A Noble Life Part 2

Cardross was not the man ever to draw back from an agreement or shrink from a promise.

"Whatever the poor child is--even if an idiot," thought he, "I will do my best for him, for his father's and mother's sake."

And he paused several minutes before those bright and smiling portraits, pondering on the mysterious dealings of the great Ruler of the universe --how some are taken and some are left: those removed who seem most happy and most needed; those left behind whom it would have appeared, in our dim and short-sighted judgment, a mercy, both to themselves and others, quietly to have taken away.

But one thing the minister did in consequence of these somewhat sad and painful musings. On his return to the clachan--where, of course, the news of the earl's coming home had long spread, and thrown the whole country-side into a state of the greatest excitement--he gave orders, or at least, advice--which was equivalent to orders, since everybody obeyed him--that there should be no special rejoicings on the earl's coming home; no bonfire on the hill-side, or triumphal arches across the road, and at the ferry where the young earl would probably land-- where, ten years before, the late Earl of Cairnforth had been not landed, but carried, stone-cold, with his dripping, and his dead hands still clutching the weeds of the loch. The minister vividly recalled the sight, and shuddered at it still.

"No, no," said he, in talking the matter over with some of his people, whom he went among like a father among his children, true pastor of a most loving flock, "no; we'll wait and see what the earl would like before we make any show. That we are glad to see him he knows well enough, or will very soon find out. And if he should arrive on such a night as this"--looking round on the magnificent June sunset, coloring the mountains at the head of the loch--"he will hardly need a brighter welcome to a bonnier home."

But the earl did not arrive on a gorgeous evening like this, such as come sometimes to the sh.o.r.es of Loch Beg, and make it glow into a perfect paradise: he arrived in "saft" weather--in fact, on a pouring wet Sat.u.r.day night, and all the clachan saw of him was the outside of his carriage, driving, with closed blinds, down the hill-side. He had taken a long round, and had not crossed the ferry; and he was carried as fast as possible through the dripping wood, reaching, just as darkness fell, the Castle door.

Mr. Cardross, perhaps, should have been there to welcome the child-- his conscience rather smote him that he was not--but it was the minister's unbroken habit of years to spend Sat.u.r.day evening alone in his study. And it might be that, with a certain timidity, inherent in his character, he shrank from this first meeting, and wished to put off as long as possible what must inevitably be awkward, and might be very painful. So, in darkness and rain, unwelcomed save by his own servants, most of whom even had never yet seen him, the poor little earl came to his ancestral door.

But on Sunday morning all things were changed, with one of those sudden changes which make this part of the country so wonderfully beautiful, and so fascinating through its endless variety.

A perfect June day, with the loch glittering in the sun, and the hills beyond it softly outlined with the indistinctness that mountains usually wear in summer, but with the soft summer coloring too, greenish-blue, lilac, and silver-gray varying continually. In the woods behind, where the leaves were already gloriously green, the wood-pigeons were cooing, and the blackbirds and mavises singing, just as if it had not been Sunday morning, or rather as if they knew it was Sunday, and were straining their tiny throats to bless the Giver of sweet, peaceful, cheerful Sabbath-days, and of all other good things, meant for man's usage and delight.

At the portico of Cairnforth Castle, for the first time since the hea.r.s.e had stood there, stood a carriage--one of those large, roomy, splendid family carriages which were in use many years ago. Looking at it, no pa.s.serby could have the slightest doubt that it was my lord's coach, and that my lord sat therein in solemn state, exacting and receiving an amount of respect little short of veneration, such as, for generations, the whole country-side had always paid to the Earls of Cairnforth. This coach, though it was the identical family coach, had been newly furnished; its crimson satin glowed, and its silver harness and ornaments flashed in the sun; the coachman sat in his place, and two footmen stood up in their place behind. It was altogether a very splendid affair, as became the equipage of a young n.o.bleman who was known to possess twenty thousand a year, and who, from his castle tower --it had a tower, though n.o.body ever climbed there--might, if he chose, look around upon miles and miles of moorland, loch, hill-side, and cultivated land, and say to himself--or be said to by his nurse, as in the old song--

"These hills and these vales, from this tower that ye see, They all shall belong, my young chieftain, to thee."

The horse pawed the ground for several minutes of delay, and then there appeared Mr. Menteith, followed by Mrs. Campbell, who was quite a grand lady now, in silks and satins, but with the same sweet, sad, gentle face. The lawyer and she stood aside, and made way for a big, stalwart young Highlander of about one-and-twenty or thereabouts, who carried in his arms, very gently and carefully, wrapped in a plaid, even although it was such a mild spring day, what looked like a baby, or a very young child.

"Stop a minute, Malcolm."

At the sound of that voice, which was not an infant's, though it was thin, and sharp, and unnatural rather for a boy, the big Highlander paused immediately.

"Hold me up higher; I want to look at the loch."

"Yes, my lord."

This, then--this poor little deformed figure, with every limb shrunken and useless, and every joint distorted, the head just able to sustain itself and turn feebly from one side to the other, and the thin white hands piteously twisted and helpless-looking--this, then, was the Earl of Cairnforth.

"It's a bonnie loch, Malcolm."

"It looks awful' bonnie the day, my lord."

"And," almost in a whisper, "was it just there my father was drowned?"

"Yes, my lord."

No one spoke while the large, intelligent eyes, which seemed the princ.i.p.al feature of the thin face, that rested against Malcolm's shoulder, looked out intently upon the loch.

Mrs. Campbell pulled her veil down and wept a little. People said Neil Campbell had not been the best of husbands to her, but he was her husband; and she had never been back in Cairnforth till now, for her son had lived, died, and been buried away in Edinburg.

At last Mr. Menteith suggested that the kirk bell was beginning to ring.

"Very well; put me into the carriage."

Malcolm placed him, helpless as an infant, in a corner of the silken-padded coach, fitted with cus.h.i.+ons especially suited for his comfort. There he sat, in his black velvet coat and point-lace collar, with silk stockings and dainty shoes upon the poor little feet that never had walked, and never would walk, in this world. The one bit of him that could be looked at without pain was his face, inherited from his beautiful mother. It was wan, pale, and much older than his years, but it was a sweet face--a lovely face; so patient, thoughtful-- nay, strange to say, content. You could not look at it without a certain sense of peace, as if G.o.d, in taking away so much had given something--which not many people have--something which was the divine answer to the minister's prayer over the two-days-old child-- "Thy will be done."

"Are you comfortable, my lord?"

"Quite, thank you, Mr. Menteith. Stop--where are you going, Malcolm?"

"Just to the kirk, and I'll be there as soon as your lords.h.i.+p."

"Very well," said the little earl, and watched with wistful eyes the tall Highlander striding across brushwood and heather, leaping dikes and clearing fences--the very embodiment of active vigorous youth.

Wistful I said the eyes were, and yet they were not sad. Whatever thoughts lay hidden in that boy's mind--he was only ten years old, remember--they were certainly not thoughts of melancholy or despair.

"G.o.d tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and "the back is fitted to the burden," are phrases so common that we almost smile to repeat them or believe in them, and yet they are true. Any one whose enjoyments have been narrowed down by long sickness may prove their truth by recollecting how at last even the desire for impossible pleasures pa.s.ses away. And in this case the deprivation was not sudden; the child had been born thus crippled, and had never been accustomed to any other sort of existence than this. What thoughts, speculations, or regrets might have pa.s.sed through his mind, or whether he had as yet reflected upon his own condition at all, those about him could not judge. He was always a silent child, and latterly had grown more silent than ever. It was this silence, causing a fear lest the too rapidly developing mind might affect still more injuriously the imperfect and feeble body, which induced his guardian, counseled by Dr. Hamilton, to try a total change of life by sending him home to the sh.o.r.es of Loch Beg.

One thing certainly Mr. Cardross need not have dreaded--the child was no idiot. An intelligence, precocious to an almost painful extent, was visible in that poor little face, which seemed thirstingly to take in every thing, and to let nothing escape its observation.

The carriage drove slowly through the woods and along the sh.o.r.e of the loch, Mr. Menteith and Mrs. Campbell sitting opposite to the earl, not noticing him much--even as a child he was sensitive of being watched --but making occasional comments on the scenery and other things.

"There is the kirk tower; I mind it weel," said Mrs. Campbell, who still kept some accent of the clachan, though, like many Highlanders, she had it more in tone than in p.r.o.nunciation, and often spoke almost pure English, which, indeed, she had taken pains to acquire, lest she might be transferred from her charge for fear of teaching him to speak as a young n.o.bleman ought not to speak. But at sight of her native place some touch of the old tongue returned.

"That is the kirk, nurse, where my father and mother are buried?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Will there be many people there? You know I never went to church but once before in all my life."

"Would ye like not to go now? If so, I'll turn back with ye this minute, my lamb--my lord, I mean."

"No, thank you, nurse, I like to go. You know Mr Menteith promised me I should go about every where as soon as I came to live at Cairnforth."

"Every where you like that is not too much trouble to your lords.h.i.+p,"

said Mr. Menteith, who was always tenaciously careful about the respect, of word and act, that he paid, and insisted should be paid, to his poor young ward.

"Oh, it's no trouble to me; Malcolm takes care of that. And I like to see the world. If you and Dr. Hamilton would have let me, I think I would so have enjoyed going to school like other boys."

"Would you, my lord?" answered Mr. Menteith, compa.s.sionately; but Mrs.

Campbell, who never could bear that pitying look and tone directed toward her nursling, said, a little sharply,

"It's better as it is--dinna ye ken? Far mair fitting for his lords.h.i.+p's rank and position that he should get his learning all by himsel' at his ain castle, and with his ain tutor, and that sic a gentleman as Mr. Cardross--"

"What is Mr. Cardross like?"

"Ye'll hear him preach the day."

"Will he teach me all by myself, as nurse says? Has he any children-- any boys, like me?"

"He has boys," said Mr. Menteith, avoiding more explicit information; for with a natural, if mistaken precaution, he had always kept his own st.u.r.dy, stalwart boys quite out of the way of the poor little earl, and had especially cautioned the minister to do the same.

"I do long to play with boys. May I?"

"If you wish it, my lord."