rits were greatly shaken.
It was of little matter that every time he raised his hand to cool his
forehead, or ease the throbbing of his head, he felt how much he was
bruised, cut, and swollen, or that the looking-glass showed him a face
so hideously disfigured; he knew that this would grow right in a day or
two, and he cared nothing for it. But when Harpour's blow knocked him
down, he had dashed his head with some violence on the floor, and this
had hurt him so much and made him feel so ill, that Dr Keith was not
without secret fears about the possibility of a concussion of the brain.
Yet all the sorrow which Walter now felt was for Eden, and he was not
thinking of himself.

He was mentally staring face to face at the mystery of human cruelty and
malice. The little boy, whose fine qualities so few besides himself had
discovered, was lying before him in pain and nervous prostration, solely
because malignant unkindness seemed to give pleasure to two bad, brutal
fellows. Walter had himself rescued Eden by his consistent kindness
from being bullied, corrupted, tormented--yet apparently to little
purpose. That the poor boy's powers would be decidedly injured by this
last prank, was certain. Dr Keith had dropped mysterious hints, and
Walter had himself heard how wild and incoherent were Eden's murmurs.
If he should become an idiot? O God! that men and boys should have
_such_ hearts!

And then and there Walter, while yet a boy, solemnly and consciously
recorded an unspoken vow that _he_ at least, till death, would do all
that lay in his own power to lighten, not to increase, the sum of human
misery; that he would study all things that were kind, and gentle, and
tender-hearted, in his dealings with others; that he would ever be on
the watch against wounding thoughts, and uncharitable judgments, and
unkind deeds; above all, that he would strive with all his power against
the temptation to cutting and sarcastic words, against calumny, and
misrepresentation, against envy, hatred, malice, and all
uncharitableness. These were the noble thoughts and high resolves which
were passing through the boy's mind when Power's quiet footstep entered
the room.

Power stopped for a minute to look at the somewhat saddening picture in
the darkened room--Walter, still as death, deep in thought, his chin
leaning on his hand, and his face presenting an uncouth mixture of
shapes and colours as he sat by Eden's bedside; and Eden turning and