"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,