come
nowhere but at Loch Beg. By-and-by she reappeared in the library,
moving through its heavy shadows, and looking herself again--the
calm, dignified woman, "my cousin, Mrs. Bruce," who sometimes appeared
among Lord Cairnforth's guests, and whom, though she was too retiring to
attract much notice, every body who did notice was sure to approve.

She took her accustomed place by the earl's side, and plunged at once,
in Helen's own way, into the business which had brought her hither.

"I am not come to beg or to borrow, do not think it--only to ask
advice. Tell me, what am I to say to my boy?"

And again, the instant she mentioned her son's name, she gave way to
tears. Yet all the while her friend saw that she was very hard, and
bent upon being hard; that, had Cardross appeared before her at that
minute, she would immediately have frozen up again into the stern mother
whose confidence had been betrayed, whose principles infringed, and who,
though loving her son with all the strength of her heart, could also
punish him with all the power of her conscience, even though her heart
was breaking with sorrow the while.

"I will give you the best advice I can. But, first, let me have his
letter again."

Lord Cairnforth read it slowly over, Mrs. Bruce's eager eyes watching
him, and then suffered her to take it from his helpless hands, and fold
it up, tenderly, as mothers do.

"What do you think of it?"

"Exactly what I did this morning--that your boy has been very
foolish, but not wicked. There is no attempt at deception or
untruthfulness.

"No, thank God! Whatever else he is, my son is not a liar. I have
prevented or conquered that."

"Yes, because you brought him up, as your father brought us up, to be
afraid of nothing, to speak out our minds to him without fear of
offending him, to stand in no dread of rousing his anger, but only of
grieving his love. And so, you see, Helen, it is the same with your
boy. He never attempts to deceive you. He tells out, point-blank, the
most foolish things he has done--the most ridiculous expenses he has
run into. He may be extravagant, but he is not untruthful. I have no
doubt, if I sent this list to his trades-people, they would verify every
halfpenny, and that this really is the end of the list. Not such a long
list neither, if you consider. Below two hundred pounds for which you
were going to sell my ring."

"Were going! I shall do it still."

"If you will; t