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. Well, Helen? You
don't speak, but I think your eyes say 'Try!'"