“Oh, it’s no trouble to me; Malcolm takes care of that.  And I like to see the world.  If you and Dr. Hamilton would have let me, I think I would 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 directed toward her nursling, said, a little sharply,

“It’s better as it is—­dinna ye ken?  Far mair fitting for his lordship’s rank and position that he should get his learning all by himsel’ at his ain castle, and with his ain tutor, and that sic a gentleman 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 own sturdy, stalwart boys quite out of the way of the poor little earl, and had 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 just where I please?  Malcolm says it would not shake me nearly so much as the carriage.  May I go to the kirk every Sunday, and see every thing and every body, and read as many books as ever I choose?  Oh, How happy I shall be!—­as happy as a king!”

“God help thee, my lamb!” muttered Mrs. Campbell to herself, while even Mr. Menteith turned his face sedulously toward the loch and took snuff violently.

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

Chapter 3

The carriage of the Earl of Cairnforth, with its familiar and yet long unfamiliar liveries, produced a keen sensation among the simple folk who formed the congregation of Cairnforth.  But they had too much habitual respect for the great house and great folk of the place, mingled with their national shyness and independence, to stare very much.  A few moved aside to make way for the two grand Edinburg footmen who leaped down from their perch in order to render customary assistance to the occupants of the carriage.

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

But Malcolm was before them—­Malcolm, who never suffered mortal man but himself to render the least assistance to his young master; who watched and tended him; waited on and fed him in the day, and slept in his room at night; who, in truth, had now, for a year past, slipped into all the offices of a nurse as well as servant, and performed them with a woman’s tenderness, care, and skill.  Lord Cairnforth’s eyes brightened when he saw him; and, carried in Malcolm’s arms—­a few stragglers of the congregation standing aside to let them pass—­the young earl was brought to the door of the kirk where his family had worshiped for generations.