“Oh, he’s better bodily; that is, he has some appetite, sits up every day, and is gradually getting stronger; but he’s all wrong here,” said she, tapping her forehead.  “Sometimes he don’t know any of us—­and it makes us all feel so bad.”  Here the tears came trickling down again, as she continued:  “Oh, Charlie! what those white devils will have to answer for!  When I think of how much injury they have done us, I hate them!  I know it’s wrong to hate anybody—­but I can’t help it; and I believe God hates them as much as I do!”

Charlie looked gloomy; and, as he made no rejoinder, she continued, “We didn’t save a thing, not even a change of clothes; they broke and burnt up everything; and then the way they beat poor father was horrible—­horrible!  Just think—­they chopped his fingers nearly all off, so that he has only the stumps left.  Charlie, Charlie!” she cried, wringing her hands, “it’s heart-rending to see him—­he can’t even feed himself, and he’ll never be able to work again!”

“Don’t grieve, Cad,” said Charlie, with an effort to suppress his own tears; “I’m almost a man now,” continued he, drawing himself up—­“don’t be afraid, I’ll take care of you all!”

Thus conversing, they reached Mr. Walters’s.  Caddy wanted Charlie to stop and look at the damage effected by the mob upon the outside of the house, but he was anxious to go in, and ran up the steps and gave the bell a very sharp pull.  The servant who opened the door was about to make some exclamation of surprise, and was only restrained by a warning look from Charlie.  Hurrying past them, Caddy led the way to the room where her mother and Esther were sitting.  With a cry of joy Mrs. Ellis caught him in her arms, and, before he was aware of their presence, he found himself half smothered by her and Esther.

They had never been separated before his trip to Warmouth; and their reunion, under such circumstances, was particularly affecting.  None of them could speak for a few moments, and Charlie clung round his mother’s neck as though he would never loose his hold.  “Mother, mother!” was all he could utter; yet in that word was comprised a world of joy and affection.

Esther soon came in for her share of caresses; then Charlie inquired, “Where’s father?”

“In here,” said Mrs. Ellis, leading the way to an adjoining room.  “I don’t think he will know you—­perhaps he may.”

In one corner of the apartment, propped up in a large easy chair by a number of pillows, sat poor Mr. Ellis, gazing vacantly about the room and muttering to himself.  His hair had grown quite white, and his form was emaciated in the extreme; there was a broad scar across his forehead, and his dull, lustreless eyes were deeply sunken in his head.  He took no notice of them as they approached, but continued muttering and looking at his hands.

Charlie was almost petrified at the change wrought in his father.  A few months before he had left him in the prime of healthful manhood; now he was bent and spectrelike, and old in appearance as if the frosts of eighty winters had suddenly fallen on him.  Mrs. Ellis laid her hand gently upon his shoulder, and said, “Husband, here’s Charlie.”  He made no reply, but continued muttering and examining his mutilated hands.  “It’s Charlie,” she repeated.