congregation, those two large intent eyes fixed upon him from the
Cairnforth pew.

Children of ten years old do not usually listen much to sermons, but the
little earl had heard very few, for it was difficult to take him to
church without so many people staring at him. Nevertheless, he listened
to this sermon, so plain and clear, suited to the capacity of ignorant
shepherds and little children, and seemed as if he understood it all.
If he did not then, he did afterward.

When service was over, he sat watching the congregation pass out,
especially noticing a family of boys who occupied the adjoining pew.
They had neither father nor mother with them, but an elder sister, as
she appeared to be--a tall girl of about fifteen. She marshaled them
out before her, not allowing them once to turn, as many of the other
people did, to look with curiosity at the poor little earl. But in
quitting the kirk she stopped at the vestry door, apparently to say a
word to the minister; after which Mr. Cardross came forward, his gown
over his arm, and spoke to Mr. Menteith--

"Where is Lord Cairnforth? I was so glad to see him here."

"Thank you, Mr. Cardross," replied a weak but cheerful voice from
Malcolm's shoulder, which so startled the good minister that he found
not another word for a whole minute. At last he said, hesitating,

"Helen has just been reminding me that the earl and countess used always
to come and rest at the Manse between sermons. Would Lord Cairnforth
like to do the same? It is a good way to the Castle--or perhaps he is
too fatigued for the afternoon service?"

"Oh no, I should like it very much. And, nurse, I do so want to see Mr.
Cardross's children; and Helen--who is Helen?"

"My daughter. Come here, Helen, and speak to the earl."

She came forward--the tall girl who had sat at the end of the pew, in
charge of the six boys--came forward in her serious, gentle, motherly
way--alas! She was the only mother at the Manse now--and put out
her hand, but instinctively drew it back again; for oh! what poor,
helpless, unnatural-looking fingers were feebly advanced an inch or so
to meet hers! They actually shocked her--gave her a sick sense of
physical repulsion; but she conquered it. Then, by a sudden impulse of
conscience, quite forgetting the rank of the earl, and only thinking of
the poor, crippled, orphaned baby--for he seemed no more than a baby
--Helen did what her warm, loving heart was in the habit of