His sister soon returned, saying that her niece had been much upset by what she had read, but would be better shortly. "And now," said Mr Huntingdon, "I want to know if Julia was aware who the signor was at the time when the accident happened." "She was," said Walter sorrowfully. "And could she leave her wretched husband, wounded and perhaps dying, without an attempt to see that he was properly cared for?" "Father," replied Walter, "it was so, and I deeply grieve over it. I tried to persuade her at the time--for we both knew him too well as he lay on the ground at our feet senseless and bleeding--I tried to persuade her that it was her duty to go with him; but she would not hear of it; she insisted on returning home at once, and said that he would be well looked after at the hospital, and that if she were to go to him he would only swear at her. So at last I gave it up; and she would not be pacified till I promised not to mention to any one that I knew the wretched man to be her husband. I suppose I was wrong in giving this promise,--I have never felt comfortable about it; but she was so miserable till I made it that I gave her my word; and that is just how it was." "I quite understand you," said his father. "Poor Julia! we must make allowances for her; but she has plainly fallen short of her duty in the matter. I trust, however, that she has now had a wholesome lesson, poor thing, and that for her children's sake, and all our sakes, she will be content with her own home, and more ready to fulfil her duties as a mother." Amos did not speak, but he was deeply moved. He felt that his sister's proper place would have been at the bedside of the man who, whatever his sins against her, was still her husband, and was when the accident had happened, for anything she knew to the contrary, crushed and dying, and about to be speedily separated from her for ever in this world. But she had not so seen her duty; she had shrunk from the pain, the sacrifice. She could not bear the thought of the interruption to her recovered home comforts and pleasures which the work of a nurse to the stricken man would involve. And could Amos make her see and acknowledge that she had erred? He feared not. Dinner-time came. Julia was in her place as usual. There was a gloom over all the party, but no one alluded to the sad cause. And so, things reverted to their ordinary channel in a few days. Julia had become again full of life and spirits, though to close observers there was something forced and unnatural about her mirth and vivacity. And one thing Amos noticed with special pain--it was that she carefully avoided ever being alone with him; if they were accidentally left together by themselves, she would in a moment or two make some excuse for leaving the room.