Thus it happened when the late earl was drowned.
The minister--the Rev.Alexander Cardross--had been sailing with him; had only just landed, and was watching the boat crossing back again, when the squall came down.

Though this region is a populous district now, with white villas dotted like daisies all along the green shores, there was then not a house in the whole peninsula of Cairnforth except the Castle, the Manse, and a few cottages, called the "clachan." Before help was possible, the earl and his boatman, Neil Campbell, were both drowned.

The only person saved was little Malcolm Campbell-- Neil's brother--a boy about ten years old.
In most country parishes of Scotland or England there is an almost superstitious feeling that "the minister," or "the clergyman," must be the fittest person to break any terrible tidings.

So it ought to be.
Who but the messenger of God should know best how to communicate His awful will, as expressed in great visitations of Calamity?
In this case no one could have been more suited for his solemn office than Mr.
Cardross.

He went up to the Castle door, as he had done to that of many a cottage bearing the same solemn message of sudden death, to which there could be but one answer--"Thy will be done." But the particulars of that terrible interview, in which he had to tell the countess what already her own eyes had witnessed--though they refused to believe the truth--the minister never repeated to any creature except his wife.