The same evening the earl and his guests were sitting in the June
twilight--the long, late northern twilight, which is nowhere more
lovely than on the shores of Loch Beg. Malcolm had just come in with
candles, as a gentle hint that it was time for his master, over whose
personal welfare he was sometimes a little too solicitous, to retire,
when there happened what for the time being startled every body present.
Malcolm, going to the window, sprang suddenly back with a shout and a
scream.
"I kent it weel. It was sure to be! Oh, my lord, my lord!"
"What is the matter?" said Mr. Menteith, sharply. "You're gone daft,
man;" for the big Highlander was trembling like a child.
"Whisht! Dinna speak o't. It was my lord's wraith, ye ken. It just
keekit in and slippit awa."
"Folly! I saw nothing."
"But I think I did," said Lord Cairnforth.
"Hear him! Ay, he saw't his ain sel. Then it maun be true. Oh my dear
lord!"
Poor Malcolm fell on his knees by the earl's little chair in such
agitation that Mr. Cardross looked up from his book, and Helen from her
peaceful needle-work, which was rarely out of her active hands.
"He thinks he has seen his master's wraith; and because the earl signed
his will this morning, he is sure to die, especially as Lord Cairnforth
saw the same thing himself. Will you say, my lord, what you did see?"
"Mr. Menteith, I believe I saw a man peering in at that window."
"It wasna a man--it was a speerit," moaned Malcolm. "My lord's
wraith, for sure."
"I don't think so, Malcolm; for it was a tall, thin figure that moved
about lightly and airily--was come and gone in a moment. Not very
like my wraith, unless wraith of myself as I might have been."
The little party were silent till Helen said,
"What do you think it was, then?"
"Certainly a man, made of honest flesh and blood, though not much of
either, for he was excessively thin and sickly-looking. He just
'keerkit in,' as Malcolm says, and disappeared."
"What an odd circumstance!" said Mr. Menteith.
"Not a robber, I trust. I am much more afraid of robbers than of
ghosts."
"We never rob at Cairnforth; we are very honest people here. No, I
think it is far likelier to be one of those stray tourists who are
brought here by the steamers. They sometimes take great liberties,
wandering into the Castle grounds, and perhaps one of them thought he
might as well come and stare in at my windows."
"I hope he was English; I should not like a Scotsman to do such a rude
thing," cried Helen, indignantly.
Lord Cairnforth laughed at her impulsiveness. There was much of the
child nature mingled in Helen's gravity and wisdom, and she sometimes
did both speak and act from impulse--especially generous and kindly
impulse--as hastily and unthinkingly as a child.
"Well, Malcolm, the only way to settle this difficulty is to search the
house and grounds. Take a good thick stick and a lantern, and whatever
you find--be it tourist or burglar, man or spirit--bring him at
once to me."
And then the little group waited, laughing among themselves, but still
not quite at ease. Lord Cairnforth would not allow Mr. Cardross and
Helen to walk home; the carriage was ordered to be made ready.
Presently, Malcolm appeared, somewhat crestfallen.
"It is a man, my lord, and no speerit. But he wadna come ben. He says
he'll wait your lordship's will, and that's his name," laying a card
before the earl, who looked at it and started with surprise.
"Mr. Menteith, just see--'Captain Ernest Henry Bruce.' What an odd
coincidence!"
"Coincidence, indeed!" repeated the lawyer, skeptically. "Let me see
the card."
"Earnest Henry! was that the name of the young man whom you sent out to
India?"
"How should I remember? It was ten or fifteen years ago. Very
annoying! However, since he is a Bruce, or says he is, I suppose your
lordship must just see him."
"Certainly," replied, in his quiet, determined tone, the Earl of
Cairnforth.
Helen, who looked exceedingly surprised, offered to retire, but the earl
would not hear of it.
"No, no; you are a wise woman, and an acute one too. I would like you
to see and judge of this cousin of mine--a faraway cousin, who would
like well enough, Mr. Menteith guesses, to be my heir. But we will not
judge him harshly, and especially we will not prejudge him. His father
was nothing to boast of, but this may be a very honest man for all we
know. Sit by me, Helen and take a good look at him."
And, with a certain amused pleasure, the earl watched Helen's puzzled
air at being made of so much importance, till the stranger appeared.
He was a man of about thirty, though at first sight he seemed older,
from his exceedingly worn and sickly appearance. His lank black hair
fell about his thin, sallow face; he wore what we now call the Byron
collar and Byron tie--for it was in the Byron era, when
sentimentalism and misery-making were all the fashion. Certainly the
poor captain looked miserable enough, without any pretense of it; for,
besides his thin and unhealthy aspect, his attire was in the lowest
depth of genteel shabbiness. Nevertheless, he looked gentlemanly, and
clever too; nor was it an unpleasant face, though the lower half of it
indicated weakness and indecision; and the eyes--large, dark, and
hollow--were a little too closely set together, a peculiarity which
always gives an uncandid, and often a rather sinister expression to any
face. Still there was something about the unexpected visitor decidedly
interesting.
Even Helen looked up from her work once--twice--with no small
curiosity; she saw so few strangers, and of men, and young men, almost
none, from year's end to year's end. Yet it was a look as frank, as
unconscious, as maidenly as might have been Miranda's first glance at
Ferdinand.
Captain Bruce did not return her glance at all. His whole attention was
engrossed by Lord Cairnforth.
"My lord, I am so sorry--so very sorry--if I startled you by my
rudeness. The group inside was so cheering a sight, and I was a poor
weary wayfarer."
"Do not apologize, Captain Bruce. I am happy to make your
acquaintance."
"It has been the wish of my life, Lord Cairnforth, to make yours."
Lord Cairnforth turned upon him eyes sharp enough to make a less acute
person than the captain feel that honesty, rather than flattery, was the
safest tack to go upon. He took the hint.
"That is, I have wished, ever since I came home from India, to thank you
and Mr. Menteith--this is Mr. Menteith, I presume?--for my
cadetship, which I got through you. And though my ill health has
blighted my prospects, and after some service--for I exchanged from
the Company's civil into the military service--I have returned to
England an invalided and disappointed man, still my gratitude is exactly
the same, and I was anxious to see and thank you, as my benefactor and
my cousin."
Lord Cairnforth merely bent his head in answer to this long speech,
which a little perplexed him. He, like Helen, was both unused and
indifferent to strangers.
But Captain Bruce seemed determined not to be made a stranger. After
the brief ceremony of introduction to the little party, he sat down
close to Lord Cairnforth, displacing Helen, who quietly retired, and
began to unfold all his circumstances, giving as credentials of identity
a medal received for some Indian battle; a letter from his father, the
colonel, whose handwriting Mr. Menteith immediately recognized, and
other data, which sufficiently proved that he really was the person he
assumed to be.
"For," said he, with that exceedingly frank manner he had, the sort of
manner particularly taking with reserved people, because it saves them
so much trouble--"for otherwise how should you know that I am not an
impostor--a swindler--instead of your cousin, which I hope you
believe I really am, Lord Cairnforth?"
"Certainly," said the earl, smiling, and looking both amused an
interested by this little adventure, so novel in his monotonous life.
Also, his kindly heart was touched by the sickly and feeble aspect of
the young man, by his appearance of poverty, and by something in his air
which the earl fancied implied that brave struggle against misfortune,
more pathetic than misfortune itself. With undisguised pleasure, the
young host sat and watched his guest doing full justice to the very best
supper that the Castle could furnish.
"You are truly a good Samaritan," said Captain Bruce, pouring out freely
the claret which was then the universal drink of even the middle classes
in Scotland. "I had fallen among thieves (literally, for my small
baggage was stolen from me yesterday, and I have no worldly goods beyond
the clothes I stand in); you meet me, my good cousin, with oil and wine,
and set me on your own beast, which I fear I shall have to ask you to
do, for I am not strong enough to walk any distance. How far is it to
the nearest inn?"
"About twenty miles. But we will discuss that question presently. In
the mean time, eat and drink; you need it."
"Ah! Yes. You have never known hunger--I hope you never may; but it
is not a pleasant thing, I assure you, actually to want food."
Helen looked up sympathetically. As Captain Bruce took not the
slightest notice of her, she had ample opportunity to observe him. Pity
for his worn face made her lenient. Lord Cairnforth read her favorable
judgment in her eyes, and it inclined him also to judge kindly of the
stranger. Mr. Menteith alone, more familiar with the world, and goaded
by it into that sharp suspiciousness which is the last hardening of a
kindly and generous heart--Mr. Menteith held aloof for some time,
till at last even he succumbed to the charm of the captain's
conversation. Mr. Cardross had already fallen a willing victim, for he
had latterly been deep in the subject of Warren Hastings, and to meet
with any one who came direct from that wondrous land of India, then as
mysterious and far-away a region as the next world, to people in
England, and especially in the wilds of Scotland, was to the good
minister a delight indescribable.
Captain Bruce, who had at first paid little attention to any body but
his cousin, soon exercised his faculty of being "all things to all men,"
gave out his stores of information, bent all his varied powers to
gratify Lord Cairnforth's friends, and succeeded.
The clock had struck twelve, and still the little party were gathered
round the supper-table. Captain Bruce rose.
"I am ashamed to have detained you from your natural rest, Lord
Cairnforth. I am but a poor sleeper myself; my cough often disturbs me
much. Perhaps, as there is no inn, one of your servants could direct me
to some cottage near, where I could get a night's lodging, and go on my
way to-morrow. Any humble place will do; I am accustomed to rough it;
besides, it suits my finances: half-pay to a sickly invalid is hard
enough--you understand?"
"I do."
"Still, if I could only get health! I have been told that this part of
the country is very favorable to people with delicate lungs. Perhaps I
might meet with some farm-house lodging?"
"I could not possibly allow that," said Lord Cairnforth, unable, in
spite of all Mr. Menteith's grave warning looks, to shut up his warm
heart any longer. "The Castle is your home, Captain Bruce, for as long
as you may find it pleasant to remain here."
The invitation, given so unexpectedly and cordially, seemed to surprise,
nay, to touch the young man exceedingly.
"Thank you, my cousin. You are very kind to me, which is more than I
can say of the world in general. I will thankfully stay with you for a
little. It might give me a chance of health."
"I trust so."
Still, to make all clear between host and guest, let me name some end to
my visit. This is the first day of July; may I accept your hospitality
for a fortnight--say till the 15th?"
"Till whenever you please," replied the earl, courteously and warmly;
for he was pleased to find his cousin, even though a Bruce, so very
agreeable; glad, too, that he had it in his power to do him a kindness,
which, perhaps, had too long been neglected. Besides, Lord Cairnforth
had few friends, and youth so longs for companionship. This was
actually the first time he had had a chance of forming an intimacy with
a young man of his own age, education, and position, and he caught at it
with avidity, the more so because Captain Bruce seemed likely to supply
all the things which he had not and never could have--knowledge of
the world outside; "hair-breadth 'scapes" and adventurous experiences,
told with a point and cleverness that added to their charm.
Besides, the captain was decidedly "interesting." Young ladies would
have thought him so, with his pale face and pensive air, which, seeing
that the Byron fever had not yet attacked the youths of Cairnforth,
appeared to his simple audience a melancholy quite natural and not
assumed. And his delicacy of health was a fact only too patent. There
was a hectic brilliant color on his cheek, and his cough interrupted him
continually. His whole appearance implied that, in any case, a long
life was scarcely probable, and this alone was enough to soften any
tender heart toward him.
"What does Helen think of my new cousin?" whispered Lord Cairnforth,
looking up to her with his affectionate eyes, as she bent over his chair
to bid him goodnight.
"I like him," was the frank answer. "He is very agreeable, and then he
looks so ill."
"Was I right in asking him to stay here?"
"Yes, I think so. He is your nearest relation, and, as the proverb
says, 'Bluid is thicker than water.'"
"Not always."
"But now you will soon be able to judge how you like him, I hope you
will be very kind to him."
"Do you, Helen? Then I certainly will."
The earl kept his word. Many weeks went by; the 15th of July was long
past, and still Captain Bruce remained a guest at the Castle--quite
domesticated, for he soon made himself as much at home as if he had
dwelt there all his days. He fluctuated a little between the Castle and
the Manse, but soon decided that the latter was "rather a dull house"
--the boys rough--the minister too much of a student--and Miss
Cardross "a very good sort of girl, but certainly no beauty," which
dictum delivered in an oracular manner, as from one well accustomed to
criticize the sex, always amused the earl exceedingly.
To Lord Cairnforth, his new-found cousin devoted himself in the most
cousinly way. Tender, respectful, unobtrusive, bestowing on him enough,
and not too much of his society; never interfering, and yet always at
hand with any assistance required: he was exactly the companion which
the earl needed, and liked constantly beside him. For, of course,
Malcolm, fond and faithful as he was, was only a servant; a friend, who
was also a gentleman, yet who did not seem to feel or dislike the many
small cares and attentions which were necessities to Lord Cairnforth,
was quite a different thing. It was a touching contrast to see the two
together; the active, elegant young man--for, now he was
well-dressed, Captain Bruce looked remarkably elegant and gentlemanly,
and the little motionless figure, as impassive and helpless almost as an
image carved in stone, but yet who was undoubtedly the Earl of
Cairnforth, and sole master of Cairnforth Castle.
Perhaps the wisest bit of the captain's proceedings was the tact with
which he always recognized this fact, and paid his cousin that respect
and deference, and that tacit acknowledgment of his rights of manhood
and government which could not but be soothing and pleasant to one so
afflicted. Or perhaps--let us give the kindest interpretation
possible to all things--the earl's helplessness and loveableness
touched a chord long silent, or never stirred before in the heart of the
man of the world. Possibly--who can say?--he really began to like
him.
At any rate, he seemed as if he did, and Lord Cairnforth gave back to
him in double measure all that he bestowed.
As a matter of course, all the captain's pecuniary needs were at once
supplied. His threadbare clothes became mysteriously changed into a
wardrobe supplied with every thing that a gentleman could desire, and a
rather luxurious gentleman too; which, owing to his Indian habits and
his delicate health, the young captain turned out to be. At first he
resisted all this kindness; but all remonstrances being soon overcome,
he took his luxuries quite naturally, and evidently enjoyed them, though
scarcely so much as the earl himself.
To that warm heart, which had never had half enough of its ties whereon
to expend itself and its wealth of generosity, it was perfectly
delicious to see the sick soldier daily gaining health by riding the
Cairnforth horses, shooting over the moors, or fishing in the lochs.
Never had the earl so keenly enjoyed his own wealth, and the blessings
it enabled him to lavish abroad; never in his lifetime had he looked so
thoroughly contented.
"Helen," he said one day, when she had come up for an hour or two to the
Castle, and then as usual, Captain Bruce had taken the opportunity of
riding out--he owned he found Miss Cardross's company and
conversation "slow"--"Helen, that young man looks stronger and better
every day. What a bright-looking fellow he is! It does one good to see
him." And the earl followed with his eyes the graceful steed and
equally graceful rider, caracoling in front of the Castle window.
Helen said nothing.
"I think," he continued, "that the next best thing to being happy one's
self is to be able to make other people so. Perhaps that may be the
sort of happiness they have in the next world. I often speculate about
it, and wonder what sort of creature I shall find myself there. But."
added he, abruptly, "now to business. You will be my secretary this
morning instead of Bruce?"
"Willingly;" for, though she too, like Malcolm, had been a little
displaced by this charming cousin, there was not an atom of jealousy in
her nature. Hers was that pure and unselfish affection which could bear
to stand by and see those she loved made happy, even though it was by
another than herself.
She fell to work in her old way, and the earl employed as much as he
required her ready handwriting, her clear head, and her full
acquaintance with every body and every thing in the district; for Helen
was a real minister's daughter--as popular and as necessary in the
parish as the minister himself; and she was equally important at the
Castle, where she was consulted, as this morning, on every thing Lord
Cairnforth was about to do, and on the wisest way of expending--he
did not wish to save--the large yearly income which he now seemed
really beginning to enjoy.
Helen, too, after a long morning's work, drew her breath with a sigh of
pleasure.
"What a grand thing it is to be as rich as you are!"
"Why so?"
"One can do such a deal of good with plenty of money."
"Yes. Should you like to be very rich, Helen?" watching her with an
amused look.
Helen shook her head and laughed. "Oh, it's no use asking me the
question, for I shall never have the chance of being rich."
"You can not say; you might marry, for instance."
"That is not likely. Papa could never do without me; besides, as the
folk say, I'm 'no bonnie, ye ken.' But," speaking more seriously,
"indeed, I never think of marrying. If it is to be it will be; if not,
I am quite happy as I am. And for money, can I not always come to you
whenever I want it? You supply me endlessly for my poor people. And,
as Captain Bruce was saying to papa the other night, you are a perfect
mine of gold--and of generosity."
"Helen," Lord Cairnforth said, after he had sat thinking a while, "I
wanted to consult you about Captain Bruce. How do you like him? That
is, do you still continue to like him, for I know you did at first?"
"And I do still. I feel so very sorry for him."
"Only, my dear"--Lord Cairnforth sometimes called her "my dear," and
spoke to her with a tender, superior wisdom--"one's link to one's
friends ought to be a little stronger than being sorry for them; one
ought to respect them. One must respect them before one can trust them
very much--with one's property, for instance."
"Do you mean," said straightforward Helen, "that you have any thoughts
of making Captain Bruce your heir?"
"No, certainly not; but I have grave doubts whether I ought not to
remember him in my will, only I wished to see his health re-established
first, since, had he continued as delicate as when he came, he might not
even have outlived me."
"How calmly you talk of all this," said Helen, with a little shiver.
She, full of life and health, could hardly realize the feeling of one
who stood always on the brink of another world, and looking to that
world only for real health--real life.
"I think of it calmly, and therefore speak calmly. But, dear Helen, I
will not grieve you to-day. There is plenty of time, and all is safe,
whatever happens. I can trust my successor to do rightly. As for my
cousin, I will try him a little longer, lest he prove
"'A little more than kin, and less than kind.'"
"There seems no likelihood of that. He always speaks in the warmest
manner of you whenever he comes to the Manse; that is what makes me like
him, I fancy; and also, because I would always believe the best of
people until I found out to the contrary. Life would not be worth
having if we were continually suspecting every body--believing every
body bad till we had found them out to be good. If so, with many, I
fear we should never find the good out at all. That is--I can't put
it cleverly, like you, but I know what I mean."
Lord Cairnforth smiled. "So do I, Helen, which is quite enough for us
two. We will talk this over some other time; and meanwhile"--he
looked at her earnestly and spoke with meaning--"if ever you have an
opportunity of being kind to Captain Bruce, remember he is my next of
kin, and I wish it."
"Certainly," answered Helen. "But I am never likely to have the chance
of doing any kindness to such a very fine gentleman."
Lord Cairnforth smiled to himself once more, and let the conversation
end; afterward--long afterward, he recalled it, and thought with a
strange comfort that then, at least, there was nothing to conceal;
nothing but sincerity in the sweet, honest face--not pretty, but so
perfectly candid and true--with the sun shining on the lint-white
hair, and the bright blue eyes meeting his, guileless as a child's. Ay,
and however they were dimmed with care and washed with tears--oceans
of bitterness--that innocent, childlike look never, even when she was
an old woman, quite faded out of Helen's eyes.
"Ay," Lord Cairnforth said to himself, when she had gone away, and he
was left alone in that helpless solitude which, being the inevitable
necessity, had grown into the familiar habit of his life, "ay, it is all
right. No harm could come--there would be nothing neglected--even
were I to die to-morrow."
That "dying to-morrow," which might happen to any one of us, how few
really recognize it and prepare for it! Not in the ordinary religious
sense of "preparation for death"--often a most irreligious thing
--a frantic attempt of sinning and terror-stricken humanity to strike
a balance-sheet with heaven, just leaving a sufficient portion on the
credit side--but preparation in the ordinary worldly meaning--
keeping one's affairs straight and clear, that no one may be perplexed
therewith afterward; forgiving and asking forgiveness of offenses;
removing evil done, and delaying not for a day any good that it is
possible to do.
It was a strange thing; but, as after his death it was discovered, the
true secret of the wonderful calmness and sweetness which, year by year,
deepened more and more in Lord Cairnforth's character, ripening it to a
perfectness in which those who only saw the outside of his could hardly
believe, consisted in this ever-abiding thought--that he might die
to-morrow. Existence was to him such a mere twilight, dim, imperfect,
and sad, that he never rested in it, but lived every day, as it were, in
prospect of the eternal dawn.