A Noble Life Part 26

Lord Cairnforth noticed this, as he noticed every thing; and at last, seeing the young heart was too full almost to bear much talking, he said kindly,

"Cardross, give your mother that arm-chair; she looks very wearied. And the, would you mind having a consultation with Malcolm about those salmon-weirs at the head of the Loch Mohr? I know his is longing to open his heart to you on the subject. Go, my boy, and don't hurry back.

I want to have a good long talk with your mother."

Cardross obeyed. The two friends looked after him as he walked down the room with his light, active step, and graceful, gentlemanly figure--a youth who seemed born to be heir to all the splendors around him. Helen clasped her hands tightly together on her lap, and her lips moved. She did not speak, but the earl almost seemed to hear the great outcry of the mother's heart going up to G.o.d--"Give any thing thou wilt to me, only give him all!" Alas! That such a cry should ever fall back to earth in the other pitiful moan, "Would G.o.d that I had died for thee, O Abaslom, my son--my son!"

But it was not to be so with Helen Bruce. Her son was no Absalom. Her days of sorrow were ended.

Laird Cairnforth saw how violently affected she was, and began to talk to her in a commonplace and practical manner about all that he and Cardross had been arranging that morning.

"And I must say that, though he will never shine at college, and probably his grandfather would mourn over him as having no learning, there is an amount of solid sense about the fellow with which I am quite delighted. He is companionable too--knows how to make use of his acquirements. Whatever light he possesses, he will never hide it under a bushel, which is, perhaps, the best qualification for the position that he will one day hold. I have no fear about Cardross. He will be an heir after my own heart--will accomplish all I wished, and possibly a little more."

Mrs. Bruce answered only by tears.

"But there is one thing which he and I have settled between us, subject to your approval, of course. He must go back to college immediately."

"To Edinburg?"

"Do not look so alarmed, Helen. No, not Edinburg. It is best to break off all a.s.sociations there--he wishes it himself. He would like to go to a new University--St. Andrew's."

"But he knows n.o.body there. He would be quite alone. For I can not-- do you not see I can not?--leave my father. Oh, it is like being pulled in two," cried Mrs. Bruce, in great distress.

"Be patient, Helen, and hear. We have arranged it all, the boy and I.

Next week we are both bound for St. Andrew's."

"You?"

"You think I shall be useless? That it is a man, and not such a creature as I, who ought to take charge of your boy?"

The earl spoke with that deep bitterness which sometimes, though very, very rarely, he betrayed, till he saw what exceeding pain he had given.

"Forgive me, Helen; I know you did not mean that; but it was what I myself often thought until this morning. Now I see that after all I-- even I--may be the very best person to go with the boy, because, while keeping a safe watch over him, and a cheerful house always open to him, I shall also give him somebody to take care of. I shall be as much charge to him almost as a woman, and it will be good for him. Do you not perceive this?"

Helen did, clearly enough.

"Besides," continued the earl, "I might, perhaps, like to see the world myself--just once again. At any rate, I shall like to see it through this young man's eyes. He has not told you of our plan yet?"

"Not a word."

"That is well. I like to see he can keep faith. I made him promise not, because I wanted to tell you myself, Helen--I wanted to see how you would take the plan. Will you let us go? That is, the boy must go, and--you will do without me for a year?"

"A whole year! Can not Cardross come home once--just once?"

"Yes, I will manage it so; he shall come, even if I can not," replied the earl, and then was silent.

"And you," said Mrs. Bruce, suddenly, after a long meditation upon her son and his future, "you leave, for a year, your home, your pleasant life here; you change all your pursuits and plans, and give yourself no end of trouble, just to go and watch over my boy, and keep his mother's heart from aching! How can I ever thank you--ever reward you?"

No, she never could.

"It is an ugly word, 'reward;' I don't like it. And, Helen, I thought thanks were long since set aside as unnecessary between you and me."

"And you will be absent a whole year?"

"Probably, or a little more; for the boy ought to keep two sessions at least; and locomotion is not so easy to me as it is to Cardross. Yes, my dear, you will have to part with me--I mean I shall have to part with you--for a year. It is a long time in our short lives. I would not do it--give myself the pain of it--for any thing in this world except to make Helen happy."

"Thank you; I know that."

But Helen, full of her son and his prospects--her youth renewed in his youth, her life absorbed in his, seeming to stretch out to a future where there was no ending, knew not half of what she thanked him for.

She yielded to all the earl's plans; and after so many years of resistance, bowed her independent spirit to accept his bounty with humility of grat.i.tude that was almost painful to both, until a few words of his led her to, and left her in the belief that he was doing what was agreeable to himself--that he really did enjoy the idea of a long sojourn at St. Andrew's; and, mother-like, when she was satisfied on this head, she began almost to envy him the blessing of her boy's constant society.

So she agreed to all his plans cheerfully, contentedly, as indeed she had good reason to be contented; thankfully accepted every thing, and never for a moment suspected that she was accepting a sacrifice.

Chapter 17

During a whole year the Earl of Cairnforth and Mr. Bruce-Montgomery-- for, as soon as possible, Cardross legally a.s.sumed the name--resided at that fairest of ancient cities and pleasantest of Scotch Universities, St. Andrew's.

A few of the older inhabitants may still remember the house the earl occupied there, the society with which he filled it, and the general mode of life carried on by himself and his adopted son. Some may recall --for indeed it was not easy to forget--the impression made in the good old town by the two new-comers when they first appeared in the quiet streets, along the Links and on the West Sands--every where that the little carriage could be drawn. A strange contrast they were --the small figure in the pony-chair, and the tall young man walking beside it in all the vigor, grace, and activity of his blooming youth.

Two companions pathetically unlike, and yet always seen together, and evidently a.s.sociating with one another from pure love.

They lived for some time in considerable seclusion, for the earl's rank and wealth at first acted as a bar to much seeking of his acquaintance among the proud and poor University professors and old-fashioned inhabitants of the city; and Cardross, being the senior of most of the college lads, did not cultivate them much. By degrees, however, he became well known--not as a hard student--that was not his line --he never took any high college honors; but he was the best golfer, the most dashing rider, the boldest swimmer--he saved more than one life on that dangerous sh.o.r.e; and, before the session was half over, he was the most popular youth in the whole University. But he would leave every thing, or give up every thing--both his studies and his pleasures--to sit, patient as a girl, beside the earl's chair, or to follow it--often guiding it himself--up and down St. Andrews'

streets; never heeding who looked at him, or what comments were made-- as they were sure to be made--upon him, until what was at first so strange and touching a sight grew at last familiar to the whole town.

Of course, very soon all the circ.u.mstances of the case came out, probably with many imaginary additions, though the latter never reached the ears of the two concerned. Still, the tale was romantic and pathetic enough to make the earl and his young heir objects of marked interest, and welcome guests in the friendly hospitalities of the place, which hospitalities were gladly requited, for Lord Cairnforth still keenly enjoyed society, and Cardross was at an age when all pleasure is attractive.

People said sometimes, What a lucky fellow was Mr. Bruce-Montgomerie!

But they also said--as no one could help seeing and saying--that very few fathers were blessed with a son half so attentive and devoted as this young man was to the Earl of Cairnforth.

And meantime Helen Bruce lived quietly at the Manse, devoting herself to the care of her father, who still lingered on, feeble in body, though retaining most of his faculties, as though death were unwilling to end a life which had so much of peace and enjoyment of it to the very last.

When the session was over, Cardross went home to see his mother and grandfather, and on his return Lord Cairnforth listened eagerly to all the accounts of Cairnforth, and especially of all that Mrs. Bruce was doing there; she, as the person most closely acquainted with the earl's affairs, having been const.i.tuted regent in his absence.

"She's a wonderful woman--my mother," said Cardross, with great admiration. "She has the sense of a man, and the tact of a woman. She is doing every thing about the estate almost as cleverly as you would do it yourself."

"Is she? It is good practice for her," said the earl. "She will need it soon."

Cardross looked at him. He had never till then noticed, what other people began to notice, how exceedingly old the earl now looked, his small, delicate features withering up almost like those of an elderly man, though he was not much past forty.

"You don't, mean--oh no, not that! You must not be thinking of that.

My mother's rule at Cairnforth is a long way off yet." And--big fellow as he was--the lad's eyes filled with tears.

After that day he refused all holiday excursions in which Lord Cairnforth could not accompany him. It was only by great persuasion that he agreed to go for a week to Edinburg, to revisit his old haunts there, to look on the ugly fields where he had sown his wild oats, and prove to even respectable and incredulous Uncle Alick that there was no fear of their ever sprouting up again. Also, Lord Cairnforth took the opportunity to introduce his cousin into his own set of Edinburg friends, to familiarize the young man with the society in which he must shortly take his place, and to hear from them, what he so warmly believed himself, that Cardross was fitted to be heir to any property in all Scotland.

"What a pity," some added, "that he could not be heir to the earldom also!" "No," said others, "better that 'the wee earl' (as old-fashioned folk still sometimes called him) should be the last Earl of Cairnforth."

With the exception of those two visits, during a whole twelvemonth the earl and his adopted son were scarcely parted for a single day. Years afterward, Cardross loved to relate, first to his mother, and then to his children, sometimes with laughter, and again with scarcely repressed tears, may an anecdote of the life they two led together at St. Andrew's --a real student life, yet filled at times with the gayest amus.e.m.e.nts.