A Noble Life | Page 7

after that bright June day when the
minister of Cairnforth had walked with such a sad heart up to
Cairnforth Castle, and seen for the first time its unconscious heir--the
poor little orphan baby, who in such apparent mockery was called "the
Earl." The woods, the hills, the loch, looked exactly the same--nature
never changes. As Mr. Cardross walked up to the Castle once more--the
first time for many months--in accordance with a request of Mr.
Menteith's, who had written to say the earl was coming home, he could
hardly believe it was ten years since that sad week when the baby-heir
was born, and the countess's funeral had passed out from that now
long-closed door.
Mr. Cardross's step was heavier and his face sadder now than then. He
who had so often sympathized with others' sorrows had had to suffer
patiently his own. From the Manse gate as from that of the Castle, the
mother and mistress had been carried, never to return. A new Helen--
only fifteen years old--was trying vainly to replace to father and
brothers her who was--as Mr. Cardross still touchingly put it-- "away."
But, though his grief was more than a year old, the minister mourned
still. His was one of those quiet natures which make no show, and
trouble no one, yet in which sorrow goes deep down, and grows into
the heart, as it were, becoming a part of existence, until existence itself
shall cease.
It did not, however, hinder him from doing all his ordinary duties,
perhaps with even closer persistence, as he felt himself sinking into that
indifference to outside things which is the inevitable result of a heavy
loss upon any gentle nature. The fierce rebel against it; the impetuous
and impatient throw it off; but the feeble and tender souls make no sign,
only quietly pass into that state which the outer world calls submission:
and resignation, yet which is, in truth, mere passiveness--the stolid
calm of a creature that has suffered till it can suffer no more.
The first thing which roused Mr. Cardross out of this condition, or at
least the uneasy recognition that it was fast approaching, and must be
struggled against, conscientiously, to the utmost of his power, was Mr.
Menteith's letter, and the request therein concerning Lord Cairnforth.

Without entering much into particulars--it was not the way of the
cautious lawyer--he had stated that, after ten years' residence in Dr.
Hamilton's house, and numerous consultations with every surgeon of
repute in Scotland, England--nay, Europe--it had been decided, and
especially at the earnest entreaty of the poor little earl himself, to leave
him to Nature; to take him back to his native air, and educate him, so
far as was possible, in Cairnforth Castle.
A suitable establishment had accordingly been provided--more servants,
and a lady housekeeper or governante, who took all external charge of
the child, while the personal care of him was left, as before, to his nurse,
Mrs. Campbell, now wholly devoted to him, for at seven years old her
own boy had died. He had another attendant, to whom, with a curious
persistency, he had strongly attached himself ever since his
babyhood--young Malcolm Campbell, Neil Campbell's brother, who
was saved by clinging to the keel of the boat when the late Lord
Cairnforth was drowned. Beyond these, whose fond fidelity knew no
bounds, there was hardly need of any other person to take charge of the
little earl, except a tutor, and that office Mr. Menteith entreated Mr.
Cardross to accept.
It was a doubtful point with the minister. He shrank from assuming any
new duty, his daily duties being now made only too heavy by the loss
of the wife who had shared and lightened them all. But he named the
matter to Helen, whom he had lately got into the habit of
consulting--she was such a wise little woman for her age--and Helen
said anxiously, "Papa, try." Besides, there were six boys to be brought
up, and put into the world somehow, and the Manse income was small,
and the salary offered by Mr. Manteith very considerable. So when, the
second time, Helen's great soft eyes implored silently, "Papa, please
try," the minister kissed her, went into his study and wrote to Edinburg
his acceptance of the office of tutor to Lord Cairnforth.
What sort of office it would turn out--what kind of instruction he was
expected to give, or how much the young earl was capable of receiving,
he had not the least idea; but he resolved that, in any case, he would do
his duty, and neither man nor minister could be expected to do more.

In pursuance of this resolution, he roused himself that sunny June
morning, when he would far rather have sat over his study-fire and