They sat, silent and talking by turns, beside the not unwelcome fire, in a corner of the large library.
"We shall miss Alick a good deal this spring," said Helen, recurring to a subject of which the family heart was full, the departure of the eldest son to "begin the world" in Mr.Menteith's office in Edinburg.
He was not a very clever lad, but he was sensible and steady, and blessed with that practical mother-wit which is often better than brains.

The minister, though he had been bemoaning his boy's "little Latin and less Greek," and comparing Alick's learning very disadvantageously with that of the earl, to whom Mr.Cardross confided all his troubles, nevertheless seemed both proud and hopeful of his eldest son, the heir to his honest name, which Alick would now carry out into a far wider world than that of the poor minister of Cairnforth, and doubtless, in good time, transmit honorably to a third generation.
"Yes," added the father, when innumerable castles in the air had been built and rebuilt for Alick's future, "I'll not deny that my lad is a good lad.

He is the hope of the house, and he knows it.

It's little of worldly gear that he'll get for many a day, and he tells me he will have to work from morning till night; but he rather enjoys the prospect than not." "No wonder.

Work must be a happy thing," said, with a sigh, the young Earl of Cairnforth.
Helen's heart smote her for having let the conversation drift into this direction, as it did occasionally when, from their long familiarity with him, they forgot how he must feel about many things, natural enough to them, but to him, unto whom the outer world, with all its duties, energies, enjoyments, could never be any thing but a name, full of sharpest pain.