A Noble Life | Page 6

the many kindnesses we
have received from his poor father and mother; but he will be better off
in Edinburg. Give him every possible chance of life and health, and a

sound mind, and then we must leave the rest to Him, who would not
have sent this poor little one into the world at all if He had not had
some purpose in so doing, though what that purpose is we can not see. I
suppose we shall see it, and many other dark things, some time."
The minister lifted his grave, gentle eyes, and sat looking out upon the
familiar view--the sunshiny loch, the green shore, and the far-away
circle of mountains--while the other two gentlemen discussed a few
other business matters. Then he invited them both to return with him
and dine at the Manse, where he and his wife were accustomed to offer
to all comers, high and low, rich and poor, "hospitality without
grudging."
So the three walked through Cairnforth woods, now glowing with full
spring beauty, and wandered about the minister's garden till dinner-time.
It was a very simple meal--just the ordinary family dinner, as it was
spread day after day, all the year round: they could afford hospitality,
but show, with the minister's limited income was impossible, and he
was too honest to attempt it. Many a time the earl himself had dined,
merrily and heartily, at that simple table, with the mistress--active,
energetic, cheerful, and refined--sitting at the head of it, and the
children, a girl and boy, already admitted to take their place there, quiet
and well-behaved--brought up from the first to be, like their parents,
gentlemen and gentlewomen. The Manse table was a perfect picture of
family sunshine and family peace, and, as such, the two Edinburg
guests carried away the impression of it in their memories for many a
day.
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

It was on a June day--ten years