Having duly clothed himself, Amos was about to mount the pony, when, bethinking himself, he turned back, and secured and brought away the desk, believing that it might possibly be of use in the way of evidence by-and-by. Then all set off, and in due time reached Flixworth Manor, to the great joy of Mr Huntingdon and his sister, and also of many a tenant and neighbour, who were lingering about, hoping for news of the lost one. The first congratulations over, and dinner having been partaken of, at which only a passing allusion was made to the trouble which had terminated so happily, Mr Huntingdon, his sister, and the two young men drew round the drawing-room fire, while Amos gave them a full and minute account of his strange and distressing adventure.
Chapter Fourteen.
Moral Martyrdom.
When Amos had finished the account of his singular and painful imprisonment, while all united in an expression of their deep thankfulness, there remained a heavy cloud on the face of Mr Huntingdon. At last he said, slowly and sadly, “And this unmitigated scamp calls our poor Julia wife.”
“It is so, dear father,” said Amos in reply; “but may we not hope that he will take himself away to America or Australia before long? That seems to be what he has in view, for clearly he has made this country too hot to hold him.”
“I only hope it may be so,” rejoined Mr Huntingdon, “for it is a miserable business, look at it which way you will.”
“Yes,” said Walter; “but I am persuaded that my sister was frightened by the man into writing the last part of that letter;—don’t you think so, Amos?”
“Yes,” replied his brother, “I certainly do. He has been plotting this scheme in order to get me into his power; and when he found that by your coming he had failed in his object, he made the best of matters for himself by pretending to be the owner of the cottage, and to be in ignorance of what had happened to me. And now you must tell me how you found me, and how poor Prince found his way back.”