CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
BACK TO THE OLD HOME AGAIN.
"I shall remain here with poor Julia," said Amos to his brother, whentheir unhappy sister, completely overcome by the terrible scene she hadjust witnessed, had retired to her bedroom, where she was lovinglytended by her kind landlady.
"And what is the next move for me?" asked Walter.
"Well," replied Amos, "you have done your part most nobly, and I am sothankful now that you came. Not that I think that wretched man wouldreally have harmed me. He just wanted to frighten the money out of me;but I believe, on finding me firm, and not to be frightened, he wouldhave dropped his pistol, and made some shuffling attempt to turn thematter into a joke, and would then have tried to wheedle the money outof me, when he saw that a show of violence would not do. Still, I amtruly glad that you were here, and that things have turned out as theyhave done. I feel sure now that you have thoroughly humbled thisunprincipled scoundrel, and that he has slunk away like a whipped hound,and I have every hope that he will not trouble poor Julia any more withhis odious presence. As he knows now that there are two of us keepingwatch, and must remember what you have said to him, I fully believe thathe will take himself off to a distance, if not go abroad, and that weneed not be afraid of his annoying us any more either here or atFlixworth Manor."
"That's pretty much what I think too," replied his brother; "but what amI to say at home?"
"Just what you like. But as to our dear sister, I want you to expressto my father her delight and gratitude when I gave her his love, andtold her that there was still a place for her in the old home. And thenwould you find out from him or through our aunt how soon she may comeback to us? for I want to get her out of this place. When she is oncein her old home again she will be safe out of the clutches of her cruelhusband. I will wait here for an answer, which you can send me by post;and, should that answer warrant poor Julia's return at once, I will seeall things got ready, and will bring her myself. And, should there beanything in the way of her returning immediately, I can remove her for atime to where her children are, as I shall be better able to keep my eyeupon her there."
"All right, Amos; I'm not afraid of leaving you here now, for I am asfully persuaded as you are that Mr Vivian has had such a lesson as hewon't forget in a hurry, and that he will make himself pretty scarce forsome time to come. You shall hear from me by to-morrow's post.--Ah, butthere's another thing: am I to say anything about the children? for ifpoor Julia is to come back we shall have to make room for the childrenas well."
"Nay, dear Walter," said his brother, "I think it would be better to saynothing about the children; they are safe and happy where they are. Letus leave the matter to our dear father. When Julia has got her oldplace in his house and heart back again, I feel sure that it will not belong before he bids her himself send for the children. Don't you thinkit will be better that it should come from himself?"
"Just so, Amos; you are right, as usual. Well, this is a capital endingto a queer beginning. And what will old Harry say to see `Miss Julia aswas' turning up `Mistress Julia as is'? Oh, won't it be capital fun tosee him welcome her back!" So Walter set off on his homeward journey inhigh spirits, and in due time reached his destination brimful of newsand excitement.
"All well, I hope?" asked his father, who, with his aunt, met him in thehall on his arrival.
"Oh yes, father, it's all well, and a deal better than all well--it'sall best." Then the three gathered round the fire in Mr Huntingdon'slibrary, and Walter told his story. Deep was the emotion of MrHuntingdon and his sister, and deeper still their thankfulness, whenthey heard of the happy conclusion of the terrible and exciting meetingbetween Amos and his brother-in-law.
"And you did nobly and wisely yourself, my dear boy," said the squire."I believe you have given that wretched scoundrel his quietus so far aswe are concerned.--And what of your poor sister? Are we to expect hersoon?"
"That's what I've got to write to Amos about," replied his son. "Assoon as you are ready to receive her she will be only too thankful tocome."
"Let her come at once--write by this night's post," cried his father inan agitated voice. "Poor dear child, I long to welcome her back again;and I think, if I am not mistaken, that your aunt has been making somequiet preparations, so that it will not be inconvenient to you, Kate,for her to come at once, will it?"
"Not in the least," replied his sister; "I have been earnestly hopingand praying for this."
"And what about the children?" said her brother; "we must make room forthem too, poor things. We can't keep the mother and her childrenseparate."
"Of course not, dear Walter," replied Miss Huntingdon; "we shall bequite prepared to receive them also, though they are at present not withtheir mother, but under Amos's charge."
"Ah, I remember," said her brother; "well, we can send for them too,when the poor child herself has got here."
"Am I to write all that?" asked Walter.
"Oh, certainly," was the reply.
"Then hip, hip, hurrah forty-four thousand times! And now I will writethe letter; and then I'll have a fine bit of fun with Harry." So theletter was written and duly posted that evening; and Walter, after hehad finished it, betook himself to the butler's pantry.
"Harry," he said to the worthy old servant, who, wash-leather in hand,was burnishing the plate with all the solemnity of one engaged in somevery serious and responsible undertaking, "what do you think?"
"Well, Master Walter, I think a good many things."
"I daresay you do. But what do you think _now_?"
"Why, pretty much what I've been thinking of for the last half-hour; andthat ain't much to the purpose to any one but myself."
"Just so, Harry; well, I'm not going to offer you a penny for yourthoughts, but I'm sure you would give a good many pence for mine.However, I'll make no charge on the present occasion, but will tell youout at once--Miss Julia that was is coming back to us to her old home,perhaps to-morrow or next day. My father has sent for her. Now, isn'tthat stunning?"
It certainly looked so in Harry's case, for the old man dropped a largesilver fork on to the ground, and stood, with his mouth and eyes wideopen, staring at Walter, the very picture of amazement.
"All, I thought so," said Walter. "Well, Harry, it's true. Isn't thatgood news?"
Yes; it was joy and gladness to the faithful old servant's heart. Onebig tear after another rolled down his cheeks, and then he said in a lowvoice, "The Lord be praised! I've prayed as it might come to this someday; and so it has at last. And you're sure of it, Master Walter;you're not a-cramming of me?"
"Nothing of the sort, Harry; I couldn't have the heart to do it. No, itis perfectly true. And now, what shall we do? Shall we pile up a greatbonfire, and light it the same night she comes back? What do you say tothat?"
"I don't know, Master Walter, I don't know. Somehow or other it don'tseem to me quite suitable. I think master would hardly like it. Yousee, it isn't as if she'd been and married a creditable person, or werecoming back after all had gone on straight and smooth like. There'sbeen faults on both sides, maybe; but it seems to me as we'd better doour rejoicing in a quieter sort of way, and light the bonfires in ourhearts, and then we shan't give offence to nobody."
"Harry, I believe you're right," said Walter. "You're a regular oldbrick, and nothing but it; thank you for your sensible advice."
When dinner was over, and Miss Huntingdon had retired for a few minutesto her own room, she received a visit from Walter. "Auntie," he said,"I am come for a lesson on moral courage, and for a littleencouragement. Now, you know all the circumstances of our grand scenewith that shocking scoundrel at Dufferly; so you must tell me who isyour special hero for moral courage in whose steps Amos trode on thatoccasion."
"Yes, I can do that, my dear boy," replied his aunt; "but, first of all,I must speak a word of congratulation and praise to another hero--mydear nephew Walter."
"Nay, aunt," he replied, "I don't thin
k there was much moral courageabout it in my case. My blood was up when I saw Amos's life threatened,and I should have pitched into the cowardly wretch if he had been astall as a lighthouse and as big as an elephant."
"True, dear boy, that was natural courage principally; but there wasmoral courage too in your whole conduct in the matter, in the steadyperseverance with which you went to be your brother's protector, comewhat might and at all hazards."
"Thank you, dear aunt, but you have given me more praise than I deserve.And now for the special hero, the counterpart of Amos."
"My hero this time," said Miss Huntingdon, "is a very remarkable man, amost excellent clergyman, Mr Fletcher of Madeley. He had a veryprofligate nephew, a military man, who had been dismissed from theSardinian service for base and ungentlemanly conduct, had engaged in twoor three duels, and had wasted his means in vice and extravagance. Oneday this nephew waited on his uncle, General de Gons, and, presenting aloaded pistol, threatened to shoot him unless he would immediatelyadvance him five hundred crowns. The general, though a brave man, wellknew what a desperado he had to deal with, and gave a draft for themoney, at the same time expostulating with him freely on his conduct.The young madman rode off triumphantly with his ill-gotten cheque. Inthe evening, passing the door of Mr Fletcher, he determined to call onhim, and began by telling him how liberal General de Gons had been tohim, and, as a proof, exhibited the draft. Mr Fletcher took it fromhis nephew, and looked at it with astonishment. Then, after someremarks, putting it into his pocket, he said, `It strikes me, young man,that you possessed yourself of this note by some indirect method; and inhonesty I cannot return it without my brother's knowledge andapprobation.' The young man's pistol was immediately at his uncle'sbreast. `My life,' said Mr Fletcher, with perfect calmness, `is securein the protection of an Almighty Power, nor will he suffer it to be theforfeit of my integrity and your rashness.'--This firmness staggered hisnephew, who exclaimed, `Why, Uncle de Gons, though an old soldier, wasmore afraid of death than you are.'--`Afraid of death!' cried MrFletcher. `Do you think I have been twenty-five years the minister ofthe Lord of life, to be afraid of death now? No, sir; it is for _you_to fear death. Look here, sir, the broad eye of Heaven is fixed uponus; tremble in the presence of your Maker, who can in a moment kill yourbody, and for ever punish your soul in hell.'--The unhappy man turnedpale, and trembled first with fear and then with rage. He stillthreatened his uncle with instant death. Mr Fletcher, however, gave noalarm and made no attempt to escape. He calmly conversed with hismiserable nephew; and at last, when he saw that he was touched,addressed him like a father till he had fairly subdued him. But hewould not return his brother's draft. However, he gave him some helphimself, and having prayed with him, let him go."
"Ay, dear aunt," exclaimed Walter, "that was a hero indeed."
"Yes, Walter, a true moral hero; for, if you remember, moral courage isthe bravery shown, not in acting from sudden impulse, nor from `pluck,'as you call it, nor from mere animal daring, but in deliberatelyresolving to do and doing as a matter of principle or duty what may costus shame, or loss, or suffering, or even death. Such certainly was MrFletcher's courage. A sense of duty and the fear of God upheld himagainst all fear of man."
"True, auntie," acquiesced her nephew; "and so it was with Amos."
"Yes, just so, Walter. You tell me that when your unhappy brother-in-law pointed the pistol at Amos, your brother said with perfect calmnessthat he was in God's hands, and not in the hands of Mr Vivian. In thusacting from duty, and deliberately hazarding the loss of his own liferather than do what his conscience disapproved of, Amos exhibited, likeMr Fletcher, the most exalted moral courage."
"Thank you, dear aunt; and I am so glad that I have been permitted tohelp my hero out of his trouble."
On the third day after this conversation, the post brought the welcomenews from Amos that he should bring his sister that afternoon to her oldhome, and that her children would follow in a day or two. Seven yearshad elapsed since the erring daughter had left sorrow and shame behindher in her home, by suddenly and clandestinely quitting it, to become,without the sanction of father or mother, the wife of a specious butprofligate and needy adventurer. And now, sad and forsaken, she wasreturning to a home which had for a long time been closed against her.Oh, with what a wild throbbing of heart did she gaze at the familiarsights which presented themselves to her on all sides, as she and Amosdrove along the well-known roads, in through the great green gates, upthe drive, and then, with a sudden pull up, to the front door. The nextmoment she had sprung on to the door-steps with an eager cry, and foundherself clasped in her father's arms.
"My poor, poor child! welcome home again," he murmured, with chokingtears.
"O father! father!" she cried, "it is too much happiness." She couldsay no more.
Then she received the warm embrace of her aunt, who was saddened to markthe lines of care on that young face, which was all brightness the lasttime she had seen it. And then, as she raised herself up, anddisengaged herself from those loving arms, her eyes fell on the oldbutler, who was twisting a large red pocket-handkerchief into a rope, inhis vain efforts to restrain his emotions, which at last found vent in along cadence of mingled sobs and exclamations. For a moment JuliaVivian hesitated, and then flung her arms round the neck of the old man,who made the hall ring with a shout of thanksgiving. Then, calmingdown, he said, half out loud, and half confidentially to himself, "Youknow it was to be so, and so it is. We've got Miss Julia as was backamong us again; and we don't mean to part with her never again no more."
Oh, what a day of gladness was that to Amos Huntingdon! One half of thegreat purpose to which he had devoted his life was now accomplished.The banished sister had been welcomed back by his father to her earthlyhome. And yet, how much still remained to be done! But, as he hadworked on in faith and trust before, so he would continue trusting,watching, working, committing all to the wise guiding and overruling ofthat loving Father whose leading hand he had hitherto sought to follow,but never to outrun.
How bright were the faces which gathered round the dinner-table thatevening!--though even then the cloud rested in a measure on every heart;for that poor worn face, and those wistful pitiful eyes, told of a deepand hidden sorrow, and of an abiding humiliation, which not even thepure love that now beamed on her from all sides could remove from theburdened spirit of the restored wanderer. Down in the kitchen, however,the rejoicing was unclouded, except that Harry mourned over his youngmistress's faded beauty and sad looks, and occupied a considerableportion of his leisure time in punching an imaginary head, held firmunder his left arm, and supposed by his fellow-servants to belong toMiss Julia's brute of a husband.
Dinner had been over rather more than an hour, when Walter, who had beenabsent for a short time from the drawing-room, returned, beckoned toAmos, and then, gently laying hold of his sister's hand, drew hertowards the door. "Come here, just for one minute," he said, with amerry smile twinkling in his eyes. "Father will spare you just for aminute;" and he conducted her out of the room. Oh, what a flood of joycame into her heart with that smile of Walter's. Years had passed sinceshe had rejoiced in its light. What would she have given could thefrightful interval between this smile and the last she had seen beforeit have been wiped clean out! To her that interval had been oneprolonged and gloomy frown. But now the three, Amos, Walter, and theirsister, made their way downstairs. Oh, it was so like a bit of childishfun in days gone by! And now they arrived at the butler's pantry, thedoor of which was fast closed. Walter knocked. "Come in," said the oldman. They entered; and all exclaimed at the sight which presenteditself. On every available projection there was placed a portion of acandle, making in all some thirty or forty lights, which made the littleroom one brilliant blaze. On the wall opposite the door were the words,"Welcome home again," in large red and blue letters; and on another wallthe words, "Hip, hip, hooray!" in golden characters.
"O dear Harry!" cried his young mistress, her f
ace glowing with such asmile as no one had seen on it yet since her return, "how good and kindof you--just like your dear old self! how came you to think of it?"
"Well, Miss Julia," was his reply, "it's this way,--Master Walter and metalked about having a bonfire on the hill; but when we came to think itover, we decided as it wouldn't p'r'aps be altogether the right thing,for reasons as needn't be named on this here occasion. So I've been andgot up a little bit of an illumination all of my own self. But don'tyou go for to suppose as these candles belongs to master. I'm not theman to use his goods this way without leave. It's a pound of the bestcomposite as I bought out of my own wages, and you're heartily welcometo every one on 'em."
"Thank you, dear Harry," she said, holding out her hand to him; "it isthe sweetest of welcomes. I feel that it has done me good already;there is true love in every light."
"Just so, miss," said the old man, his face brimming over withhappiness. "And now, before we part, we must have a bit of toffee allround, as you was used to in old times." So saying, he opened an olddrawer, which seemed abundantly furnished with sundry kinds of sweets,and produced the toffee, which he pressed upon each of his threevisitors. "There," he said in a tone of deep satisfaction, "that's justas it should be; and now, Miss Julia," he added, "when you want anymore, you know where to come for it."
Few happier hearts were laid on a bed that night in England than theheart of old Harry the butler.
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