Harry," said his sister, when she could trust herself to
speak, "who brought this note for Amos? that mis-hit give us a little
bit of a clew if it should be necessary to go and find him out." Harry
was accordingly summoned and questioned. He had already made full
inquiries of the other servants, but none of them could throw any light
on the subject. No one about the premises knew anything about the
carrier of the letter. So it was resolved to wait, in hopes that either
Amos himself or, at any rate, tidings of him and of his movements would
arrive some time during the day. Hour, however, passed by after hour,
and no news of Amos came to gladden the hearts at the mansion; and when
darkness settled down, and nothing had been heard of the absent one, a
deep gloom pervaded the whole household. But of all hearts under that
roof during that long and weary night, none was so heavy as Mr
Huntingdon's. Memories of the past crowded in upon him; smitings of
conscience deeply troubled him. Had he acted a father's part towards
that erring daughter? should he have closed the door of home and heart
so fast, and kept it barred against her? was she not still his own flesh
and blood? and could he justify to himself the iron sternness which had
perhaps now driven her to despair? How could _he_ hope for mercy who
had shown neither mercy nor pity to one whose sinful disobedience and
folly could not make her less his child, though doubtless a sadly
misguided one? When morning came, Mr Huntingdon rose a wiser and a
humbler man. He poured out his heart in prayer for forgiveness of his
own many sins and shortcomings, and then came to a full determination to
deal very differently with Amos for the time to come, and to undo his
past treatment of his poor daughter as opportunity might be afforded
him.

And now we must leave for a while the party at the Manor-house in their
sadness and perplexity, and follow Amos Huntingdon himself. When he had
retired to his room on the night previous to his unexpected departure,
he was startled by hearing the sound of what seemed to be earth or small
pebbles thrown against his bedroom window. He paused for a few moments,
and the sound was repeated. Then he opened the window slowly, and
looking out, cried, "Who is there?"

All around, the snow lay thick on the ground. His room was on one side
of the house, and its window looked out on a flower-garden, so that any
one approaching the building from th