In another week a second stately funeral passed out of the Castle doors, and then they were closed to all comers.  By Mr. Menteith’s orders, great part of the rooms were shut up, and only two apartments kept for his own use when he came down to look after the estates.  It was now fully known that he was the young earl’s sole guardian; but so great was the feudal fidelity of the neighborhood, and so entire the respect with which, during an administration of many years, the factor had imbued the Cairnforth tenantry, that not a word was said in objection either to him or to his doings.  There was great regret that the poor little earl—­ the representative of so long and honored a race—­was taken away from the admiration of the country-side before even a single soul in the parish, except Mr. and Mrs. Cardross, had set eyes upon him; but still the disappointed gossips submitted, considering that if the minister were satisfied all must be right.

After the departure of Mr. Mentieth, Mrs. Campbell, and her charge, a few rumors got abroad that the little earl was “no a’richt”—­if an earl could be “no a’ richt”—­which the simple folk about Loch Beg and Loch Mhor, accustomed for generations to view the Earls of Cairnforth much as the Thibetians view their Dali Lama, thought hardly possible.  But what was wrong with him nobody precisely knew.  The minister did, it was conjectured; but Mr. Cardross was scrupulously silent on the subject; and, with all his gentleness, he was the sort of man to whom nobody ever could address intrusive or impertinent questions.

So, after a while, when the Castle still remained shut up, curiosity died out, or was only roused at intervals, especially at Mr. Menteith’s periodical visits.  And to all questions, whether respectfully anxious or merely inquisitive, he never gave but one answer—­that the earl was “doing pretty well,” and would be back at Cairn forth “some o’ these days”.

However, that period was so long deferred that the neighbors at last ceased to expect it, or to speculate concerning it.  They went about their own affairs, and soon the whole story about the sad death of the late earl and countess, and the birth of the present nobleman, began to be told simply as a story by the elder folk, and slipped out of the younger ones’ memories—­as, if one only allows it time, every tale, however sad, wicked, or strange, will very soon do.  Had it not been for the silent, shut-up castle, standing summer and winter on the loch-side, with its flower-gardens blossoming for none to gather, and its woods—­ the pride of the whole country—­budding and withering, with scarcely a foot to cross, or an eye to notice their wonderful beauty, people would ere long have forgotten the very existence of the last Earl of Cairnforth.

Chapter 2