“Perhaps so; but I must say I don’t like the thoughts of your going alone on such an expedition, after what has already happened.”
“Nay, dear father, I believe I ought to go. I believe that duty calls me; and so I may expect that God will take care of me.”
“Well, go then, my boy; and, see, take these two ten-pound notes to your poor sister. It is not fair that all the burden should fall upon you. These notes will at any rate keep her from want for a time; she can put them into safe keeping with her landlady. And tell her”—here his voice faltered—“that they are sent her with her father’s love, and that there is a place for her here in her old home still.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, dear father,” cried Amos; “you have made me glad!”
“Yes,” continued the squire, “tell her that from me; yet, of course, that does not include him.”
“Oh no! I thoroughly understand that,” replied his son; “and I see, of course, many difficulties that lie in the way; but still, I believe that brighter and happier days are coming for us all.”
“May it be so, my dear boy,” said the other, again drawing him closely to him. “It will not be your fault, at any rate, if they do not come.”
So that morning Amos left on his work of love.
He had not been gone many minutes, when Walter knocked at his aunt’s door. “Aunt Kate,” he began, when he had seated himself at her feet, “I want your advice about a little scheme of mine. It’s a good scheme, and perhaps a little bit of moral courage on my part will come out of it.”
“Well, my dear boy, let me hear it.”