A Noble Life Part 14

"'Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him:

"'The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.'

"That is what will be said of you one day, Lord Cairnforth. Is not this something worth living for?"

"Ay, it is!" replied the earl, deeply moved; and Helen was scarcely less so.

They discussed no more the journey to Edinburg; but Lord Cairnforth, in his decided way, gave orders immediately to prepare for it, taking with him, as usual, Malcolm and Mrs. Campbell. By the time Captain Bruce returned from his ride, the guest was startled by the news that his host meant to quit Cairnforth at daylight the next morning, which appeared to disconcert the captain exceedingly.

"I would volunteer to accompany you, cousin," said he, after expressing his extreme surprise and regret, "but the winds of Edinburg are ruin to my weak lungs, which the air here suits so well. So I must prepare to quit pleasant Cairnforth, where I have received so much kindness, and which I have grown to regard almost like home--the nearest approach to home that in my sad, wandering life I ever knew."

There was an unmistakable regret in the young man's tone which, in spite of his own trouble, went to the earl's good heart.

"Why should you leave at all?" said he. "Why not remain here and await my return, which can not be long delayed--two months at most--even counting my slow traveling? I will give you something to do meanwhile: I will make you viceroy of Cairnforth during my absence--that is, under Miss Cardross, who alone knows all the parish affairs--and mine. Will you accept the office?"

"Under Miss Cardross?" Captain Bruce laughed, but did not seem quite to relish it. However, he expressed much grat.i.tude at having been thought worthy of the earl's confidence.

"Don't be humble, my good cousin and friend. If I did not trust you, and like you, I should never think of asking you to stay. Mr. Cardross --Helen--what do you say to my plan"?

Both gave a cordial a.s.sent, as was indeed certain. Nothing ill was known of Captain Bruce, and nothing noticed in him unlikeable, or unworthy of liking. And even as to his family, who wrote to him constantly, and whose letters he often showed, there had appeared sufficient evidence in their favor to counterbalance much of the suspicions against them, so that the earl was glad he had leaned to the charitable side in making his cousin welcome to Cairnforth; glad, too, that he could atone by warm confidence and extra kindness for what now seemed too long a neglect of those who were really his nearest kith and kin.

Mr. Cardross also; any prejudices he had from his knowledge of the late earl's troubles with the Bruces were long ago dispersed. And Helen was too innocent herself ever to have had a prejudice at all. She said, when appealed to pointedly by the earl, as he now often appealed to her in many things, that she thought the scheme both pleasant and advisable.

"And now, papa," added she, for her watchful eye detected Lord Cairnforth's pale face and wearied air, "let us say good-night--and good-by."

Long after, they remembered, all of them, what an exceedingly quiet and ordinary good-by it was, none having the slightest feeling that it was more than a temporary parting. The whole thing had been so sudden, and the day's events appeared quite shadowy, and as if every body would wake up to-morrow morning to find them nothing but a dream.

Besides, there was a little hurrying and confusion consequent on the earl's insisting on sending the Cardrosses home, for the dull, calm day had changed into the wildest of nights--one of those sudden equinoctial storms, that in an hour or two alter the whole aspect of things this region.

"You must take the carriage, Helen--you and your father; it is the last thing I can do for you--and I would do every thing in the world for you if I could; but I shall, one day. Good-by. Take care of yourself, my dear."

These were the earl's farewell words to her. She was so accustomed to his goodness and kindness that she never thought much about them till long afterward, when kindness was gone, and goodness seemed the merest delusion and dream.

When his friends had departed, Lord Cairnforth sat silent and melancholy. His cousin good-naturedly tried to rouse him into the usual contest at chess with which they had begun to while away the long winter evenings, and which just suited Lord Cairnforth's acute, accurate, and introspective brain, accustomed to plan and to order, so that he delighted in the game, and was soon as good a player as his teacher.

But now his mind was disturbed and restless; he sat by the fireside, listening to the fierce wind that went howling round and round the Castle, as the wind can howl along the sometimes placid sh.o.r.es of Loch Beg.

"I hope they have reached the Manse in safety. Let me know, Malcolm, when the carriage returns. I will go to bed then. I wish they would have remained here; but the minister never will stay; he dislikes sleeping a single night from under his own roof. Is he not a good man, cousin--one of a thousand?"

"I have not the slightest doubt of it."

"And his daughter--have you in any way modified your opinion of her, which at first was not very favorable?"

"Not as to her beauty, certainly," was the careless reply. "She's 'no bonnie,' as you say in these parts--terribly Scotch; but she is very good. Only don't you think good people are just a little wearisome sometimes?"

The earl smiled. He was accustomed to, and often rather amused by his cousin's honest worldliness and outspoken skepticisms--that candid confession of badness which always inclines a kindly heart to believe the very best of the penitent.

"Nevertheless, though Miss Cardross may be 'no bonnie,' and too good to please your taste, I hope you will go often to the Manse in my absence, and write me word how they are, otherwise I shall hear little--the minister's letters are too voluminous to be frequent--and Miss Cardross is not given to much correspondence."

Captain Bruce promised, and again the two young men sat silent, listening to the eerie howling of the wind. It inclined both of them to graver talk than was their habit when together.

"I wonder," said the earl, "whether this blast, according to popular superst.i.tion, is come to carry many souls away with it 'on the wings of the wind!' Where will they fly to the instant they leave the body? How free and happy they must feel!"

"What an odd fancy! And not a particularly pleasant one," replied the captain, with a s.h.i.+ver.

"Not unpleasant, to my mind. I like to think of these things. If I were out of the body, I should, if I could fly back to Cairnforth."

"Pray don't imagine such dreadful things. May you live a hundred years!"

"Not quite, I hope. A hundred years--of my life! No. the most loving friend I have would not wish it for me." Then, suddenly, as with an impulse created by the sad events of the day--the stormy night-- and the disturbed state of his own mental condition, inclining him to any sort of companions.h.i.+p, "Cousin, I am going to trust you, specially, in a matter of business which I wish named to the Cardrosses. I should have done so before they left to-night. May I confide to you the message?"

"Willingly. What is it about?" and the captain's keen black eyes a.s.sumed an expression which, if the earl had noticed, he might have repented of his trust. But no, he never would have noticed it. His upright, honest nature, though capable of great reserve, was utterly incapable of false pretense, deceit, or self-interested diplomacy. And what was impossible in himself he never suspected in other people. He thought his cousin shallow sometimes, but good-natured; a little worldly, perhaps, but always well-meaning. That Captain Bruce could have come to Cairnforth for any other purpose than mere curiosity, and remained there for any motive except idleness and the pursuit of health, did not occur to Lord Cairnforth.

"It is on the subject that you so much dislike my talking about--my own death; a probability which I have to consider, as being rather nearer to me than it is to most people. Should I die, will you remember that my will lies at the office of Menteith and Ross, Edinburg?"

"So you have made your will?" said the captain, rather eagerly; then added, "What a courageous man you are! I never durst make mine. But then, to be sure, I have nothing to leave--except my sword, which I hereby make over to you, well-beloved cousin."

"Thank you, though I should have very little use it. And that reminds me to explain something. The day I made my will was, by an odd chance, the day you arrived here. Had I know you then, I should have named you in it, leaving you--I may as well tell you the sum--a thousand pounds, in token of cousinly regard."

"You are exceedingly kind, but I am no fortune-hunter."

"I know that. Still, the legacy may not be useless. I shall make it legally secure as soon as I get to Edinburg. In any case you are quite safe, for I have mentioned you to my heir."

"Your heir! Who do you mean?" interrupted Captain Bruce, thrown off his guard by excessive surprise.

The earl said, with a little dignity of manner, "It is scarcely needful to answer your question. The t.i.tle, you are aware, will be extinct; I meant the successor to my landed property."

"Do I know the gentleman?"

"I named no gentleman."

"Not surely a lady? Not--" a light suddenly breaking in upon him, so startling that it overthrew all his self-control, and even his good breeding. "It can not possibly be Miss Helen Cardross?"

"Captain Bruce," said the earl, the angry color flas.h.i.+ng all over his pale face, "I was simply communicating a message to you; there was no need for any farther questioning."

"I beg your pardon, Lord Cairnforth," returned the other, perceiving how great a mistake he had made. "I have no right whatever to question, or even to speculate concerning your heir, who is doubtless the fittest person you could have selected."

"Most certainly," replied the earl, in a manner which put a final stop to the conversation.

It was not resumed on any other topics; and shortly afterward, Malcolm having come in with the announcement that the carriage had returned from the Manse (at which Captain Bruce's sharp eyes were bent scrutinizing on the earl's face, but learned nothing thence), the cousins separated.

The captain had faithfully promised to be up at dawn to see the travelers off, but an apology came from him to the effect that the morning air was too damp for his lungs, and that he had spent a sleepless night owning to his cough.

"An' nae wonder," remarked Malcolm, cynically, as he delivered the message, "for I heard him a' through the wee hours walkin' and walkin'

up and doun, for a' the world like a wolf in a cage. And eh, but he's dour the day!"

"A sickly man finds it difficult not to be dour at times," said the Earl of Cairnforth.