e slight
was accidental, and he rarely grieved over it. Mere acquaintances had
not the power to touch his heart. And this gentle heart which, liking
many, loved but few, none whom he loved ever could really offend. He

"Grappled them to his soul with hooks of steel,"

And believed in them to the last extremity of faith that was possible.

So, whether Captain Bruce came under the latter category or the former,
his conduct was passed over, waiting for future explanation when Lord
Cairnforth returned home, as now, every day, he was wearying to do.

"But I will be back again in pleasant Edinburg next winter," said he to
one of his new friends, who had helped to make his stay pleasant, and
was sorely regretting his departure. "And I shall bring with me some
very old friends of mine, who will enjoy it as much as I shall myself."

And he planned, and even made preliminary arrangements for a house to be
taken, and an establishment formed, where the minister, Helen, and,
indeed, all the Cardross family, if they chose, might find a hospitable
home for the ensuing winter season.

"And how they will like it!" said he, in talking it over with Malcolm
one day. "How the minister will bury himself in old libraries, and Miss
Cardross will admire the grand shops and the beautiful views. And how
the boys will go skating on Dunsappi Loch, and golfing over Bruntsfield
Links. Oh, we'll make them all so happy!" added he, with pleasure
shining in those contented eyes, which drew half their light from the
joy that they saw, and caused to shine in the eyes around him.

It was after many days of fatiguing travel that Lord Cairnforth reached
the ferry opposite Cairnforth.

There the Castle stood, just as he had left it, its white front gleaming
against the black woods, then yellow and brown with autumn, but now only
black, or with a faint amber shadow running through them, preparatory to
the green of spring. Between lay the beautiful loch, looking ten times
more beautiful than ever to eyes which had not seen it for many long
months. How it danced and dimpled, as it had done before the squall in
which the earl's father was drowned, and as it would do many a time
again, after the fashion of these lovely, deceitful lochs, and of many
other things in this world.

"Oh, Malcolm, it's good to be at home!" said the earl, as he gazed
fondly at his white castle walls, at the ivy-covered kirk, and the gable
end of the Manse. He had been