welcome. He said
some very pleasant things to me, which my modesty will not permit me to
repeat, though I have shamed that quality sometimes in this memoir. We
talked of business then. I told him I did not wish to injure my uncle,
however much he had injured my mother and myself.

"Your uncle is evidently under the influence of his son," added Mr.
Hale, "and it may be necessary to take some decided steps."

"You are a lawyer, sir, and I leave the matter entirely with you; but I
hope you will make it as easy as you can for uncle Amos, for I am pretty
sure Tom is the author of the mischief."

"Our action must depend upon the position they take. It is best for us
to see your uncle without delay. If Tom hears of your arrival, he may
take the money and leave the country. It will be well for you to see him
first; I will follow you soon," said Mr. Hale.

I procured a carryall at the stable, and drove my mother to the cottage.
Old Betsey was delighted to see me. Leaving my mother in the parlor, I
went to the door of my uncle's library and knocked.

"Ernest!" exclaimed he, starting back.

"Yes, sir; I have come to see you."

"But--" He paused, his lips quivered, and his frame trembled.

"You are not glad to see me?" I added.

"I am very glad to see you--more so than you can think. But how is it I
see you? Thomas told me you started for England, and was lost overboard
on the passage."

"Did he tell you that?" I demanded, astonished; and I saw at once that
E. Dunkswell, on the arrival of the steamer at Queenstown, where a
letter could be mailed, had written to his employer.

And Tom Thornton at that moment believed I was lying at the bottom of
the sea, no more to disturb him, or threaten his ill-gotten possessions.
I told my uncle that my life had been preserved.

"Thank God!" said he, so earnestly that I believed he was sincere. "I
feared that Thomas, through his agent, had committed a crime greater
than mine."

"If the intention makes the crime, I think he did commit it. Where is
Tom Thornton?" I asked.

"He is here to-day," replied my uncle, going to the window and calling
his son, who was walking by the lake. "You have been to England,
Ernest?"

He trembled all over, and I pitied him.

"I have, sir."

"It was needless for you to go there. If you had listened to me--"

"It was not needless. My mother is in the parlor now."

"Your mother!" gasped he, springing from his chair, and then falling
back again