“Do you think so, nurse?  Do you think I can be of any good to any creature in this world?”

“Ay, ye can, ye can, my lord—­ye’d be awfully missed gin ye were to dee.”

“Then I’ll no dee”—­faintly smiling, and using the familiar speech of his childhood.  “Call Malcolm.  I’ll try to rise.  And, nurse, if you would have the carriage ordered—­the pony carriage—­I will drive down to the Manse and see how Mr. Cardross is.  He must be rather dull without 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; and from that hour he rose from his bed, and went about his customary work in his customary manner, taking up all his duties as if he had never left them, and as if nothing had ever happened to disturb the even tenor of his life—­the strange, peaceful, and yet busy life led by the solitary master of Cairnforth.

Chapter 11

It happened that, both this day and the day following, Mr. Cardross was absent on one of his customary house-to-house visitings in remote corners of his parish.  So the earl, before meeting Helen’s father, had time 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 exceed six months, when Captain Bruce had faithfully promised to come back and live upon his half pay in the little peninsula.  Otherwise Mr. Cardross was confident his “dear lassie” would never have left her father for any man alive.

It was a marriage, externally, both natural and suitable; the young couple being of equal age and circumstances, and withal tolerably well acquainted with one another, for it appeared the captain had begun daily visits to the Manse from the very day of Lord Cairnforth’s departure.

“And he always spoke so warmly of you, expressed such gratitude toward you, such admiration of you—­I think it was that which won Helen’s heart.  And when he did ask her to marry him, she would not accept him for a good while, not till after he had seen you in Edinburg.”

“Seen me in Edinburg!” repeated the earl, amazed, and then suddenly stopped himself.  It was necessary for Helen’s sake, for every body’s sake, to be cautious over every word he said; to arrive at full confirmation of his suspicions before he put into the poor father’s heart one doubt that Helen’s marriage was not as happy or as honorable as the minister evidently believed it to be.

“He told us you seemed so well,” continued Mr. Cardross; “that you were in the very whirl of Edinburg society, and delighted in it; that you had said to him that nothing could be more to your mind than this marriage, and that if it could be carried out without waiting for your return, which was so very uncertain, you would be all the happier.  Was that not true?”