much.

He enjoyed it still--a little; and during the weeks that elapsed
before Helen was able to travel, or do any thing but lie still and be
taken care of, he found opportunity to mingle once more among his former
associates. But his heart was always in that quiet room which he only
entered once a day, where the newly-made widow sat with her orphan child
at her bosom, and waited for Time, the healer, to soothe and bind up the
inevitable wounds.

At last the day arrived when the earl, with his little cortege of two
carriages, one his own, and the other containing Helen, her baby, and
Mrs. Campbell, quitted Edinburg, and, traveling leisurely, neared the
shores of Loch Beg. They did not come by the ferry, Lord Cairnforth
having given orders to drive round the head of the loch, as the easiest
and most unobtrusive way of bringing Helen home. Much he wondered how
she bore it--the sight of the familiar hills--exactly the same--
for it was the same time of year, almost the very day, when she had left
Cairnforth; but he could not inquire. At length, after much thought,
during the last stage of the journey, he bade Malcolm ask Mrs. Bruce if
she would leave her baby for a little and come into the earl's carriage,
which message she obeyed at once.

These few weeks of companionship, not constant, but still sufficiently
close, had brought them back very much into their old brother and sister
relation, and though nothing had been distinctly said about it, Helen
had accepted passively all the earl's generosity both for herself and
her child. Once or twice, when he had noticed a slight hesitation of
uneasiness in her manner, Lord Cairnforth had said, "I promised him, you
remember," and this had silenced her. Besides she was too utterly worn
out and broken down to resist any kindness. She seemed to open her
heart to it--Helen's proud, sensitive, independent heart--much as
a plant, long dried up, withered, and trampled upon, opens itself to the
sunshine and the dew.

But now her health, both of body and mind, had revived a little; and as
she sat opposite him in her grave, composed widowhood, even the disguise
of the black weeds could not take away a look that returned again and
again, reminding the earl of the Helen of his childhood--the bright,
sweet, wholesome-natured, high-spirited Helen Cardross.

"I asked you to come to me in the carriage," said he, after they had
spoken a while about ordinary things. "Before we reach