He turned the conversation to the books which Mr.Cardross was cutting, and many other books, of which he had bought a whole cart-load for the minister's library.

Neither then, nor at any other time, did he ever refer, except in the most cursory way, to his journey to London.
But Helen noticed that for a long while--weeks, nay, months, he seemed to avoid more than ever any conversation about himself.

He was slightly irritable and uncertain of mood, and disposed to shut himself up in the Castle, reading, or seeming to read, from morning till night.
It was not till a passing illness of the minister's in some degree forced him that he reappeared at the Manse, and fell into his old ways of coming and going, resuming his studies with Mr.Cardross, and his walks with Helen--or rather drives, for he had ceased to be carried in Malcolm's arms.
"I am a man, now, or ought to be," he said once, as a reason for this, after which no one made any remarks on the subject.

Malcolm still retained his place as the earl's close attendant--as faithful as his shadow, almost as silent.
But the next year or so made a considerable alteration in Lord Cairnforth.

Not in growth--the little figure never grew any bigger than that of a boy of ten or twelve; but the childish softness passed from the face; it sharpened, and hardened, and became that of a young man.