As he went home, having arranged to come daily every forenoon to sit with the minister, and to read a little Greek with Duncan, lest the lad's studies should be interrupted, he decided that, in her father's state, which appeared to him the more serious the longer he considered it, it was right Helen should come home, and somebody, not Mr. Cardross, ought to urge it upon her. He determined to do this himself. And, lest means should be wanting—though of this he had no reason to fear, his information from all quarters having always been that the Bruce family lived more than well—luxuriously—he resolved to offer a gift with which he had not before dared to think of insulting independent Helen—money.
With difficulty and pains, not intrusting this secret to even his faithful secretary, he himself wrote a few lines, in his own feeble, shaky hand, telling her exactly how things were; suggesting her coming home, and inclosing wherewithal to do it, from "her affectionate old friend and cousin," from whom she need not hesitate to accept any thing. But though he carefully, after long consideration, signed himself her "cousin," he did not once name Captain Bruce. He could not.
This done, he waited day after day, till every chance of Helen's not having had time to reply was long over, and still no answer came. That the letter had been received was more than probable, almost certain. Every possible interpretation that common sense allowed Lord Cairnforth gave to her silence, and all failed. Then he let the question rest. To distrust her, Helen, his one pure image of perfection, was impossible. He felt it would have killed him—not his outer life, perhaps, but the life of his heart, his belief in human goodness.
So he still waited, nor judged her either as daughter or friend, but contented himself with doing her apparently neglected duty for her— making himself an elder brother to Duncan, and a son to the minister, and never missing a day without spending some hours at the Manse.
For almost the first time since her departure, Helen's regular monthly letter did not arrive, and the earl grew seriously alarmed. In the utmost perplexity, he was resolving in his own mind what next step to take—how, and how much he ought to tell of his anxieties to her father—when all difficulties were solved in the sharpest and yet easiest way by a letter from Helen herself—a letter so unlike Helen's, so un-neat, blurred, and blotted, that at first he did not even recognize it as hers.
"To the Right Honorable the Earl of Cairnforth:
"My Lord,—I have only just found your letter. The money inclosed was not there. I conclude it had been used for our journey hither; but it is gone, and I can not come to my dearest father. My husband is very ill, and my little baby only three weeks old. Tell my father this, and send me news of him soon. Help me, for I am almost beside myself with misery!
"Yours gratefully,
"Helen Bruce
"—— Street, Edinburg."