“For,” said he, with that exceedingly frank manner he had, the sort of manner particularly taking with reserved people, because it saves them so much trouble—­“for otherwise how should you know that I am not an impostor—­a swindler—­instead of your cousin, which I hope you believe I really am, Lord Cairnforth?”

“Certainly,” said the earl, smiling, and looking both amused an interested by this little adventure, so novel in his monotonous life.

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

“You are truly a good Samaritan,” said Captain Bruce, pouring out freely the claret which was then the universal drink of even the middle classes in Scotland.  “I had fallen among thieves (literally, for my small baggage was stolen from me yesterday, and I have no worldly goods beyond the 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 to do, for I am not strong enough to walk any distance.  How far is it to the nearest inn?”

“About twenty miles.  But we will discuss that question presently.  In the mean time, eat and drink; you need it.”

“Ah!  Yes.  You have never known hunger—­I hope you never may; but it is not a pleasant thing, I assure you, actually to want food.”

Helen looked up sympathetically.  As Captain Bruce took not the slightest notice of her, she had ample opportunity to observe him.  Pity for his worn face made her lenient.  Lord Cairnforth read her favorable judgment in her eyes, and it inclined him also to judge kindly of the stranger.  Mr. Menteith alone, more familiar with the world, and goaded by it into that sharp suspiciousness which is the last hardening of a kindly and generous heart—­Mr. Menteith held aloof for some time, till at last even he succumbed to the charm of the captain’s conversation.  Mr. Cardross had already fallen a willing victim, for he had latterly been deep in the subject of Warren Hastings, and to meet with any one who came direct from that wondrous land of India, then as mysterious and far-away a region as the next world, to people in England, and especially in the wilds of Scotland, was to the good minister a delight indescribable.

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

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