helen knew. His love-victory had been insomething deeper than toys and "goodies. " Even when their charm beganto cease Boy still crept up to the little chair, and looked from theempty footboard up to the loving face, which no one, man, woman, orchild, ever regarded without something far higher than pity. 

And, by degrees, Boy, or "Carr"--which, as being the diminutive forhis second Christian name, Cardross, he was often called now--found anew attraction in his friend. He would listen with wide-open eyes, andattention that never flagged, to the interminable "tories" which theearl told him, out of the same brilliant imagination which had once usedto delight his uncles in the boat. And so, little by little, the childand the man grew to be "a pair of friends"--familiar and fond, butwith a certain tender reverence always between them, which had the mostsalutary effect on the younger. 

 Whenever he was sick, or sorry, or naughty--and Master "Boy" couldbe exceedingly naughty sometimes--the voice which had most influenceover him, the influence to which he always succumbed, came from thelittle wheeled chair. No anger did he ever find there--no dark looksor sharp tones--but he found steady, unbending authority; the firmwill which never passed over a single fault, or yielded to a singlewhim. In his wildest passions of grief or wrath, it was only necessaryto say to the child, "If the earl could see you!" to make him pause; andmany and many a time, whenever motherly authority, which in this casewas weakened by occasional over-indulgence and by an almost morbidterror of the results of the same, failed to conquer the child, Helenused, as a last resource, to bring him in her arms, set him down besideLord Cairnforth, and leave him there. She never came back but she foundBoy "good". 

"He makes me good, too, I think, " the earl would say now and then, "forhe makes me happy. "

It was true. Lord Cairnforth never looked otherwise than happy when hehad beside him that little blossom of hope of the new generation--Helen's child. 

As years went by, though he still lived alone at the Castle, it was byno means the secluded life of his youth and early manhood. He graduallygathered about him neighbors and friends. He filled his houseoccasionally with guests, of his own rank and of all ranks; peoplenotable and worthy to be known. He became a "patron, " as they called itin those days, of art and literature, and assembled around him all who, for his pleasure and their own benefit, chose to enjoy his hospitality. 

In a quiet way, for he disliked public show, he was likewise what wastermed a "philanthropist, " but always on the system which he had learnedin his boyhood from Helen and Mr. Cardross, that "charity begins athome;" with the father who guides well his own household; the ministerwhose footstep is welcomed at every door in his own parish; theproprietor whose just, wise, and merciful rule make him sovereignabsolute in his own estate. This last especially was the charactergiven along all the country-side to the Earl of Cairnforth. 

His was not a sad existence; far from it. None who knew him, andcertainly none who ever staid long with him in his own home, went awaywith that impression. He enjoyed what he called "a sunshiny life"--having sunshiny faces about him; people who knew how to accept the sweetand endure the bitter; to see the heavenly side even of sorrow; to dogood to all, and receive good from all; avoiding all envies, jealousies, angers, and strifes, and following out literally the apostolic command, "As much as in you lies, live peaceably with all men. "

And so the earl was, in the best sense of the word, popular. Every bodyliked him, and he liked every body. But deep in his heart--ay, deeper than any of these his friends and acquaintance ever dreamed--steadying and strengthening it, keeping it warm for all human uses, yetcalm with the quiet sadness of an eternal want, lay all those emotionswhich are not likings, but loves; not sympathies, but passions; butwhich with him were to be, in this world, forever dormant andunfulfilled. 

Never, let the Castle be ever so full of visitors, or let his dailycares, his outward interest, and his innumerable private charities beever so great, did he omit driving over twice or thrice a week to spendan hour or two at the Manse--in winter, by the study fire; in summer, under the shade of the green elm-trees--the same trees where he hadpassed that first sunny Sunday when he came a poor, lonely, crippledorphan child into the midst of the large, merry family--all scatterednow. 

The minister, Helen, and Boy were the sole inmates left at the Manse, and of these three the latter certainly was the most important. Hide itas she would, the principal object of the mother's life was her onlychild. Many a time, as Lord Cairnforth sat talking with her, after hisold fashion, of all his interests, schemes, labors, and hopes--hopessolely for others, and labors, the end of which he knew he would neversee--he would smile to himself, noticing how Helen's eye wandered allthe while--wandered to where that rosy young scapegrace rode his tinypony--the earl's gift--up and down the gravel walks, or played atromps with Malcolm, or dug holes in the flower-beds, or got into all andsundry of the countless disgraces which were forever befalling Boy; yetwhich, so lovable was the little fellow, were as continually forgiven, and, behind his back, even exalted into something very like merits. 

But once--and it was an incident which, whether or not Mrs. Bruceforgot it herself, her friend never did, since it furnished a key tomuch of the past, and a serious outlook for the future--Boy committedan error which threw his mother into an agony of agitation such as shehad not betrayed since she came back, a widow, to Cairnforth. 

Her little son told a lie! It was a very small lie, such as dozens ofchildren tell--are punished and pardoned--but a lie it was. Ithappened on August morning, when the raspberries for which the Manse wasfamous. He was desired not to touch them--"not to lay a finger onthem, " insisted the mother. And he promised. But, alas! The promisesof four years old are not absolutely reliable; and so that whichhappened once in a more ancient garden happened in the garden of theManse. Boy plucked and ate. He came back to his mother with his whitepinafore all marked and his red mouth redder still with condemnatorystains. Yet, when asked "if he had touched the raspberries, " he openedthat wicked mouth and said, unblushingly, "No!"

Of course it was an untruth--self-evident; in its very simplicityalmost amusing; but the earl was not prepared for the effect it seemedto have upon Helen. She started back, her lips actually blanched andher eyes glowing. 

"My son has told a lie!" she cried, and kept repeating it over and overagain. "My son has looked me in the face and told me a lie--hisfirst lie!"

"Hush, Helen!" for her manner seemed actually to frighten the child. 

"No, I can not pass it over! I dare not! He must be punished. Come!"

She seized Boy by the hand, looking another way, and was moving off withhim, as if she hardly knew what she was doing. 

"Helen!" called the earl, almost reproachfully; for, in his opinion, outof all comparison with the offense seemed the bitterness with which themother felt it, and was about to punish it. "Tell me, first, what areyou going to do with the child?"

"I hardly know--I must think--must pray. What if my son, my onlyson, should inherit--I mean, if he should grow up a liar?"

That word "inherit" betrayed her. No wonder now at the mother's agonyof fear--she who was mother to Captain Bruce's son. Lord Cairnforthguessed it all. 

"I understand, " said he. "But--"

"No, " Helen interrupted, "you need understand nothing, for I have toldyou nothing. Only I must kill the sin--the fatal sin--at the veryroot. I must punish him. Come, child!"

"Come back, Helen, " said the earl; and something in the tone made herobey at once, as occasionally during her life Helen had been glad toobey him, and creep under the shelter of a stronger will and clearerjudgment than her own. "You are altogether mistaken, my dear friend. Your boy is only a child, and errs as such, and you treat him as if hehad sinned like a grown-up man. Be reasonable. We will both take careof him. No fear that he will turn out a liar!"

Helen hesitated; but still her looks were so angry and stern, all themother vanished out of them, that the boy, instead of clinging to her, ran away crying, and hid himself behind Lord Cairnforth's chair. 

"Leave him to me, Helen. Can not you trust me--me--with yourson!"

Mrs. Bruce paused. 

"Now, " said the earl, wheeling himself round a little, so that he cameface to face with the sobbing child, "lift up your head, Boy, and speakthe truth like a man to me and to your mother--see! She is listening. Did you touch those raspberries?"

"No!"

"Cardross!" Calling him by his rarely-spoken name, not his pet-name, andfixing upon him eyes, not angry, but clear and searching, that compelledthe truth even from a child, "think again. You must tell us!"

"No, me didn't touch them, " answered Boy, dropping his head in consciousshame. "Not with me fingers. Me just opened me mouth and they poppedin. "

Lord Cairnforth could hardly help smiling at the poor little sinner--the infant Jesuit attaining his object by such an ingenious device; butthe mother didn't smile, and her look was harder than ever. 

"You hear! If not a lie, it was a prevarication. He who lies is ascoundrel, but he who prevaricates is a scoundrel and coward too. Sooner than Boy should grow up like--like that, I would rather die. No, I would rather see him die; for I might come in time to hate my ownson. "

By these fierce words, and by the gleaming eyes, which made a sudden andtotal change in the subdued manner, and the plain, almost elderly faceunder the widow's cap that Helen always wore, Lord Cairnforth guessed, more than he had ever guessed before, of what the sufferings of hermarried life had been. 

"My friend, " he said, and there was infinite pity as well as tendernessin his voice, "believe me, you are wrong. You are foreboding what, please God, will never happen. God does not deal with us in thatmanner. He bids us do His will, each of us individually, withoutreference to the doings or misdoings of any other person. And if weobey Him, I believe He takes care we shall not suffer--at least notforever, even in this world. Do not be afraid. Boy, " calling thelittle fellow, who was now sobbing in bitterest contrition behind thewheeled chair, "come and kiss your mother. Promise her that you willnever again vex her by telling a lie. "

"No, no, no. Me'll not vex mamma. Good mamma! Pretty mamma! Boy sosorry!"

And he clung closely and passionately to his mother, kissing her avertedface twenty times over. 

"You see, Helen, you need not fear, " said the earl. 

Helen burst into tears. 

After that day it came to be a general rule that, when she could notmanage him herself, which not infrequently happened--for the verysimilarity in temperament and disposition between the mother and sonmade their conflicts, even at this early age, longer and harder--Helenbrought Boy up to the Castle and left him, sometimes for hours together, in the library with Lord Cairnforth. He always came home to the Mansequiet and "good. "

And so out of babyhood into boyhood, and thence into youth, grew theearl's adopted son; for practically it became that relationship, thoughno distinct explanation was ever given, or any absolute informationvouchsafed, for indeed there was none who had a right to inquire; still, the neighborhood and the public at large took it for granted that suchwere Lord Cairnforth's intentions toward his little cousin. 

As for the boy's mother, she led a life very retired--more retiredthan even Helen Cardross, doing all her duties as the minister'sdaughter, but seldom appearing in society. And society speculatedlittle about her. Sometimes, when the Castle was full of guests, Mrs. Bruce appeared among them, still in her widow's weeds, to be received byLord Cairnforth with marked attention and respect--always called "mycousin, " and whoever was present, invariably requested to take the headof his table; but, except at these occasional seasons, and at birthdays, new years, and so on, Helen was seldom seen out of the Manse, and wasvery little known to the earl's ordinary acquaintance. 

But every body in the whole peninsula knew the minister's grandson, young Master Bruce. The boy was tall of his age--not exactlyhandsome, being too like his mother for that; nevertheless, therobustness of form, which in her was too large for comeliness, became inhim only manly size and strength. He was athletic, graceful, andactive; he learned to ride almost as soon as he could walk; and, underMalcolm's charge, was early initiated in all the mysteries of moor andloch. By fourteen years of age Cardross Bruce was the best shot, thebest fisher, the best hand at an oar, of all the young lads in theneighborhood. 

Then, too, though allowed to run rather wild, he was unmistakably agentleman. Though he mixed freely with every body in the parish, he wasneither haughty nor over-familiar with any one. He had something of theminister's manner with inferiors--frank, gentle, and free--winningboth trust and love, and yet it was impossible to take liberties withhim. And some of the elder people in the clachan declared the lad hadat times just "the merry glint o' the minister's e'en" when Mr. Cardrossfirst came to the parish as a young man with his young wife. 

He was an old man now, "wearin' awa', " but slowly and peacefully;preaching still, though less regularly; for, to his great delight, hisson Duncan, having come out creditably at college, had been appointedhis assistant and successor. Uncle Duncan--only twelve years hisnephew's senior--was also appointed by Lord Cairnforth tutor to "Boy"Bruce. The two were very good friends, and not unlike one another. "Ay, he's just a Cardross, " was the universal remark concerning youngBruce. No one had ever hinted that the lad was like his father. 

He was not. Nature seemed mercifully to have forgotten to perpetuatethat type of character which had given Mr. Menteith formerly, and otherssince, such a justifiable dread of the Bruce family, and such arighteous determination to escape them. Lord Cairnforth still paid theannuity, but on condition that no one of his father's kindred shouldever interfere, in the smallest degree, with Helen's child. 

This done, both he and she trusted to the strong safeguards of habit andeducation, and all other influences which so strongly modify character, to make the boy all that they desired him to be, and to counteract thosetendencies which, as Lord Cairnforth plainly perceived, were Helen'sdaily dread. It was a struggle, mysterious as that which visible humanfree-will is forever opposing (apparently) to invisible fate, the end ofwhich it is impossible to see, and yet we struggle on. 

Thus laboring together with one hope, one aim, and one affection, allcentered in this boy, Lord Cairnforth and Mrs. Bruce passed many aplacid year. And when the mother's courage failed her--when herheart shrank in apprehension from real terrors or from chimeras of herown creating, her friend taught her to fold patiently her tremblinghands, and say, as she herself and the minister had first taught him inhis forlorn boyhood, the one only prayer which calms fear and comfortssorrow--the lesson of the earl's whole life--"Thy will be done!"

Chapter 15

"Helen, that boy of yours ought to be sent to college. "

"Oh no! Surely you do not think it necessary?" said Helen, visiblyshrinking. 

She and Lord Cairnforth were sitting together in the Castle library. Young Cardross had been sitting beside them, holding a long argumentwith his mother, as he often did, for he was of a decidedlyargumentative turn of mind, until, getting the worst of the battle, andbeing rather "put down"--a position rarely agreeable to theself-esteem of eighteen--he had flushed up angrily, made no reply, but opened one of the low windows and leaped out on the terrace. There, pacing to and fro along the countess's garden, they saw the boy, orrather young man, for he looked like one now. He moved with a rapidstep, the wind tossing his fair curls--Helen's curls over again--and cooling his cheeks as he tried to recover his temper, which he didnot often lose, especially in the earl's presence. 

Experience had not effaced the first mysterious impression made on thelittle child's mind by the wheeled chair and its occupant. If there wasone person in the world who had power to guide and control thishigh-spirited lad, it was Lord Cairnforth. And as the latter moved hischair a little round, so that he could more easily look out into thegarden and see the graceful figure sauntering among the flower-beds, itwas evident by his expression that the earl loved Helen's boy verydearly. 

"He is a fine fellow, and a good fellow as ever was born, that young manof yours. Still, as I have told you many a time, he would be all thebetter if he were sent to college. "

"For his education?" I thought Duncan was fully competent to completethat. "

"Not altogether. But, for many reasons, I think it would be advisablefor him to go from home for a while. "

"Why? Because his mother spoils him?"

The earl smiled, and gave no direct answer. In truth, the harm Helendid her boy was not so much in her "spoiling"--love rarely injures--as in the counteracting weight which she sometimes threw on theother side--in the sudden tight rein which she drew upon his littlefollies and faults--the painful clashing of two equally strong wills, which sometimes happened between the mother and the son. 

This was almost inevitable, with Helen's peculiar character. As she satthere, the sun shining on her fair face--still fair; a clear, healthyred and white, though she was over forty--you might trace some harshlines in it, and see clearly that, save for her exceeding unselfishnessand lovingness of disposition, Mrs. Bruce might in middle age have growninto what is termed a "hard" woman; capable of passionate affection, butof equally passionate severity, and prone to exercise both alike uponthe beings most precious to her on earth. 

"I fear it is not a pleasant doctrine to preach to mothers, " said LordCairnforth; "but, Helen, all boys ought to leave home some time. Howelse are they to know the world?"

"I do not wish my boy to know the world. "

"But he must. He ought. Remember his life is likely to be a verydifferent one from either yours or mine. "

"Do not let us think of that, " said Helen, uneasily. 

"My friend, I have been thinking of it ever since he was born--or, atleast, ever since he came to Cairnforth. That day seems almost likeyesterday, and yet--We are growing quite middle-aged folk, Helen, mydear. "

Helen sighed. These peaceful, uneventful years, how fast they hadslipped by! She began to count them after the only fashion by which shecared to count any thing now. "Yes, Cardross will be a man--actuallyand legally a man--in little more than two years. "

"That is just what I was considering. By that time we must come to somedecision on a subject which you will never let me speak of; but by-andby, Helen, you must. Do you suppose that your son guesses, or that anybody has ever told him, what his future position is to be?"

"I think not. There was nobody to tell him, for nobody knew. No, "continued Helen, speaking strongly and decidedly, "I am determined onone point--nothing shall bind you as regards my son or me--nothing, except your own free will. To talk of me as your successor isidle. I am older than you are; and you must not be compromised asregards my son. He is a good boy now, but temptation is strong, and, "with an irrepressible shudder, "appearances are deceitful sometimes. Wait, as I have always said--wait till you see what sort of manCardross turns out to be. "

Lord Cairnforth made no reply, and once more the two friends satwatching the unconscious youth, who had been for so many years the oneobject of both their lives. 

"Ignorance is not innocence, " said the earl at length, after along fitof musing. "If you bind a creature mortally hand and foot, how can itever learn to walk? It would, as soon as you loosed the bonds, finditself not free, but paralyzed--as helpless a creature as myself. "

Helen turned away from watching her boy, and laid her hand tenderly, inher customary caress, on the feeble hand, which yet had been the meansof accomplishing so much. 

"You should not speak so, " she said. "Scarcely ever is there a moreuseful life than yours. "

"More useful, certainly, than any one once expected--except you, Helen. I have tried to make you not ashamed of me these thirty years. ""Is it so many? Thirty years since the day you first came to theManse?"

"Yes; you know I was forty last birthday. Who would have thought mylife would have lasted so long? But it can not last forever; and beforeI am 'away' as your dear old father would say, I should like to leaveyou quite settled and happy about that boy. "

"Who says I am not happy?" answered Mrs. Bruce, rather sharply. 

"Nobody; but I see it myself sometimes--when you get that restless, anxious look--there it is now! Helen, I must have it away. I thinkit would trouble me in my grave if I left you unhappy, " added the earl, regarding her with that expression of yearning tenderness which she hadbeen so used to all her days that she rarely noticed it until the dayscame when she saw it no more. 

"I am not unhappy, " she said, earnestly. "Why should I be? My dearfather keeps well still--he enjoys a green old age. And is not myson growing up every thing that a mother's heart could desire?"

"I do believe it. Cardross is a good boy--a very good boy. But themetal has never been tested--as the soundest metal always requires tobe--and until this is done, you will never rest. I had rather itwere done during my lifetime than afterward. Helen, I particularly wishthe boy to go to college. "

The earl spoke so decidedly that Mrs. Bruce replied with only the briefquestion "Where?"

"To Edinburg; because there he would not be left quite alone. His uncleAlick would keep an eye upon him, and he could be boarded with Mrs. Menteith, whose income would be none the worse for the addition I wouldmake to it; for of course, Helen, if he goes, it must be--not exactlyas my declared heir, since you dislike that so much, but--as mycousin and nearest of kin, which he is undeniably. "

Helen acquiesced in silence. 

"I have a right to him, you see, " said Lord Cairnforth, smiling, "andreally I am rather proud of my young fellow. He may not be very clever--the minister says he is not--but he is what I call a man. Likehis mother, who never was clever, but yet was every inch a woman--thebest woman, in all relations of life, that I ever knew. "

Helen smiled too--a little sadly, perhaps--but soon her mindrecurred from all other things to her one prominent thought. 

"And what would you do with the boy himself? He knows nothing of money--has never had a pound-note in his pocket all his life. "

"Then it is high time he should have--and a good many of them. Ishall pay Mrs. Menteith well for his board, but I shall make him asufficient allowance besides. He must stand on his own feet, withoutany one to support him. It is the only way to make a boy into a man--a man that is worth anything. Do you not see that yourself?"

"I see, Lord Cairnforth, that you think it would be best for my boy tobe separated from his mother. "

She spoke in a hurt tone, and yet with a painful consciousness that whatshe said was not far off the truth, more especially as the earl did notabsolutely deny the accusation. 

"I think, my dear Helen, that it would be better if he were separatedfrom us all for a time. We are such quiet, old-fashioned folks atCairnforth, he may come to weary of us, you know. But my strongestmotive is exactly what I stated--that he should be left to himself, to feel his own strength and the strength of those principles which wehave tried to give him--that any special character he possesses mayhave free space to develop itself. Up to a certain point we can takecare of our children; beyond, we can not--nay, we ought not; theymust take care of themselves. I believe--do not be angry, Helen--but I believe there comes a time in every boy's life when the wisestthing even his mother can do for him is--to leave him alone. "

"And not watch over him--not to guide him?"

"Yes, but not so as to vex him by the watching and the guiding. However, we will talk of this another day. Here the lad comes. "

And the earl's eyes brightened almost as much as Helen's did whenCardross leaped in at the window, all his good-humor restored, kissedhis mother in his rough, fond way, of which he was not in the leastashamed as yet, and sat down by the wheeled chair with that tenderrespectfulness and involuntary softening of manner and tone which henever failed to show Lord Cairnforth, and had never shown so much to anyother human being. 

Ay, the earl had his compensations. We all have, if we know it. 

Gradually, in many a long, quiet talk, during which she listened to hisreasonings as probably she would have listened to no other man's, hecontrived to reconcile Mrs. Bruce to the idea of parting with her boy--their first separation, even for a day, since Cardross was born. Itwas neither for very long nor very far, since civilization had nowbrought Edinburg within a few hours' journey of Cairnforth; but it wasvery sore, nevertheless, to both mother and son. 

Helen took her boy and confided him to Mrs. Menteith herself; but shecould not be absent for more than one day, for just about this time herfather's "green old age" began to fail a little, and he grew extremelydependent upon her, which, perhaps, was the best thing that could havehappened to her at this crisis. She had to assume that tenderest, happiest duty of being "nursing mother" to the second childhood of onewho throughout her own childhood, youth, and middle age had been to herevery thing that was honored and deserving honor--loving, and worthyof love--in a parent. 

Not that Mr. Cardross had sank into any helpless state of mind or body;the dread of paralysis had proved a false alarm; and Helen's cominghome, to remain there forever, together with the thoroughly peacefullife which he had since lived for so many years, had kept up the oldman's vitality to a surprising extent. His life was now only fadingaway by slow and insensible degrees, like the light out of the sunsetclouds, or the colors from the mountains--silent warnings of thenight coming "in which no man can work. "

The minister had worked all his days--his Master's work; none theless worthy that it was done in no public manner, and had met with nopublic reward. Beyond his own Presbytery the name of the ReverendAlexander Cardross was scarcely known. He was not a popular preacher;he had never published a book, nor even a sermon, and he had taken nopart in the theological controversies of the time. He was content tolet other men fight about Christianity; he only lived it, spendinghimself for naught, some might think, in his own country parish andamong his poor country people, the pastor and father of them all. 

He had never striven after this world's good things, and they never cameto him in any great measure; but better things did. He always hadenough, and a little to spare for those who had less. In his old agethis righteous man was not "forsaken, " and his seed never "begged theirbread. " His youngest, Duncan, was always beside him, and yearly hisfour other sons came to visit him from the various places where they hadsettled themselves, to labor, and prosper, and transmit honorably toanother generation the honest name of Cardross. 

For the minister's "ae dochter, " she was, as she had been always, hisright hand, watching him, tending him, helping and guarding him, expending her whole life for him, so as to make him feel as lightly aspossible the gradual decay of his own; above all, loving him with a lovethat made labor easy and trouble light--the passionately devoted lovewhich we often see sons show to mothers, and daughters to fathers, whenthey have never had the parental ideal broke, nor been left to wanderthrough life in a desolation which is only second to that of being"without God in the world. "

"I think he has a happy old age--the dear old father!" said Helen oneday, when she and Lord Cairnforth sat talking, while the minister was asusual absorbed in the library--the great Cairnforth library, nowbecoming notable all over Scotland, of which Mr. Cardross had had thesole arrangement, and every book therein the earl declared he loved asdearly as he did his children. 

"Yes, he is certainly happy. And he has had a happy life, too--moreso than most people. "

"He deserved it. All these seventy-five years he has kept truth on hislips, and honor and honesty in his heart. He has told no man a lie; hasoverreached and deceived no man; and, though he was poor--pooralways; when he married my mother, exceedingly poor--he hasliterally, from that day to this, 'owed no man any thing but to love oneanother. ' Oh!" cried Helen, looking after the old man in almost apassion of tenderness, "oh that my son may grow up like his grandfather!Like nobody else--only his grandfather. "

"I think he will, " answered Lord Cairnforth. 

And, in truth, the accounts they had of young Cardross were for sometime extremely satisfactory. He had accommodated himself to his newlife--had taken kindly to his college work; gave no trouble to Mrs. Menteith, and still less to his uncle; the latter a highly respectablebut not very interesting gentleman--a partner in the firm of Menteithand Ross, and lately married to the youngest Miss Menteith. 

Still, by his letters, the nephew did not seem overwhelmingly fond ofhim, complaining sometimes that Uncle Alick interfered with him a littletoo much; investigated his expenses, made him balance his accounts, andinsisted that these should be kept within the limits suitable for Mrs. Bruce's son and Mr. Cardross's grandson, who would have to work his wayin the world as his uncles had done before him. 

"You see, Helen, " said the earl, "all concealment brings itsdifficulties. It would be much easier for the boy if he were told hisposition and his future career at once--nay, if he had known it fromthe first. "

But Helen would not hear of this. She was obstinate, all but fierce, onthe subject. No argument would convince her that it was not safer forher son, who had been brought up in such Arcadian simplicity, tocontinue believing himself what he appeared to be, than to be dazzled bythe knowledge that he was the chosen heir of the Earl of Cairnforth. 

So, somewhat against his judgment, the earl yielded. 

All winter and spring things went on peacefully in the little peninsula, which was now being grasped tightly by the strong arm of encroachingcivilization. Acre after acre of moorland disappeared, and becamehouses, gardens, green-houses, the feu-rents of which made the estate ofCairnforth more valuable every year. 

"That young man of yours will have enough on his hands one day, " theearl said to Helen. "He lives an easy life now, and little thinks whathard work he is coming to. As Mr. Menteith once told me, the owner ofCairnforth has no sinecure, nor will have for the next quarter of acentury. "

"You expect a busy life, then?"

"Yes; and I must have that boy to help me--till he comes to his own. But, Helen, after that time, you must not let him be idle. The richestman should work, if he can. I wonder what line of work Cardross willtake; whether he will attempt politics--his letters are verypolitical just now, do you notice?"

"Very. And there is not half enough about himself. "

"He might get into Parliament, " continued the earl, "and perhaps someday win a peerage in his own right. Eh, Helen? Would you like to bemother to a viscount--Viscount Cairnforth?"

"No, " said Helen, tenderly, "there shall never be another LordCairnforth. "

Thus sat these two, planning by the hour together the future of the boywho was their one delight. It amused them through all the winter andspring, till Cairnforth woods grew green again, and Loch Beg recoveredits smile of sunshiny peace, and the hills at the head of it took theirsummer colors, lovely and calm, even as, year after year, these friendshad watched them throughout their two lives, of which both were nowkeenly beginning to feel the greater part lay, not before them, butbehind. But in thinking of this boy they felt young again, as if hebrought to one the hope, to the other the faint recollection ofhappiness that in the great mystery of Providence to each had beenpersonally denied. 

And yet they were not unhappy. Helen was not. No one could look intoher face--strongly marked, but rosy-complexioned, health, and comely--the sort of large comeliness which belongs to her peculiar type ofScotch women, especially in their middle age--without seeing thatlife was to her not only duty, but enjoyment--ay, in spite of thewidow's cap, which marked her out as one who permanently belonged andmeant to belong only to her son. 

And the earl, though he was getting to look old--older than Helen did--for his black curls were turning gray, and the worn and witheredfeatures, contrasting with the small childish figure, gave him a weirdsort of aspect that struck almost painfully at first upon strangers, still Lord Cairnforth preserved the exceeding sweetness and peacefulnessof expression which had made his face so beautiful as a boy, and sowinning as a young man. 

"He'll ne'er be an auld man, " sometimes said the folk about Cairnforth, shaking their heads as they looked after him, and speculating for howmany years the feeble body would hold out. Also, perhaps--forself-interest is bound up in the heart of every human being--feelinga little anxiety as to who should come after him, to be lord and rulerover them; perhaps to be less loved, less honored--more so none couldpossibly be. 

It was comfort to those who loved him then, and far more comfortafterward to believe--nay, to know for certain--that many a man, absorbed in the restless struggle of this busy world, prosperouscitizen, husband and father, had, on the whole, led a far less happylife than the Earl of Cairnforth. 

Chapter 16

One mild, sunny autumn day, when Cardross, having ended his firstsession at college, had spent apparently with extreme enjoyment hisfirst vacation at home, and had just gone back again to Edinburg tocommence his second "year, " the Earl of Cairnforth drove down to theManse, as he now did almost daily, for the minister was growing toofeeble to come to the Castle very often. 

His old pupil found him sitting in the garden, sunning himself in asheltered nook, backed by a goodly show of China roses and fuchsias, and companioned by two or three volumes of Greek plays, in which, however, he did not read much. He looked up with pleasure at the soundof the wheeled chair along the gravel walk. 

"I'm glad you are come, " said he. "I'm sorely needing somebody, for Ihave scarcely seen Helen all the morning. There she is! My lassie, where have you been these three hours?"

Helen put off his question in some gentle manner, and took her placebeside her charge, or rather between her two charges, each helpless intheir way, though the one most helpless once was least so now. 

"Helen, something is wrong with you this morning?" said the earl, when, Mr. Cardross having gone away for his little daily walk up and downbetween the garden and the kirk-yard, they two sat by themselves for awhile. 

Mrs. Bruce made no answer. 

"Nothing can be amiss with your boy, for I had a letter from him onlyyesterday. "

"I had one this morning. "

"And what does he say to you? To me little enough, merely complaininghow dull he finds Edinburg now, and wishing he were back again among usall. "

"I do not wonder, " said Helen, in a hard tone, and with that hardexpression which sometimes came over her face: the earl knew it well. 

"Helen, I am certain something is very wrong with you. Why do you nottell it out to me?"

"Hush! Here comes my father!"

And she hurried to him, gave him her arm, and helped his feeble stepsback into the house, where for some time they three remained talkingtogether about the little chit-chat of the parish, and the news of thefamily, in its various ramifications, now extending year by year. Aboveall, the minister like to hear and to talk about his eldest and favoritegrandchild--his name-child, too--Alexander Cardross Bruce. 

But on this subject, usually the never-ceasing topic at the Manse, Helenwas for once profoundly silent. Even when her father had droppedasleep, as in his feebleness of age he frequently did in the very midstof conversation, she sat restlessly fingering her wedding-ring, andanother which she wore as a sort of guard to it, the only jewel shepossessed. It was a very large diamond, set in a plain hoop of gold. The earl had given it to her a few months after she came back toCairnforth, when her persistent refusal of all his offered kindnesseshad almost produced a breach between them--at least the nearestapproach to a quarrel they had ever known. She, seeing how deeply shehad wounded him, had accepted this ring as a pledge of amity, and hadworn it ever since--by his earnest request--until it had become asfamiliar to her finger as the one beside it. But now she kept lookingat it, and taking it off and on with a troubled air. 

"I am going to ask you a strange question, Lord Cairnforth--a rudeone, if you and I were not such old friends that we do not mind anything we say to one another. "

"Say on. "

"Is this ring of mine very valuable?"

"Rather so. "

"Worth how much?"

"You certainly are rude, Helen, " replied the earl, with a smile. "Well, if you particularly wish to know, I believe it is worth two hundredpounds. "

"Two hundred pounds!"

"Was that so alarming? How many times must I suggest that a man may dowhat he likes with his own? It was mine--that is, my mother's, and Igave it to you. I hope you are worth to me at least two hundredpounds. "

But no cheerfulness removed the settled cloud from Mrs. Bruce's face. 

"Now--answer me--you know, Helen, you always answer me candidlyand truly, what makes you put that question about the ring?"

"Because I wished to sell it. "

"Sell it! why?"

"I want money; in fact, I must have money--a good large sum, " saidHelen, in exceeding agitation. "And as I will neither beg, borrow, notsteal, I must sell something to procure that sum, and this diamond isthe only thing I have to sell. Now you comprehend?"

"I think I do, " was the grave answer. "My poor Helen!"

She might have held out, but the tenderness of his tone overcame her. She turned her head away. 

"Oh, it's bitter, bitter! After all these years!"

"What is bitter? But you need not tell me. I think I can guess. Youdid not show me your boy's letter of this morning. "

"There it is!"

And the poor mother, with her tears fast flowing--they had beenrestrained so long that now they burst out like a tide--gave way tothat heart-break which many a mother has had to endure--the discoverythat her son was not the perfect being she had thought him; that he wasno better than other women's sons, and equally liable to fall away. Poor Cardross had been doing all sorts of wrong and foolish things, which he had kept to himself as long as he could, as long as he dared, and then had come, in an agony of penitence, and poured out the wholestory of his errors and his miseries into his mother's bosom. 

They were, happily, only errors, not sins--extravagancies in dress;amusements and dissipations, resulting in serious expenses; but theyoung fellow had done nothing absolutely wicked. In the strongestmanner, and with the most convincing evidence to back it, he protestedthis and promised to amend his ways, to "turn over a new leaf, " if onlyhis mother would forgive him, and find means to pay the heap of billswhich he enclosed, and which amounted to much more than would be coveredby his yearly allowance from the earl. 

"Poor lad!" said Lord Cairnforth, as he read the letter twice over, andthen carefully examined the list of debts it enclosed. "A commonstory. "

"I know that, " cried Helen, passionately. "But oh! That it should havehappened to my son!"

And she bowed her face upon her hands, and swayed herself to and fro inthe bitterest grief and humiliation. 

The earl regarded her a little while, and then said, gently, "My friend, are you not making for yourself a heavy burden out of a very lightmatter?"

"A light matter? But you do not see--you can not understand. "

"I think I can. "

"It is not so much the thing itself--the fact of my son's being somean, so dishonest as to run into debt, when he knows I hate it--thatI have cause to hate it, and to shrink from it as I would from--Butthis is idle talking. I see you smile. You do not know all the--thedreadful past. "

"My dear, I do know--every thing you could tell me--and more. "

"Then can not you see what I dread? The first false step--the fatalbeginning, of which no one can foresee the end? I must prevent it. Imust snatch my poor boy like a brand from the burning. I shall go toEdinburg myself to-morrow. I would start this very day if could leavemy father. "

"You can not possibly leave your father, " said the ear, gently butdecisively. "Sit down, Helen. You must keep quiet. "

For she was in a state of excitement such as, since her widowed days, had never been betrayed by Helen Bruce. 

"These debts must be paid, and immediately. The bare thought of themnearly drives me wild. But you shall not pay--do not think it, " sheadded, almost fiercely. "See what my son himself says--and thank Godhe had the grace to say it--that I am on no account to go to you;that he 'will turn writer's clerk, or tutor, or any thing, rather thanencroach farther on Lord Cairnforth's generosity. '. "

"Poor boy! poor boy!"

"Then you don't think him altogether a bad boy?" appealed Mrs. Bruce, pitifully. "You do not fear that I may live to weep over the day whenmy son was born?"

The earl smiled, and that quiet, half-amused smile, coming upon her inher excited state, seemed to soothe the mother more than any reasoningcould have done. 

"No, Helen, I do not think any such thing. I think the lad has beenvery foolish, and we may have been the same. We kept him inleading-strings too long, and trusted him out of them too suddenly. Butas to his being altogether bad--Helen Cardross's son, and theminister's grandson--nonsense, my dear. "

Mr. Cardross might have heard himself named, for he stirred in hispeaceful slumbers, and Helen hastily took her letter from LordCairnforth's hand. "

"Not a word to him. He is too old. No trouble must ever come near himany more. "

"No, Helen. But remember your promise to do nothing till you havetalked with me. It is my right, you know. The boy is my boy too. Whenwill you come up to the Castle?" To-morrow? Nay, to-night, if youlike. "

"I will come to-night. "

So, at dusk, in the midst of a wild storm, such as in these regionssometimes, nay, almost always succeeds very calm, mild autumn days, Helen appeared at the Castle, and went at once into the library wherethe earl usually sat. Strange contrast it was between the spaciousapartment, with its lofty octagon walls laden with treasures oflearning; book-shelves, tier upon tier, reaching to the very roof, whichwas painted in fresco; every ornamentation of the room being also madeas perfect as its owner's fine taste and lavish means could accomplish, and this owner, this master of it all, a diminutive figure, sitting allalone by the vacant fireside--before him a little table, a lamp, anda book. But he was not reading; he was sitting thinking, as he oftendid now; he said he had read so much in his time that he was ratherweary of it, and preferred thinking. Of what? the life he had passedthrough--still, uneventful, and yet a full and not empty human life?Or it might be, oftener still, upon the life to come?

Lord Cairnforth refused to let his visitor say one word, or even sitdown, till he had placed her in Mrs. Campbell's charge, to be dried andreclothed, for she was dripping wet with rain--such rain as comenowhere but at Loch Beg. By-and-by she reappeared in the library, moving through its heavy shadows, and looking herself again--thecalm, dignified woman, "my cousin, Mrs. Bruce, " who sometimes appearedamong Lord Cairnforth's guests, and whom, though she was too retiring toattract much notice, every body who did notice was sure to approve. 

She took her accustomed place by the earl's side, and plunged at once, in Helen's own way, into the business which had brought her hither. 

"I am not come to beg or to borrow, do not think it--only to askadvice. Tell me, what am I to say to my boy?"

And again, the instant she mentioned her son's name, she gave way totears. Yet all the while her friend saw that she was very hard, andbent upon being hard; that, had Cardross appeared before her at thatminute, she would immediately have frozen up again into the stern motherwhose confidence had been betrayed, whose principles infringed, and who, though loving her son with all the strength of her heart, could alsopunish him with all the power of her conscience, even though her heartwas breaking with sorrow the while. 

"I will give you the best advice I can. But, first, let me have hisletter again. "

Lord Cairnforth read it slowly over, Mrs. Bruce's eager eyes watchinghim, and then suffered her to take it from his helpless hands, and foldit up, tenderly, as mothers do. 

"What do you think of it?"

"Exactly what I did this morning--that your boy has been veryfoolish, but not wicked. There is no attempt at deception oruntruthfulness. 

"No, thank God! Whatever else he is, my son is not a liar. I haveprevented or conquered that. "

"Yes, because you brought him up, as your father brought us up, to beafraid of nothing, to speak out our minds to him without fear ofoffending him, to stand in no dread of rousing his anger, but only ofgrieving his love. And so, you see, Helen, it is the same with yourboy. He never attempts to deceive you. He tells out, point-blank, themost foolish things he has done--the most ridiculous expenses he hasrun into. He may be extravagant, but he is not untruthful. I have nodoubt, if I sent this list to his trades-people, they would verify everyhalfpenny, and that this really is the end of the list. Not such a longlist neither, if you consider. Below two hundred pounds for which youwere going to sell my ring. "

"Were going! I shall do it still. "

"If you will; though it seems a pity to part with a gift of mine, whenthe sum is a mere nothing to me, with my large income, which, Helen, will one day be all yours. "

Helen was silent--a little sorry and ashamed. The earl talked withher till he had succeeded in calming her and bringing her into hernatural self again--able to see things in their right proportions, and take just views of all. 

"Then you will trust me?" she said at last. "You think I may be dependedupon to do nothing rashly when I go to Edinburg to-morrow?"

"My dear, I have no intention of letting you go. "

"But some one must go. Something must be done, and I can not trustAlick to do it. My brother does not understand my boy, " said she, returning to her restless, helpless manner. She, the helpful Helen, only weak in this one point--her only son. 

"Something has been done. I have already sent for Cardross. He willbe at the Castle to-morrow. "

Helen started. 

"At the Castle, I said, not the Manse. No, Helen, you shall not becompromised; you may be as severe as you like with your son. But he ismy son too"--and a faint shade of color passed over the earl'swithered cheeks--"my adopted son, and it is time that he should knowit. "

"Do you mean to tell him--"

"I mean to tell him all my intentions concerning him. "

"What! now?"

"Yes, now. It is the safest and most direct course, both for him, foryou, and for me. I have been thinking over the matter all day, and cancome to no other conclusion. Even for myself--if I may speak ofmyself--it is best. I do not wish to encroach upon his mother'srights--it is not likely I should, " added the earl, with a somewhatsad smile; "still, it is hard that during the years, few or many, that Ihave to live, I, a childless man, should not enjoy a little of thecomfort of a son. "

Helen sat silent with averted face. It was all quite true, and yet--

"I will tell you, to make all clear, the position I wish Cardross tohold with regard to me--shall I?"

Mrs. Bruce assented. 

"Into his mother's place he can never step; I do not desire it. Youmust still be, as you have always been, and I shall now publicly giveout the fact, my immediate successor; and, except for a statedallowance, to be doubled when he marries, which I hope he will, andearly, Cardross must still be dependent upon his mother during herlifetime. Afterward he inherits all. But there is one thing, " hecontinued, seeing that Helen did not speak, "I should like: it wouldmake me happy if, on his coming of age, he would change his name, or addmine to it--be Alexander Cardross Bruce Montgomerie, or simplyAlexander Cardross Montgomerie. Which do you prefer?"

Helen meditated long. Many a change came and went over the widow's face--widowed long enough for time to have softened down all things, andmade her remember only the young days--the days of a girl's firstlove. It might have been so, for she said at last, almost with a gasp, "I wish my son to be Bruce-Montgomerie. "

"Be it so. "

After that Lord Cairnforth was long silent. 

Helen resumed the conversation by asking if he did not think itdangerous, almost wrong, to tell the boy of this brilliant futureimmediately after his errors?

"No, not after errors confessed and forsaken. Remember, it was oververy rags that the prodigal's father put upon him the purple robe. Butour boy is not a prodigal, Helen. I know him well, and I have faith inhim, and faith in human nature--especially Cardross nature. " And theearl smiled. "Far deeper than any harshness will smite him theconsciousness of being forgiven and trusted--of being expected tocarry out in his future life all that was a-missing in two notparticularly happy lives, his mother's--and mine. "

Helen Bruce resisted no more. She could not. She was a wise woman--a generous and loving-hearted woman; still, in that self-contained, solitary existence, which had been spent close beside her, yet into themystery of which she had never penetrated, and never would penetrate, there was a nearness to heaven and heavenly things, and clearness ofvision about earthly things which went far beyond her own. She couldnot quite comprehend it--she would never have thought of it herself--but she dimly felt that the earl's judgment was correct, and that, strange as his conduct might appear, he was acting after that largesense of rightness which implies righteousness; a course of action whichthe world so often ridicules and misconstrues, because the point of viewis taken from an altitude not of this world, and the objects regardedthere-from are things not visible, but invisible. 

Cardross appeared next day--not at home, but at the Castle, and wascloseted there for several hours with the earl before he ever saw hismother. When he did--and it was he who came to her, for she refusedto take one step to go to him--he flung himself on his knees beforeher and sobbed in her lap--the great fellow of six feet high andtwenty years old--sobbed and prayed for forgiveness with the humilityof a child. 

"Oh, mother, mother--and he has forgiven me too! To think what hehas done for me--what he is about to do--me, who have had nofather, or worse than none. Do you know, sometimes people in Edinburgh--the Menteiths, and so on--have taunted me cruelly about myfather?"

"And what do you answer?" asked Helen, in a slow, cold voice. 

"That he was my father, and that he was dead; and I bade them speak nomore about him. "

"That was right, my son. "

Then they were silent till Cardross burst out again. 

"It is wonderful--wonderful! I can hardly believe it yet--that weshould never be poor nay more--you, mother, who have gone through somuch, and I, who thought I should have to work hard all my days for bothof us. And I will work!" cried the boy, as he tossed back his curlsand lifted up to his mother a face that in brightness and energy was thevery copy of her own, or what hers used to be. "I'll show you, and theearl too, how hard I can work--as hard as if for daily bread. I'lldo every thing he wishes me--I'll be his right hand, as he says. Iwill make a name for myself and him too--mother, you know I am tobear his name?"

"Yes, my boy. "

"And I am glad to bear it. I told him so. He shall be proud of me yet, and you too. Oh, mother, mother, I will never vex you again. "

And once more his voice broke into sobs, and Helen's too, as she claspedhim close, and felt that whatever God had taken away from her, He hadgiven her as much--and more. 

Mother and son--widowed mother and only son--there is something inthe tie unlike all others in the world--not merely in itsblessedness, but in its divine compensations. 

Helen waited till her father had retired, which he often did quiteearly, for the days were growing too long for him, with whom every oneof them was numbered; and he listened to the wonderful news which hisgrandson told him with the even smile of old age, which nothing noweither grieves or surprises. 

"You'll not be going to live at the Castle, though, not while I amalive, Helen?" was his first uneasy thought. But his daughter soonquieted it, and saw him to his bed, as she did every evening, biddinghim good-night, and kissing his placid brow--placid as a child's--just as if he had been her child instead of her father. Then she tookher son's arm--such a stalwart arm now, and walked with him throughthe bright moonlight, clear as day, to Cairnforth Castle. 

When they entered the library they found the earl sitting in his usualplace, and engaged in his usual evening occupation, which he sometimescalled "the hard labor of doing nothing;" for, though he was busy enoughin the daytime with a young man he had as secretary--his faithful oldfriend, Mr. Mearns, having lately died--still, he generally spent hisevenings alone. Malcolm lurked within call, in case he wanted anything; but he rarely did. Often he would pass hours at a time sittingas now, with his feeble hands folded on his lap, his head bent, and hiseyes closed, or else open and looking out straight before him--calmly, but with an infinite yearning in them that would have seemedpainful to those who did not know how peaceful his inmost nature was. 

But at the first sound of his visitors' footsteps he turned round--that is, he turned his little chair round--and welcomed them heartilyand brightly. 

A little ordinary talk ensued, in which Cardross scarcely joined. Theyoung man was not himself at all--silent, abstracted; and there wasan expression in his face which almost frightened his mother, so solemnwas it, yet withal so exceedingly sweet. 

The earl had been right in his conclusions; he, with his keen insightinto character, had judged Cardross better than the boy's own motherwould have done. Those brilliant prospects, that total change in hisexpected future, which might have dazzled a lower nature and sent it allastray, made this boy--Helen's boy, with Helen's nature strong inhim, only the more sensible of his deficiencies as well as hisresponsibilities--humble, self-distrustful, and full of doubts andfears. Ten years seemed to have passed over his head since morning, changing him from a boy into a sedate, thoughtful man. 

Lord Cairnforth noticed this, as he noticed every thing; and at last, seeing the young heart was too full almost to bear much talking, he saidkindly, "Cardross, give your mother that arm-chair; she looks very wearied. Andthe, would you mind having a consultation with Malcolm about thosesalmon-weirs at the head of the Loch Mohr? I know his is longing toopen his heart to you on the subject. Go, my boy, and don't hurry back. I want to have a good long talk with your mother. "

Cardross obeyed. The two friends looked after him as he walked down theroom with his light, active step, and graceful, gentlemanly figure--ayouth who seemed born to be heir to all the splendors around him. Helenclasped her hands tightly together on her lap, and her lips moved. Shedid not speak, but the earl almost seemed to hear the great outcry ofthe mother's heart going up to God--"Give any thing thou wilt to me, only give him all!" Alas! That such a cry should ever fall back toearth in the other pitiful moan, "Would God that I had died for thee, OAbaslom, my son--my son!"

But it was not to be so with Helen Bruce. Her son was no Absalom. Herdays of sorrow were ended. 

Laird Cairnforth saw how violently affected she was, and began to talkto her in a commonplace and practical manner about all that he andCardross had been arranging that morning. 

"And I must say that, though he will never shine at college, andprobably his grandfather would mourn over him as having no learning, there is an amount of solid sense about the fellow with which I am quitedelighted. He is companionable too--knows how to make use of hisacquirements. Whatever light he possesses, he will never hide it undera bushel, which is, perhaps, the best qualification for the positionthat he will one day hold. I have no fear about Cardross. He will bean heir after my own heart--will accomplish all I wished, andpossibly a little more. "

Mrs. Bruce answered only by tears. 

"But there is one thing which he and I have settled between us, subjectto your approval, of course. He must go back to college immediately. "

"To Edinburg?"

"Do not look so alarmed, Helen. No, not Edinburg. It is best to breakoff all associations there--he wishes it himself. He would like togo to a new University--St. Andrew's. "

"But he knows nobody there. He would be quite alone. For I can not--do you not see I can not?--leave my father. Oh, it is like beingpulled in two, " cried Mrs. Bruce, in great distress. 

"Be patient, Helen, and hear. We have arranged it all, the boy and I. Next week we are both bound for St. Andrew's. "

"You?"

"You think I shall be useless? That it is a man, and not such acreature as I, who ought to take charge of your boy?"

The earl spoke with that deep bitterness which sometimes, though very, very rarely, he betrayed, till he saw what exceeding pain he had given. 

"Forgive me, Helen; I know you did not mean that; but it was what Imyself often thought until this morning. Now I see that after all I--even I--may be the very best person to go with the boy, because, while keeping a safe watch over him, and a cheerful house always open tohim, I shall also give him somebody to take care of. I shall be as muchcharge to him almost as a woman, and it will be good for him. Do younot perceive this?"

Helen did, clearly enough. 

"Besides, " continued the earl, "I might, perhaps, like to see the worldmyself--just once again. At any rate, I shall like to see it throughthis young man's eyes. He has not told you of our plan yet?"

"Not a word. "

"That is well. I like to see he can keep faith. I made him promisenot, because I wanted to tell you myself, Helen--I wanted to see howyou would take the plan. Will you let us go? That is, the boy must go, and--you will do without me for a year?"

"A whole year! Can not Cardross come home once--just once?"

"Yes, I will manage it so; he shall come, even if I can not, " repliedthe earl, and then was silent. 

"And you, " said Mrs. Bruce, suddenly, after a long meditation upon herson and his future, "you leave, for a year, your home, your pleasantlife here; you change all your pursuits and plans, and give yourself noend of trouble, just to go and watch over my boy, and keep his mother'sheart from aching! How can I ever thank you--ever reward you?"

No, she never could. 

"It is an ugly word, 'reward;' I don't like it. And, Helen, I thoughtthanks were long since set aside as unnecessary between you and me. "

"And you will be absent a whole year?"

"Probably, or a little more; for the boy ought to keep two sessions atleast; and locomotion is not so easy to me as it is to Cardross. Yes, my dear, you will have to part with me--I mean I shall have to partwith you--for a year. It is a long time in our short lives. I wouldnot do it--give myself the pain of it--for any thing in this worldexcept to make Helen happy. "

"Thank you; I know that. "

But Helen, full of her son and his prospects--her youth renewed inhis youth, her life absorbed in his, seeming to stretch out to a futurewhere there was no ending, knew not half of what she thanked him for. 

She yielded to all the earl's plans; and after so many years ofresistance, bowed her independent spirit to accept his bounty withhumility of gratitude that was almost painful to both, until a few wordsof his led her to, and left her in the belief that he was doing what wasagreeable to himself--that he really did enjoy the idea of a longsojourn at St. Andrew's; and, mother-like, when she was satisfied onthis head, she began almost to envy him the blessing of her boy'sconstant society. 

So she agreed to all his plans cheerfully, contentedly, as indeed shehad good reason to be contented; thankfully accepted every thing, andnever for a moment suspected that she was accepting a sacrifice. 

Chapter 17

During a whole year the Earl of Cairnforth and Mr. Bruce-Montgomery--for, as soon as possible, Cardross legally assumed the name--residedat that fairest of ancient cities and pleasantest of ScotchUniversities, St. Andrew's. 

A few of the older inhabitants may still remember the house the earloccupied there, the society with which he filled it, and the generalmode of life carried on by himself and his adopted son. Some may recall--for indeed it was not easy to forget--the impression made in thegood old town by the two new-comers when they first appeared in thequiet streets, along the Links and on the West Sands--every wherethat the little carriage could be drawn. A strange contrast they were--the small figure in the pony-chair, and the tall young man walkingbeside it in all the vigor, grace, and activity of his blooming youth. Two companions pathetically unlike, and yet always seen together, andevidently associating with one another from pure love. 

They lived for some time in considerable seclusion, for the earl's rankand wealth at first acted as a bar to much seeking of his acquaintanceamong the proud and poor University professors and old-fashionedinhabitants of the city; and Cardross, being the senior of most of thecollege lads, did not cultivate them much. By degrees, however, hebecame well known--not as a hard student--that was not his line--he never took any high college honors; but he was the best golfer, the most dashing rider, the boldest swimmer--he saved more than onelife on that dangerous shore; and, before the session was half over, hewas the most popular youth in the whole University. But he would leaveevery thing, or give up every thing--both his studies and hispleasures--to sit, patient as a girl, beside the earl's chair, or tofollow it--often guiding it himself--up and down St. Andrews'streets; never heeding who looked at him, or what comments were made--as they were sure to be made--upon him, until what was at first sostrange and touching a sight grew at last familiar to the whole town. 

Of course, very soon all the circumstances of the case came out, probably with many imaginary additions, though the latter never reachedthe ears of the two concerned. Still, the tale was romantic andpathetic enough to make the earl and his young heir objects of markedinterest, and welcome guests in the friendly hospitalities of the place, which hospitalities were gladly requited, for Lord Cairnforth stillkeenly enjoyed society, and Cardross was at an age when all pleasure isattractive. 

People said sometimes, What a lucky fellow was Mr. Bruce-Montgomerie!But they also said--as no one could help seeing and saying--thatvery few fathers were blessed with a son half so attentive and devotedas this young man was to the Earl of Cairnforth. 

And meantime Helen Bruce lived quietly at the Manse, devoting herself tothe care of her father, who still lingered on, feeble in body, thoughretaining most of his faculties, as though death were unwilling to end alife which had so much of peace and enjoyment of it to the very last. When the session was over, Cardross went home to see his mother andgrandfather, and on his return Lord Cairnforth listened eagerly to allthe accounts of Cairnforth, and especially of all that Mrs. Bruce wasdoing there; she, as the person most closely acquainted with the earl'saffairs, having been constituted regent in his absence. 

"She's a wonderful woman--my mother, " said Cardross, with greatadmiration. "She has the sense of a man, and the tact of a woman. Sheis doing every thing about the estate almost as cleverly as you would doit yourself. "

"Is she? It is good practice for her, " said the earl. "She will needit soon. "

Cardross looked at him. He had never till then noticed, what otherpeople began to notice, how exceedingly old the earl now looked, hissmall, delicate features withering up almost like those of an elderlyman, though he was not much past forty. 

"You don't, mean--oh no, not that! You must not be thinking of that. My mother's rule at Cairnforth is a long way off yet. " And--bigfellow as he was--the lad's eyes filled with tears. 

After that day he refused all holiday excursions in which LordCairnforth could not accompany him. It was only by great persuasionthat he agreed to go for a week to Edinburg, to revisit his old hauntsthere, to look on the ugly fields where he had sown his wild oats, andprove to even respectable and incredulous Uncle Alick that there was nofear of their ever sprouting up again. Also, Lord Cairnforth took theopportunity to introduce his cousin into his own set of Edinburgfriends, to familiarize the young man with the society in which he mustshortly take his place, and to hear from them, what he so warmlybelieved himself, that Cardross was fitted to be heir to any property inall Scotland. 

"What a pity, " some added, "that he could not be heir to the earldomalso!" "No, " said others, "better that 'the wee earl' (as old-fashionedfolk still sometimes called him) should be the last Earl of Cairnforth. "

With the exception of those two visits, during a whole twelvemonth theearl and his adopted son were scarcely parted for a single day. Yearsafterward, Cardross loved to relate, first to his mother, and then tohis children, sometimes with laughter, and again with scarcely repressedtears, may an anecdote of the life they two led together at St. Andrew's--a real student life, yet filled at times with the gayest amusements. For the earl loved gayety--actual mirth; sometimes he and Cardrosswere as full of jests and pranks as two children, and at other timesthey held long conversations upon all manner of grave and earnesttopics, like equal friends. It was the sort of companionship, free andtender, cheerful and bright, yet with all the influence of the elderover the younger, which, occurring to a young man of Cardross's age andtemperament, usually determines his character for life. 

Thus, day by day, Helen's son developed and matured, becoming more andmore a thorough Cardross, sound to the core, and yet polished outside ina manner which had not been the lot of any of the earlier generation, save the minister. Also, he had a certain winning way with him--apower of suiting himself to every body, and pleasing every body--which even his mother, who only pleased those she loved or those thatloved her, had never possessed. 

"It's his father's way he has, ye ken, " Malcolm would say--Malcolm, who, after a season of passing jealousy, had for years succumbed whollyto his admiration of "Miss Helen's bairn. " "But it's the only bit o'the Bruces that the lad's gotten in him, thank the Lord!"

Though the earl did not say openly "thank the Lord, " still he, too, recognized with a solemn joy that the qualities he and Helen dreaded hadeither not been inherited by Captain Bruce's son, or else timely carehad rooted them out. And as he gradually relaxed his watch over theyoung man, and left him more and more to his own guidance, LordCairnforth, sitting alone in his house at St. Andrew's--almost asmuch alone as he used to sit in the Castle library--would think, witha strange consolation, that this year's heavy sacrifice had not been invain. 

Once Cardross, coming in from a long golfing match, broke upon one ofthese meditative fits, and was a little surprised to find that the earldid not rouse himself out of it quite so readily as was his wont; alsothat the endless college stories, which he always liked so much tolisten to, fell rather blank, and did not meet Lord Cairnforth's heartylaugh, as gay as that of a young fellow could share and sympathize inthem all. 

"You are not well to-day, " suddenly said the lad. "What have you beendoing?"

"My usual work--nothing. "

"But you have been thinking. What about?" cried Cardross, with theaffectionate persistency of one who knew himself a favorite, and lookingup in the earl's face with his bright, fond eyes--Helen's very eyes. 

"I was thinking of your mother, my boy. You know it is a whole yearsince I have seen your mother. "

"So she said in her last letter, and wondered when you intended cominghome, because she misses you more and more every day. "

"You, she means, Carr. "

"No, yourself. I know my mother wishes you would come home. "

"Does she? And so do I. But I should have to leave you alone, my boy;for if once I make the effort, and return to Cairnforth, I know I shallnever quit it more. "

He spoke earnestly--more so than the occasion seemed to need, andthere was a weary look in his eyes which struck his companion. 

"Are you afraid to leave me alone, Lord Cairnforth?" asked Cardross, sadly. 

"No. " And again, as if he had not answered strongly enough, herepeated, "My dear boy, no!"

"Thank you. You never said it, but I knew. You came here for my sake, to take charge of me. You made me happy--you never blamed me--youneither watched me or domineered over me--still, I knew. Oh, howgood you have been!"

Lord Cairnforth did not speak for some time, and then he said, gravely, "However things were at first, you must feel, my boy, that I trust younow entirely, and that you and I are thorough friends--equalfriends. "

"Not equal. On, never in my whole life shall I be half so good as you!But I'll try hard to be as good as I can. And I shall be always besideyou. Remember your promise. "

This was, that after he came of age, and ended his university career, instead of taking "the grand tour, " like most young heirs of the period, Cardross should settle down at home, in the character of of LordCairnforth's private secretary--always at hand, and ready in everypossible way to lighten the burden of business which, even as a youngman, the earl had found heavy enough, and as an old man he would beunable to bear. 

"I shall never be clever, I know that, " pleaded the lad, who waslearning a touching humility, "but I may be useful; and oh! if you wouldbut use me, in any thing or every thing, I'd work day and night for you--I would indeed!"

"I know you would, my son" (earl sometimes called him "my son" when theywere by themselves), "and so you shall. "

That evening Lord Cairnforth dictated to Helen, by her boy's hand, oneof his rare letters, telling her that he and Cardross would return homein time for the latter's birthday, which would be in a month from now, and which he wished kept with all the honors customary to the coming ofage of an heir of Cairnforth. 

"Heir of Cairnforth!" The lad started, and stopped writing. 

"It must be so, my son; I wish it. After your mother, you are my heir, and I shall honor you as such; afterward you will return here alone, andstay till the session is over; then come back, and live with me at theCastle, and fit yourself in every way to become--what I can now whollytrust you to be--the future master of Cairnforth. "

And so, as soon as the earl's letter reached the peninsula, therejoicings began. The tenantry knew well enough who the earl had fixedupon to come after him, but his was his first public acknowledgment ofthe fact. Helen's position, as heiress presumptive, was regarded asmerely nominal; it was her son, the fine young fellow whom every bodyknew from his babyhood, toward whom the loyalty of the little communityblazed up in a height of feudal devotion that was touching to see. Thewarm Scotch heart--all the warmer, perhaps, for a certain narrownessand clannishness, which in its pride would probably, nay, certainly, have shut itself up against a stranger or an inferior--opened freelyto "Miss Helen's" son and the minister's grandson, a young man known toall and approved of by all. 

So the festivity was planned to be just the earl's coming of age overagain, with the difference between June and December, which removed thefeasting-place from the lawn to the great kitchen of the Castle, andcaused bonfires on the hill-tops to be a very doubtful mode ofjubilation. The old folk--young then--who remembered the brightsummer festival of twenty-four years ago told many a tale of that day, and how the "puir wee earl" came forward in his little chair and madehis brief speech, every word and every promise of which his after lifehad so faithfully fulfilled. 

"The heir's a wise-like lad, and a braw lad, " said the old folks of theclachan, patronizingly. "He's no that ill the noo, and he'll aiblinsgrow the better, ye ken; but naibody that comes after will be like him. We'll ne'er see anither Earl o' Cairnforth. "

The same words which Mr. Menteith and the rest had said when the earlwas born, but with what a different meaning!

Lord Cairnforth came back among his own people amid a transport ofwelcome. Though he had been long away, Mrs. Bruce and other assistantshad carried out his plans and orders so successfully that the estate hadnot suffered for his absence. In the whole extent of it was now littleor no poverty; none like that which, in his youth, had startled LordCairnforth into activity upon hearing the story of the old shepherd ofLoch Mhor. There was plenty of work, and hands to do it, along theshores of both lochs; new farms had sprung up, and new roads been made;churches and schools were built as occasion required; and though thesheep had been driven a little higher up the mountains, and the deer andgrouse fled farther back into the inland moors, still Cairnforth villagewas a lovely spot, inhabited by a contented community. Civilizationcould bring to it no evils that were not counteracted by two stronginfluences--(stronger than any one can conceive who does notunderstand the peculiarities almost feudal in their simplicity, ofcountry parish life in Scotland)--a minister like Mr. Cardross, and aresident proprietor like the Earl of Cairnforth. 

The earl arrived a few days before the festival day, and spent the timein going over his whole property from one end to the other. He tookMrs. Bruce with him. "I can't want you for a day now, Helen, " said he, and made her sit beside him in his carriage, which, by dint of variousmodern appliances, he could now travel in far easier than he used to do, or else asked her to drive him in the old familiar pony-chaise along theold familiar hill-side roads, whence you look down on ether loch--sometimes on both--lying like a sheet of silver below. 

Man a drive they took every day, the weather being still and clam, as itoften is at Cairnforth, by fits and snatches, all winter through. 

"I think there never was such a place as this place, " the earl wouldoften say, when he stopped at particular points of view, and gazed hisfill on every well-known outline of the hills and curve of the lochs, generally ending with a smiling look on the face beside him, equallyfamiliar, which had watched all these things with him for more thanthirty years. "Helen, I have had a happy life, or it seems so, lookingback upon it. Remember, I said this, and let no one ever say thecontrary. "

And in all the houses they visited--farm, cottage, or bothie--every body noticed how exceedingly happy the earl looked, how cheerfullyhe spoke, and how full of interest he was in every thing around him. 

"His lordship may live to be an auld man yet, " said some one to Malcolm, and Malcolm indignantly repudiated the possibility of any thing else. 

The minister was left a little lonely during this week of LordCairnforth's coming home, but he did not seem to feel it. He feltnothing very much now except pleasure in the sunshine and the fire, inlooking at the outside of his books, now rarely opened, and in watchingthe bright faces around him. He was made to understand what a grandfestival was to be held at Cairnforth, and the earl took especial painsto arrange that the feeble octogenarian should be brought to the Castlewithout fatigue, and enabled to appear both at the tenants' feast in thekitchen, and the more formal banquet of friends and neighbors in thehall--the grand old dining-room--which was arranged exactly as ithad been on the earl's coming of age. 

However, there was a difference. Then the board was almost empty, nowit was quite full. With a carefulness that at the time Helen almostwondered at, the earl collected about him that day the most brilliantgathering he could invite from all the country round--people offamily, rank, and wealth--above all, people of worth; who, either byinherited position, or that high character which is the best possessionof all, could confer honor by their presence, and who, since "a man isknown by his friends, " would be suitable and creditable friends to ayoung man just entering the world. 

And before all these, with Helen sitting as mistress at the foot of thetable, and Helen's father at his right hand, the Earl of Cairnforthintroduced, in a few simple words, his chosen heir. 

"Deliberately chosen, " he added; "not merely as being my cousin and mynearest of kin, but because he is his mother's son, and Mr. Cardross'sgrandson, and worthy of them both--also because, for his own sake, Irespect him, and I love him. I give you the health of AlexanderCardross Bruce-Montgomerie. "

And then they all wished the young man joy, and the dining-hall ofCairnforth Castle rang with hearty cheers for Mr. Bruce-Montgomerie. 

No more speeches were made, for it was noticed that Lord Cairnforthlooked excessively wearied; but he kept his place to the last. Of themany brilliant circles that he had entertained at his hospitable board, none were ever more brilliant than this; none gayer, with the genial, wholesome gayety which the earl, of whom it might truly be said, "A merrier man, never spent an hour's talk withal, "

knew so well how to scatter around him. By what magic he did this, noone ever quite found out; but it was done, and especially so on thisnight of all nights, when, after his long absence, he came back to hisown ancestral home, and appeared again among his own neighbors andfriends. They long remembered it--and him. 

At length the last carriage rolled away, and shortly afterward the windbegan suddenly to rise and howl wildly round the Castle. There came onone of those wild winter-storms, common enough in these regions--brief, but fierce while they last. 

"You can not go home, " said the earl to Mrs. Bruce, who remained withhim, the minister having departed with his son Duncan early in theevening. "Stay here till to-morrow. Cardross, persuade your mother. You never yet spent a night under my roof. Helen, will you do it hisonce? I shall never ask you again. "

There was an earnest entreaty in his manner which Helen could notresist; and hardly knowing why she did it, she consented. Her son wentoff to his bed, fairly worn out with pleasurable excitement, and shestaid with Lord Cairnforth, as he seemed to wish, for another half hour. They sat by the library fire, listening to the rain beating and the windhowling--not continuously, but coming and going in frantic blasts, which seemed like the voices of living creatures borne on its wings. 

"Do you mind, Helen, it was just such a night as this when Mr. Menteithdied, before I went to Edinburg? The sort of wind that, they say, isalways sent to call away souls. I know not why it is, or why thereshould be any connection between things material and immaterial, comprehensible and wholly incomprehensible, but I often sit here andfancy I should like my soul to be called away in just such a tempest asthis--to be set free, "'And on the wings of mighty winds Go flying all abroad, '

"As the psalm has it. It would be glorious--glorious! Suddenly tofind one's self strong, active--cumbered with no burden of a body--to be all spirit, and spirit only. "

As the earl spoke, his whole face, withered and worn as it was, lightedup and glowed, Helen thought, almost like what one could imagine adisembodied soul. 

She answered nothing, for she could find nothing to say. Her quiet, simple faith was almost frightened at the passionate intensity of his, and the nearness with which he seemed to realize the unseen world. 

"I wonder, " he said again--"I sometimes sit for hours wondering--what the other life is like--the life of which we know nothing, yetwhich may be so near to us all. I often find myself planning about itin a wild, vague way, what I am to do in it--what God will permit meto do--and to be. Surely something more than He ever permitted here. "

"I believe that, " said Helen. And after her habit of bringing allthings to the one test and the one teaching, she reminded him of theparable of the talents: "I think, " she added, "that you will be one ofthose whom, in requital for having made the most of all his gifts here, He will make 'ruler over ten cities' at least, if he is a just God. "

"He is a just God. In my worst trials I have never doubted that, "replied Lord Cairnforth, solemnly. And then he repeated those words ofSt. Paul, to which many an agonized doubter has clung, as being the lastrefuge of sorrow--the only key to mysteries which sometime shake thefirmest faith--"'For now we see through a glass darkly, but thenface to face; now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also Iam known. '"

When Helen rose to retire, which was not till midnight--for the earlseemed unwilling to let her go, saying it was so long since they had hada quiet talk together--he asked her earnestly if she were contentabout her son. 

"Perfectly content. Not merely content, but happy--happier than Ionce thought it possible to be in this world. And it is you who havedone it all--you who have made my boy what he is. But he will rewardyou--I know he will. Henceforward he will be as much your son asmine. "

"I hope so. And now good-night, my dear. "

"Good-night--God bless you. "

Mrs. Bruce knelt down beside the chair, and touched with her lips thepoor, useless hands. 

"Helen, " said the earl as she rose, "kiss me--just once--as Iremember your doing when I was a boy--a poor, lonely, miserable boy. "

She kissed him very tenderly, then went away and left him sitting therein his little chair, opposite the fire, alone in the large, splendid, empty room. 

 * * * * *

Helen Bruce could not sleep that night. Either the day's excitement hadbeen too much for her, or she was disturbed by the wild winds that wentshrieking round the Castle, reminding her over and over again of whatthe earl had just said concerning them. There came into her mind anuneasy feeling about her father, whom for so many years she had neverleft a night alone; but it was useless regretting this now. At last, toward morning, the storm gradually lulled. She rose, and looked out ofher window on the loch, which glittered in moonlight like a sea ofglass. It reminded her, with an involuntary fancy, of the sea "clear asglass, like unto crystal, " spoken of in the fourth chapter of theApocalypse as being "before the Throne. " She stood looking at it for aminute or so, then went back to her bed and slept peacefully tilldaylight. 

She was dressing herself, full of quiet and happy thoughts, admiring therosy winter sunrise, and planning all she meant to do that day, when shewas startled by Mrs. Campbell, who came suddenly into the room with aface as white and rigid as marble. 

"He's awa', " she said, or rather whispered. 

"Who's is away?" shrieked Helen, thinking at once of her father. 

"Whisht!" said the old nurse, catching hold of Mrs. Bruce as she wasrushing from the room, and speaking beneath her breath; "wisht! Mylord's deid; but we'll no greet; I canna greet. He's gane awa' hame. "

No, it was not the old man who was called. Mr. Cardross lived severalyears after then--lived to be nearly ninety. It was the far youngerlife--young, and yet how old in suffering!--which had thussuddenly and unexpectedly come to an end. 

The earl was found dead in his bed, in his customary attitude of repose, just as Malcolm always placed him, and left him till the morning. Hiseyes were wide open, so that he could not have died in his sleep. Buthow, at what hour, or in what manner he had died--whether the summonshad been slow or sudden, whether he had tried to call assistance andfailed, or whether, calling no one and troubling no one, his fearlesssoul had passed, and chosen to pass thus solitary unto its God, noneever knew or ever could know, and it was all the same now. 

He died as he had lived, quite alone. But it did not seem to have beena painful death, for the expression of his features was peaceful, andthey had already settled down into that mysteriously beautifuldeath-smile which is never seen on any human face but once. 

Helen stood and looked down upon it--the dear familiar face, now, inthe grandeur of death, suddenly grown strange. She thought of what heyhad been talking about last night concerning the world to come. Now heknew it all. She did not "greet;" she could not. In spite of itsoutward incompleteness, it had been a noble life--an almost perfectlife; and now it was ended. He had had his desire; his poor helplessbody cumbered him no more--he was "away. "

 * * * * *

It was a bright winter morning the day the Earl of Cairnforth was buried--clear hard frost, and a little snow--not much--snow never lieslong on the shores of Loch Beg. There was no stately funeral, for itwas found that he had left express orders to the contrary; but four ofhis own people, Malcolm Campbell and three more, took on their shouldersthe small coffin, scarcely heavier than a child's, and bore it tenderlyfrom Cairnforth Castle to Cainforth kirk-yard. After it came a long, long train of silent mourners, as is customary in Scotch funerals. Sucha procession had not been witnessed for centuries in all thiscountry-side. Ere they left the Castle the funeral prayer was offeredup by Mr. Cardross, the last time the good old minister's voice was everheard publicly in his own parish, and at the head of the coffin walked, as chief mourner, Cardross Bruce-Montgomerie, the earl's adopted son. 

And so, laid beside his father and mother, they left him to his rest. 

According to his own wish, his grave bears this inscription, carved upona plain upright stone, which--also by his particular request--stands facing the Manse windows:

Charles Edward Stuart Montgomerie, THE LAST EARL OF CAIRNFORTH, Died----

Aged 43 Years. 

"Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. "