Poor little fellow, what an accumulation it will be by the time he is of
age, and what small good it will do him!"

And the honest man sighed as he looked from Mr. Cardross's dining-room
window across the Manse garden, where, under a shady tree, was placed
the earl's little wheel-chair, which was an occasional substitute for
Malcolm's arms. In it he sat, with a book on his lap, and with the
aspect of entire content which was so very touching. Helen sat beside
him on the grass, sewing--she was always sewing; and, indeed, she had
need, if her needle were to keep pace with its requirements in the large
family of boys.

"That's a good girl of yours, and his lordship seems to have taken to
her amazingly. I am very glad, for he had no feminine company at all
except Mrs. Campbell, and, good as she is, she isn't quite the thing--
not exactly a lady, you see. Eh, Mr. Cardross--what a lady his
mother was! We'll never again see the like of the poor countess, nor,
in all human probability, will we ever again see another Countess of
Cairnforth.

"No."

"Yet," continued Mr. Menteith, after a long pause, "Dr. Hamilton thinks
he may live many years. Strange to say, his constitution is healthy and
sound, and his sweet, placid nature--his mother's own nature (isn't
he very like her sometimes?)--gives him so much advantage in
struggling through every ailment. If he can be made happy, as you and
Helen will, I doubt not, be able to make him, and kept strictly to a
wholesome, natural country life here, it is not impossible he may live
to enter upon his property. And then--for the future, God knows!"