Not long afterwards, while I was at school, my mother died.

I was sent for, to follow her funeral with my father.

When we got back, and were alone together, he took me on his knee and kissed me.

'Which will you do, Amelius,' he said; 'stay in England with your uncle and aunt?
or come with me all the way to America, and never go back to England again?
Take time to think of it.' I wanted no time to think of it; I said, 'Go with you, papa.' He frightened me by bursting out crying; it was the first time I had ever seen him in tears.

I can understand it now.