tions of all the doctors had resulted in that conclusion.
It was very unlikely he would ever be better than he was now physically,
but mentally he was certainly "a' richt"--or "a' there," as the
country-folk express it. There was, as Mr. Cardross carefully explained
to every body, not the slightest ground for supposing him deficient in
intellect; on the contrary, his intellect seemed almost painfully acute.
The quickness with which he learned his lessons surpassed that of any
boy of his age the minister had ever known; and he noticed every thing
around him so closely, and made such intelligent remarks, that to talk
with him was like talking with a grown man. Before the first week was
over Mr. Cardross began actually to enjoy the child's company, and to
look forward to lesson hours as the pleasantest hours of his day; for,
since the Castle was close, the minister's lot had been the almost
inevitable lot of a country clergyman, whose parish contains many
excellent people, who look up to him with the utmost reverence, and for
whom he entertains the sincere respect that worth must always feel
toward worth, but with whom he had very few intellectual sympathies. In
truth, since Mrs. Cardross died the minister had shut himself up almost
entirely, and had scarcely had a single interest out of his own study
until the earl came home to Cairnforth.

Now, after lessons, he would occasionally be persuaded to quit that
beloved study, and take a walk along the loch side, or across the moor,
to show his pupil the country of which he, poor little fellow! was owner
and lord. He did it at first out of pure kindness, to save the earl
from the well-meant intrusion of neighbors, but afterward from sheer
pleasure in seeing the boy so happy. To him, mounted in Malcolm's arms
and brought for the first time into contact with the outer world, every
thing was a novelty and delight. And his quick perception let nothing
escape him. He seemed to watch lovingly all nature, from the grand
lights and shadows which moved over the mountains, to the little
moorland flowers which he made Malcolm stop to gather. All living
things too, from the young rabbit that scudded across their path, to the
lark that rose singing up into the wide blue air--he saw and noticed
every thing.

But he never once said, what Helen, who, as often as her house duties
allowed, delighted to accompany them on these expeditions, was always
expecting he would say, Why had God