He slipped it aside, however, and it was not until the whole parish question had been discussed and settled, as somehow he and Helen very often did settle the whole affairs of the parish between them, that he brought it out again, fidgeting it out of his pocket with his poor fingers, which seemed a little more helpless than usual.
"Helen, I wish you would read that, and tell me what you think about it"?
It was a letter somewhat painful to read, with the earl sitting by and watching her, but Helen had long learned never to shrink from these sort of things.

He felt them far less if every body else faced them as boldly as he had himself always done.
The letter was from Dr.Hamilton, written after his return from a three days' visit at Cairnforth Castle.

It explained, after a long apologetic preamble, the burden of which was that the earl was now old enough and thoughtful enough to be the best person to speak to on such a difficult subject, that there had been a certain skillful mechanician lately in Edinburg who declared he would invent some support by which Lord Cairnforth could be made, not indeed to walk--that was impossible-- but to be by many degrees more active than now.

But it would be necessary for him to go to London, and there submit to a great amount of trouble and inconvenience--possibly some pain.
"I tell you this last, my dear lord," continued the good doctor, "because I ought not to deceive you; and because, so far as I have seen, you are a courageous boy--nay, almost a man--or will be soon.

I must forewarn you also that the experiment, is only an experiment-- that it may fail; but even in that case you would be only where you were before--no better, no worse, except for the temporary annoyance and suffering." "And if it succeeded ?" said Helen, almost in a whisper, as she returned the letter.
The earl smiled--a bright, vague, but hopeful smile--"I might be a little more able to do things--to live my life with a little less trouble to myself, and possibly to other people.