but did not mean to
die a day the sooner," signed it with that feeble, uncertain signature
which yet had cost him years of pains to acquire, and never might have
been acquired at all but for his own perseverance and the unwearied
patience of Helen Cardross.

"She taught me to write, you know," said he to Mr. Menteith, as--the
witnesses being gone--he, with a half-amused look, regarded his own
autograph.

"You have used the results of her teaching well on her behalf today. It
is no trifle--a clear income of ten thousand a year; but she will
make a good use of it."

"I am sure of that. So, now, all is safe and right, and I may die as
soon as God pleases."

He leaned his head back wearily, and his face was overspread by that
melancholy shadow which it wore at times, showing how, at best, life was
a heavy burden, as it could not but be--to him.

"Come, now," said the earl, rousing himself, "we have still a good many
things to talk over, which I want to consult you about before you go,"
whereupon the young man opened up such a number of schemes, chiefly for
the benefit of his tenantry and the neighborhood, that Mr. Menteith was
quite overwhelmed.

"Why, my lord, you are the most energetic Earl of Cairnforth that ever
came to the title. It would take three lifetimes, instead of a single
one, even if that reached threescore and ten, to carry out all you want
to do."

"Would it? Then let us hope it was not for nothing that those good folk
yesterday made themselves hoarse with wishing me 'a lang life and a
merry ane.' And when I die--but we'll not enter upon that subject.
My dear old friend, I hope for many and many a thirtieth of June I shall
make you welcome to Cairnforth. And now let us take a quiet drive
together, and fetch all the Manse people up to dinner at the Castle."

Chapter 8

The same evening the earl and his guests were sitting in the June
twilight--the long, late northern twilight, which is nowhere more
lovely than on the shores of Loch Beg. Malcolm had just come in with
candles, as a gentle hint that it was time for his master, over whose
personal welfare he was sometimes a little too solicitous, to retire,
when there happened what for the time being startled every body present.

Malcolm, going to the window, sprang suddenly back with a shout and a
scream.

"I kent it weel. It was sure to be! Oh, my lord, my lord!"

"What is the matter?" said Mr. Menteith, sharply. "You're gone