ever again vex her by telling a lie."

"No, no, no. Me'll not vex mamma. Good mamma! Pretty mamma! Boy so
sorry!"

And he clung closely and passionately to his mother, kissing her averted
face twenty times over.

"You see, Helen, you need not fear," said the earl.

Helen burst into tears.

After that day it came to be a general rule that, when she could not
manage him herself, which not infrequently happened--for the very
similarity in temperament and disposition between the mother and son
made their conflicts, even at this early age, longer and harder--Helen
brought Boy up to the Castle and left him, sometimes for hours together,
in the library with Lord Cairnforth. He always came home to the Manse
quiet and "good."

And so out of babyhood into boyhood, and thence into youth, grew the
earl's adopted son; for practically it became that relationship, though
no distinct explanation was ever given, or any absolute information
vouchsafed, for indeed there was none who had a right to inquire; still,
the neighborhood and the public at large took it for granted that such
were Lord Cairnforth's intentions toward his little cousin.

As for the boy's mother, she led a life very retired--more retired
than even Helen Cardross, doing all her duties as the minister's
daughter, but seldom appearing in society. And society speculated
little about her. Sometimes, when the Castle was full of guests, Mrs.
Bruce appeared among them, still in her widow's weeds, to be received by
Lord Cairnforth with marked attention and respect--always called "my
cousin," and whoever was present, invariably requested to take the head
of his table; but, except at these occasional seasons, and at birthdays,
new years, and so on, Helen was seldom seen out of the Manse, and was
very little known to the earl's ordinary acquaintance.

But every body in the whole peninsula knew the minister's grandson,
young Master Bruce. The boy was tall of his age--not exactly
handsome, being too like his mother for that; nevertheless, the
robustness of form, which in her was too large for comeliness, became in
him only manly size and strength. He was athletic, graceful, and
active; he learned to ride almost as soon as he could walk; and, under
Malcolm's charge, was early initiated in all the mysteries of moor and
loch. By fourteen years of age Cardross Bruce was the best shot, the
best fisher, the best hand at an oar, of all the young lads in the
neighborhood