Amos Huntingdon Part 18

"None, dear sister, none. No; the Lord took care of me and delivered me.--But the children--what of them?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure; but I rather think he doesn't mean to move them after all."

"And where is he himself--I mean your--"

"My husband, as he calls himself," she said bitterly. "Oh, he is anywhere and everywhere; sometimes here for a day or two, and then absent for weeks. Indeed, he hardly dares stay for any length of time in any one place, for fear of the police getting hold of him."

"My poor sister!" exclaimed Amos with a sigh; "but, at any rate, _all_ is not dark," he added. "I am bringing a little gladness with me. My dear father sends you his love--"

"What--what, Amos!" she exclaimed, interrupting him with almost a shriek. "Oh, say it again! Oh, can it really be?--my father send me his love! Oh, dearest Amos, was it really so?"

"Yes; he knows nearly all now, and his heart has opened to you, and he bids me tell you there is a place for you in the old home still."

Sinking on the ground, the bewildered, agitated creature clasped her hands across her forehead, as though the swollen veins would burst with the intensity of her emotion. At last, yielding to her brother's tender caresses, she grew calmer, and allowing him to draw her close to him, she wept a full flood of tears, which brought with them a measure of peace in their flow. "Oh! can it be?" she cried again, but now more hopefully--"a place for me yet in the dear old home, and my father's smile on me once more." Then she added in a scared, hoa.r.s.e whisper, "But that doesn't include _him_?"

"No, not your unhappy husband; my father could not receive him."

"Of course not, Amos. Oh that I had never married him! Every spark of love for him has died out of my heart now. I hate him, and I loathe myself."

"Nay, nay, dear sister," said Amos soothingly, "don't say so. He has sinned, greatly sinned, but all may yet be well."

"Never, never," she cried, "while he claims me for his wife!"

"Well, well," said Amos, "calm yourself, dear Julia. See, here is proof visible of my father's love to you: he has bid me put these two ten- pound notes into Mrs Allison's hands for you. He sends them to yourself, but I am to place them with her, lest they should be taken from you."

"Let me look at them with my own eyes," she cried; and when Amos produced them, she pressed them eagerly to her lips, exclaiming, "Dear, dear father, G.o.d bless you for this!"

"And now," said her brother, when she had sufficiently recovered herself to listen to him quietly, "we must consider next what is best to be done. Do you think your husband is likely to be here again soon? and if so, will it be of any use your speaking to him on the subject of your father having expressed his willingness to receive you without him?

Would he be willing to leave you to us now, and to go abroad himself to some distant land? and do you yourself really desire this separation?"

"Desire it, Amos! how can I help desiring it? Though marrying him lost me home and almost everything I once loved, yet I could have followed him all the world over if he had really loved me. But he hates me; he takes a spiteful pleasure in ill-treating me. He would never come near me at all, if he did not think that he could manage to squeeze some money out of me. How _can_ I have any love left for such a wretch?"

"But will he be willing to leave you in our hands? Remember you are still his wife, and he has therefore a claim upon you."

"I know it, Amos, too well. Oh! what can I do?"

"Well, I can hardly tell; but I am remaining in the town to-night, and as it is now getting late, I will go to my room at the inn, and will come and see you again to-morrow morning, by which time I shall have got more light on the subject, I have no doubt." So they parted.

As Amos walked into the inn-yard to have a last look at his pony, he saw a young man advancing towards him; but as it was now getting dark, he could not at first make out his features. A moment more, and he recognised his brother.

"What, Walter!" he exclaimed in astonishment; "how did _you_ come here?"

"Oh, very comfortably indeed!" was the reply. "I have ridden over on a little private business of my own--in fact, I may tell you in confidence that I am at present a member of the mounted police force, and am on duty to-night in the n.o.ble town of Dufferly, keeping my eye on a certain person who is running his head into danger, and wants carefully looking after, lest he get himself into mischief." Amos looked puzzled. "In other words," continued his brother, "I could not bear the thought of your getting again into the clutches of that horrid man; so I have come over, not to be a spy upon you, or any fetter on your movements, but just to be at hand, to give you a help if you want it."

"How generous of you, dear Walter!" cried his brother, shaking him warmly by the hand; "but does my father know?"

"Of course he does, and my aunt too. It's all right. You are captain, and I'm only lieutenant; and now, what's the next move?"

"Well, to have some tea together in my room, Walter. But really your coming was quite unnecessary. I shall be taken care of without your needing to put yourself to all this trouble. However, as you _are_ here, I begin to see that good may come of it. So let us have tea, and then you must tell me how you found me out, after which I will tell you what is in my mind." So the brothers had a cozy meal together, and then Amos told Walter about his interview with their sister, and having taken him fully into his confidence, discussed with him what was best to be done under the sad circ.u.mstances.

"If I could only get hold of that rascally scamp!" said Walter, with an inclination of his head which implied that nothing would give him more intense satisfaction.

"I am afraid," said his brother, "that would not help us much: the thing that would do us all good is not to get hold of him, but to get rid of him. Unfortunately, however, he knows the hold he has upon us through poor Julia, and I fear that he will leave no stone unturned to accomplish his own objects through her directly or indirectly."

"And can't we set the police on him?"

"I daresay we could, Walter; but what a disgrace it would be to have him exposed and brought to justice!"

"Ah, I see that. Well, Amos, we must see if we cannot frighten him away for good and all."

His brother shook his head. "He knows very well, you may be sure," he said, "that for Julia's sake and our own we shall not drag him out into the light, with all his sins and misdemeanours, for the public to gaze at, if we can help it; and yet I think he may perhaps be induced to retire of his own accord and settle abroad, if he finds that we are both of us determined to keep him in view. Suppose, then, we go together to poor Julia's to-morrow. Oh, how delighted she will be to see you once again! And we can get her to make her husband understand that we are both of us keeping our eyes open about him, and that unless he takes himself off at once, and gives up his poor abused wife into our keeping, and leaves her there, we shall bring him to justice, let the disgrace be what it may."

"Well, Amos," replied Walter, "I can see no better plan; so if agreeable to you I will have the happiness of going with you to-morrow to my dear sister's."

The next morning, accordingly, the two brothers stood at the door of Julia Vivian's humble dwelling. The landlady answered the bell, and said that her lodger was still in her bedroom, having pa.s.sed a very disturbed night, but that, if they would come in, she would soon come down to them. In a few minutes the parlour door slowly opened, and Julia, deadly pale, a wild light in her eyes, and her hands trembling with excitement, made her appearance. She advanced with hesitating steps towards Amos, behind whom stood Walter, partly hidden by his brother; but as his sister caught sight of her younger brother, the colour rushed into her face, and with a wild cry she sprang into his arms. "Walter! O Walter, Walter! is it really you? Oh, this is too much happiness.--Amos, you never told me of this."

"No, my dear sister, because I did not know of it myself. But calm yourself now. You look so very ill, I am afraid the excitement has been too much for you."

"No, no!" she cried, with a look of terror in her eyes, "it is not that,--seeing you both is nothing but joy; it would make me well and ready for anything. But--but _he_ has been here since I saw you yesterday, Amos. He found out from my manner that something had happened, and he made me tell that you had been here. And then he asked if you had said anything about money; and, when I hesitated, he threatened and threatened till he forced it out of me that my dear father had sent me those notes. He went off again last night, and said that he should like to meet you this morning, and that perhaps something might be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties."

"Then you told him that I was coming again this morning?"

"Yes; he dragged it from me by his sharp and cruel questioning. But he is not coming till twelve o'clock."

"And where is he now?"

"I cannot tell. He never lets me know where he is going to, or how long he means to stay away."

"I will meet him here, then," said Amos; "perhaps we may now really come to some understanding which will get us out of our difficulties."

"And what about me?" asked Walter. "I have come over here in the character of a policeman in plain clothes to watch over my brother Amos, and I don't want that precious blackguard--I beg your pardon, Julia, I mean your husband--to have any more _tete-a-tetes_ with my charge unless I am by. Can you hide me away in some corner where I can hear and see all that is going on without being seen myself?"

"Would that be right?" asked his brother hesitatingly.

"Perfectly right," said Walter, "so long as _you_ are willing that I should hear what pa.s.ses between you. I'm not fond of acting the spy, but this is simply taking reasonable precautions to prevent an honest man being entrapped or injured by a rogue."

"Yes," said his sister, "I am afraid what you say is too true. I would not answer for what Orlando might do at any time. So I think I can place you where you can observe and hear what is going on without being observed yourself."

Having said this, she led the way into another room on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage, which was usually occupied by the owner of the house, but which she had this morning lent to her lodger for her use, as it was rather larger than the one Mrs Vivian occupied, and more convenient for the reception of a visitor. On the farther side of this apartment was a door leading out to the back part of the house. It was seldom used now, and a curtain hung before it, as the weather was cold and a strong current of air came through it. In an upper panel of this door was a small gla.s.s window, now disused, for some alterations had been made in the back premises which blocked out the light. The panes of this window had been pasted over and covered by paper similar in colour to the door, so that the existence of any gla.s.s there would not have been suspected by any ordinary observer.

When this door and its window had been shown to Walter, what he should do flashed upon him at once. "May we take the landlady in a measure into our confidence?" he asked.

"Yes," said his sister, "I am sure you may. She knows my trials and troubles too well."

Amos having a.s.sented, Mrs Allison was called, and it was explained to her that Walter wished to watch behind the door un.o.bserved, and to be able, if possible, to see as well as hear what was going on in the room during the interview between his brother and brother-in-law. The good woman, at once comprehending the situation, gave cheerful leave to Walter to take his stand where he proposed, promising that no one should interrupt; and then with her own hands scratched with an old pair of scissors two small round holes in the paper which had been pasted on the small window, such as would not attract the notice of any one in the room, but through which Walter would be able to see everything that was going on inside.

A few minutes before twelve he duly took his stand behind this disused door. The curtain had previously been removed by the landlady, so that any conversation in the room could be readily heard through the not over tight-fitting woodwork. Anxiously did the young man wait for the coming interview. He was not kept long in suspense. A loud ring at the front door was followed by the sound of a heavy stalking tread. Mr Orlando Vivian entered the other parlour, whither Amos and his sister had retired, and saluted the former with an offhand, swaggering a.s.sumption of politeness.

"Your servant, Mr Huntingdon," he said. Whose ever _servant_ he might be, at that moment he was clearly the _slave_ of strong drink.