er
to a sense of her duty; if they did not, he felt that nothing would.

Two days passed over. Orlando Vivian grew weaker and weaker, but was
full of gratitude to Amos. He also listened with patience and respect
when the Scripture was read to him or prayer offered by his side; but he
made no remark at such times. It was on the morning of the third day
after the patient's removal to his new abode that a hired carriage drew
up at the Scripture reader's door, and, to Amos's great pleasure and
thankfulness, brought his sister. Yes, and he could tell by her
greeting of him and by her whole manner that a new light had dawned upon
her heart and conscience, in which the idol of self had been seen by her
in somewhat of its true deformity. "Oh, dear Amos!" she cried, as she
wept on his shoulder, "pardon me; pity me. I have been wrong, oh, very
wrong; but I hope, oh, I do hope that it is not yet quite too late!"
Fondly pressing her to him, her brother told her that she had his full
and forgiving love; and then he gave her an account of what he had done
since his arrival in Collingford, and told her that her husband was now
in the same house as herself, and was receiving every attention and
comfort. On hearing this, Julia Vivian would have at once rushed into
the sick chamber, but Amos checked her, warning her of the effect such a
sudden appearance might have on one in his exhausted and suffering
condition. He must himself break the news of her coming gradually.

Entering the neat little bedroom, to his surprise Amos found his
brother-in-law painfully agitated. "You have got a visitor," he said,
in a voice scarcely audible. "I heard a carriage drive up to the door,
and since then I have heard a voice. Oh, can it be? Yes; I see it in
your eyes."

"Calm yourself, my poor brother," said Amos; "it is even as you suppose.
Julia has come, and I am truly thankful for it."

The humbled man tried to conceal his tears with his one uninjured hand,
and said at last, "I think I can bear it now; let her come in."

On her brother's invitation Julia entered. The eyes of the two met,--
the eyes of the oppressor and the oppressed; but how changed in position
now! The once down-trodden wife now radiant with health and beauty, a
beauty heightened by its passing cloud of tender sadness. The once
overbearing, heartless husband now a stranded wreck. How haggard he
looked! and how those hollow sunken eyes swam with a tearful look that