All these things Mr. Menteith ran over in his acute mind within the next few minutes, during which he did not commit himself to any remarks at all. At last he said, "I think, my lord, you are right. Helen's no bonnie, but she is a rare creature, with the head of a man and the heart of a woman. She is worth all her brothers put together, and, under the circumstances, I believe you could not do better than make her your heiress." "I am glad you think so," was the brief answer. Though, by the expression of the earl's face, Mr. Menteith clearly saw that, whether he had thought it or not, the result would have been just the same. He smiled a little to himself, but he did not dispute the matter. He knew that one of the best qualities the earl possessed--most blessed and useful to him, as it is to every human being--was the power of making up his own mind, and acting upon it with that quiet resolution which is quite distinct from obstinacy--obstinacy, usually the last strong-hold of cowards, and the blustering self-defense of fools. "There is but one objection to your plan, Lord Cairnforth. Miss Cardross is young--twenty-six, I think." "Twenty-five and a half." "She may not remain always Miss Cardross. She may marry; and we can not tell what sort of man her husband may be, or how fit to be trusted with so large a property." "So good a woman is not likely to choose a man unworthy of her," said Lord Cairnforth, after a pause. "Still, could not my fortune be settled upon herself as a life-rent, to descend intact to her heirs--that is, her children?" "My dear lord, how you must have thought over every thing!" "You forget, my friend, I have nothing to do but to sit thinking." There was a sad intonation in the voice which affected Mr. Menteith deeply. He made no remark, but busied himself in drawing up the will, which Lord Cairnforth seemed nervously anxious should be completed that very day. "For, suppose any thing should happen--if I died this night, for instance! No, let what is done be done as soon as possible, and as privately." "You wish, then, the matter to be kept private?" asked Mr. Menteith. "Yes." So in the course of the next few hours the will was drawn up. It was somewhat voluminous with sundry small legacies, no one being forgotten whom the earl desired to benefit or thought needed his help; but the bulk of his fortune he left unreservedly to Helen Cardross. Malcolm and another servant were called in as witnesses, and the earl saying to them with a cheerful smile "that he was making his will, but did not mean to die a day the sooner," signed it with that feeble, uncertain signature which yet had cost him years of pains to acquire, and never might have been acquired at all but for his own perseverance and the unwearied patience of Helen Cardross. "She taught me to write, you know," said he to Mr. Menteith, as--the witnesses being gone--he, with a half-amused look, regarded his own autograph.