“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 to leave to dependents—­for instance, Mrs. Campbell, or Malcolm, and then bequeathing the whole bulk of your estates to some one person—­ some young person likely to outlive you, and upon whom you can depend to carry out all your plans and intentions, and make as good a use of your fortune as you would have done yourself.  That is my principle as to choice of an heir.  There are many instances in which blood is not thicker than water, and a friend by election is often worthier and dearer, besides being closer than any relative.”

“You are right.”

“Still, consanguinity must be considered a little.  You might leave a certain sum to these Bruces—­or if, on inquiry, you found among them any child whom you approved, you could adopt him as your heir, and he could take the name Montgomerie.”

“No,” replied the ear, decisively, “that name is ended.  All I have to consider is my own people here—­my tenants and servants.  Whoever succeeds me ought to know them all, and be to them exactly what I have been, 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 a little too old.  Besides, he is not quite the sort of person I should wish—­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 set down a thousand pounds apiece.  Nay, don’t look so horrified; it will not harm them.  But personally I do not know them, nor they me.  And my heir should be some one whom I thoroughly do know, thoroughly respect, thoroughly love.  There is but one person in the world—­one young person—­who answers to all those requisites.”

“Who is that?”

“Helen Cardross.”

Mr. Menteith was a good deal surprised.  Though he had a warm corner in his heart for Helen, still, the idea of her as heiress to so large an estate was novel and startling.  He did not consider himself justified in criticizing the earl’s choice; still, he thought it odd.  True, Helen was a brave, sensible, self-dependent woman—­not a girl any longer —­and accustomed from the age of fifteen to guide a household, to be her father’s right hand, and her brothers’ help and counselor—­one of those rare characters who, without being exactly masculine, are yet not too feebly feminine—­in whom strength is never exaggerated to boldness, 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 knowledge of men and things, and, above all, had habits of extreme order and regularity.  People said, sometimes, that Miss Cardross ruled not only the Manse, but the whole parish; however, if so, she did it in so sweet a way that nobody ever objected to her government.