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.