"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."