"Master," continued the old man, "you must hear me this once, if I'm to be turned away this blessed night for what I'm a-going to say. I've been hearing Master Amos called by Master Walter mean about his money, and I can't stand it, for I knows better." Here Amos sprang forward, and coming in front of Harry, strove by gesture and whispered remonstrance to stop him; but the other shook his head, and motioned his young master back. "It's of no manner of use, Master Amos," he cried; "I must and will speak--the time's come for it. _I_ know why Master Amos can't afford to subscribe: 'tain't because he hasn't got the will; 'tain't because he's been spending it on himself, or sending it to the niggers, though he might be doing worse with it than that. His money goes to keep dear Miss Julia as was--bless her little heart!--from want; and it goes, too, to keep a home for her little ones, and one on 'em's a girl, and she's as like what her blessed mother was at her age as one lamb's like another. O master, master! if you loved Miss Julia as was as I love her, and as Master Amos loves her, though she has married a vagabond of a husband, and had the door of her home closed agen her for ever for it, and oh, if you'd but a touch still of the dear Saviour's forgiving love towards your own flesh and blood, you couldn't blame Master Amos for doing as he's doing, if you only knew too how he's been a-sacrificing of himself, and bearing the shame and scorn all the while without a murmur. There, master, I've had it out. And now I suppose I must pack up and be off for good; but it don't matter. I couldn't keep it in, so there's an end of it." The effect of this speech on all the members of the party was overwhelming, though in different ways. Mr Huntingdon's face turned deadly pale, and then flushed fiery red. He half rose from the bench on which he was sitting, and then sank back again and buried his face in his hands. Then he started up, and muttering something hoarsely, rushed into the house, and was not seen again by the family that night. Next morning, before breakfast, his sister received a hasty note from him, merely stating that he was leaving home, and should not return that day, and perhaps not for a few days. The old butler's disclosure was also most trying to Miss Huntingdon by its suddenness. Not that she was unprepared for it altogether, for quiet observation of Amos had made her sure that he had some noble and self-denying work in hand, and that probably it might have something to do with the welfare of his sister, whom she knew that he dearly loved. She was grieved, however, that the old butler had blurted out the secret in such an abrupt manner, and at the terrible distress which the unexpected revelation had caused her brother.