Part 15 (2/2)

No more was said, and the young man was again left to his solitude. Had he done right? Yes; he had no doubt on the subject. And now he must prepare himself for what might be his lot, for he had no thought of changing his resolution not to sign the cheque. Having fortified himself by spreading out his case before the Lord in prayer, and strengthened himself physically by eating and drinking a small portion of his now nearly exhausted provisions, he once more examined every place through which it might be possible for him to make his escape, but in vain. Last of all he looked up the chimney, but felt that he could not attempt to make his way out in that direction. He must just wait then; and he turned to some of those promises in the Psalms which are specially encouraging to those who wait, and a strange, unearthly peace stole into his heart.

Noon had pa.s.sed, but not a sound broke the stillness except the drip, drip from the roof, for a thaw had set in. Three o'clock came. What was that sound? Was the end nearer than he expected? Had his brother- in-law, in his impatience, come earlier than he had said? No. There was the welcome tone of a young voice crying out to some one else. Then Amos sprang to the window, and, opening the cas.e.m.e.nt, shouted out. In a few moments Walter's face met his brother's. ”Here he is! here he is!”

he screamed out. ”Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” Old Harry came round to the barred window, and, lifting up his hands and eyes, exclaimed, ”The Lord be praised!” Then followed rapid questionings. But to these Amos replied, ”You shall know all by-and-by; but now I must ask you to set me free. I am a prisoner here. The only outside door is locked, and I cannot undo it; and these bars, which I have tried in vain to force, have prevented my escape this way.”--”All right,” said his brother.

”Come along, Harry.”

The two went round to the door and shook it, but to no purpose. A heavy log had also been jammed down against it. This, by their united strength, they with difficulty removed. Again they tried to wrench open the door, but without effect, for it was a huge and ponderous structure, and they could make nothing of it. ”Harry must ride over to the nearest village and fetch a blacksmith,” said Walter, when he had returned to the window. ”Tell him to be quick then, and to bring two or three men with him, for there is danger before us. I cannot tell you more now.”--”I'll tell him,” replied his brother; and the old servant departed with all speed on his errand. Then Walter came back to the window, and talked long and earnestly with Amos, telling him of the deep concern felt by his aunt and father on account of his prolonged absence.

”But,” he added, ”I'm not going to tell you now how we found you. We will keep that till we get home, and then shan't we have a regular pour out?”

Wearied at last with waiting, Walter began to make another a.s.sault on the front door. It was now getting a little dusk, and he was hoping for Harry's return with the men; so, as he said, partly to see what he could do by himself, and partly to keep himself warm, he proceeded to shower upon the stubborn oak a perfect hail of blows and kicks. He was in the very thick of this performance when he was suddenly made aware that a horseman was close to him. He therefore stopped his exciting occupation, and looked round. The horseman was tall, and of a very sinister expression of countenance, with piercing black eyes. He was also rather fantastically but shabbily dressed.

”What is all this noise about, young gentleman?” asked the stranger.

”Why are you battering my property in that wild fas.h.i.+on?”

”Because,” replied Walter, rather taken aback by this question, ”my brother has been fastened in here by some scoundrel, and I want to get him out.”

”You must be dreaming, or mad, my young friend,” said the rider; ”who would ever think of making a prisoner of your brother in such a place?”

”It's a fact for all that,” replied Walter. ”He's in there, and he must be got out. I've sent for a blacksmith and some men from the nearest village to burst open the door, and I expect them here directly.”

”I can save them that trouble,” said the other. ”I keep a few odd things--implements and things of that sort--in this cottage of mine, and if by some strange accident your brother has got locked in here, I shall be only too happy to let him out.” So saying, he dismounted, and, having hung his horse's bridle over a staple projecting from the stone wall, produced a large key from his pocket, unlocked the heavy door, and threw it wide open.

Walter rushed in and flung his arms round his brother, who gazed at him in some bewilderment, hardly expecting so speedy a release. Then both came to the outside of the building. The stranger had remounted; and then, looking the brothers steadily in the face, he made a low bow, and with the words, ”Good-evening, gentlemen; I wish you a safe and pleasant journey home,” turned round, and trotted briskly away.

”Did you notice that man's face?” asked Amos of his brother in a half whisper. ”Should you know it again?”--”Anywhere all the world over,”

was the reply.--”Ah, well,” said the other, ”I shall have strange things to tell you about him.” The next minute Harry and his party came in sight, and, on arriving at the cottage, were astonished and not altogether pleased to find the prisoner at liberty without their a.s.sistance. However, the pleasure expressed by Harry, and a little present from Walter, as a token of thankfulness for their prompt appearance, sent them all home well content. And now Amos had to prepare for his return.

”You shall have my pony,” said Walter, ”and Harry and I will ride doublets on the old mare.”

To this Amos having a.s.sented--”What has become of poor Prince?” he asked. ”Does any one know?”

”All right,” said Walter; ”Prince is safe at home in the stable. He must have a sack of corn all to himself, for when he came in he was ready to eat his head off. You shall hear all about it.”

Having duly clothed himself, Amos was about to mount the pony, when, bethinking himself, he turned back, and secured and brought away the desk, believing that it might possibly be of use in the way of evidence by-and-by. Then all set off, and in due time reached Flixworth Manor, to the great joy of Mr Huntingdon and his sister, and also of many a tenant and neighbour, who were lingering about, hoping for news of the lost one. The first congratulations over, and dinner having been partaken of, at which only a pa.s.sing allusion was made to the trouble which had terminated so happily, Mr Huntingdon, his sister, and the two young men drew round the drawing-room fire, while Amos gave them a full and minute account of his strange and distressing adventure.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MORAL MARTYRDOM.

When Amos had finished the account of his singular and painful imprisonment, while all united in an expression of their deep thankfulness, there remained a heavy cloud on the face of Mr Huntingdon. At last he said, slowly and sadly, ”And this unmitigated scamp calls our poor Julia wife.”

”It is so, dear father,” said Amos in reply; ”but may we not hope that he will take himself away to America or Australia before long? That seems to be what he has in view, for clearly he has made this country too hot to hold him.”

”I only hope it may be so,” rejoined Mr Huntingdon, ”for it is a miserable business, look at it which way you will.”

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