more his own natural self, perhaps even more cheerful, since it was now
not so much the gayety of a boy as the composed, equable serenity of a
thoughtful man.

His education might be considered complete: it had advanced to the
utmost limit to which Mr. Cardross could carry it; but the pupil
insisted on retaining, nominally and pecuniarily, his position at the
Manse.

Or else the two would spend hours--nay, days, shut up together in the
Castle Library, the beautiful octagon room, with its painted ceiling,
and its eight walls lined from floor to roof with empty shelves, to plan
the filling of which was the delight of the minister's life, since, but
for his poor parish and his large family, Mr. Cardross would have been a
thorough bibliomaniac. Now, in a vicarious manner, the hobby of his
youth reappeared, and at every cargo of books that arrived at the Castle
his old eyes brightened--for he was growing to look really an old man
now--and he would plunge among them with an ardor that sometimes made
both the earl and Helen smile. But Helen's eyes were dim too, for she
saw through all the tender cunning, and often watched Lord Cairnforth as
he sat contentedly in his little chair, in the midst of a pile of books,
examining, directing, and sympathizing, though doing nothing. Alas!
nothing could he do. But it was one of the secrets which made these
three lives so peaceful, that each could throw itself out of itself into
that of another, and take thence, secondarily, the sunshine that was
denied to its own.

Beyond the family at the Manse the earl had no acquaintance whatsoever,
and seemed to desire none. His rank lifted him above the small
proprietors who lived within visitable distance of the Castle: they