So, at two days old, the "poor little earl"-- as from his very birth people began compassionately to call him--was left alone in the world, without a single near relative or connection, his parents having both been only children, but with his title, his estate, and twenty thousand a year.
Cairnforth Castle is one of the loveliest residences in all Scotland.
It is built on the extremity of a long tongue of land which stretches out between two salt-water lochs--Loch Beg, the "little," and Loch Mhor, the "big" lake.

The latter is grand and gloomy, shut in by bleak mountains, which sit all round it, their feet in the water, and their heads in mist and cloud.

But Loch Beg is quite different.

It has green, cultivated, sloping shores, fringed with trees to the water's edge, and the least ray of sunshine seems always to set it dimpling with wavy smiles.

Now and then a sudden squall comes down from the chain of mountains far away beyond the head of the loch, and then its waters begin to darken--just like a sudden frown over a bright face; the waves curl and rise, and lash themselves into foam, and any little sailing boat, which has been happily and safely riding over them five minutes before, is often struck and capsized immediately.