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 withered features, contrasting with the small childish figure, gave him a weird sort of aspect that struck almost painfully at first upon strangers, still Lord Cairnforth preserved the exceeding sweetness and peacefulness of expression which had made his face so beautiful as a boy, and so winning 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 how many years the feeble body would hold out.  Also, perhaps—­for self-interest is bound up in the heart of every human being—­feeling a little anxiety as to who should come after him, to be lord and ruler over them; perhaps to be less loved, less honored—­more so none could possibly be.

It was comfort to those who loved him then, and far more comfort afterward to believe—­nay, to know for certain—­that many a man, absorbed in the restless struggle of this busy world, prosperous citizen, husband and father, had, on the whole, led a far less happy life than the Earl of Cairnforth.

Chapter 16

One mild, sunny autumn day, when Cardross, having ended his first session at college, had spent apparently with extreme enjoyment his first vacation at home, and had just gone back again to Edinburg to commence his second “year,” the Earl of Cairnforth drove down to the Manse, as he now did almost daily, for the minister was growing too feeble to come to the Castle very often.

His old pupil found him sitting in the garden, sunning himself in a sheltered 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 sound of the wheeled chair along the gravel walk.

“I’m glad you are come,” said he.  “I’m sorely needing somebody, for I have 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 place beside her charge, or rather between her two charges, each helpless in their 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 down between the garden and the kirk-yard, they two sat by themselves for a while.

Mrs. Bruce made no answer.

“Nothing can be amiss with your boy, for I had a letter from him only yesterday.”

“I had one this morning.”

“And what does he say to you?  To me little enough, merely complaining how dull he finds Edinburg now, and wishing he were back again among us all.”

“I do not wonder,” said Helen, in a hard tone, and with that hard expression which sometimes came over her face:  the earl knew it well.