Walter clapped his hands with delight when his aunt had finished, and exclaimed, "Nothing could be better, Aunt Kate; it suits our hero Amos to a T. Yes, for he would suffer anything rather than get his liberty by doing or promising to do what he believed to be wrong. Thank you, dear aunt; I have learned a lesson which I hope I shall never forget." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. WALTER TO THE RESCUE. The day after his return home Amos sought his father in the library. Mr Huntingdon's manner to him had become so much more warm and affectionate, that he now ventured on a course which a few days before he could not have brought himself to adopt. "Father," he said, "can you spare me a few minutes? I have something on my mind which I feel that I ought to consult you about." "Sit down, sit down, my dear boy; what is it?" said his father. Thus encouraged, Amos unburdened his mind. "Father," he proceeded, "I must ask you to excuse my absence for a day or two, or perhaps even more. You are aware now that I have taken upon myself, for the present at any rate, the charge of my poor sister Julia's little children. And I may also say, as I suppose I ought not to conceal the state of things from you, that her miserable husband has left her utterly destitute, so that I am doing what I can to keep her from want. The man has deserted her more than once; and more than once, when he returned and found money in her possession, he forced it from her. So I have placed what I can spare for her in the hands of a thoroughly trustworthy and Christian woman with whom she lodges, and through this good landlady of hers I see that she does not want such necessaries and comforts as are essential to her health." He was proceeding with his explanation, but was checked by the deep emotion of Mr Huntingdon, who, resting his head between his hands, could not restrain his tears and sobs. Then, springing up from his seat, he clasped Amos to him, and said, in a voice almost choked by his feelings, "My dear, noble boy! and I have misunderstood, and undervalued, and treated you with harshness and coldness all this time! Can you forgive your unworthy father?" Poor Amos! Such a speech from his father almost stunned him for the moment. At last, recovering himself, he cried, "O father, dear father, don't say such a thing! There is not--there cannot be anything for me to forgive. And, oh! the kindness you have shown me the last few days has made up a thousand times for any little trouble in days gone by." "You are a dear good boy to say so," replied Mr Huntingdon, kissing him warmly. "Well, now tell me all."