e aware now that I have taken upon myself, for the present
at any rate, the charge of my poor sister Julia's little children. And
I may also say, as I suppose I ought not to conceal the state of things
from you, that her miserable husband has left her utterly destitute, so
that I am doing what I can to keep her from want. The man has deserted
her more than once; and more than once, when he returned and found money
in her possession, he forced it from her. So I have placed what I can
spare for her in the hands of a thoroughly trustworthy and Christian
woman with whom she lodges, and through this good landlady of hers I see
that she does not want such necessaries and comforts as are essential to
her health."

He was proceeding with his explanation, but was checked by the deep
emotion of Mr Huntingdon, who, resting his head between his hands,
could not restrain his tears and sobs. Then, springing up from his
seat, he clasped Amos to him, and said, in a voice almost choked by his
feelings, "My dear, noble boy! and I have misunderstood, and
undervalued, and treated you with harshness and coldness all this time!
Can you forgive your unworthy father?"

Poor Amos! Such a speech from his father almost stunned him for the
moment. At last, recovering himself, he cried, "O father, dear father,
don't say such a thing! There is not--there cannot be anything for me
to forgive. And, oh! the kindness you have shown me the last few days
has made up a thousand times for any little trouble in days gone by."

"You are a dear good boy to say so," replied Mr Huntingdon, kissing him
warmly. "Well, now tell me all."

"You see, dear father," continued Amos when they were again both seated,
"I am afraid, from poor Julia's letter, that she is in some special
trouble. It is true that the latter part of her letter looks very much
as if the wretched man had forced her to write it, but the first part is
clearly written as she herself felt. I have the letter here. You see,
she writes,--`Amos, I'm mad; and yet I am not. No; but he will drive me
mad. He will take them both away; he will ruin us all, body and soul.'
So far the letter is plainly her own, and there can be no doubt what it
means. That vile man has been ill-treating her, and has threatened to
take the children from under my charge, though he pledged his honour to
myself a short time back that he would not remove them; but, of course,
the honour of such a man is worth nothing