And as he gradually relaxed his watch over the young man, and left him more and more to his own guidance, Lord Cairnforth, sitting alone in his house at St.Andrew's--almost as much alone as he used to sit in the Castle library--would think, with a strange consolation, that this year's heavy sacrifice had not been in vain.
Once Cardross, coming in from a long golfing match, broke upon one of these meditative fits, and was a little surprised to find that the earl did not rouse himself out of it quite so readily as was his wont; also that the endless college stories, which he always liked so much to listen to, fell rather blank, and did not meet Lord Cairnforth's hearty laugh, as gay as that of a young fellow could share and sympathize in them all.
"You are not well to-day," suddenly said the lad.

"What have you been doing ?" "My usual work--nothing." "But you have been thinking.

What about ?" cried Cardross, with the affectionate persistency of one who knew himself a favorite, and looking up in the earl's face with his bright, fond eyes--Helen's very eyes.
"I was thinking of your mother, my boy.

You know it is a whole year since I have seen your mother." "So she said in her last letter, and wondered when you intended coming home, because she misses you more and more every day." "You, she means, Carr." "No, yourself.

I know my mother wishes you would come home." "Does she?
And so do I.