Book: A Noble Life

D >> Dinah Maria Mulock Craik >> A Noble Life




"The old fellow was right. If I am ever to have 'ony wits ava,' I ought
to have them by this time. I am nearly twenty-one. Any other young
man would have been a man long ago. And I will be a man--why should
I not? True manliness is not solely outside. I dare say you could find
many a fool and a coward six feet high."

"Yes," answered Helen, all she could find to say.

"And if I have nothing else, I have brains--quite as good brains, I
think, as my neighbors. They can not say of me now that I'm 'no a'
there.' Nay, Helen, don't look so fierce; they meant me no ill; it was
but natural. Yes, God has left me something to be thankful for."

The earl lifted his head--the only part of his frame which he could
move freely, and his eyes flashed under his broad brows. Thoroughly
manly brows they were, wherein any acute observer might trace that clear
sound sense, active energy, and indomitable perseverance which make the
real man, and lacking which the "brawest" young follow alive is a mere
body--and animal wanting the soul.

"I wonder how I should set about managing my property. The duty will
not be as easy for me as for most people, you know," added he, sadly;
"still, if I had a secretary--a thorough man of business, to teach me
all about business, and to be constantly at my side, perhaps I might be
able to accomplish it. And I might drive about the country--driving
is less painful to me now--and get acquainted with my people; see
what they wanted, and how I could best help them. They would get used
to me, too. I might turn out to be a very respectable laird, and become
interested in the improvement of my estates."

"There is great opportunity for that, I know," replied Helen. And then
she told him of a conversation she had heard between her father and Mr.
Menteith, when the latter had spoken of great changes impending over
quiet Cairnforth: how a steamer was to begin plying up and down the loch
--how there were continual applications for land to be feued--and
how all these improvements would of necessity require the owner of the
soil to take many a step unknown to and undreamed of by his forefathers
--to make roads, reclaim hill and moorland, build new farms, churches,
and school-houses.

"In short, as Mr. Menteith said, the world is changing so fast that the
present Earl of Cairnforth will have any thing but the easy life of his
father and grandfather.

"Did Mr. Menteith say that?" cried the earl, eagerly.

"He did, indeed; I heard him."

"And did he seem to think that I should be able for it?"

"I can not tell," answered truthful Helen. "He said not a word one way
or the other about your being capable of doing the work; he only said
the work was to done."

"Then I will try and do it."

The earl said this quietly enough, but his eyes gleamed and his lips
quivered.

Helen laid her hand upon his, much move. "I said you were brave--
always; still, you must think twice about it, for it will be a very
responsible duty--enough, Mr. Menteith told papa, to require a man's
whole energies for the next twenty years."

"I wonder if I shall live so long. Well, I am glad, Helen. It will be
something worth living for."





Chapter 7

Malcolm's saying that "if my lord taks a thing into his heid he'll do't,
ye ken," was as true now as when the earl was a little boy.

Mr. Mentieth hardly knew how the thing was accomplished--indeed, he
had rather opposed it, believing the mere physical impediments to his
ward's overlooking his own affairs were insurmountable; but Lord
Cairnforth contrived in the course of a day or two to initiate himself
very fairly in all the business attendant upon the "term;" to find out
the exact extent and divisions of his property, and to whom it was
feued. And on term-day he proposed, though with an evident effort which
touched the old lawyer deeply, to sit beside Mr. Menteith while the
tenants were paying their rents, so as to become personally known to
each of them.

Many of these, like Dougal Mac Dougal, were over come with surprise,
nay, something more painful than surprise, at the sight of the small
figure which was the last descendant of the noble Earls of Cairnforth,
and with whom the stalwart father and the fair young mother looking down
from the pictured walls, contrasted so piteously; but after the first
shock was over they carried away only the remembrance of his sweet,
grave face, and his intelligent and pertinent observations, indicating a
shrewdness for which even Mr. Menteith was unprepared. When he owned
this, after business was done, the young earl smiled, evidently much
gratified.

"Yes, I don't think they can say of me that I'm 'no a' there!" Also he
that evening confessed to Helen that he found "business" nearly as
interesting as Greek and Latin, perhaps even more so, for there was
something human in it, something which drew one closer to one's
fellow-creatures, and benefited other people besides one's own self. "I
think," he added, "I should rather enjoy being what is called 'a good
man of business.'"

He pleaded so hard for farther instruction in all pertaining to his
estate that Mr. Menteith consented to spare two whole weeks out of his
busy Edinburg life, during which Lord Cairnforth and he were shut up
together for a great part of every day, investigating matters connected
with the property, and other things which hitherto in the young man's
education had been entirely neglected.

"For," said his guardian, sadly, "I own, I never thought of him as a
young man--or as a man at all; nevertheless, he is one, and will
always be. That clear, cool head of his, just for brains, pure brains,
is worth both his father's and grandfather's put together."

And when Helen repeated this saying to Lord Cairnforth, he smiled his
exceedingly bright smile, and was more cheerful, joyous, for days after.

On Mr. Menteith's return home, he sent back to the Castle one of his old
clerks, who had been acquainted with the Cairnforth affairs for nearly
half a century; he also was astonished at the capacity which the young
earl showed. Of course, physically, he was entirely helpless; the
little forked stick was still in continual requisition; nor could he
write except with much difficulty; but he had the faculty of arrangement
and order, and the rare power--rarer than is supposed--of guiding
and governing, so that what he could not do himself he could direct
others how to do, and thus attain his end so perfectly, that even those
who knew him best were oftentimes actually amazed at the result he
effected.

Then he enjoyed his work; took such an interest in the plans for feuing
land along the loch-side, and the sort of houses that was to be built
upon each feu, the roads he would have to make, and especially in the
grand wooden pier which, by Mr. Menteith's advice, was shortly to be
erected in lieu of the little quay of stones at the ferry, which had
hitherto served as Cairnforth's chief link with the outside world.

If Mr. Cardross and Helen grieved a little over this advancing tide of
civilization, which might soon sweep away many things old and dear from
the shores of beautiful Loch Beg, they grew reconciled when they saw the
light in the earl's eyes, and heard him talk with an interest and
enthusiasm quite new to him of what he meant to do when he came of age.
Only in all his projects was one peculiarity rather uncommon in young
heirs--the entire absence of any schemes for personal pleasure.
Conforts he had, of course; his faithful friends and servants took care
that his condition should have every alleviation that wealth could
furnish; but of enjoyments, after the fashion of youth, he planned
nothing; for, indeed, what of them was left him to enjoy?

And so, faster than was usual, being so well filled with occupations,
the weeks and months slipped by, until the important thirtieth of June,
when Mr. Menteith's term of guardianship would end, and a man's free
life and independent duties, so far as he could perform them, would
legally begin for the Earl of Cairnforth.

There had been great consultations on this topic all along the two
lochs, and beyond them, for Dougal Mac Dougal had carried his story of
the earl and his goodness to the extreme verge of the Cairnforth
territory. Throughout June the Manse was weekly haunted by tenants
arriving from all quarters to consult the minister, the universal
referee, as to how best they could celebrate the event, which, whenever
it occurred, had for generations been kept gloriously in the little
peninsula, though no case was known of any earl's attaining his majority
as being already Earl of Cairnforth. The Montgomeries were usually a
long-lived race, and their heirs rarely came to their titles till
middle-aged fathers of families.

"But we maun hae grand doings this time, ye ken," said an old farmer to
the minister, "for I doubt there'll ne'er be anither Earl o'
Cairnforth."

Which fact every one seemed sorrowfully to recognize. It was not only
probable, but right, that in this Lord Cairnforth--so terribly
afflicted--the long line should end.

As the day of the earl's majority approached, the minister's feelings
were of such a mingled kind that he shrank from these demonstrations of
joy, and rather repressed the warm loyalty which was springing up every
where toward the young man. But after taking counsel with Helen, who
saw into things a little deeper than he did, Mr. Cardross decided that
it was better all should be done exactly as if the present lord were not
different from his forefathers, and that he should be helped both to act
and to feel as like other people as possible.

Therefore, on a bright June morning, as bright as that of his sad
birth-day and his mother's death-day, twenty-one years before, the earl
awoke to the sound of music playing--if the national pipes of the
peninsula could be called music--underneath his window, and heard his
good neighbors from the clachan, young and old, men, women, and bairns,
uniting their voices in one hearty shout, wishing "A lang life and a
merry ane" to the Earl of Cairnforth.

Whether or not the young man's heart echoed the wish, who could tell?
It was among the solemn secrets which every human soul has to keep and
ever must keep between itself and its Maker.

Very soon the earl appeared out of doors, wheeling himself along the
terrace in his little chair, answering smilingly the congratulations of
every body, and evidently enjoying the pleasant morning, the sunshine,
and the scent of the flowers in what was still called "The countess's
garden." People notice afterward how very like he looked that day to
his beautiful mother; and many a mother out of the clachan, who
remembered the lady's face still, and how, during her few brief months
of married happiness and hope, she used to stop her pretty pony-carriage
to notice every poor woman's baby she chanced to pass--many of these
now regarded pitifully and tenderly her only son, the last heir of the
last Countess of Cairnfoth.

Yet he certainly enjoyed himself, there could be no doubt of it; and
when, later in the day, he discovered a conspiracy between the Castle,
the Manse, and the clachan, which resulted in a grand feast on the lawn,
he was highly delighted.

"All this for me!" he cried, almost childish in his pleasure. "How good
every body is to me!"

And he insisted on mixing with the little crowd, and seeing them sit
down to their banquet, which they ate as if they had never eaten in
their lives before, and drank--as Highlanders can drink, and
Highlanders alone. But, before the whisky began to grow dangerous, the
oldest man among the tenantry, who declared that he could remember three
Earls of Cairnfoth, proposed the health of this earl, which was received
with acclamations long and loud, the pipers playing the family tune of
"Montgomerie's Reel," which was chiefly notable for having neither
beginning, middle, nor ending.

Lord Cairnforth bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Ought not somebody to make a little speech of thanks to them?"
whispered he to Helen, who stood close behind his chair.

"You should; and I think you could," was her answer.

"Very well; I will try."

And in his poor feeble voice, which trembled much, yet was distinct and
clear, he said a few words, very short and simple, to the people near
him. He thanked them for all this merry-making in his honor, and said,
"he was exceedingly happy that day." He told them he meant always to
reside at Cairnforth, and to carry out all sorts of plans for the
improvement of his estates, both for his tenants' benefits and his own.
That he hoped to be both a just and kind landlord, working with and for
his tenantry to the utmost of his power.

"That is," he added, with a slight fall of the voice, "to the utmost of
those few powers which it has pleased Heaven to give me."

After this speech there was a full minute's silence, tender, touching
silence, and the arose a cheer, long and loud, such had rarely echoed
through the little peninsula on the coming of age of any Lord
Cairnforth.

When the tenantry had gone away to light bonfires on the hill-side, and
perform many other feats of jubilation, a little dinner-party assembled
in the large dining-room, which had been so long disused, for the earl
always preferred the library, which was on a level with his bedroom,
whence he could wheel himself in and out as he pleased. To-day the
family table was outspread, and the family plate glittered, and the
family portraits stared down from the wall as the last Earl of
Cairnforth moved--or rather was moved--slowly down the long room.
Malcolm was wheeling him to a side seat well sheltered and comfortable,
when he said,

"Stop! Remember I am twenty-one to-day. I think I ought to take my
seat at the head of my own table."

Malcolm obeyed. And thus, for the first time since the late earl's
death, the place--the master's place--was filled.

"Mr. Cardross, will you say grace?"

The minister tried once--twice--thrice; but his voice failed him.
His tender heart, which had lived through so many losses, and this day
saw all the past brought before him vivid as yesterday, entirely broke
down. Thereupon the earl, from his seat at the head of his own table,
repeated simply and naturally the few words which every head of a
household--as priest in his own family--may well say, "For these
and all other mercies, Lord, make us thankful."

After that, Mr. Menteith took snuff vehemently, and Mr. Cardross openly
wiped his eyes. But Helen's, if not quite dry, were very bright. Her
woman's heart, which looked beyond the pain of suffering into the beauty
of suffering nobly endured, even as faith looks through "the grave and
gate of death" into the glories of immortality--Helen's heart was
scarcely sad, but very glad and proud.

The day after Lord Cairnforth's coming of age Mr. Menteith formally
resigned his trust. He had managed the property so successfully during
the long minority that even he himself was surprised at the amount of
money, both capital and income, which the earl was now master of,
without restriction or reservation, and free from the control of any
human being.

"Yes, my lord," said he, when the young man seemed subdued and almost
overcome by the extent of his own wealth, "it is really all your own.
You may make ducks and drakes of it, as the saying goes, as soon as ever
you please. You are accountable for it to no one--except One," added
the good, honest, religious man, now growing an old man, and a little
gentler, grave, as well as a little more demonstrative than he had been
twenty years before.

"Except One. I know that; I hope I shall never forget it," replied the
Earl of Cairnforth.

And then they proceeded to wind up their business affairs.

"How strange it is," observed the earl, when they had nearly concluded,
"how very strange that I should be here in the world, an isolated human
being, with not a single blood relation, not a soul who has any real
claim upon me!"

"Certainly not--no claim whatsoever; and yet you are not quite
without blood relations."

Lord Cairnforth looked surprised. "I always understood that I had no
near kindred."

'Of near kindred you have none. But there are certain far-away cousins,
of whom, for many reasons, I never told you, and begged Mr. Cardross not
to tell you either."

"I think I ought to have been told."

Mr. Menteith explained his strong reasons for silence, such as the late
lord's unpleasant experience--and his own--of the Bruce family,
and the necessity he saw for keeping his ward quite out of their
association and their influence till his character was matured, and he
was of age to judge for himself, and act for himself, concerning them.
All the more, because remote as their kinship was, and difficult to be
proved, still, if proved, they would be undoubtedly his next heirs.

"My next heirs," repeated the earl--"of course. I must have an heir.
I wonder I never thought of that. If I died, there must be somebody to
succeed me in the title and estates."

"Not in the title," said Mr. Menteith, hesitating, for he saw it was
opening a subject most difficult and painful, yet which must be opened
sometime or other, and the old was too hones to shrink from so doing, if
necessary.

"Why not the title?"

"It is entailed, and can be inherited in the direct male line only."

"That is, it descends from father to son?"

"Exactly so."

"I see," said the young man, after a long pause.

"Then I am the last Earl of Cairnforth."

There was no answer. Mr. Menteith could not for his life have given
one; besides, none seemed required. The earl said it as if merely
stating a fact beyond which there is no appeal, and neither expecting
nor desiring any refutation or contradiction.

"Now," Lord Cairnforth continued, suddenly changing the conversation,
"let us speak once more of the Bruces, who, you say, might any day
succeed to my fortune, and would probably make a very bad use of it."

"I believe so; upon my conscience I do!" said Mr. Menteith, earnestly,
"else I never should have felt justified in keeping them out of your way
as I have done."

"Who are they? I mean, of what does the family consist?"

"An old man--Colonel Bruce he calls himself, and is known as such in
every disreputable gambling town on the Continent; a long tribe of
girls, and one son, eldest or youngest, I forget which, who was sent to
India through some influence I used for your father's sake, but who may
be dead by now for aught I know. Indeed, the utmost I have had to do
with the family of late years has been paying the annuity granted them
by the late earl, which I continued, not legally, but through charity,
on trust that the present earl would never call me to account for the
same."

"Most certainly I never shall."

"Then you will take my advice, and forgive my intruding upon you a
little more of it?"

"Forgive? I am thankful, my good old friend, for every wise word you
say to me."

Again the good lawyer hesitated: "There is a subject, one exceedingly
difficult to speak of, but it should be named, since you might not think
of it yourself. Lord Cairnforth, the only way in which you can secure
your property against these Bruces is by at once making your will."

"Making my will!" replied the earl, looking as if the new
responsibilities opening upon him were almost bewildering.

"Every man who has any thing to leave ought to make a will as soon as
ever he comes of age. Vainly I urged this upon your father."

"My poor father! That he should die--so young and strong--and I
should live--how strange it seems! You think, then--perhaps Dr.
Hamilton also thinks--that my life is precarious?"

"I can not tell; my dear lord, how could any man possibly tell?"

"Well, it will not make me die one day sooner or later to have made my
will: as you say, every man ought to do it; I ought especially, for my
life is more doubtful than most people's, and it is a solemn charge to
posses so large a fortune as mine."

"Yes. The good--or harm--that might be done with it is
incalculable."

"I feel that--at least I am beginning to feel it."

And for a time the earl sat silent and thoughtful; the old lawyer
fussing about, putting papers and debris of all sorts into their right
places, but feeling it awkward to resume the conversation.

"Mr. Menteith, are you at liberty now? For I have quite made up my
mind. This matter of the will shall be settled at once. It can be
done?"

"Certainly."

"Sit down, then, and I will dictate it. But first you must promise not
to interfere with any disposition I may see fit to make of my property."

"I should not have the slightest right to do so, Lord Cairnforth."

"My good old friend! Well, now, how shall we begin?"

"I should recommend your first stating any legacies you may wish to
leave to dependents--for instance, Mrs. Campbell, or Malcolm, and
then bequeathing the whole bulk of your estates to some one person--
some young person likely to outlive you, and upon whom you can depend to
carry out all your plans and intentions, and make as good a use of your
fortune as you would have done yourself. That is my principle as to
choice of an heir. There are many instances in which blood is not
thicker than water, and a friend by election is often worthier and
dearer, besides being closer than any relative."

"You are right."

"Still, consanguinity must be considered a little. You might leave a
certain sum to these Bruces--or if, on inquiry, you found among them
any child whom you approved, you could adopt him as your heir, and he
could take the name Montgomerie."

"No," replied the ear, decisively, "that name is ended. All I have to
consider is my own people here--my tenants and servants. Whoever
succeeds me ought to know them all, and be to them exactly what I have
been, or rather what I hope to be."

"Mr. Cardross, for instance. Were you thinking of him as your heir?"

"No, not exactly," replied Lord Cairnforth, slightly coloring. "He is a
little too old. Besides, he is not quite the sort of person I should
wish--too gentle and self-absorbed--too little practical."

"One of his sons, perhaps?"

"No, nor one of yours either; to whom, by the way you will please to set
down a thousand pounds apiece. Nay, don't look so horrified; it will
not harm them. But personally I do not know them, nor they me. And my
heir should be some one whom I thoroughly do know, thoroughly respect,
thoroughly love. There is but one person in the world--one young
person--who answers to all those requisites."

"Who is that?"

"Helen Cardross."

Mr. Menteith was a good deal surprised. Though he had a warm corner in
his heart for Helen, still, the idea of her as heiress to so large an
estate was novel and startling. He did not consider himself justified
in criticizing the earl's choice; still, he thought it odd. True, Helen
was a brave, sensible, self-dependent woman--not a girl any longer
--and accustomed from the age of fifteen to guide a household, to be
her father's right hand, and her brothers' help and counselor--one of
those rare characters who, without being exactly masculine, are yet not
too feebly feminine--in whom strength is never exaggerated to
boldness, nor gentleness deteriorated into weakness. She was firm, too;
could form her own opinion and carry it out; though not accomplished,
was fairly well educated, possessed plenty of sound practical knowledge
of men and things, and, above all, had habits of extreme order and
regularity. People said, sometimes, that Miss Cardross ruled not only
the Manse, but the whole parish; however, if so, she did it in so sweet
a way that nobody ever objected to her government.

All these things Mr. Menteith ran over in his acute mind within the next
few minutes, during which he did not commit himself to any remarks at
all. At last he said,

"I think, my lord, you are right. Helen's no bonnie, but she is a rare
creature, with the head of a man and the heart of a woman. She is worth
all her brothers put together, and, under the circumstances, I believe
you could not do better than make her your heiress."

"I am glad you think so," was the brief answer. Though, by the
expression of the earl's face, Mr. Menteith clearly saw that, whether he
had thought it or not, the result would have been just the same. He
smiled a little to himself, but he did not dispute the matter. He knew
that one of the best qualities the earl possessed--most blessed and
useful to him, as it is to every human being--was the power of making
up his own mind, and acting upon it with that quiet resolution which is
quite distinct from obstinacy--obstinacy, usually the last
strong-hold of cowards, and the blustering self-defense of fools.

"There is but one objection to your plan, Lord Cairnforth. Miss
Cardross is young--twenty-six, I think."

"Twenty-five and a half."

"She may not remain always Miss Cardross. She may marry; and we can not
tell what sort of man her husband may be, or how fit to be trusted with
so large a property."

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