would lead, he
knew, finally to the accomplishment of his one great resolve. And so he
determined to communicate with his friend's father, the physician, and
ascertain from him in confidence his opinion of his mother's mental
condition, and whether there was any possibility of her restoration to
sanity. The reply to his inquiries was that his mother's case was far
from hopeless; and with this he was satisfied. Then he took the letter
which conveyed the opinion of the physician to him, and, spreading it
out before God in his chamber, solemnly and earnestly dedicated himself
to the work of restoration, asking guidance and strength from on high.

From that day forward he was gradually maturing his plans, being ever on
the watch to catch any ray of light which might show him where to place
a footstep on the road which led up to the end he had in view. Earthly
counsellors he had none; he dared not have any--at least not at present.
Even Miss Huntingdon knew nothing of his purpose from himself, though
she had some suspicions of his having devoted himself to some special
work, gathered from her own study of his character and conduct; but
these suspicions she kept entirely to herself, prepared to advise or
assist should Amos give her his confidence in the matter, and seek her
counsel or help. Such was the position of things when our story opens.
Amos was waiting, hoping, watching; but no onward step had been taken
since he had received the physician's letter.

A fortnight passed away after the accident, when Miss Huntingdon, who
had now completely recovered from her fright and bruises, was coming out
of a labouring man's cottage on a fine and cheery afternoon. As she
stood on the doorstep exchanging a few parting words with the cottager's
wife, she was startled by the sound of furious galloping not far off,
and shrank back into the cottage, naturally dreading the sight of an
excited horse so soon after her perilous upset in her brother's
carriage. Nearer and nearer came the violent clatter, and, as she
involuntarily turned her eyes towards the road with a nervous terror,
she was both alarmed and surprised to see her nephew Walter and another
young man dashing past on horseback at whirlwind speed, the animals on
which they rode being covered with foam.

In a few moments all was still again, and Miss Huntingdon continued her
rounds, but, as she turned the corner of a lane which led up to the back
of the Manor-house, she