were satisfied all must be right.

After the departure of Mr. Mentieth, Mrs. Campbell, and her charge, a
few rumors got abroad that the little earl was "no a'richt"--if an
earl could be "no a' richt"--which the simple folk about Loch Beg and
Loch Mhor, accustomed for generations to view the Earls of Cairnforth
much as the Thibetians view their Dali Lama, thought hardly possible.
But what was wrong with him nobody precisely knew. The minister did, it
was conjectured; but Mr. Cardross was scrupulously silent on the
subject; and, with all his gentleness, he was the sort of man to whom
nobody ever could address intrusive or impertinent questions.

So, after a while, when the Castle still remained shut up, curiosity
died out, or was only roused at intervals, especially at Mr. Menteith's
periodical visits. And to all questions, whether respectfully anxious
or merely inquisitive, he never gave but one answer--that the earl was
"doing pretty well," and would be back at Cairn forth "some o' these
days".

However, that period was so long deferred that the neighbors at last
ceased to expect it, or to speculate concerning it. They went about
their own affairs, and soon the whole story about the sad death of the
late earl and countess, and the birth of the present nobleman, began to
be told simply as a story by the elder folk, and slipped out of the
younger ones' memories--as, if one only allows it time, every tale,
however sad, wicked, or strange, will very soon do. Had it not been for
the silent, shut-up castle, standing summer and winter on the loch-side,
with its flower-gardens blossoming for none to gather, and its woods--
the pride of the whole country--budding and withering, with scarcely
a foot to cross, or an eye to notice their wonderful beauty, people