There he sat, in his black velvet coat and point-lace collar, with silk stockings and dainty shoes upon the poor little feet that never had walked, and never would walk, in this world.

The one bit of him that could be looked at without pain was his face, inherited from his beautiful mother.

It was wan, pale, and much older than his years, but it was a sweet face--a lovely face; so patient, thoughtful-- nay, strange to say, content.

You could not look at it without a certain sense of peace, as if God, in taking away so much had given something--which not many people have--something which was the divine answer to the minister's prayer over the two-days-old child-- "Thy will be done." "Are you comfortable, my lord ?" "Quite, thank you, Mr.Menteith.

Stop--where are you going, Malcolm ?" "Just to the kirk, and I'll be there as soon as your lordship." "Very well," said the little earl, and watched with wistful eyes the tall Highlander striding across brushwood and heather, leaping dikes and clearing fences--the very embodiment of active vigorous youth.
Wistful I said the eyes were, and yet they were not sad.