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Updated: June 24, 2025
"I said not so, yet I believe it will be well if those who have thus advised Master Lillie keep the fact that they were concerned in the work a secret. Who is that now coming from the house?" "Ebenezer Richardson, the informer, and Amos's uncle. Surely you should know him." "I never saw him before, but have heard much of his doings." "And so have others," Hardy replied, in a significant tone.
For example, that notable plan of introducing anti-dissenting books into his Lending Library did not in the least appear to have bruised the head of Dissent, though it had certainly made Dissent strongly inclined to bite the Rev. Amos's heel.
He left Jim by the side of the lifeless body, while kindly friends hastened to break the sad news with some degree of gentleness to the parents of the murdered man, and then went to his own home; but not to sleep. It was not yet daylight, on the following morning, when Christopher Gore, his arm bandaged and in a sling, appeared at Amos's home.
Bart and Larry were up in the woods getting the day's load of hemlocks, and I, hearing the spluttering and groans, went to Amos's rescue as well as I could, and together with Maria Maxwell got him to the kitchen, where hot tea and dry clothes should have completely revived him in spite of age.
She declared that she would not have the poor creature removed from the house unless the doctor insisted upon it, and that she would continue to nurse her. The patient was allowed to remain, but steps were, of course, taken to guard against the disease spreading. The shop was closed, and Mrs. Amos's only means of earning a living was gone, at any rate for a time.
Then he rose, flung his arms round his aunt's neck, kissed her half a dozen times very warmly, and, whispering in her ear, "Pray for me, dear auntie," hastily left the room. Oh, how Miss Huntingdon rejoiced at these few simple and touching words, both on Walter's own account and also on Amos's.
He was a merry little grig of a man, and he babbled on, till I announced my intention of going to bed. If this was Amos's bagman, who had been seen in company with Gresson, I understood how idle may be the suspicions of a clever man. He had probably foregathered with Gresson on the Skye boat, and wearied that saturnine soul with his cackle.
"Ye see," he cried, as soon as he had recovered his breath sufficiently, "ye see, I be wunnerful spry an' active could dance ye a hornpipe any day, if I was so minded." "On my word," said I, "I believe you could! But where are you going now?" "To Siss'n'urst!" "How far is that?" "'Bout a mile acrost t' fields, you can see the pint o' Joel Amos's oast-'ouse above the trees yonder."
Last night I found Mr Amos's pony, Prince, about a mile from here; he was saddled and bridled, and had broke loose somehow or other, it seemed. So, as in duty bound, I got on him, and rode him over to the Manor-house, and fastened him up in the stable-yard; for it was late, and I didn't like to rouse anybody. `All right, Jim, I said; `Dick found him when he went to the stables this morning.
For the scowling faces of her companions frightened her, and she wished herself safely in Amos's boat. The breeze had now died away, and Amos was soon left some distance behind. Anne did not dare turn her head to see if he were following the canoe, which was now moving ahead rapidly as the Indians swiftly wielded their paddles. "Go to Brewster," announced the squaw after a little silence.
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