carriage, but to let me go about as I like, Malcolm carrying me--
isn't he a big, strong fellow? You can't think how nice it is to be
carried about, and see every thing--oh, it makes me so happy!"

The tone in which he said "so happy" made the tears start to Helen's
eyes. She turned away to the window, where she saw her own big
brothers, homely-featured, and coarsely clad, but full of health, and
strength, and activity, and then looked at this poor boy, who had every
thing that fortune could give, and yet--nothing! She thought how
they grumbled and squabbled, those rough lads of hers; how she herself
often felt the burden of the large narrow household more than she could
bear, and lost heart and temper; then she thought of him--poor,
helpless soul!--you could hardly say body--who could neither move
hand nor foot--who was dependent as an infant on the kindness or
compassion of those about him. Yet he talked of being "so happy!" And
there entered into Helen Cardross's good heart toward the Earl of Cairn
forth a deep tenderness, which from that hour nothing ever altered or
estranged.

It was not pity--something far deeper. Had he been fretful,
fractious, disagreeable, she would still have been very sorry for him
and very kind to him. But now, to see him as he was--cheerful,
patient; so ready with his interest in others, so utterly without
envying and complaining regarding himself--changed what would
otherwise have been mere compassion into actual reverence. As she sat
beside him in his little chair, not looking at him much, for she still
found it difficult to overcome the painful impression of the sight of
that crippled and deformed body, she felt a choking in her throat and a
dimness in her eyes--a longing to do any thing in the wide world that
would help or comfort the poor little earl.