“But I’m afraid,” continued Amy, “if he hasn’t been able to make you sorry before, he will never be able now! To beat you as he did last night will never make you repent.”

“Oh, he didn’t hurt me much! You don’t think a fellow would mind that sort of thing from his own father—when he was in a passion, don’t you know? Besides, Amy—to you I will confess it—I gave him good reason.”

“Come, then, come. We will go somewhere. I want to make you think the right way about the thing, and when you are sorry, we will come back and tell him so. Then perhaps he will forgive me and we shall be all happy again.”

What was this he heard! thought Raymount. The cunning creature! This was her trick to entice him from his home!—And just as the poor boy was beginning to repent too! She knew her trade! She would fall in with his better mood and pretend goodness! She would help him to do what he ought! She would be his teacher in righteousness! Deep, deep she was—beyond anything he had dreamed possible! No doubt the fellow was just as bad as she, but not the less must he do what little he yet might for the redemption of his son!

But as he thought thus, his conscience smote him that Cornelius could not but prefer going with one who loved him and talked to him like that, whatever she was, to staying with a father who treated him as he had been doing ever since he came home? He would behave to him very differently after this. He, too, would repent! But first he must interfere now with the wicked girl’s schemes. What else was a father for?

He pushed the door wide open and went in.

Amy heard him and raised herself from the bed to face him. There was just enough light to see that it was the father, and the horrid idea shot through her mind that he had come to lash his son again. She roused every fevered nerve to do battle with the strong man for his son. Clenching her little hand hard, she stood like a small David between the bed and the approaching Goliath.

“Get out of this room!” he said with the sternness of rising wrath.

“I came to take him away,” said Amy, who had begun to tremble from head to foot. “It is my business to take care of him.”

“Your business! When he has his own family? His own mother!”

“If a man is to leave father and mother and cleave to his wife,” answered Amy, “it’s the least thing the wife can do to take care of him from his father!”

Mr. Raymount stood confounded. What could the hussy mean? Was she going to pretend she was married to him?

Indignation and rage began to rise afresh. But if he gave way what might he not be guilty of a second time! A rush of shame choked the words that crowded to his lips. And with the self-restraint came wholesome doubt—was it possible he had married her?