panions save those he
had been used to from infancy--removed from this, and brought into
ordinary family life, the poor child felt--he could not but feel--
the sad, sad difference between himself and all the rest of the world.
His color came and went--he looked anxiously, deprecatingly, at Mr.
Cardross.

"I hope, sir, you are not displeased with me for coming to-day. I shall
not be very much trouble to you--at least I will try to be as little
trouble as I can."

"My boy," said the minister, crossing over to him and laying his hand
upon his head, "You will not be the least trouble; and if you were ever
so much, I would undertake it for the sake of your father and mother,
and--" he added, more to himself than aloud--"for your own."

That was true. Nature, which is never without her compensations, had
put into this child of ten years old a strange charm, and inexpressible
loveableness which springs from lovingness, though every loving nature
is not fortunate enough to possess it. But the earl's did; and as he
looked up into the minister's face, with that touchingly grateful
expression he had, the good man felt his heart melt and brim over at his
eyes.

"You don't dislike me, then, because--because I am not like other
boys?"

Mr. Cardross smiled, though his eyes were still dim, and his voice not
clear; and with that smile vanished forever the slight repulsion he had
felt to the poor child. He took him permanently into his good heart,
and from his manner the earl at once knew that it was so.

He brightened up immediately.

"Now, Malcolm, carry me in; I'm quite ready," said he, in a tone which
indicated that quality, discernible even at so early an age--a "will
of his own." To see the way he ordered Malcolm about--the big fellow
obeying him, with something beyond even the large limits of that feudal
respect which his forbears had paid to the earl's forbears for many a
generation, was a sight at once touching and hopeful.

"There--put me into the child's chair I had at dinner yesterday. Now
fetch me a pillow--or rather roll up your plaid into one--don't
trouble Miss Cardross. That will make me quite comfortable. Pull out
my books from your pouch, Malcolm, and spread them out on the table, and
then go and have a crack with your old friends at the clachan; you can
come for me in two hours."

It was strange to see the little figure giving its orders, and settling
itself with the preciseness of an old man at t