UNCLE PHIL 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 MRS. JOHN A\.CLAY 
 
 TEHNYsoH NEELY, 
 W YO^I< ; LoHoofJ
 
 6ERTRAND SMI -<i 
 ACKtS OF BOOKS 
 149 PACIFIC AVENUE 
 . CALIF.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. JOHN M. CLAY, 
 
 Author of "What Will the World Say," "Only a Woman," and 
 "Some Little of the Angel Still Left." 
 
 L. 
 
 
 ^J 
 
 "PLEASURE is EVIL'S CHIEF BAIT; THE BODY THE PRINCIPAL CALAM- 
 ITY OF THE SOUL; AND THOSE THOUGHTS WHICH MOST SEPARATE IT AND 
 TAKE IT FROM THE AFFECTIONS OF THE BODY, MOST ENFRANCHISE AND 
 
 PURIFY IT." Plato. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 114 
 FIFTH AVENUE, 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 LONDON.
 
 Copyright, 1899, 
 
 by 
 F. TENNYSON NEBLT. 
 
 In 
 United States 
 
 and 
 Great Britain. 
 
 All Right! Reserved.
 
 THIS VOLUMB IS INSCRIBED 
 
 TO THB MEMORY OF 
 
 MV ANCESTOR 
 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM RUSSELL 
 
 OF THE CONTINENTAL ARMY 
 
 WHICH ACHIEVED 
 AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 2046146
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter. I'age 
 
 I. FAIB AND FREE is THE KING'S HIGHWAY, . . 7 
 
 II. LET THE JUSTICE OF THE KING PASS BY, . 18 
 
 III. AN INFANT TERRIBLE, 30 
 
 IV. A MUSSEL STEW, ...... 37 
 
 V. THE BAL MILITAIBE, 54 
 
 VI. DAVID AND JONATHAN, 75 
 
 VII. TEA DRINKING, 85 
 
 VIII. "I WILL BE TRUE TO You TILL I DIE," . . 97 
 
 IX. TROUBLED WATERS, Ill 
 
 X. AN OMEN, 131 
 
 XI. THE WATEBS OF MABAH, 128 
 
 XII. AZBAEL 146 
 
 XIII. THE IRON COLLAR, 164 
 
 XIV. "SOBBOW'S CBOWN OF SORROWS," . . . 175 
 
 XV. "Ms TER BE WHOOPPED ! " 188 
 
 XVI. "A LITTLE CLOUD OUT OF THE SEA LIKE A 
 
 MAN'S HAND, 199 
 
 XVII. THE BISHOP OF MOBILE, 216 
 
 XVIII. THE OLD LOVER EN SCENE, . . . 226 
 
 XIX. CARRYING THE DISPATCH, .... 240 
 
 XX. MINE EYES HATH SEEN THE GLORY OF THE LORD, 262
 
 UNCLE PHIL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FAIR AND FREE IS THE KING'S HIGHWAY. 
 
 "Keep your heart as light as you can, 
 An ounce of care killed a man." 
 
 The inhabitants, which are mostly of the Spanish 
 race, of the peaceful little city of Bonito, are in the 
 enjoyment of the post-meridian siesta. 
 
 There are exceptions, however, for, standing in the 
 corridor of an ancient adobe building its flagstaff, 
 from which floats the American flag, proclaims its 
 official character and fronting the pier, for Bonito 
 has a seaport, are three young people: sister and 
 brothers, as evidenced by the strong resemblance 
 they bear one to another; cast in the same generous 
 mold, with the same upright carriage, lofty poise of 
 head, and noble, finely chiseled features. The girl 
 is young, not eighteen, and her brothers only a few 
 years older. 
 
 These young people, contemplating a fishing ex- 
 cursion, are busily engaged selecting hooks and 
 lines from a large assortment, filling a good-sized 
 box ; that is, Miss Geraldine Southampton has the 
 
 7
 
 8 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 matter in hand with an arbitrariness that does not 
 allow a different opinion to emanate from either of 
 the young men, had they one, which most likely they 
 had not, for the young lady's manner clearly indi- 
 cated that she knew what she was about. Her quick 
 fingers soon filled a small basket with all she deemed 
 needed; then she announced in a voice distinctly 
 clear and musical, though tinctured with an imperi- 
 ous ring, such as the fortunate individual, male or 
 female, unused to contradiction, will naturally 
 acquire: "Now, South and Fred, we are ready, 
 and we are going to fish for fish on the briny deep 
 every mother's son of us." 
 
 This questionable piece of witticism receives 
 plaudits beyond its merits, and the three of them 
 begin their walk toward the mole. At its steps lies 
 a small boat, manned by two oarsmen of widely 
 differing places of birth. Uncle Phil, the first in im- 
 portance, was a "cullered pusson," as he himself 
 stated with distinctness and frequency, leaving no 
 room for a reasonable doubt. Also that he first 
 saw the light of day in "Wirginny" was a circum- 
 stance of no inconsiderable pride to him, and was 
 superfluously commented on; at least such was the 
 opinion entertained by those who enjoyed his ac- 
 quaintance. The other boatman was a Hawaiian, 
 and per consequence, known as "Kanaka Jack." 
 
 The distance to be traversed was short, and, the 
 young lady placing herself between her brothers,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 9 
 
 they started, but she soon about-faced, preferring 
 to progress the backward way, as the opportunity 
 was thus afforded of carrying on her conversation 
 face to face. This conversation, or rather mono- 
 logue, for such was its character, was animated and 
 joyous until the very brink of the unbalustered mole 
 was reached. Here she folded her hands, and, poising 
 on the tip of a well-made French boot, executed a 
 pirouette. The time consumed in this performance 
 was short, yet long enough to effect a marked 
 change in the temper of Miss Southampton. 
 
 "Which of you did it?" she demanded sharply. 
 
 Simultaneously, the brothers glancing over their 
 shoulders, understood the situation. 
 
 "It was not me," promptly asserted the younger 
 brother, called Fred, ungrammatical in the eager- 
 ness of his denial. 
 
 The elder brother looked confused, thereby con- 
 fessing guilt. The angry young lady went on viva- 
 ciously: "What do you mean, Southampton? We 
 were going to have such a comfortable afternoon; 
 and you have spoiled it all. Caramba !" 
 
 "Sister," said the offender apologetically. "I did 
 not invite Mr. Hamilton, indeed I did not. We 
 chanced to be passing when I told Jack to have the 
 boat in readiness, and to put a rug in, as you were 
 going out on the bay with us. And when he said, he 
 believed he would go along with us, of course, I 
 couldn't tell him he was not wanted." This was
 
 10 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 said in an undertone, and meant for Miss South- 
 ampton's private ear, and as a suggestion that so- 
 cial amenities should ever rise superior to such 
 trifles as personal animosities. The appeal for pax 
 Miss Southampton trampled under foot, and she 
 answered, raising her voice, and changing her post- 
 ure so as to let the full force of an uncompromis- 
 ing glance of displeasure rest upon the newcomer, 
 whose appearance being perfectly correct and of 
 the genus gentilhomme, does not seem to warrant 
 such a display of hostility : "Of course you couldn't ! 
 Not having a tongue in your head !" 
 
 To come to the gist of the matter, the weakness 
 to love where one should not is a common frailty, 
 or a common attribute. Who cares for the willing 
 peach just to your hand? The one that is high up 
 and difficult to get is the desirable one. And the 
 head and front of this Mr. Hamilton's offending 
 was a fortuitous fondness for the good-looking 
 young lady which led him on to persistency of at- 
 tentions after she had in the most unreserved man- 
 ner indicated that she wanted none of him. But he 
 had heard about faint heart, etc., and being of a 
 determined, not to say obstinate, disposition, he de- 
 termined to persevere and take his chance for a 
 rosier future, utterly ignoring rebuffs. So, not 
 choosing to see Miss Geraldine Southampton's 
 black looks, he constrained himself to say quite 
 cheerfully : "I am just in time not to be too late."
 
 UNCLE FHIL. 11 
 
 With a laudable effort to pour oil on the troubled 
 waters, the brother who had been called Southamp- 
 ton said, in a propitiatory tone : "Come, sister, let 
 me help you down." 
 
 "I am not going," she said shortly, "and it is very 
 provoking," looking the late arrival full in the face, 
 "to have my fishing party spoiled by this intrusion." 
 
 The brothers remained silent, but exchanged com- 
 ical looks, as they passed down the steps and seated 
 themselves in the boat; then came the invitation: 
 "Jump in, Hammy." 
 
 "I have changed my mind, and decided not to go," 
 replied Mr. Hamilton. 
 
 The little boat is quickly pulled out of the dark 
 green waters contiguous to the mole, and is danc- 
 ing merrily over the short cross waves of the ground- 
 swell. 
 
 "Hasta luego," said the brothers, raising their 
 hats to their sister, and being good-hearted young 
 gentlemen, they bestow upon her companion a nil 
 desperandum look. Then brother Fred exemplifies 
 the deceitful nature of a man's heart by indulging 
 in an unsympathizing laugh before remarking: "I 
 rather think Hammy will be favored with a round, 
 unvarnished tale." 
 
 "What's the use of a man making a fool of him- 
 self?" was the free comment of the other, while se- 
 lecting a line to drop over into the bay. "And," con- 
 tinued the young philosopher, "when it is estab-
 
 12 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 lished beyond a doubt that the moon is not to be had 
 for illuminating purposes why can't one be content- 
 ed with a serviceable bull's-eye lantern?" 
 
 Miss Southampton barely takes time to give 
 "Hammy" a scornful look before she, rudely turn- 
 ing her back, starts homeward. 
 
 The infatuated young man will not be warned 
 in such cases though one were to rise from the dead 
 to discourage a forward movement, it would be un- 
 availing and after a moment's hesitation, he is 
 at her side. 
 
 Her angry looks become angrier. So far this 
 young lady has scarcely had a crumpled roseleaf to 
 pass over, and that useful virtue, patience, is not in- 
 herent, nor has she yet acquired it, nor has it been 
 necessary. Her pleasure, like the "je le veux" of 
 Louis XIV., had been the recognized law, and with- 
 out the foreshadowing of evil times to come, which 
 extorted from the monarch the woeful : "Apus vous 
 le deluge." 
 
 There is silence for a very short minute, then the 
 young lady, facing her companion, said abruptly : 
 "I have a word to say to you." 
 
 "It would give me pleasure to listen to a great 
 many words from you," was the polite response. 
 
 Her brown eyes flashed, and without the prelim- 
 inaries of an accomplished fencer going through a 
 series of courteous salutes while promising himself 
 the pleasure of running his adversary" through, she
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 13 
 
 raised her rapier, so to speak, and commenced hos- 
 tilities of the most energetic character. "I would 
 prefer not to be compelled to speak to you at all, 
 and I will be brief and to the point. Without at- 
 tempting to explain my aversion to you, it has been 
 apparent to the meanest understanding, and had 
 you the faintest conception of what belongs to the 
 organization of a gentleman when you saw that at- 
 tentions from you were disagreeable to me, you 
 would have ceased them. But instead of that in- 
 contestably proper conduct what should you do I 
 have not been blind ! but go to work systematically 
 to ingratiate yourself with Mrs. Southampton in 
 order to afford you opportunities for your odious 
 persecutions, when the very sight of you is hateful 
 to me. I tell you now," she continued impetuously, 
 "you must change your course, or I will complain to 
 my brothers and when I do," with emphasis, "you 
 will be tossed into the bay." 
 
 The dull red that suffused his face alone showed 
 how the girl's scorn had touched him, though he 
 replied with immovable calmness: 
 
 "I think I might be able to prevent such a watery 
 taking off. I am no Hotspur, but no one can tell 
 what sword is in the scabbard till it is drawn and 
 the brothers might come to grief." 
 
 She laughed. The idea seemed to amuse her. "It 
 is so supremely ridiculous," said she, "the warning 
 that you might injure South or Fred. Why, they
 
 14 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 are men, while you are so contemptible that I have 
 no name for you." 
 
 Had the young girl been wise she wou ] d have seen 
 the dangerous light that shone in the gray eyes op- 
 posite to her, and paused before recklessly defying 
 a demon born of a despised man's bad passions. It 
 had been well for her could she have looked into 
 futurity and asked herself the question, how was 
 she prepared to resist in a deadly combat? Of what 
 avail would be her honest, open, childishly passion- 
 ate cut and thrust against the thirsty blade that 
 merely parried; yet always creeping closer and 
 closer until the moment served to overleap her 
 guard and effect its certain work of destruction. 
 
 Just so was the hapless Marie Antoinette all un- 
 conscious of danger ; and rather than make conces- 
 sions to "Jaques bon homme" would prefer being 
 sent to the tower for two months : And her flippant 
 speech when told that the people had no bread, 
 "Why, then, let them live on cake," was awful in its 
 recoil. The beast she had trodden under foot rose 
 supreme over the ancient dynasty and inaugurated 
 its own Reign of Terror, and the Queen's proud head 
 was sent to the guillotine. 
 
 Meanwhile, strike up the music ! vive la dance 
 fare gayly along until surprised by the hand- writ- 
 ing on the wall. There is time enough later on to 
 bring in the death's head at the feast, 
 
 Hamilton stood quite still after her insulting
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 15 
 
 words, and suffered her to walk away, then he re- 
 peated in a low, quivering tone, every muscle of his 
 face working with rage : "Contemptible, am I ? You 
 have gone too far, my young princess. Before your 
 time bona fide sovereigns have been compelled to 
 abdicate and grovel at the mercy of the victor. Suc- 
 cess is promised to those who can wait. I can wait, 
 and perhaps I, too, may laugh and laugh last." 
 
 As the crow flies, the distance was short that lay 
 between Miss Southampton and her home, but that 
 versatile young lady was not in the humor to con- 
 fine herself to straight mathematical lines. And she 
 stayed her progress to deliver a fluent lecture to 
 some Spanish muchachos who were fishing for tar- 
 antulas which could be seen in all their ugliness 
 moving low down among the damp timbers support- 
 ing the little pier on the pursuit of so ignoble a 
 pastime. Then she, very meritoriously, assisted 
 an old woman who had dropped her basket and scat- 
 tered the pine cones she was carrying home to boil 
 her kettle, and she impressed two naval officers of 
 high degree, who had just been rowed to the shore 
 from their ship, in the same charitable work, despite 
 their evident reluctance, and would not allow them 
 to desist until the very last cone was picked up, and 
 she laughed so merrily, when they glanced ruefully 
 at their soiled gloves, that they went on their way 
 discomfited. Her attention then was directed to 
 a squad of raw recruits a drill-sergeant had brought
 
 18 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 down from the fort; they had set up a regimental 
 target on the beach for ball-practice. Seeing their 
 awkwardness, the capable Miss Southampton took 
 them in charge, and her instructions were so lucid, 
 and illustrated by some splendid shots, that the 
 non-commissioned officer gazed at her in open- 
 mouthed wonder, and one of the squad, an Irish- 
 man, declared with national gallantry: "It is me- 
 self that could stand here till the crack of doom, 
 without mate or drink, watching of the swate young 
 leddy." 
 
 She next took in an awning under which some 
 sailors allowed on shore for the purpose sat 
 mending sails, and she returned their salutations. 
 "An' please mum, we would wish you a good arter- 
 noon," with a politeness more gracious than she 
 would have shown to their officers. With evident 
 interest she observed the stitching done by their 
 leather-sheathed fingers, and told them that they 
 were doing their work very well. These men were 
 rough, the scrapings of their different nationali- 
 ties, yet from this hour, in which Colonel South- 
 ampton's daughter had gone out of her way to speak 
 to them a few words of genuine kindness, they felt 
 something less of bitterness toward their betters, 
 and that "the quality was not all agin us, and pity 
 there ain't more like her." 
 
 A few more minor meetings and greetings, en- 
 gagements for rides and drives, dances, and so on,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 17 
 
 bring her to the corridor she had so lately quitted, 
 and where now stands a man. singularly handsome, 
 and so apparently young, that it is a matter for sur- 
 prise when Miss Geraldine Southampton, in the 
 exuberance of her spirits, dances rather than walks 
 up to him, and calls him papa. Then in the glad- 
 ness of her fresh, young heart she dances backward 
 to the extreme verge of the open corridor and rests 
 there poised on one foot. 
 
 Her father's loving glances rest upon her without 
 a shade of uneasiness. It were as well to fear a bird 
 might fall, so free and graceful is every movement 
 of that lithe, winsome body. 
 
 She is above the average height of women, but 
 formed in the perfection of symmetry. Her clear, 
 sparkling eyes and the brilliant hue of her com- 
 plexion are due to robust health, but the ever-chang- 
 ing expression of her mobile features come from an 
 immortal, indwelling beauty, irresistible.
 
 18 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LET THE JUSTICE OF THE KING PASS BY. 
 
 "Curious fool, be still! 
 Is human love the growth of human will?" 
 
 Colonel Southampton is a Virginian, and indeli- 
 bly stamped on his forehead are the cabalistic let- 
 ters F. F. V. Many years previous his large estates 
 had been swallowed up by the too ardent support of 
 a political friend who failed in his election. Find- 
 ing himself in the position of a financially ruined 
 man he willingly accepted the office of consul to 
 this far-away place. The expatriation, as it seemed, 
 was accepted with greater willingness, allured by 
 the hope that a change of climate would restore to 
 health his invalid wife. Administration succeeded 
 administration without the loss of his post. And 
 when by the treaty of Guadaloupe Hidalgo Califor- 
 nia became one of the United States the office of 
 consul lapsed and the genial, popular, gentleman 
 was appointed collector of customs. Thus almost 
 all the years of his daughter's life had been passed, 
 as it were, under the immediate guardianship of 
 the American flag; and well she loved its beautiful 
 stars and stripes. 
 
 Life's pleasures which are often grudgingly be-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 19 
 
 stowed, and like angel's visits come so few and far 
 between, had been showered down upon this girl 
 as from an overturned cornucopia. 
 
 To her father and brothers she was an object of 
 idolatry; of the fetich worship of Uncle Phil, the 
 faithful servant who voluntarily had left kith and 
 kin to follow the broken fortunes of her father's 
 house; of praise and flattery, to injurious excess, 
 from the resident grandees who had watched the 
 lovely child grow up "conio nosotras ;" and of many 
 of the naval and army officers of her own country, 
 besides the naval officers of almost every nationality 
 whose ships had touched in at that golden port. 
 Small wonder then that her face should wear the 
 joyous gleams of a spirit unacquainted with misfor- 
 tune and sorrow. 
 
 Something of a pang perhaps not the first 
 smote the heart of Colonel Southampton as he 
 marked the radiant being before him. What if sor- 
 rows should befall her the slightest one he would 
 die to avert. How could she bear them? 
 
 His face clouded an unpleasant duty was before 
 him. He sighed. 
 
 "Come here, Gerry, I have news for you." 
 
 The young princess clasping her hands, and with 
 a spring almost as artistic as Helarios, bounded to 
 her father's side. 
 
 "Now, don't be vexed," he said soothingly. "I 
 wouldn't tell you until the last moment, but "
 
 20 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 plunging in medias res, "Southampton and Frederic 
 are to leave us in the morning, in the Arrow, for 
 
 China." 
 
 "Those boys are going to do nothing of the sort ! 
 I am not going to allow it!" she said imperiously. 
 
 "Listen, my own pet," was the grave answer. 
 "Your brothers are men now, and it is high time for 
 them to engage in the commercial enterprises of 
 men. This is a good opening for them. They must 
 begin to make money for my Gerry. I have been 
 doing little else all my life than spending. I am a 
 poor man." 
 
 A bright flush suffused her face. 
 
 "Papa ! papa !" she exclaimed impetuously, "Oh, 
 why did you not tell me this before? It is I who 
 have been spending all your money ! Mrs. South- 
 ampton says" she suddenly stopped, embarrassed. 
 
 The present Mrs* Southampton was not her moth- 
 er, of whom she had scarcely any remembrance, her 
 place had been so soon filled by the handsome wid- 
 ower. But the fair young bride inherited delicacy 
 of constitution, and after enjoying to the full a short 
 season of post-nuptial gayeties beyond her 
 strength succumbed to feelings of lassitude, pass- 
 ing her days on a sofa. Her only occupation was 
 reading novels. The further indulgence of a nightly 
 potion to induce slumber quickly became a habit. 
 
 Colonel Southampton had never been ill in his 
 life, never so much as to feel "a little under the
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 21 
 
 weather," and how was it possible for him to under- 
 stand hypochondria, and that subtle malady which 
 coils round its victim and so successfully counter- 
 feits every form of human suffering? That she fre- 
 quently thought herself to be at the point of death 
 was a stretch of her imagination too intrinsically 
 ridiculous to excite sympathy. And small wonder 
 that Colonel Southampton was soon forced to ad- 
 mit to himself that he, too, like Sinbad the Sailor, 
 was burdened with an Old Man of the Sea. And it 
 did not help the matter much that his equestrian 
 was an invalid wife, whose peevish exactions were 
 none the less hard to bear that they must impera- 
 tively be born in uncomplaining silence. His chil- 
 dren, loving and admiring their brilliant father, 
 regarded "Mrs. Southampton" with extreme dis- 
 favor, and in the endeavor to live as though she 
 were not, adhered as much as was possible to the 
 non- intercourse system; easy enough, as the lady 
 seldom left her own apartments. And, oh, the pity 
 of it ! With all the inflexible strength of a weak 
 nature she hated the young people living under the 
 same roof ; the sight of the health, youth and beau- 
 ty, which had forever departed from her, exciting 
 emotions of the bitterest resentment and envy. 
 
 "I was going to say, papa," continued Miss Ger- 
 aldine, "that it is quite useless to import my gowns, 
 gloves and boots. I have never thought much about 
 it! But I must be a dreadful expense to you
 
 22 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 everything costs so high. My petticoats are made 
 here, but they are seventy-five dollars apiece, and 
 they are not embroidered up so very high. Just 
 see," she said, raising her dress-skirt and gazing re- 
 flectively at the delicately embroidered white drap- 
 eries. 
 
 "I have no doubt, Gerry, that your petticoats are 
 perfectly correct," answered Colonel Southampton, 
 not availing himself of the inspection invited, "and 
 I have no fault to find with your clothes, which are 
 exactly such as Miss Southampton should wear." 
 
 "I should be Miss Southampton in any clothes," 
 she replied, giving a backward toss to her handsome 
 head. "And, papa," she added wistfully, "why must 
 Southampton and Frederic go away from us? Why 
 cannot we stay together and work together?" 
 
 "What kind of work could you engage in, Gerry?" 
 he asked with a smile. 
 
 "Well," she answered, her face flushing, "that is 
 not a question to be answered on the spur of the 
 moment. Though I have a voice and could sing in 
 concerts if I were not a Southampton. And, but 
 for the same excellent reason, I could dance in 
 public, to earn my share of the family bread. Also," 
 throwing back her flowing, silken sleeve, and look- 
 ing with approval at the round, firm, dimpled arm, 
 "I could execute almost anything that required mus- 
 cle. But," her face became radiant, a practical idea 
 had flashed to the surface, "I can write in your
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 23 
 
 office ! I write a better hand than either South or 
 Fred you know I do!" 
 
 "Yes, I do know so," he answered, and seeing the 
 pretty pleading on her face, he wished to give her 
 a pleasure. "Suppose you go now the clerks are 
 all gone and write a clearance for the schooner 
 Andromache carrying eight hundred tons burden. 
 I am going now to meet an old friend I am ex- 
 pecting to arrive, whom I have not seen since our 
 college days, when we roomed together. And I be- 
 speak for him your good graces." 
 
 Feeling the perfect satisfaction, growing out of 
 being useful to one she loved, like a fawn she sped 
 to the apartment now closed, office hours being over. 
 The room of itself was not attractive, desks and 
 stools its only furniture, but the young lady was 
 never happier in her life. The idea that she was 
 about to transact business was positively bewitch- 
 ing. She could not keep her joy to herself, it had 
 to be vocalized. "Ah !" she exclaimed, exultingly, 
 "how happy are those who work hard! hard! 
 every day of their lives." 
 
 The divine edict pronounced against our first par- 
 ent Adam when driven out of that fair garden with 
 its "four rivers to water every tree that had been 
 planted, pleasant to look at and good for fruit," has 
 been in operation nearly six thousand years. Some 
 have caviled at it. Others have said it was a bless- 
 ing in disguise, but to Colonel Southampton's
 
 24 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 daughter was reserved the privilege of being the 
 first to sing a paean in its praise. 
 
 She seated herself quickly, pulling up to her the 
 huge Government inkstand with its bristling array 
 of pens. Then the Form Book was opened, and in 
 the glory of her enthusiasm she determined to spare 
 no pains, and that this particular document should 
 be the most elaborately handsome of any that had 
 ever gone forth from any Custom House. She would 
 execute with her pen an American eagle with its 
 claws full of arrows hovering over the top of the 
 page, and illuminate the capital letters in red ink. 
 But one moment's reflection suggested that, artistic 
 and unique as it certainly would be, it would 
 be open to the criticism of not being plain business ; 
 and she promptly decided to do the work in a work- 
 manlike manner, even to eschew flourishes. 
 
 In the frame of mind when one's work is always 
 best done, the head and heart in unison, she began 
 the paper by which under the revenue laws of the 
 United States the schooner Andromache with her 
 eight hundred tons burden was permitted to weigh 
 anchor and vamose the harbor. For some moments 
 she wrote on industriously, then with pardonable 
 pride she paused to admire her handiwork, which 
 was indeed admirable. Not in the least like the in- 
 distinct chirography of most fine ladies, resembling 
 the aimless wanderings of an intoxicated fly; but
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 25 
 
 firm, well-formed characters, beautiful to see and 
 beautiful to read. 
 
 At her back was an open window, through which 
 streamed the sun's rays silent, potent rays, la- 
 dened with odylic fluid passing back and forth, 
 over and around her noiseless, invisible, myster- 
 ious forces, actively weaving their wondrous tissues 
 and indissolubly uniting her life with that of an- 
 other life, standing in the doorway. 
 
 Henceforth, for weal or woe, the influence of these 
 two lives, one over the other, is cemented indes- 
 tructibly, till death ; till the dark river which rolls 
 all around the world is passed perhaps beyond. 
 Under the influence of this cosmical power the girl 
 trembled, conscious that some new, all-powerful 
 feeling was about to possess her. She looked up. 
 
 A man, certainly older than her father, had en- 
 tered the room. His rugged features were grave 
 even to sternness. Not a person to incommode, was 
 written in legible characters from head to foot. The 
 self-confidence of his bearing denoted a man who 
 was all and all to his own requirements. 
 
 The diffidence usual in accosting strangers of the 
 opposite sex was out of the experience of Miss 
 Southampton. Men of every age and degree had 
 gone down before her without the least hesitation, 
 without the slightest protest. But there was some- 
 thing disconcerting in this new-comer's steady 
 gaze ; yet never was a Southampton born to blench,
 
 26 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 and she demanded, authoritatively : "Did you not 
 see that the flag was down, and that office hours 
 were over?" 
 
 "I am not on official business," said he, slightly 
 raising his hat. "I called to see Colonel South- 
 ampton." 
 
 "My father is out, and I cannot tell you where 
 you will probably find him." 
 
 "I think I will wait for him here," replied the 
 gentleman, taking a seat. 
 
 "I am writing," said she sharply. 
 
 "Pray go on," was the answer, "you will not dis- 
 turb me." 
 
 Miss Southampton felt a new sensation. She 
 was accustomed to men losing their heads about 
 her and was probably not averse to it and here 
 was an infidel bringing no flowers to her altar. 
 Mutely she raised her eyes as if to enquire why a 
 fragment of the rather roughly plastered ceiling 
 did not detach itself and fall down to crush him. 
 And why she refrained from telling him that he 
 was disturbing her, and request his absence, was 
 the perplexing question. She was under the spell 
 of some strange, new, compelling influence, and 
 chafed under it. 
 
 With heightened color, and without a word, she 
 recommenced her writing; but the usually facile 
 pen became an awkward stick it was impossible 
 to write with that glum man looking on, and he
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 27 
 
 must be got rid of. She was wholly unaccustomed 
 to sue, and it was with an obvious effort that she 
 suggested, persuasively : 
 
 "You might smoke a cigar in the corridor while 
 waiting." 
 
 "I do not care to smoke, and will wait where I 
 am," he answered with decision. 
 
 The young lady was fairly frightened. Imagine 
 the feelings of a commanding officer who makes the 
 discovery when face to face with an enemy that his 
 war material is of bad quality. For one brief mo- 
 ment she thinks of flight, then comes the nobler 
 reflection that she is a Southampton, and having 
 thrown a lance over the enemy's frontier, could 
 neither retreat nor apologize, and if need be must 
 die at her post. 
 
 With what intense relief must the general with 
 damaged powder have heard the shouts of a support- 
 ing army coming to his assistance. Just so felt 
 Miss Southampton when her quick ears caught the 
 sound of her father's footsteps. In a moment more 
 he had entered the room. 
 
 With exclamations of delight the two men clasped 
 hands. Not since leaving William and Mary a 
 quarter of a century had passed had these college 
 chums met. 
 
 In the warmth of their greeting it was some mo- 
 ments before Colonel Southampton recollected to 
 say : "Ah ! here is my little daughter."
 
 28 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Query : Why is it, no matter how well-grown a 
 girl may be, she is invariably introduced by her 
 father after this fashion? 
 
 The introduction was acknowledged by the lady 
 with cold dignity; by the gentleman without en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 Miss Southampton measurably recovered from 
 her loss of morale (she was not of the sort to stay 
 conquered), and, ashamed of her involuntary weak- 
 ness, hurriedly, so to speak, brought up her sup- 
 ports, dressed her lines, and, eager for aggressive 
 action, said curtly : 
 
 "You have a name, I suppose?" 
 
 "My name is Smith," responded the gentleman. 
 
 "John Smith?" she asked airily. 
 
 "My Christian name is Paul if you have any in- 
 terest in knowing," he answered, showing some an- 
 noyance. 
 
 The skirmishers had closed in, and there was bat- 
 tle in the air ; the young lady clatters up her howit- 
 zers. 
 
 "Yes," she said flippantly, "I have some interest 
 in a certain way it is de rigueur to acquire gen- 
 eral information and, of course, much trash gets 
 mixed in. Evidently your parents were Bible read- 
 ers, with a penchant for scriptural names, and I 
 congratulate you on not being named Saul, or 
 Nehemiah, or Hosea, or Maccabees, or some other of 
 the gentle patriarchs, whose lives were more or less
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 29 
 
 edifying, but whose names are lacking in euphony." 
 
 In all the unpleasant experiences of Samson 
 following his entanglement with Delilah nothing 
 touched him in the tenderest place until he was 
 sent for to make sport for the Philistine lords and 
 ladies. Nothing like this had ever happened to Mr. 
 Smith before, and in his righteous anger he was go- 
 ing to say that, in his opinion, she had mistaken 
 the situation. But Colonel Southampton, observing 
 with concern that his daughter and his friend were 
 not taking to each other, hastened to interpose. He 
 was of a sanguine nature, and hoped for better 
 things. 
 
 "Come," said he, "let's get into more comfortable 
 quarters." 
 
 "As for myself, I have that clearance to finish," 
 said Miss Southampton, with gravity. "Besides, I 
 have no wish to be the terrible third to spoil sport. 
 I know you wish to be to yourselves to gloat over 
 old times, and to recall the sweet remembrance, 
 how pious you were, and the good example you set 
 to other students whose inclinations tended to friv- 
 olity. I am speaking for my papa." 
 
 "Never mind the clearance, Gerry," answered 
 Colonel Southampton, looking at Smith with a 
 smile. "One of the clerks will finish it. I want you 
 with us." So together they proceeded to that part 
 of the building where were the apartments fitted up 
 for the family.
 
 30 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 N INFANT TERRIBLE. 
 "He who is not hammer is sure to be anvil." 
 
 It was a cosy parlor into which they entered. 
 The lace curtains and the upright piano had been 
 brought from Paris, the comfortable bamboo chairs 
 from China, the sofa and American rocking chairs 
 from Boston, and the nick-nacks from Japan and 
 various other parts of the globe all uniting to 
 form that refinement of luxury with which those 
 who have pride in pluralizing their ancestors take 
 pains to surround themselves. 
 
 The door was left wide open to enjoy a view of 
 the beautiful bay; the tide rushing in with a gentle 
 pur almost lapped the foundations of the wooden 
 corridor. Sometimes the heavy billows from the 
 offing thundered in with a tumultuous dash, when 
 doors had to be closed to keep out the drenching 
 spray. 
 
 Possibly it were better had the doors been closed 
 now. A woman carrying a child in her arms could 
 not so unceremoniously have entered. 
 
 "Which of you gentlemen is Colonel Southamp- 
 ton?" she asked with the directness that denoted 
 her visit to be of business, not compliment.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 31 
 
 With inextinguishable politeness, Colonel South- 
 ampton rose, bowed, and asked in what way he 
 could be of use to her. 
 
 "Well, sir, you see," she explained without cir- 
 cumlocution, "my husband he ain't well, he's been 
 puny ever since he got that lance stuck into his 
 side at San Pasquale, and I have just come up on 
 the Sea Bird from San Luis Obispo to see Captain 
 Baxter about getting pay for some beeves used by 
 the California Battalion. And as I ain't so overly 
 strong, and that hill going up to the fort is kinder 
 steepish, I would like to leave my little son here 
 until I get back." 
 
 "Certainly, madam," replied Colonel Southamp- 
 ton with fictitious warmth, and, being on slippery 
 ground, he struck out boldly: "Certainly, my 
 daughter w T ill be delighted to entertain the little 
 fellow," he cast an imploring look at Gerry, who, 
 scorning to dissemble, said promptly: 
 
 "Indeed, I shall do nothing of the sort" The lady's 
 statement was true concerning the situation of the 
 fort. To reach it there was a sharp acclivity to as- 
 cend, very fatiguing, particularly to a person car- 
 rying a burden. Therefore, though the mother saw 
 plainly that her offspring would not be left in ten- 
 der hands, yet she was aware that the laws of the 
 state taking cognizance of his life and limbs, the 
 young lady would neither murder nor maim him. 
 So, deftly slipping the child into Colonel Southamp-
 
 32 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ton's arms, she walked away as fast as she could 
 lay foot to the ground. 
 
 "Here, Gerry," said her father, coaxingly, "please 
 take him, like a kind, dear, good-hearted girl." 
 
 "I shall not do it," was the undutiful answer. 
 
 Colonel Southampton being a man of the world, 
 knew that the best way out of some situations was 
 immediate flight, and without more ado, he placed 
 the child upon the floor and fled. 
 
 "Such depravity is shocking," observed Miss 
 Southampton. 
 
 "Would it be out of place in me," said Mr. Paul 
 Smith, "to inquire for whom your remark is in- 
 tended?" 
 
 This observation is unnoticed, the young lady in- 
 tently watching that small specimen of humanity 
 writhing on the floor, her face faithfully portraying 
 all the gradations of astonishment, aversion, horror 
 and despair. 
 
 The infant was at first bewildered and quiet, but 
 soon realizing his abandoned condition, he began 
 howling dismally shriek after shriek pealed 
 through the room. 
 
 Miss Southampton was greatly given to the har- 
 boring of fixed ideas, but in this wild uproar all re- 
 membrance of the strained relations which had 
 characterized her short acquaintance with Mr. 
 Smith was obliterated and forgotten. 
 
 Happily there is no law of Congress to compel
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 33 
 
 any one to consistency, or where would any of us 
 be? 
 
 She even felt drawn toward him as people will 
 feel drawn toward those threatened with the in- 
 fliction of a common danger and she made a mo- 
 tion as if to invite his assistance for their mutual 
 protection. "This is unbearable," she gasped. 
 
 "You had better take him up," he counseled. 
 
 "You are the stronger." There was entreaty in 
 her voice. 
 
 "Yes, I am the stronger," he assented in a tone 
 indicating non-intervention, "but I have heard 
 there was something soothing in a woman's touch 
 to young children." 
 
 "I am not clear in my belief about that. And 
 the proper thing to do would be to throw the crea- 
 ture into the bay, but I don't quite like the respon- 
 sibility one would never hear the last of it. Some- 
 thing must be done ! The whole town will shortly 
 be about our ears ! Peace must be had," said Miss 
 Southampton in staccato-like phrases, while cir- 
 cling round the baby, apparently nerving herself for 
 some desperate mental and physical effort. 
 
 "You had better take him up head-foremost," ad- 
 vised Mr. Smith, with decision. 
 
 The advice seeming good, she made a vicious 
 grab, seizing the fat little body, and began pacing 
 the room with rapid and unequal footsteps. The 
 terrific screams continued, subsiding only when
 
 34 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 breath failed. Peace had been achieved after much 
 sorrow, and with a sigh of relief the young lady 
 rested her charge on a table. Standing there, 
 though flushed and disheveled, she was very hand- 
 some. Mr. Smith thought so, and looked on admir- 
 ingly in a disinterested sort of way when he al- 
 most doubted the evidence of his senses ! With an 
 exclamation of anger, the young lady dealt a blow, 
 entirely disproportioned to the child's tender age. 
 A blood-curdling yell ensued. "You have bitten me, 
 you miserable little wretch !" cried Miss Southamp- 
 ton, holding up a finger, from which welled a drop 
 of the crimson fluid. 
 
 The child's mother had not dallied by the way- 
 side, but had made such haste as she could. Her 
 interview with Captain Baxter had been brief, and 
 most unsatisfactory about remuneration for the 
 beeves consumed by Colonel Fremont's men. 
 
 She was told curtly : "The California Battalion 
 was composed of volunteers, and a branch of the 
 service he had nothing to do with." And his man- 
 ner was so obviously expressive that he did not want 
 to have anything to do with it, and did not intend 
 to have anything to do with it, as to cause her great 
 mental depression. 
 
 Poor woman! and was there no one to tell her 
 that she had as well wave a red flag in the face of 
 a short-horned dilemma as to go to a West Pointer 
 about any volunteer business? Her anguish of mind
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 35 
 
 was much augmented on her return just in time to 
 witness the discipline bestowed upon her infant 
 son. 
 
 With a wild rush she dashed in and picked up 
 the baby, which had tumbled to the floor, howling 
 dismally. 
 
 "You abominable woman!" cried Miss South- 
 ampton, raising her voice,her indignation excited by 
 a sense of her personal wrongs; "what are you do- 
 ing with that child, how dare you bring him here?" 
 
 "I have a husband, madam," whimpered the wom- 
 an irrelevantly. 
 
 "Who cares how many husbands you have?" re- 
 plied Miss Southampton, very much excited, and 
 quite unmindful that she was attacking the very 
 groundwork of the social system. 
 
 No answer was made, the woman, carrying her 
 olive branches, departed, weeping bitterly; and no 
 doubt believing in her heart, as many a one had 
 done before her time, that kindness and justice do 
 not lie in a poor person's way. 
 
 It now occurred to Miss Southampton that her 
 companion had been remiss in his duty, and that 
 from a safe position of neutrality he had left her 
 to struggle alone through the trying scene, giving 
 her neither aid nor comfort. 
 
 "Such conduct is atrocious," she said to him, 
 with flashing eyes. 
 
 "Whose conduct," he asked.
 
 36 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 A cloud of wrath swept over her face, and Mr. 
 Paul Smith was left the sole occupant of the room. 
 
 "Rather a spirited young person," he remarked, 
 sotto voce, "but wonderfully handsome, and per- 
 haps it is fortunate that her ideas and my ideas do 
 not agree."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A MUSSEL STEW. 
 
 "Beware, dear girls, beware, 
 You had better lead apes you know where, 
 Than ever fall in love." 
 
 The Arrow has shaken her white wings, and like 
 a bird is gliding out of Bonito harbor, carrying with 
 her the two young Southamptons. 
 
 This is the first real grief of her life, and Geral- 
 dine Southampton stands on the pier, where she 
 had parted with her brothers in all the abandon- 
 ment of grief. 
 
 Her father is entreating her to be comforted. And 
 Uncle Phil is trying to dry his own eyes, while say- 
 ing tremulously: "B'ar up, Miss Gerry, b'ar up, 
 honey, b'ar up fer de ole Uncle PhiPs sake. Please, 
 chile, b'ar up like er good young 'oman oh, Lody ! 
 Good Gracious! has I los' my senses? I mean, 
 honey, b'ar up like the Runnel's darter." 
 
 Mr. Smith is there, too, but does not join in the 
 sympathizing throng by which Miss Southampton 
 is surrounded. 
 
 He has seen a good deal of the world, and has 
 no difficulty in making up his mind that his old 
 friend's daughter is the worst case of "spoiled" that
 
 38 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ever came under his observation. "And not a par- 
 ticularly bad sort, either," was his mental com- 
 ment, "if she were not surrounded by such an army 
 of imbeciles." 
 
 Miss Southampton's violent grief subsides, yield- 
 ing to the arts of her father. His own distress is 
 as nothing if he can console this young creature, 
 who represents nearly all his world. "The boys 
 are gone, Gerry," he said, soothingly, "and cry- 
 ing won't bring them back. Two or three years will 
 soon roll around, and then what a joyful return 
 there will be. Meanwhile you have your old dad. 
 And I'll tell you what it is, Gerry, if you do not 
 stop weeping this minute, you will make me cry, 
 too, which will not be a pleasant on dit to get into 
 circulation." 
 
 There really was so much pathos in his voice that 
 his daughter became alarmed. A Southampton 
 man shedding tears in public would be an indelible 
 disgrace ! And she hastened to say, as well as she 
 could between sobs: "I a-m t-r-y-i-n-g t-o c-o-n- 
 t-r-o-1 m-y f-e-e-1-i-n-g-s, p-a-p-a, a-n-d I h-a-v-e n-o 
 d-o-u-b-t I s-h-a-1-1 s-u-c-c-e-e-d p-r-e-s -e-n-t-1-y." 
 
 Colonel Southampton is much encouraged. 
 
 "That is my brave little girl," he said in laudatory 
 tones. "And now, Gerry," in tones still more laud- 
 atory, "a party of us are going to the Point. I have 
 promised Smith a mussel stew, and won't you go 
 along to make it pleasant for us?"
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 39 
 
 Mr. Smith's appearance does not indicate that 
 her presence would add to his pleasure in the least. 
 
 "Papa," she answered, solemnly, "I am never go- 
 ing to another mussel stew until those boys re- 
 turn." 
 
 "How will it be about the bal militaire to-mor- 
 row?" he asked. 
 
 "Papa," in the same lachrymose tone, "I am never 
 going to a dance of any sort until my brothers re- 
 turn." 
 
 "Oh ! yes you will, Gerry," said he, coaxingly ; "if 
 you desert us, all our little gayeties are at an end." 
 
 Instantly there was a chorus of clamors that Miss 
 Gerry would not reduce the world to despair by 
 withdrawing her presence from its festivities. 
 
 Miss Southampton finally comes to terms, and 
 gives a promise that she will do violence to her 
 feelings of private grief for the public weal. 
 
 Later on, when she made her appearance at the 
 designated place, where the mussels most do con- 
 gregate, it was evident quite that the joyous spirit, 
 which had seemed part of her, was still under a 
 cloud. 
 
 Uncle Phil was there, too, busy to excess, looking 
 on and giving advice. It was usual for him to be 
 ably seconded by Miss Gerry, whose energy was 
 boundless, and never flagged. But to-day every- 
 thing seemed different; never before had she been 
 separated from her brothers, not even during their
 
 40 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 school days. There was in town a French priest, 
 accomplished and learned indeed, his bishop had 
 plainly told him that too much learning had made 
 him mad and inclined him to unauthorized views, 
 and as he refused either to retract or to hold his 
 tongue, he was forbidden to celebrate the mass. De- 
 barred this privilege, a priest seems singularly out 
 of place in the world a goose straying on a turn- 
 pike is not more helpless. But there is a silver lin- 
 ing to most clouds, and the priest, yet not a priest, 
 found support and occupation in teaching Colonel 
 Southampton's children; he even taught Gerry 
 music. And she shared the lessons of her brothers 
 in the use of firearms, and fencing and perhaps to 
 the foils she was somewhat indebted for the beauty, 
 ease and firmness of her poses. Her brothers, who 
 were absurdly fond and proud of her, obeyed all her 
 behests without asking a question, believing that 
 all she did was right with a blind reliance that 
 nothing on earth could disturb. No wonder that 
 her heart was sore. 
 
 "Papa," said she plaintively, "I believe I will go 
 out on the rocks. Perhaps, in some of her tacks, I 
 may catch a glimpse of the Arrow. You can send 
 for me when the luncheon is ready. I think I would 
 rather be alone." 
 
 The dozen athletic men to whom the latter part 
 of her speech was addressed would, at another time, 
 have been loud in their protestations against ban-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 41 
 
 ishment ; but they saw that she was very near cry- 
 ing, and not one of them was willing to subject him- 
 self to the torture of seeing Miss Gerry weep. 
 
 At this part of the bay a good many large bowl- 
 ders extended far out, and were sufficiently near to- 
 gether for an agile person to step from one to an- 
 other. And when the tide was low, as now it was, 
 it was easy to reach a range of rocks having consid- 
 erable elevation; Gerry passed on to the highest; 
 there she tiptoed, and, putting her hands to her 
 face to form a sort of telescope in aid of her vision, 
 tried to catch sight of the barque carrying two pas- 
 sengers very dear to her. 
 
 But the Arrow, favored by a stiff breeze, was 
 bounding her way merrily, far out at sea no 
 glimpse of her could be seen, let Gerry strain her 
 eyes as she might. She did not sigh, but with quick, 
 gasping, sobbing, hid out of sight behind a minia- 
 ture fortress, where she almost seemed in a world 
 of her own. By degrees her sobs ceased they were 
 new acquaintances and felt out of place. 
 
 And she looked straight before her, watching the 
 waters of the bay rush out to mingle with the larger 
 waters of the ocean. How illimitable seemed the 
 expanse, and how beautiful. Under the sun's glow- 
 ing rays the rippling waves glinted with the sheen 
 of polished glass. Three or four whales have ven- 
 tured inside the mouth of the harbor, and are lazily 
 swimming and throwing up water with the effec-
 
 42 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 tiveness of fountains. And how pure, sweet and ex- 
 hilarating is the salt air. Gerry drinks it in, and 
 feels the quick rebound as from an intoxicating 
 beverage. How alluring seemed the bright waters 
 they seemed calling to her. How she yearns to 
 lave in them. She has not lived so many years by 
 the sea without knowing how to swim. "Oh ! why 
 haven't I got my bathing suit on?" she murmurs, 
 oblivious for the moment that picnics and bath- 
 ing suits do not go hand in hand. "But I can at 
 least" she fails to clothe her idea with words, add- 
 ing "that will be something." And without more 
 ado, this young lady who has had, as yet, no school- 
 ing in any of the restraining influences adverse to 
 her wishes, and never hesitated at any time to de- 
 stroy the artificial boundaries of common usages, 
 acted on the sudden whim, and soon the pellucid 
 element is rushing over and against the nude feet, 
 and Miss Southampton is entirely given over to 
 blissful sensations. These blissful sensations term- 
 inate abruptly. 
 
 "Miss Southampton, your father requested me to 
 inform yoii that the mussels are nearly ready. But 
 I see you are not ready for the mussels," commu- 
 nicated Mr. Smith in chillingly cutting accents. 
 
 She gave a violent start, and, oh ! a silken hose 
 slipped from her grasp rested for one moment on 
 the crest of a wavelet filled itself with air, and 
 sailed out seaward, her mournful gaze following it.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 43 
 
 Remorselessly, unconiiuiseratingly, Mr. Smith 
 watched the disappearance of the erratic stocking, 
 then, without the slightest attempt to conceal his 
 unadmiring sentiments, said : 
 
 "I will send Uncle Phil to you. I imagine you 
 have an errand for him. Meanwhile, the mussels 
 and the company, I suppose, are to wait." 
 
 Left to herself, Miss Southampton groaned aloud. 
 She felt ill, and doomed ; some horrible fate seemed 
 impending. Her childish ears had drank in with 
 unquestioned faith many a tale told by Uncle Phil 
 of witchcraft of people possessed of how some 
 people were given power to cast evil eyes on some 
 other people and compel obedience, even were it to 
 run up a tree like a squirrel, or bark like a dog, or 
 mew like a cat. 
 
 And there were still more awful conjurations, 
 when the eyes dropped out, the head turned gray, 
 and the tongue became palsied. 
 
 Of course, with riper years, these absurdities were 
 disbelieved. Yet a little leaven remained, a predis- 
 position to superstition. What is superstition? 
 There is no rational way to account for it; yet few 
 there be who have not felt its influence, willingly 
 or unwillingly. It comes, it goes, it is tangible, and 
 it is intangible, and if firmly resisted sneaks away 
 only to reappear when least expected. 
 
 Miss Gerry's imagination was at all times like 
 a willing steed, taking no account of pace or dis-
 
 44 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 tance, and no wonder that its wild suggestions of 
 the potentialities should amaze and affright. Who 
 was this Mr. Smith so lately coming en scene? An 
 old friend of her father, certainly ; but that friend- 
 ship was long ago. And there were well-authenti- 
 cated instances of men who had so coveted power 
 over their fellow-men that they had obtained this 
 power by concessions to evil spirits. She almost 
 shrieked recollecting how strangely his presence 
 had affected her. But supineness had very little to 
 do with her organization. Dread of what appeared 
 akin to the supernatural might occasion temporary 
 weakness, yet it was constitutional to rally quickly 
 and face front, flying the signal, No surrender. 
 
 It was certain to her that Mr. Smith had been 
 allowed to go on long enough with his airs of su- 
 periority, and that he must be signally rebuked, al- 
 though he appeared to be so utterly unassailable, 
 and had omitted to take in succinctly that she was 
 a Southampton, while he was only a Smith. It 
 might be difficult to bring him to his bearings ; yet 
 it must be done, and without loss of time. Her 
 smooth brow corrugates in deep thought, awaiting 
 the inspiration. 
 
 "Some women have hated me; other women have loved me; 
 But she, who has most wounded me 
 Has neither loved nor hated me." 
 
 There it was in a hand's grasp. She would treat 
 him with the perfect indifference that would irri-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 45 
 
 tate a tortoise. She would even feign to forget his 
 name. 
 
 The most aggressive of sovereigns is rendered 
 peaceable by an empty military chest, but when it 
 is filled by an unexpected beneficence, he will rush 
 into war and unadvisedly force an engagement with 
 a flying foe for whom he should have built a bridge 
 of gold. 
 
 With the package, which Uncle Phil had been dis- 
 patched to bring his young lady, he brought a news- 
 paper for the gentlemen, and one was reading aloud 
 to the others when Gerry rejoined them. 
 
 Immediately there was an uprising to do her 
 honor. Ten thousand thanks are showered upon 
 her for gracing this festive occasion with her pres- 
 ence. If Mr. Smith looked at her at all, it was in 
 such a modest, unostentatious manner as to escape 
 detection. 
 
 "Miss Gerry," said the reader, "I have just 
 finished an account of some serious skirmishes be- 
 tween our troops and the Indians. Shall I repeat it 
 for your behoof?" 
 
 "Not for worlds," was the decisive answer. 
 
 "Well, as the Queen wills; but here is a bit of 
 news that will interest you : Lieutenant Wood has 
 been brevetted captain for conspicuous bravery, 
 and favored with a furlough. Perhaps he will ar- 
 rive in time for our ball to-morrow." 
 
 Hiss Southampton was very demonstrative, clap-
 
 46 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ping her hands in her joy. Her father, glancing at 
 her with approval and sympathy, said : "I always 
 knew there was something in that boy. His father 
 and grandfather fought at Guildford." 
 
 In the prosperous days of yore Colonel South- 
 ampton's plantation in the Valley of Virginia, ad- 
 joined that of Major Wood, the fatter of the young 
 officer upon whom had been conferred the title, but 
 not the emolument of a centurian ; and the most cor- 
 dial friendship existed between the families. There- 
 fore, when a portion of the army to which Lieuten- 
 ant Wood belonged was quartered at Bonito, Colo- 
 nel Southampton received him almost as a son. And 
 Gerry, too, as readily adopted him, so to speak, and 
 treated him much the same as she did her brothers ; 
 to the young gentleman's infinite discontent. A 
 very young man is never so much annoyed as when 
 placed in this position. To an elderly man it is 
 very enjoyable; the alternate petting and scolding 
 being made much of, and candidly depreciated by 
 a charming young girl. 
 
 It was only a matter of a few months which had 
 passed since when his troop was ordered away to 
 fight hostile Indians that Lieutenant Wood called 
 to bid Miss Southampton farewell. And to save his 
 life he could not feel grateful for her friendly 
 adieux, and a deal of excellent advice about wear- 
 ing flannel and generally taking care of his health. 
 
 "And, Charley," she added, "of course I wish you
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 47 
 
 to fight bravely, but don't be rash. It would be a 
 great affliction to me should anything serious hap- 
 pen to you." 
 
 Lack-a-day! It was honest, passionate love on 
 one side, and honest, pure friendship on the other. 
 
 At this juncture, Uncle Phil, hat in hand, with 
 solemn politeness, expressed the pleasure it gives 
 him "ter denounce ter de Kunnel, Miss Gerry, an' 
 de oder gemplemen, dat de mussels wus about ter be 
 sarved.'* 
 
 A table-cloth had been spread on the well-cleaned 
 grass, and placed on it were delicacies from various 
 climes. Also bottles of the different shapes that in- 
 dicated the different character of the vintage con- 
 tained, and glasses, of the regulation size, for drink- 
 ing the same were gathered too close together to 
 suit the views of a teetotaler. But the waters of 
 that otherwise highly favored country, were brack- 
 ish, and not adpopulum as a beverage. 
 
 To return to Miss Southampton and her viva- 
 cious hand-clapping. "Oh, I am so joyful !" she ex- 
 claimed. "I feel in the humor to dance a horn- 
 pipe on the festive board, represented by a cloth." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Gerry ! we humbly implore you to wait 
 until our appetites are appeased," cried the hungry 
 gentlemen. 
 
 The tendency of that beatific climate produces 
 what is called being "sharp set," and the gentle- 
 men were hastening to assume the various attitudes
 
 4:8 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 that go to show how the human form divine can be 
 crumpled to suit the exigencies of the occasion, 
 when they were imperatively stopped by Miss 
 Southampton, with the order to "fill glasses and 
 drink standing, in honor of Brevet Captain Charles 
 Wood." 
 
 This was done with ultra promptness ; but it was 
 not enough to satisfy the young lady. "Break 
 glasses!" she cried, smashing hers. 
 
 For about a half-second the breaking of wine- 
 glasses was in order. Mr. Smith only placing his 
 carefully down, declaring such wanton destruction 
 clear against his habits. And, furthermore, he con- 
 fessed himself unable to see in what way the gallant 
 young officer's health and prospects could be ad- 
 vanced by such a sacrifice of drinking vessels. 
 
 Miss Gerry darted a furious look at him, not- 
 withstanding she had, as we know, resolved to let 
 him die the chilling death of being left alone. But 
 this Fabian policy was too much for her impatient 
 nature. 
 
 "Doubtless," she exclaimed hotly, "the habit of 
 economy is one of the lofty virtues but don't you 
 think it can be carried to excess, Mr. er er 
 Jones?" 
 
 "Smith is my name," he answered deliberately, 
 "and prudent economy is not excessive, Miss er 
 er what is your name, anyhow?" 
 
 If Mr. Smith intended this remark as his contri-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 49 
 
 bution to improve the hilarity of the company, it 
 was a conspicuous failure. 
 
 Miss Southampton's friends were all thorough- 
 paced partisans, and turned frowning brows toward 
 that gentleman, and only the knowledge that he 
 was the guest of Colonel Southampton saved him 
 from being torn to pieces, limb from limb. 
 
 Colonel Southampton's face clouded it troubled 
 him that his friend and his daughter should be at 
 outs. And there would have been an awkward 
 pause had not the quick-witted lady, with her 
 gracious womanhood, repaired the breach she had 
 made and without making the least concession, or 
 giving up an inch of ground. She slightly inclined 
 her head, and with high-bred courtesy hastened to 
 say: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Smith, for a mo- 
 mentary forgetfulness of the consideration due to 
 my father's guest. But my natural brusqueness, 
 which is of course reprehensible, meets w r ith so 
 much general indulgence that I do not improve." 
 
 Having said this much for the credit of her fatn- 
 er's house, she felt privileged to add with the osten- 
 tatious, tender regret which might have vexed the 
 righteous soul of a saint : "Not knowing Captain 
 Wood, you cannot form an idea of the many high 
 virtues and attributes that cluster around his hon- 
 ored name, and a name so dear to us, therefore you 
 declined the immolation of an empty wine-glass.
 
 50 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 But we bear you no ill will. You are freely and 
 fully forgiven." 
 
 Some of the company felt very ill afterward in 
 consequence of their efforts to repress smiles. The 
 object of the attack alone remained unmoved the 
 barb had been well-aimed, and hit squarely, but fell 
 harmless. Gerry looked at him curiously, and by 
 some anomaly, felt inclined toward him. "There 
 is not another man alive," she thought, "whose eyes 
 could meet mine so unflinchingly," and from that 
 hour she could not disguise from herself that his in- 
 fluence strengthened over her daily. It was the in- 
 herent admiration a mercurial temperament often 
 has for a hard, reticent nature, so exactly its antith- 
 esis. But she had no idea of laying down her 
 arms. The Southamptons had always been a proud 
 people; and she had her full share of that deadly 
 sin which brought ruin on the highest of the angels 
 and eternal punishment on the Son of the Morn- 
 ing. 
 
 She seated herself remotely as possible from the 
 quiet, silent man. Just then Uncle Phil approached 
 her and with a beaming face whispered something 
 in her ear. Merely taking time to say "dispensa 
 me," she sprang up, and was whisked away only 
 a few paces followed by every eye. A covered bas- 
 ket was opened, and the two heads bent over, view- 
 ing its contents with immense delight, and exchang- 
 ing a few rapid sentences,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 51 
 
 The curiosity of the uninitiated rises rampant, 
 and they cry : 
 
 "What is it, Miss Gerry? Won't you let us into 
 the agreeable secret, too?" 
 
 "It is not a secret," she answered triumphantly, 
 "Uncle Phil says it is a 'tecky.' And you shall see 
 him ; and you shall eat him." 
 
 "A turkey!" was the surprised exclamations. 
 "Did it fall from the clouds?" 
 
 With flourish of (trumpets, as it were, Miss 
 Southampton and Uncle Phil together place the 
 dish containing the rare fowl in front of Colonel 
 Southampton. 
 
 "Stop, papa," cried Miss Gerry, as the carving 
 knife was deftly raised. "Don't touch him yet 
 let us admire. You must all pardon my enthusiasm, 
 I never saw a 'tecky' before. Uncle Phil says I did 
 in Virginia. But the sweetest memories fade, and 
 I cannot recall an acquaintance with this species 
 of the winged tribe. Hitherto gallinas only and I 
 have known each other, and you must bear with my 
 exultation." 
 
 "But where did it come from?" persisted the gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 "Do you think it quite good manners," retorted 
 the young lady, "to be so morbidly curious about 
 his history. Possibly probably, there may be biz- 
 arre circumstances in connection with it. But he 
 came to us in a purely commercial way. Uncle Phil
 
 52 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 purchased him from a mucharcho, who called upon 
 every saint in the calendar to witness that he came 
 by him honestly but that is with his conscience! 
 The sum paid was sixteen dollars. A mere noth- 
 ing when compared with the cost of some dainties 
 the old Komans provided for their guests just 
 think of the shield of Minerva costing seventy-two 
 thousand dollars. How thankful we ought to feel, 
 papa, that we did not live in those expensive days. 
 Now, cut, and spare not ; only divide fair." 
 
 Presently there began a decorous clatter of 
 knives and forks, and a good deal of merriment, the 
 principal instigator being Miss Southampton. She 
 was perhaps all the more brilliant and exigent be- 
 cause of the glances of grave surprise directed at 
 intervals toward her from Mr. Smith, who inwardly 
 wondered that this could be the same young per- 
 son whom a few hours only had elapsed since he 
 with his own eyes, which he never distrusted 
 had beheld in a tumult of grief. He condemned 
 such frivolity utterly. Besides, he did not wholly 
 approve the way she grasped the reins of conversa- 
 tion, nor of the dexterous manner in which she 
 handled them. Neither did he sympathize in the un- 
 affected delight manifested by the "arrant num- 
 skulls" (Mr. Smith's estimate of the intellectual 
 attainments of those high public officers was er- 
 roneous) ; they were simply enjoying a war of wits 
 with a bright young girl, who could stand up square
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 53 
 
 and hit out straight. Suddenly she exclaimed: 
 "Oh, papa ! there is going to be a storm !" 
 
 Engrossed in their mirth, no one had noticed the 
 rapid change in the atmospheric conditions, and 
 that a storm was almost upon them. The "mare's 
 tails" were tossing wildly against the sky-line and 
 the scurrying clouds of dark indigo-blue just edged 
 with copper were quickly massing. A rain-drop 
 fell with a splash against the white cloth, making 
 a damp circle. Others began to patter. Miss 
 Gerry started up, though by no means afraid of a 
 shower, and said laughingly: "There is no time 
 for grace after meat, and Major Henley (to a stal- 
 wart infantryman at her side), I'll run you to the 
 Custom House for a gold quarter." And, nothing 
 loth, he set out with her at a clipping pace. The 
 others followed such a felicitous lead. Only Colo- 
 nel Southampton stayed behind with Mr. Smith to 
 come on more leisurely he would have preferred 
 keeping company with the youngsters.
 
 PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "You'll find it will be best 
 
 To meet with smiles the pleasant glance, 
 And think all friends are true, 
 And never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you." 
 
 On the morning after the mussel stew Mr. Paul 
 Smith's slumbers are put to flight by sounds of mer- 
 riment. He could not recollect that such a thing 
 had ever happened to him before. 
 
 "That irrepressible girl, of course," he murmurs. 
 But, curious to ascertain "what she was up to" so 
 early in the morning, he rises and withdraws a 
 moiety of the curtain that hangs over the glass 
 door that looks out on the bay twenty paces dis- 
 tant and where its headline begins its beautiful 
 sweep against a sandy beach. Since yesterday the 
 appearance of the bay has undergone a change. In 
 the night shoals of sardines have crowded in, and 
 the waters are thick with them. And standing 
 there he sees a sight not intended for his eyes. 
 
 A most hilarious couple are out in the waters 
 almost up to their knees, Miss Southampton and 
 Uncle Phil, who, with his bare feet, and his trous- 
 ers rolled up, seems thoroughly equipped for the
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 55 
 
 work. With a net attached to a short pole he is 
 scooping up the small fry with all the dexterity and 
 enjoyment of a born fisherman, and emptying his 
 catch into a creel hanging on his arm. Miss Gerry, 
 who is scarcely less well prepared, is bareheaded 
 her flannel gown securely tucked up, and her feet 
 thrust into a pair of her father's boots. She is 
 springing from place to place, diving her hands 
 among the shining, wriggling, twisting slippery 
 creatures; occasionally she seizes one, and despite 
 its struggles pops it into Uncle PhiPs creel with a 
 shout. "Look out, Miss Gerry, chile!" he cau- 
 tioned, "be keerful ! ef y'u steps onto one ob dese 
 warmints down y'u'll go kerwollop." Mentioning 
 such catastrophe seems to bring it on. Down goes 
 the young lady over head and ears. 
 
 "Now for a bit of vehement scolding," thought 
 that middle-aged gentleman, looking on. On the 
 contrary, she rises quickly, and shaking her head to 
 get the salt water out of her eyes, bursts into a peal 
 of laughter clear and sweet as silver chimes. In- 
 voluntarily Mr. Smith's lips part in a smile, as he 
 said : "Well, she does possess uncommon apprecia- 
 tion of the humorous," and he watches the incon- 
 gruous but congenial pair with unabated interest 
 until the filling of the creel stops their labor. 
 
 "Come, Miss Gerry, chile, dese is plenty. Les 
 go in," said Uncle Phil. 
 
 "Let me help you carry the basket," said she, and
 
 56 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 with it between them they pass under the shadows 
 of the corridor. 
 
 Mr. Smith went back to his bed, but not to resume 
 his interrupted slumbers. The flashing brown eyes 
 seem to pursue him with their merriment. And he 
 feels forced to admit that it is no matter for sur- 
 prise that his old friend's daughter draws all hearts 
 to her, like steel-filings to a magnet. "She is of the 
 same sort as that hooked-nose fellow from Rome 
 with his veni, vide, vici. I must be wary. I am past 
 the age for such folly." 
 
 Some hours later Mr. Smith descends to the cor- 
 ridor to "take a little turn before breakfast" (he has 
 had his cup of coffee and a roll in his bedroom) ; 
 his constitutional is cut short ; he stops to listen to 
 piano chords, struck by a masterly hand, followed 
 by a gush of melody. Gerry is singing an old song 
 he has not heard since he was a boy. Entranced, he 
 listened where he stood he felt averse to going in 
 among the "usual crowd of idiots." The "idiots" 
 were not there, she was singing to her father only, 
 and presently they came out together. "Come, 
 Smith," said Colonel Southampton, "let's have 
 breakfast. Every morning for an appetizer, instead 
 of absinthe, Gerry sings me an old-time ballad." 
 
 Costumed correctly, Colonel Southampton and 
 Mr. Smith are waiting in the parlor for the incom- 
 ing of Miss Southampton, who presently makes her
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 57 
 
 appearance bewilderingly dazzling in her evening 
 toilet. 
 
 She is neither blonde nor brunette, but of the 
 happy type that can wear all colors. She is now 
 clad in a gown of heavy, blue silk, and its rich folds 
 fall easily into classic outlines, draping with mar- 
 velous effect her elastic, graceful figure. Rows of 
 great pearls encircle her beautiful arms and neck. 
 
 "Why, Gerry!" exclaimed her father, "you are 
 positively bewitching. She looks like a Greek god- 
 dess, don't she, Smith?" 
 
 "I never saw a Greek goddess," answered Mr. 
 Smith ; "but to a plain man, such as I, a woman al- 
 ways looks best when she's got clothes on all over 
 her." 
 
 The so-called Greek goddess gives him a look of 
 imperial disdain, and Colonel Southampton lost no 
 time in saying : "You are out of order, Smith ; the 
 evening toilets of ladies are not subject to private 
 interpretation. The mandates of that inexorable 
 dame, Fashion, are not to be evaded, and I would 
 not like to see my Gerry render herself remarkable 
 by wearing a bib. But to her less favored sisters 
 who really w r ould appear to advantage with clothes 
 on all over them Fashion's mandates are tyran- 
 nous. But come," he continued, placing his daugh- 
 ter's wraps carefully about her, "we had better go. 
 They have a way of detaining things, waiting for 
 my Gerry." With his daughter on his arm he
 
 58 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 passed out of the door and nearly collided with a 
 person in the corridor. "Ah ! Mr. Hamilton ! Good 
 evening. Are you bound for the ball?" 
 
 "No," was the answer, "I have come to pass the 
 evening with Mrs. Southampton reading to her." 
 
 "Come on, papa," said Miss Gerry. "Don't stand 
 here talking all night." 
 
 The marked aversion in her tone caused Mr. 
 Smith to ask after they had gone by: "Who is 
 that?" 
 
 "Well, Hamilton is his name. I really don't 
 know much about him ; but Mrs. Southampton has 
 taken an invalid's fancy to him I scarcely under- 
 stand why. He strikes me as being a young fellow 
 with very little to recommend him. I suppose, how- 
 ever, that while he will never be of much benefit to 
 himself he will never be of much harm to any one 
 else. Such men never disturb the peace of the 
 world." 
 
 The drive was so short that when the vehicle 
 which was an army ambulance stopped in front 
 of the illuminated Town Hall Mr. Smith remarked : 
 "We had just as well have walked." 
 
 Colonel Southampton laughed. 
 
 "Certainly we had just as well have walked, only 
 there were Gerry's satin boots to be considered, as 
 you would have known yourself were you a father." 
 
 "Which I am not," answered Mr. Smith testily. 
 
 It did seem as if the arrival of Miss Southampton
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 59 
 
 was of importance, so great a crowd of officers had 
 gathered all emulous to assist in her descent. 
 
 "Gerry," said her father to her, in admonitory 
 tones, "you are forgetting something." 
 
 Miss Southampton does not seem particularly 
 pleased at this recall to duty. But at once she 
 turns to Smith, sitting by her side, and says : "What 
 dance shall I save for you?" 
 
 "I do not dance," was the answer. 
 
 The "will" and the "won't" are sometimes so 
 closely allied in the female breast as scarcely to be 
 separable, hence the answer: 
 
 "You can promenade, I suppose, not being 
 lame." 
 
 "No, I am not lame," was the composed reply, 
 "and I can promenade with you." 
 
 "How charmed I shall be," said Gerry, with a 
 light laugh. And giving a hand to each of the two 
 nearest gallants, she springs to the carpeted side- 
 walk, and enters the open portal, draped with an 
 American flag. 
 
 A "private" without and a "private" within are 
 on duty; not warlike for the nonce, only for the 
 military effect. 
 
 Colonel Southampton and Mr. Smith followed 
 just in time to see Miss Southampton disappearing 
 through another flag environed doorway, by which 
 stands another "private" guarding the sacred pre- 
 cincts of the ladies' wraps. These two gentlemen
 
 60 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 are taken in charge by another "private" and con- 
 ducted to the cloak room, from which they emerge 
 very soon, Colonel Southampton saying : 
 
 "We will gather up Gerry and go to the ball 
 room, which is up stairs. The supper room is down 
 here." 
 
 The gathering up process is not difficult, as quite 
 near to them they hear a tinkling laugh. 
 
 "That's Gerry," said her father, piloted by the 
 sound, which leads them to where she is standing 
 by the door of the supper room, surrounded by a 
 bevy of epaulet-wearers, one of whom is pouring 
 Veuve Cliquot into a tumbler she holds in her hand, 
 of the kind called "half-bottle." 
 
 A grave surprise was stationary on the counten- 
 ance of Mr. Smith as he stood counting the tum- 
 blers of wine, one, two, three, which went down the 
 young lady's throat. 
 
 "Gerry is very prudently fortifying herself 
 against catching cold," nonchalantly remarked her 
 father. 
 
 Mr. Smith made no audible reply; his thoughts 
 being best kept to himself. 
 
 With a slight inclination of the head to her ad- 
 mirers, like a queen dismissing courtiers, Miss 
 Gerry comes forward. Her right hand is given 
 to her father, and the other she lays lightly on the 
 arm of Smith. Thus doubly escorted she enters
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 61 
 
 the gala room. At that moment the music from at 
 least two dozen instruments crashes forth. 
 
 "See what it is, Smith," said Colonel Southamp- 
 ton, "to possess a handsome daughter. One comes 
 in for part of the honors. And as you do not dance, 
 you had better procure a seat at once, while you 
 may. Gerry will come after you to give you your 
 promenade, which otherwise you might miss, not 
 being conversant with the how and when." 
 
 Left to his own devices and the doubtful joy of 
 "looking on," Mr. Smith surveyed the animated 
 scene with dispassionate interest. Everyone looked 
 happy; he alone appeared to have been brought 
 there willy-nilly. He was anything but a shy man ; 
 diffidence had never seemed to him a desirable qual- 
 ity. Yet he observed Miss Southampton with sur- 
 prise bordering on wonderment that so young a girl 
 in so large an assembly should be so self-possessed. 
 
 The ball room seemed her natural element. It 
 was easy to see that the brilliancy of this occasion 
 was due to her joyous animation. In the waltz and 
 the quadrille her presence seemed to bring bright- 
 ness, and especially in the contradanza, when the 
 entire sala was filled with wildering fours, she 
 glided in and out like a sunbeam, with smiles and 
 pleasant words for all. He could now see that she 
 was one of those rarely gifted beings who cannot 
 look or speak, or stir, without waking up and satis- 
 fying some vague longing which had lain dormant,
 
 62 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Still, there was no denying that behind all her 
 bonne-camaraderie there was a haughty self-reli- 
 ance. And the claims of heredity appealed to him 
 as never before that of all ineffaceable things 
 there was nothing that defied obliteration like the 
 traces of race. 
 
 Sitting there, all alone, he was conscious of a re- 
 gret that he, too, could not dance it seemed such 
 a pleasant pastime. There was Colonel Southamp- 
 ton, her father, and a younger man than himself 2 
 bobbing about with the friskiest. 
 
 He had very little knowledge of music, yet his 
 ear detected a change in the measure when the band 
 struck up the "March of the Silver Trumpets." Al- 
 most simultaneously Miss Southampton came to 
 him and said : "This is our promenade, Mr. Smith 
 unless you have changed your mind," she added 
 with a bright smile. 
 
 The spell under which she had erstwhile chafed 
 lifted and changed it was now Mr. Smith who 
 was at the disadvantage; but he pulled himself to- 
 gether to promulgate an appropriate answer. His 
 effort was not happy, and on another occasion 
 would have provoked a withering retort. 
 
 "Certainly I will promenade with you. Anything 
 to please the chil I beg pardon I mean the 
 l adies." 
 
 "No offence/' is the smiling answer. "It has been
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 63 
 
 said that all people are children of differentiated 
 growth." 
 
 Anything of chit-chat was very foreign to Mr. 
 Smith's habitude; yet he soon found himself be- 
 guiled into the gayest of light conversation. Of 
 course, she forced the running, and skilfully car- 
 ried him along at a pace he never would have 
 dreamed of. With her small hand resting on his 
 arm, he meandered quite joyously through the im- 
 mense sala, beautiful in its adornments of pine 
 boughs and bunting. The good taste of the officers 
 who superintended the decorations had mingled the 
 Mexican colors with the Stars and Stripes. The 
 French Tricouleur also had a place in compliment 
 to the newly arrived French consul and his daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 It was a surprising circumstance, surprising no 
 one more than himself, that Mr. Smith, beginning 
 to feel himself a part of what he saw, should soon 
 drift into the "We won't go home till morning" sen- 
 sation, always provided that his present partner 
 would promenade with him "till daylight doth ap- 
 pear." 
 
 He was relating to her ( his meaning was to flat- 
 ter, and he hoped it was not laid on with a trowel ) 
 that her father had been called the handsomest 
 man in Virginia and she was very like him. An 
 interruption occurred, Miss Gerry suddenly ex- 
 claiming, "Oh! there's Charley," darted away to
 
 64 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 meet a tall, fair-haired, young man just coming into 
 the room. Mr. Smith is filled with rage, and 
 growls, "Damn Charley." Somehow he gets into a 
 seat, keeping his eyes fixed on his late partner and 
 the new-comer she is so pleased to see. 
 
 The young man's eyes glisten, and the tell-tale 
 flush of love spreads over his face as he grasps the 
 young lady's extended hand. Her face expresses 
 an open, undisguised, unerotic, affectionate inter- 
 est, which deceived no one, not even the object of 
 it, only excepting one elderly gentleman. Even he 
 would have been quickly set to right had he heard 
 their conversation ; but, alas ! they were too far off 
 the acoustics of a ball room are not what they 
 should be and he could only watch them with an 
 unquiet heart, mentally telling himself that he 
 "knew all along that it wouldn't do ;" and to place 
 matters as best for himself he would terminate his 
 visit to-morrow. He sighed ; the successful crusade 
 after dollars in which so many years of his life had 
 been passed did not now seem alluring. To do him 
 justice, it had been circumstances, not inborn in- 
 clination, which had drawn him into that particu- 
 lar path. It was the old story that had ended 
 
 "The other way the other way." 
 
 He had played gold for coppers, and had become 
 bankrupt. That was long ago, and the remem- 
 brance he had by a powerful will relegated to the
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 65 
 
 background of his memory, and it did not fret him 
 now. But to adventure again, for the second time, 
 when he was old enough to know better, seemed lit- 
 tle short of madness. But who is ever old enough 
 to know better? And in this world of ours who has 
 strength of mind to resist and stay back when the 
 silver bell rings and the curtain goes up revealing 
 Arcadia? Insensibly the foot is drawn across the 
 fairy boundary undeterred by the knowledge that 
 the excursion must be short, that inexorably the re- 
 call will be sounded, bringing back to sober reality. 
 These journeys are taken without counting the cost 
 that financial pleasure is reserved for the dreary 
 future. Be sure that payment will be exacted to 
 the last farthing. 
 
 "Captain Wood, I am so happy to see you ! and I 
 feel so proud of you !" quickly communicated Miss 
 Southampton, her eyes resting with delight on the 
 shoulder-strap glistening in its bravery of new 
 bullion. The warmth of her friendship annoys the 
 young man. 
 
 "Please, Miss Gerry, do not pat me on the head 
 and call me a good boy." 
 
 "Which would only express the situation, if I 
 did. Why, I could hardly feel more delighted if it 
 were South or Fred," she explained, using her 
 handkerchief to dust away an imaginary speck on 
 the shoulder ornament. 
 
 He winced.
 
 66 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 "Pray don't, Miss Gerry I wish I hadn't got the 
 thing but I thought it might please you." 
 
 "And so it does, you irritable boy. Cannot every 
 one see how charmed I am?" 
 
 He bit his lip, and to change the character of the 
 conversation, for he felt no special interest in 
 knowing, he asked : 
 
 "Who is that elderly person, the companion of 
 your late promenade? You must have inflicted 
 some bodily injury on him as you burst away. See 
 how he is glowering at you." 
 
 Miss Gerry paused, quite a whole second, before 
 replying : 
 
 "That ! he ! well, his name is Smith. He went 
 to William and Mary with papa." 
 
 The ice being broken, she becomes fairly confiden- 
 tial, and continues rather faintly : "Charley, it is 
 the strangest thing in the world the way I fancied 
 him at sight. But," a feeling of honor impelled 
 her to tell the whole truth, "he does not fancy me." 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it," interpolates Brevet- 
 Captain Wood. 
 
 "Yes," she continued, making no effort to soften 
 the unflattering opinion, "he thinks me to be a sort 
 of hybrid an accentuated tomboy." 
 
 "Shall I shoot him?" inquired the young officer. 
 
 "Oh, no !" she answered. "I do not wish to over- 
 come his dislike in that way. And who knows, 
 perhaps in time he may overlook my defects, and
 
 UNCLH PHIL. 67 
 
 give me credit for the possession of some amiable 
 quality, and I may become less obnoxious to him. 
 At present he rarely looks at me except in a most 
 exasperating way, and snubs me so continually that 
 I am forced to retaliate or lose my self-respect for- 
 ever." Her companion looked at her curiously in 
 the effort to detect a smile, denoting a jest. But, 
 no, she was quite serious ; and there was a wistful 
 look in her eyes he had never seen in them before. 
 "And, Charley," she added, "it is very disagreeable 
 to feel sure that you could like a person immensely 
 who does not care in the least for you." 
 
 "Eminently so," he answered, feeling that in a 
 few short moments he had grown to hate Mr. Smith 
 a man he had never spoken to. 
 
 Of all sentiments love is supposed to be the purest 
 and most refining to the human soul 
 
 "Having no thought of self." 
 
 Yet, there is no doubt, it sometimes engenders 
 very hostile emotions. 
 
 "Are you not going to dance with me, Miss 
 Gerry?" 
 
 "They are going to play a quadrille now, 
 Charley," said she, coaxingly, "and over there sits 
 a lady and I am sure no one has yet asked her to 
 dance." 
 
 "I am not at all surprised," he answered, after an 
 up-and-down look at the lady indicated,
 
 68 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 "Charley," she answered in a very pacific tone, 
 "it is not her fault if she is a little old and a little 
 plain and a little queerly dressed. With it all, she 
 is a woman, with a woman's instincts. And though 
 her character may be of the highest elevation, and 
 the brilliancy of her mind such as to excite the 
 envy of the angels, she would go home humbled 
 and mortified if no one had asked her to dance. 
 Now, if South and Fred were here," she paused, 
 remembering that though the obedience of those 
 brothers as a rule was beyond praise, yet on this 
 point they had frequently turned restive, protesting 
 boldly that she was stretching her prerogative to 
 the verge of tyranny. And right well she knew 
 with what unanimity the warriors of land and sea 
 abhorred wall-flowers, and not less "cruel was the 
 kindness of the civilians toward these flowerets; 
 which might wither and die without a hand ex- 
 tended to ask them to dance. "I cannot even catch 
 papa's eye," she continued, with an injured air, 
 "though I have endeavored to do so. Now, Charley, 
 don't you be disagreeable, too." 
 
 "I don't think the ancient party can dance," he 
 demurred. 
 
 "So much the more creditable of you to ask her. 
 And," resorting to the debasing influence of flattery, 
 "with you, the best dancer in California ; and Major 
 Fitzgerald and I vis-a-vis, we can carry her tri- 
 umphantly through."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 69 
 
 "I don't know her," said poor Charley weakly, 
 making his final protest. 
 
 "Do not be simple/' she commanded, knowing 
 that she had gained her point ; "what are the floor- 
 managers for?" And without loss of time she in- 
 structed a gentleman, whose rosette was of the right 
 color, to introduce Captain Wood to that lady sit- 
 ting over there en solitaire, in the bottle-green meri- 
 no dress. "And now, Charley, be nice to her, and 
 claim me for the next waltz the next two. I am 
 engaged of course but all my engagements are sub- 
 ject to mutations." 
 
 The bribe was sufficient ; had the lady in bottle- 
 green been Beelzebub's wife, or Beelzebub's daugh- 
 ter the young officer would unhesitatingly have com- 
 mitted himself to her as guide and protector in the 
 quadrille of which she knew nothing. A perilous 
 enterprise, let he who will attempt it. But the 
 young officer was equal to the occasion, and with the 
 smiling face that hides a breaking heart, solicited 
 the lady in question for the honor of a dance. 
 
 "I don't care if I do try," she readily assented ; "I 
 never did dance, but it looks so easy." Easy? Well, 
 it did prove tolerably easy for her. And when Cap- 
 tain Wood conducted her to a seat, thanking her 
 effusively, he left her in a glow of delight. And not 
 until she reads these pages will she know that for 
 those fleeting moments of ball-room bliss, she was 
 indebted to the watchful, unwearied exertions of
 
 70 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 three persons, who good-naturedly took her in 
 charge. The difficulties of the position were aug- 
 mented that they were dancing & la old California 
 without the aid of a prompter. 
 
 I do not state it as a certainty, but as probable, 
 that had Mr. Smith known of Miss Southampton's 
 agency in this matter it would have been something 
 in extenuation of the general condemnation he gave 
 to her conduct for the remainder of the evening, or 
 rather until two a. m., when, according to her in- 
 variable custom, she withdrew. No one knew bet- 
 ter than herself the value of a timely arrival and a 
 judicious departure. 
 
 "To increase your worth 
 Let yourself be sought." 
 
 "No more balls for me," announced Mr. Smith, 
 when they were fairly under way on the homeward 
 drive. 
 
 Colonel Southampton made no answer. A casual 
 observer would have thought him given over to ad- 
 miration of the moon, as she lay by reflection in her 
 white beauty on the deep, still bosom of the bay. 
 And it was Miss Geraldine who replied to Mr. 
 Smith. 
 
 "Balls are charming when you get used to 
 them." 
 
 She said this shyly, for she was conscious that he
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 71 
 
 had purposely not seen the various glances of pro- 
 pitiation with which she had favored him. 
 
 As he made no reply, the conversation would have 
 ceased, had not a remark occurred to her with which 
 it was her belief that all the world would be in sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 With a flushing face she said : 
 
 "Mr. Smith, did not Brevet-Captain Wood appear 
 to you as the ideal young soldier?" 
 
 "He appeared to me the ideal young jack-a- 
 napes," was the rude answer. 
 
 "You do not know him!" she cried hotly. A 
 Southampton would at death's door do battle for 
 an absent friend. "There never lived a better man- 
 nered, or a better hearted boy than Charley Wood." 
 
 "I have not the slightest interest either in his 
 manners or his heart," said Mr. Smith with acri- 
 mony. 
 
 "I did not reflect," answered Gerry, deeply of- 
 fended, "that those were qualities which you could 
 neither admire nor understand." 
 
 Fortunately, the stoppage of the vehicle caused 
 an adjournment sine die of this little unpleasant- 
 ness. 
 
 Colonel Southampton's undivided attention 
 seemed still given to the moon ; he was now look- 
 ing at her upward swinging in her orbit. It was 
 evidently his fixed intention to have neither act 
 nor part in the hostilities, however much he might
 
 72 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 regret them, being a friend to both belligerents. 
 
 Miss Gerry did not wait for assistance in her 
 descent, but, making what is called a flying jump, 
 and clearing two good yards, she stood beside the 
 unfurnished flag-staff, around which she threw one 
 bare arm, looking upward to where the flag was not. 
 
 For years to come, in dreams, sleeping and wak- 
 ing, how often Paul Smith saw her thus. The tas- 
 seled thing, called a rigolette, had fallen off, and 
 the short, scarlet cloak had slipped to her waist. 
 The flooding moonlight enveloped her, destroying 
 color, and lending the effect of pure, insensuous 
 beauty. Mr. Smith did think then that she was the 
 verisemblance of a Greek goddess clinging fast to 
 her altar after it had been despoiled of its rich gifts. 
 He almost started at her clear, flute-like tones, say- 
 ing, as she came near to her father: "I do not 
 think that I ever feel real, flawless happiness out 
 of office hours when the flag is down." 
 
 "And so," said Smith, "you still remember that 
 you are an American, and love your flag?" 
 
 "I think," she answered, simply, "that because of 
 living nearly all my life so much among foreigners 
 that I appreciate my birthright all the more, and 
 feel prouder than Americans usually do that I am 
 an American. I will now say good-night to you, 
 papa. And, Mr. Smith, I wish you good-night." 
 
 Both men stood watching her until she disap- 
 peared behind the door of her own apartment. That
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 73 
 
 old Spanish home had no hallway, the doors all 
 opening out on the long corridor. 
 
 "Good-night, Smith," said Colonel Southampton ; 
 "you had better go to your roost, as I am going to 
 do." 
 
 Left to himself, Mr. Smith began to walk up and 
 down the covered promenade ; its live-oak floor was 
 dampened by the salt spray. He lighted a cigar, 
 but in his somber meditations it soon went out. "Let 
 me see," he murmured, "how many years have gone 
 by since that girl jilted me for a richer suitor I 
 had not made my millions then it was a bad hurt 
 I got. It did seem quite too dreadful for that fair, 
 soft beauty, with her pretty, baby ways, to have an 
 eye to the depth of a man's pocket. I got over the 
 love of her of course ; but something valuable went 
 away from me with it the ability to perfectly trust 
 another woman. Good God! were it not for that 
 what a heaven is now in view. A man is never too 
 old to make a fool of himself! and since I first 
 looked on this daughter of Southampton's I have 
 loved no ! I have been besotted about her ; and in 
 my efforts to save myself from coming a cropper, 
 as would most likely happen, I have of premedi- 
 tation, acted toward her like a brute. I believe a 
 grizzly bear would have been more mannerly. But 
 it was of necessity at my time of life I 
 cannot stand another disappointment." 
 
 Here he made a mental review of the bearing of
 
 74 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Miss Southampton toward himself since the mo- 
 ment when he saw her writing in the office of the 
 collector of customs. "Cupid's freaks are unac- 
 countable and some inner sense inclines me to 
 think that she could like me, perhaps become fond of 
 me, were it not for that damned young military 
 puppy." 
 
 He was not the only night-walker. The public 
 character of this building rendered its corridor a 
 pass-way free for all, and Mr. Smith saw approach- 
 ing him the man Hamilton, who enquired, jauntily, 
 as he passed by, "Moon-struck or star-gazing?" 
 
 Not at any time could Smith have been called an 
 amiable man, and just now his temper was not at 
 its sweetest, and he replied, roughly, "Go to h 1 !" 
 This was a very impolite speech, and, strange to say, 
 seemingly gave no offense, for the gentleman merely 
 smiled, and said softly, as he stepped down from the 
 corridor : "Another Eichmond in the field." 
 
 "I have no fears of that chap," said Smith, and 
 after a little reflection he added, "nor of any one. 
 I'll stand or fall as I may." He relighted his cigar, 
 and aided by its soothing influence, and philoso- 
 phy, which some place their hopes upon to temper 
 the wind to the shorn lamb, brought himself to a 
 feeling, or thought he did, that he "would be able to 
 bear it," no matter what fate might decree. "Yet, 
 I think," was his final conclusion, "that I will leave 
 here to-morrow that will be safest,"
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DAVID AND JONATHAN. 
 
 "We are in God's hands, brother." 
 
 But he did not leave on the morrow, nor the day 
 after. Colonel Southampton's was a pleasant house 
 to visit. Diversion followed diversion in rapid suc- 
 cession and variety. It was an ideal household with 
 one exception, the non-appearance of Mrs. South- 
 ampton. 
 
 Uncle Phil was the Major Domo, and superin- 
 tended the household according to the Virginia re- 
 gime with an admixture of the taking-life-easy ele- 
 ment borrowed from the native Calif ornians ; 
 expenses not considered. And Paul Smith often 
 found himself wondering if Colonel Southampton's 
 means kept pace with his outlay. Some instinct 
 told him No, and that a crisis was not far off. 
 
 A great poet once made the statement: "Man's 
 love is of man's life a thing apart." Perhaps the 
 great poet did not know, or perhaps he allowed his 
 imagination to run riot untrammeled by facts. One 
 needs to be only moderately well-informed to know, 
 without room for doubt, that kingdoms have been 
 convulsed, and cities ruined for a light heart that 
 beat within a silken bodice and not worth having.
 
 76 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 But there is another love, between man and man, 
 which is rarer, and holier. "The soul of Jonathan 
 was knit with the soul of David." The glory of 
 Thebes rose in the friendship of Pelopidas and 
 Epaminondas, and departed when that friendship 
 was severed by death. Antony mourned over Ce- 
 sar's dead body: "He was my friend, faithful and 
 just to me." And inviolable was the love between 
 Pylades and Orestes. So had the warm, friendly 
 heart of Robert Southampton gained its empire over 
 the equally warm but less demonstrative heart of 
 Paul Smith, and he tarried on, resolved that should 
 trouble come he would stand by the side of his 
 friend. 
 
 At the commencement of his visit, Mr. Smith 
 each morning made polite enquiries concerning the 
 health of Mrs. Southampton. "Mrs. Southampton 
 is very much of an invalid and seldom leaves her 
 room," was the unvarying answer, let him ask whom 
 he would. This reply was delivered courteously 
 enough ; yet the tones were a distinctly implied de- 
 sire that he should seek to know no more. That she 
 received visitors he knew; for he frequently met 
 Mr. Hamilton either going or coming, always with 
 some remark about "reading to Mrs. Southampton." 
 
 Mr. Smith was a gentleman, and willing to be 
 mute, deaf and blind about what did not concern 
 him. But his friendship was of too sincere a nature 
 not to feel deeply concerned about this mystery in
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 77 
 
 his friend's house. And hoping there might be some 
 way of being "helpful to Robert," he resolved to 
 put some questions to Uncle Phil, and one day, after 
 listening for a long time to discussive reminiscences 
 of Virginia, he asked with apparent carelessness : 
 
 "Uncle Phil, what ails Mrs. Southampton?" 
 
 An expression of hopeless impenetrability spread 
 over the sable features. 
 
 "Dar ain't nuthin' in perticlar de marter wid 
 Miss Frawnces. She's kinder dilikit dat's all ; but 
 she's got narves, an' sometimes worrits orful," here 
 the remembrance of some personal grievance get- 
 ting the better of discretion, he added, testily : "an' 
 she makes it wery onpleasant fur mos' f olkes, me an' 
 Marse Robert in perticler. But, Good Lordy ! how 
 is we gw r ine ter he'p oursefs? We says nuthin', an' 
 keeps outer dar tell times gits good, which ain't 
 tuck place tell yit. But she's dilikit." 
 
 "Does Miss Southampton ever try to be of service 
 to her stepmother?" enquired Mr. Smith. 
 
 "Shew!" indignantly sniffed Uncle Phil, losing 
 his temper and his little remaining prudence with 
 it; his young lady was the apple of his eye. "Miss 
 Prawnces she des natchully hates Miss Gerry like 
 pison, bekase Miss Gerry, she's young, an' harn- 
 some, an' de pictur ob health. But," he stopped, 
 mortified and petulant, feeling that he was betray- 
 ing the secrets of his house, "here I is, des like er 
 fetched fule, dat karnt hole his tongue an' talkin'
 
 78 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 'bout dat what ain't no bis'ness ob hisen, an'/' men- 
 daciously trying to rehabilitate his statements, "tell- 
 in' ontruths ; fer de good Lordy in heben knows dat 
 dar ain't nuthin' de marter wid nobody, an' dat Miss 
 Frawnces an' Marse Robert, an' Miss Gerry, an' our 
 young gemplemen befo' dey went erway was des 
 as lovin' an' kine as could be. But Miss Frawnces, 
 she is er little dilikit, fer a fac'." 
 
 It was now clear to Mr. Smith there was nothing 
 he could do, but in his heart there rose a great ten- 
 derness for his old friend, as one on whom the Al- 
 mighty hand was heavily laid. 
 
 "Come, Robert," said Smith, linking his arm 
 within that of Colonel Southampton, "let's take a 
 walk." 
 
 Together the two men strolled over the fine, firm 
 sand around the smooth curve of the bay. They had 
 not proceeded far before meeting with well, he 
 was in the form of a man, and showed a notable de- 
 sire to appear well under the disadvantages so evi- 
 dent that the different articles of his attire had 
 been contributed at different times by different peo- 
 ple. A dress hat, nearly new, was set jauntily on 
 his head, and so tilted on one side that it retained 
 its place only by the force of habit. He was a poor 
 unfortunate with an alienated mind. 
 
 "How are you, Mac?" said Colonel Southampton 
 kindly, as they passed him. 
 
 "I wonder," said Smith, "if when the' world goes
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 79 
 
 too hard there is not some compensation in the loss 
 of the mind?" 
 
 "Good God ! no," was the hasty reply. "Anything 
 but that. Not one of us can tell what the future 
 may bring. Prosperity is easy borne, needing no 
 special preparation. But when adversity comes, 
 then is wanted a clear mind to meet it as a man 
 should." 
 
 Turning from the bay, they walked on, leaving 
 the town in their rear. The two men were silent. 
 For both of them the look-ahead was fraught with 
 grave awe. It is only the young who with their elas- 
 tic spirits and buoyant hopes can look far into 
 futurity and see away in the distance the open por- 
 tals of the shining gates and fair as a dream, the 
 land beyond. But they will not read the placards 
 by the way, danger signals, warning against forbid- 
 den fruits. No, the Dead Sea apples are golden 
 and the bitter flavor each one must taste for him- 
 self, learning the difficult lesson to discern the true 
 from the false. 
 
 Smith was filled with admiration as he gazed 
 upon the forest of stately, dark, gloomy oaks ; silent 
 sentinels, standing where they had stood for cen- 
 turies and by their magnificence defying the ruth- 
 less ax. Then they began talking over the old col- 
 lege days; of the hopes and aspirations in which 
 they then indulged. 
 "You were always a steady chap, Paul," said Colo-
 
 80 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 nel Southampton, "carrying plenty of ballast, and 
 have made your mark ; while I, wanting the sand- 
 bags, have drifted along with the shifting winds, 
 and have accomplished nothing to be proud of." 
 
 "True," was the answer ; "I have made money, but 
 that seems a poor life-work there are no pockets in 
 shrouds. You have at least enjoyed to the full what 
 are called the pleasures of life, which I have never 
 taken time to do. And now, I fear it is too late to 
 overcome old habits ; yet, I confess to you, Kobert, I 
 would, if I could, feel an interest in that which in- 
 terests others; also, don't laugh at me, I should 
 dearly love to participate in their amusements. Yon 
 have no idea how out of place I feel among gay, 
 young people like a marline-spike in a drawing- 
 room." 
 
 "Paul, Paul, dear old boy !" said Colonel South- 
 ampton affectionately, "there is not so much in it 
 as you think everything that glitters is not gold 
 and there is many a smiling face above a tired, 
 worn-out heart." 
 
 Smith thought he heard a sigh, and slipping his 
 arm free, he passed it round his friend's neck in the 
 old boyish way. 
 
 "Robert," said he, "I have more money than I can 
 use, or know what to do with I want you to take 
 some." 
 
 Colonel Southampton's face flushed. 
 
 "Paul," said he reproachfully, "another man
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 81 
 
 would not have so insulted me." Seeing his friend's 
 hurt look, he hastened to add, "Don't mind me, 
 Paul I am always too quick tempered. I thank you 
 for the offer so kindly meant. I have no debts, and 
 I make a good deal of money if I do spend a good 
 deal. While I live I can take care of Mrs. South- 
 ampton and Gerry. After me, my sons will, I have 
 no doubt, do their duty." 
 
 Then, as if dashing care violently to the winds 
 by an effort of will, his face assumed its rare smile, 
 and he began entertaining Smith with that brilliant 
 flow of conversation for which he had always been 
 so remarkable. 
 
 Weeks succeeded weeks, and Paul Smith lingered. 
 And while no one could guess, hidden away under 
 his grave, reserved demeanor not at all suggestive 
 of spoons the depth of his passion for Geraldine 
 Southampton, it was there all the same. Yet neither 
 by word nor look had he sought to convey the fact 
 to her. 
 
 Do not blame him too much for wasting precious 
 time in considering the pros et cons, whether 
 or not "it would do" for her sake as well as his 
 own. There was not only the disparity of years, 
 but widely differing as the two poles were their 
 two natures. Of his influence over her he was con- 
 scious, but there came an intrusive question: 
 "Would it be permanent?" Of this he would have 
 felt a stronger assurance but for the existence of
 
 82 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Charley Wood. Again the intrusive question makes 
 itself heard : "Is it in the heart of woman to prefer 
 a battered old hulk like me to that handsome, gal- 
 lant young officer?" these were honest moments. 
 
 About the sex he knew little, and if he had ever 
 heard, he had long ago forgotten : 
 
 "Who shall dictate to a woman's fancy, or reduce 
 to rule the wandering inclinations of a woman's 
 
 heart?" 
 
 He did not know that the woman who is true to 
 the instincts of her sex is seldom attracted by the 
 mere comeliness of a man. She looks upon the 
 most regular of profiles with indifference. Even 
 beauty like unto that of Absalom (who was with- 
 out flaw from the crown of his head to the soles 
 of his feet), she turns from with an unadmiring 
 eye. And her tenderest attentions are oftenest di- 
 rected toward an object, for no reason on earth 
 that her friends can see, and who are lost in won- 
 der at her perversion of judgment. 
 
 The wish to be happy is the natural desire of 
 every human being, and with the exceptions to 
 prove the rule, there is great unanimity in the opin- 
 ion that happiness is best secured by 
 
 " the love of man and woman, 
 When they love their best, closest, and sweetest." 
 
 Of the importance of making judicious selections, 
 much has been said and written by those who ap-
 
 .UNCLE PHIU 83 
 
 parently understood the subject. Yet the world 
 grows no wiser, and mistakes are continually made. 
 
 That "it is better to dwell on a house-top than 
 with a brawling woman" is certain. And it is equal- 
 ly certain that an exceedingly tame woman is never 
 highly prized, and frequently subjected to indig- 
 nity. But the world is wide, and women are plenty, 
 and like stars differ in glory, and it should not be 
 difficult to find the precise one to suit every fancy. 
 
 The proper time to love has also been a theme of 
 discussion. Plato, who had many thoughts on 
 many subjects, and is still allowed to be a deep 
 thinker, thought that "love was best learned late in 
 life." 
 
 Mr. Smith, who consistently adhered to his own 
 ideas, did not bother himself about the experiences 
 of others, pleasant or otherwise, and endeavored 
 to work out the problem for himself in his own 
 heart, making of it an odd sort of debatable ground 
 sufficiently disquieting, but as a bait sent from 
 Lucifer for his destruction, the evil suggestion rose : 
 "She might marry me for my money." 
 
 "Money is the root of evil," so says the Book of 
 Books, and no one can spend long years absorbed 
 in its accumulation without imbibing something of 
 its evil taint. 
 
 Mr. Smith wrestled with the idea, so unworthy 
 of him, and thought he had put it to flight. But 
 there was Gerry's persistent sisterly blandish-
 
 84: UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ments toward Captain Wood that tormented him 
 continually. And, so ah ! who can tell when 
 the armies within the human soul are contending, 
 admirably fighting on all sides, what the issue of 
 the Armageddon will be? "Best to give her up! 
 Best to give her up !" said Mr. Smith, slowly, then 
 with the fire of youth he broke out : "By the Lord ! 
 I can't."
 
 tJNCLE PHIL. 85 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TEA DRINKING. 
 
 "Golden, or gray, 
 
 Tell me, I pray, 
 What is the light of my luck to-day." 
 
 The Custom House in its prevailing character- 
 istic was the reverse of loneliness, yet on one after- 
 noon when Mr. Smith returned from a stroll he had 
 been making of late he had been rather given to 
 solitary rambles it seemed unaccountably dull. 
 He mentioned this to Uncle Phil, who w r as employ- 
 ing himself usefully in sweeping the long corridor. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "it's bekase of Miss Gerry. 
 She's bin gone mor'n er hour, an' when she ain't 
 here I kin'er feel it in de a'r an' it don't 'pear ter 
 me dat de sun shines de same." 
 
 Smith resisted an inclination to ask where she 
 had gone, but voluntarily Uncle Phil gave the infor- 
 mation. 
 
 "She is, Miss Gerry is, gone ter wisit Doila Dis- 
 gustin Manyo." 
 
 "Dona Augustia Hemeno, you mean," said 
 Smith, who had heard of that beautiful Spanish 
 lady, who, when her countrymen were in arms re- 
 sisting the United States troops, went to her church
 
 86 tJNCLE PHIL. 
 
 and took a solemn oath that she would not dance 
 again until she could wear a necklace of American 
 ears. The grewsome necklace was never hers, and 
 she had learned to be happy without it. 
 
 "Dat's what I said," replied Uncle Phil with dig- 
 nity. "An' Miss Gerry she thinks lots ob dese Kal- 
 iforny folkes, an' dey thinks lots ob her, an' Miss 
 Gerry she lowed dat she mought keep on an' drap 
 in enter Senora Abrigo fer er dish er tea char, dey 
 call it here. But dese Kaliforny folkes neber wus 
 in Wirginny; an' it ain't fa'r ter suspect too much 
 ob dem. It's mos' time now fer Miss Gerry ter be 
 on her way back; an' ef y'u wus ter wander roun' 
 kinder permiscus it wouldn't 'sprise me none ef 
 y'u was ter hab er chaunce ter fetch her home." 
 
 "I believe I will step down to the Washington 
 Hotel and see who is there," said Smith, non-com- 
 mittal about the proposed promiscuous wandering. 
 He turned to walk away. And Uncle Phil resumed 
 his sweeping, which had been suspended, mutter- 
 ing : "Dat ar gempleman, as it 'pears ter me, don't 
 axactly stan' under de persition but pre-haps it is 
 on de keards fer him ter larn," he chuckled. 
 
 In communing with himself as he stepped along 
 Mr. Smith admitted to himself that he not only 
 hoped to meet Miss Southampton, but also hoped 
 for a tete d tete walk with her ; though it would be 
 something in the nature of a miracle to find her not 
 surrounded by a posse of "numskulls," as he per-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 87 
 
 sistently classed Miss Gerry's admirers, with one 
 solitary exception himself. 
 
 With disdain, he would have repudiated any and 
 all reliances on "luck," the bugbear of weak minds; 
 yet with a hope to be favored by some bon chance 
 he attentively scanned each house that he passed 
 tiendas and dwelling frankly intermixing until 
 in the distance he saw a large, adobe house, with 
 wide open door, and windows thrown up. This 
 was unusual with the native Californians, who do 
 not prefer to enjoy al fresco in their houses, and 
 had a suggestion of Gerry. He was not what could 
 be called a brisk walker, yet his steady, even strides 
 soon brought him on even terms with the objective 
 point, and he could see, sitting at one end of a long 
 table, in the middle of the room & la pais, Miss 
 Southampton and a half-dozen other ladies. They 
 were huddled close together, and having tea. 
 
 Nearly opposite was a vacant house. All houses 
 in Bonito intended for commercial uses have out- 
 side adobe seats, for possible customers to repose 
 upon, also on which the proprietor can repose while 
 waiting for customers. Here Mr. Smith halted; 
 there was no need to go further. So he sat down 
 on the adobe bench, took out a Havana, which he 
 lighted, and began puffing. Such a procedure was 
 too common an occurrence to attract attention. 
 An inland breeze coming straight over from the big 
 live oaks brought upon its accommodating bosom
 
 88 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 the tones of the talkers, making their conversation 
 audible. 
 
 Listening to the conversation not intended for 
 one is not comme il faut, and sometimes entails un- 
 pleasant results. But on this occasion nobody was 
 hurt, and Mr. Smith listened with the greatest en- 
 joyment to the gay babbling sustained principally 
 by Miss Southampton. He had before been struck 
 by the quality of her voice, so clear and sweet, and 
 a habit of dwelling on her vowels gave to her tones 
 the liquid melody of a flute far out at sea. 
 
 Their innocent fun, not boisterous, but genuinely 
 amusing, had its effect on him, a man not easily 
 amused. His heart softened to the degree that the 
 sitting of the Land Commissioners at Los Angeles, 
 whose decision would affect his title to large tracts 
 of land, and the business of the line of Australian 
 steamers which he owned, no longer seemed para- 
 mount; his mind dwelling with strange insistence 
 on the pleasure of having that bright young daugh- 
 ter of his old friend to sit en permanence at his ow r n 
 board. She had never appeared to him quite so 
 charming. This foregathering with her own sex 
 with such hearty enjoyment was to him a new 
 phase in her character. 
 
 Tea was to Mr. Smith an abomination, even as the 
 flesh of the swine to the Israelites; yet he became 
 conscious of an inclination to join the tea-drinkers,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 89 
 
 and, diffidence being an unknown quality, he was 
 about to cross over and beg a cup. 
 
 But some one was there before him. Seuora 
 Vallejo her son was then in the State Senate 
 was stopping at the door by which lay her route. 
 She, too, had been attracted by the appearances 
 within. "Buenos tardes, mis amigas." 
 
 There was a general uprising. The native Cali- 
 fornians are extremely deferential to the aged. 
 
 With a quick movement Miss Southampton ad- 
 vances to meet the new-comer, and murmuring 
 "Madre mia," greets her & la pais, pressing her 
 fresh young cheek to the withered old face even 
 so might that fair Jewish maiden have cherished 
 her ancient king and leaning on that strong, 
 young arm the old lady comes forward and takes 
 her place at the table, which the others have been 
 so busy in arranging. Miss Gerry brings her tea, 
 and supplies her with the little sweet cakes and 
 other dutiful attention, which age receives with so 
 much pleasure from the hands of youth. 
 
 After this interlude the cheerful talk again rip- 
 ples. 
 
 Mr. Smith decides not to intrude, resigning him- 
 self to remain for the present where he was, with 
 something of the Peri-outside-the-gate feeling. Pres- 
 ently the clatter of tea-cups ceased to make way for 
 another feature of the entertainment. He dis-
 
 90 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 tinctly hears Sefiora Abrigo's call, "Trae lumbre, 
 
 Mariquita." 
 
 Smith shudders, well knowing what is to follow. 
 His heart sinks and hardens, yet he watches, and 
 listens, and hopes, to see the cigarettes declined by 
 at least one of the company. His hope was falla- 
 cious. Not only did Miss Southampton possess her- 
 self of a cigarette, but her manner was not unac- 
 customed. It was easy and business-like, as with 
 educated fingers she rapidly prepared the cigarette 
 for her lips a manufacturer of cigarettes could 
 hardly have been more deft. 
 
 Mr. Smith was stirred to anger, and said mental- 
 ly: "I'll tell her father! But what would be the 
 use?" he added; "that infatuated gentleman can 
 see no flaw in his idol." 
 
 There are certain substances naturally hard and 
 unyielding that on the application of emollients 
 become ductile; but harden again when the favoring 
 conditions are withdrawn. Mr. Smith's gentler feel- 
 ings did not at once congeal entirely ; but they had, 
 so to speak, received a blow between the eyes. And 
 he repeated the same question which he had so often 
 asked himself: "Will it do?" 
 
 He held to safe, traditional opinions, and it was 
 contrary to his most fundamental rules for self-gov- 
 ernment to decide any question of importance by 
 impulse. His reason had all along indicated to him 
 that it were better to occupy the neutral ground
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 91 
 
 between love and friendship, the position of a quasi- 
 paternal relative. But argue as he would, that posi- 
 tion seemed singularly unsatisfying. 
 
 The old Adam element is hard to eradicate; and 
 he could not remain insensible to the attractive 
 charm of her unique personality. Her beauty was 
 replete with the animating principle imparted by 
 warm blood and a quick brain. Nor could he re- 
 press the desire for her possession. Life would be 
 so cold, so undesirable without her. He pondered 
 for fifty consecutive seconds, then he decided to 
 cross the Rubicon, and boldly ask her to marry 
 him. 
 
 Presently he heard Miss Southampton say, "Yo 
 me voy," and it was with feelings of relief that he 
 heard her decline the entreaties to remain longer. 
 "No es posible ahora; es menester que voya & me 
 casa. Volvere' muy pronto. Buenas tardes hasta 
 luego amigas de mi corazon." How cheerily her 
 adieux sounded. 
 
 She was at once joined by Smith. 
 
 "Miss Gerry," he said, "under instruction from 
 Uncle Phil, I have been wandering around per- 
 miscus for a chaunce to fetch you home." 
 
 "I suppose," she answered gayly, "that Uncle 
 Phil entered into all sorts of recognizances that I 
 would keep the peace?" 
 
 "Indeed he did not. I am on my own errand, 
 and if I fail there is no shame in going down be-
 
 92 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 fore so strong a lance." His tones lowered, and 
 softened miraculously, making every word a caress. 
 "I am going to ask you a plain question." 
 
 It is no wonder that Smith's heart should beat 
 exultingly at the bright, beautiful flush that over- 
 spread Gerry's face, and that he should have lost 
 his head and spoken as the spirit moved him only 
 an interruption occurred. Not a band of fierce bar- 
 barians as witnessed by young Norval, but a band 
 of gay officers came trooping down the hill from 
 the fort. 
 
 At the sight of Miss Southampton they gave a 
 subdued view-hallo, and charged in a body. 
 
 Gerry is too happy not to be on good terms with 
 all the world, and greets them pleasantly. Mr. 
 Smith smothers a malediction, and remembers an 
 engagement elsewhere. 
 
 After making up his mind to the sticking place, 
 Mr. Smith is not one to "woo like a snail," yet op- 
 portunities did not serve, and the most unconven- 
 tional of men are averse to telling their tales of love 
 in public. The influx of visitors to that popular 
 house was continuous ; to pass a half -hour with Miss 
 Gerry was a pleasant divertisement. 
 
 Mr. Smith was not a patient gentleman, and it 
 was against his habits to be balked in any of his 
 desires; the waiting policy was to him singularly 
 distasteful. Therefore, if opportunities would not 
 make themselves, he would make them. Throwing
 
 UNCLS PHIL. 93 
 
 down the newspaper he had been impolitely read- 
 ing, and unmindful of the presence of the dozen or 
 more officers army and navy commingled and, 
 without using one of the many flowers of rhetoric 
 in frequent use by well-bred people to avoid the 
 appearance of being abrupt, he said with a direct- 
 ness that was undoubtedly the offspring of sincer- 
 ity : "Miss Southampton, I am told that the mack- 
 erel have come into the bay in schools, and that it 
 is entertaining to fish for them from the deck of the 
 old McKim. Will you go fishing with me this after- 
 noon?" 
 
 "Yes. I will go fishing with you," she answered, 
 raising her brown eyes shyly, and a tender smile 
 came to her lips as she watched the somewhat bulky 
 figure leave the room. 
 
 In a moment the fair earth seemed invested with 
 new beauties. Never before had the sunlight 
 flooded the distant mountains across the bay with 
 such glad brightness. Wide open were the gates 
 of Paradise, and within them she was going to en- 
 ter. But this contemplation was ill-timed, and all 
 too .brief. 
 
 One of the polished gentlemen the insignia on 
 his buttons showing that he belonged to the naval 
 service of Uncle Sam was not without experience, 
 and understood the situation, and after the man- 
 ner of his kind felt the pangs of envy, which die-
 
 94 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 tated with unwarrantable promptness the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 "Miss Southampton, I am told that the mackerel 
 have come into the bay in schools, and that it is 
 entertaining to fish for them from the deck of the 
 old McKim. Will you go fishing with me to-mor- 
 row afternoon?" 
 
 Miss Gerry's eyes were brilliant with anger, as 
 they rested on the speaker. 
 
 "No. I will not go fishing with you any after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Sorry," murmured the gentleman plaintively. 
 
 The auspicious life of this young girl had af- 
 fected her manners royally, and without hesitation 
 she rose to announce this audience at an end, feel- 
 ing impatient to be alone with her happiness. 
 
 Her world had been an exceptional one; the 
 rough corners had been rounded and her paths 
 made smooth. And, though living in an atmosphere 
 of adulation, she was perfectly fancy-free until so 
 lately, when she had come under the spell of a na- 
 ture so hard, strong and unyielding that her own 
 imperious will recognized its suzerain. At first she 
 had raised the standard of revolt, yet it was fight- 
 ing naked and unarmed against an adversary 
 clothed in steel. No wonder she was beaten at 
 every point, and that she had lain down her arms, 
 conquered. She was without worldly wisdom, and 
 unconscious that a woman has lost some of her
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 95 
 
 best natural rights when a man can ask the honor 
 of her hand with the hope that has merged into 
 certainty. 
 
 The gentlemen thus arbitrarily dismissed, though 
 favorable specimens, it is needless to say, when at 
 a safe distance smiled, laughed. 
 
 "Never saw such pluck in a man in my life," said 
 a young lieutenant, fumbling in his pocket for a 
 cigar. "But perhaps that elderly individual knew 
 his grounds, which we of the younger sort frequent- 
 ly do not." 
 
 "Right you are," supplemented a pragmatical 
 captain, "and your last remark is replete with phil- 
 osophy. I had no idea how intellectual you are. 
 We never half appreciated you, mon cher." 
 
 "It is my wish," observed another one of these 
 gentlemen, "to express my inner views of the esclan- 
 dre. I disapprove of any so public demonstrations ; 
 they touch me in a tender place. But in this in- 
 stance the unusual freshness appealed to my bet- 
 ter feelings. And but for inviting calamity the 
 fortitur in re appears to be untempered by the 
 suaviton in modo in that ancient Romeo I would 
 have enacted the heavy father and said, 'Bless you 
 my children.' I have a feeling somewhere about 
 me that I could have done it extremely well, con- 
 sidering my want of experience in the paternal 
 line." 
 
 "I am young, but I, too, have my thoughts," said
 
 96 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 a trim subaltern. "I think it a confounded piece of 
 work, look at it how you will. Here is the hand- 
 somest woman in California or anywhere else 
 perfectly adamant to us good-looking, agreeable, 
 youngish fellows, gobbled at sight by that bad-tem- 
 pered, uncivil Methuselah." 
 
 "Our young one is hard hit," suavely commented 
 a brass-buttoned gentleman, whose locks had taken 
 on a tinge of gray. 
 
 "Nothing of the sort; only I know a beautiful 
 woman when I see one," replied the young officer, 
 assuming a rigidity of spine denoting defence, if 
 not offence. "Thank God, I can look on a pretty 
 woman without thinking of the sacrament of matri- 
 mony." 
 
 "When you are older, my dear young sir," re- 
 sponded the affable senior, "these light afflictions 
 will have lost their gravity, and to fall out of love 
 will be as easy as to fall in. And always there is 
 the consolation, you are one eligible bachelor left." 
 
 A gentleman who had hitherto been silent now 
 saw an opening, and, being somewhat of a theatri- 
 cal turn, raising his arm in a declamatory style, he 
 enunciated: "Csesar had his Brutus, Charles I. 
 his Cromwell, and Miss Southampton her Smith." 
 
 "Don't be a fool," advised the young subaltern, 
 with admirable promptness and decision.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "I WILL BE TRUE TO YOU TILL I DIE." 
 
 "If it were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy; for 
 I fear my soul hath her content so absolute 
 That not another comfort like to this succeeds in unknown 
 fate." 
 
 Never in her life had Geraldine Southampton 
 been so silent and quiet as when she walked beside 
 Mr. Smith toward the small boat waiting for them 
 at the pier. 
 
 Smith was serious by nature, now he was abnor- 
 mally so. To tell the truth, he was mentally won- 
 dering, "Will it do?" He had wrestled with that 
 question till it had almost assumed the visible 
 shape of a personal enemy a devil come for his 
 torment. 
 
 Of his own feelings he was quite sure; but what 
 of hers? Could this young creature in her heart 
 of hearts love him? Or, if she thought she did now, 
 would she in the future? And to save his life he 
 could not help wishing the gallant young Charley 
 Wood out of the way. "God forgive me !" was his 
 thought ; "but I do wish the Indians had killed him." 
 With these reflections, so unsuited to a lover, they 
 reached the pier, and Smith offered his hand to
 
 98 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 assist her to descend the steps. Cui bono, when 
 she could go down them blindfold, backward, any- 
 way. She could even spring down with such ac- 
 curacy of judgment as to reduce the danger of cap- 
 sizing the boat to a minimum. But such caprices 
 would be looked upon by Mr. Smith with displeas- 
 ure, and to resist his will did not seem to her pos- 
 sible. 
 
 When her foot touched the boat she made for 
 the tiller, and, sitting down, passed the ropes about 
 her waist, smiling. 
 
 "I am going to steer," said Mr. Smith. 
 
 He did not mean to be uncivil far from it. Only 
 the chaotic nature of his thoughts so disquieted him 
 that unconsciously his tones were tinctured with a 
 metallic ring, by no means suited to the occasion. 
 
 Gerry was no longer smiling. The oarsmen were 
 Kanaka Jack and Uncle Phil. The latter briskly 
 came to the aid of his young lady. 
 
 "Set still, Miss Gerry. Rite dar is whar Miss 
 Gerry always sets," he said in tones equally as de- 
 cided as Mr. Smith's, and far more belligerent, and 
 at the same time, by the dexterous use of his oar, 
 he gave such a lurch to the boat that Mr. Smith 
 was forced to sit quickly down to save himself from 
 dropping over into the water. 
 
 This little incident did not encourage cheerful 
 conversation, and few remarks were made until 
 they reached the dismantled McKim. Attached to
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 99 
 
 her side were stationary steps, to which Kanaka 
 Jack promptly bent his oar to steady the boat. 
 Smith stood up and, placing his arm on the lower 
 step to form a sort of railing only one person at 
 a time could ascend on the narrow steps Gerry 
 hung back, saying, "Despues V." 
 
 "Gemplemens always goes up sta'r steps fust, 
 Dat's de way dey do in Wirginny," communicated 
 Uncle Phil ; his tones expressing displeasure and a 
 certain contempt. 
 
 Mr. Smith acknowledged himself instructed, and 
 passed up. Gerry followed light as a bird. 
 
 "Is we got ter wait here, or kin we go back?" in- 
 quired Uncle Phil, making his meaning clear that 
 he did not wish to linger with his small craft bob- 
 bing uneasily around the barnacle-encrusted old 
 sailer." 
 
 "You can go back," said Smith, "and return for 
 us when you see a signal." 
 
 By reason of Miss Southampton's unprece- 
 dented silence, Kanaka Jack's Hawaiian soul was 
 troubled he considered the ground on which she 
 walked fit for idolatry and, looking over his shoul- 
 der, excitedly expressed himself: Missie Gerry 
 plenty mad. Don't want go fish wid old cuss." 
 
 Uncle Phil also was pervaded by sentiments of 
 dissatisfaction, and answered sharply. "Shet y'u 
 mouf, an' keep it shet. What y'u know 'bout white 
 folkes?"
 
 100 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 The decks of the old vessel were not new to ex- 
 cursionists. Others had been there before them, 
 and it were easy to find seats had they been inclined. 
 Indeed, two boxes, one labeled butter crackers and 
 the other labeled old Cognac, were suggestively near 
 one to the other ; but they were not occupied ; and 
 Miss Southampton, who had never known timidity 
 or embarrassment in her life, and now under the 
 dominion of both; and her bright eyes, always so 
 frankly, fearlessly uplifted, now looked downward ; 
 while it must be confessed, the attitude of her com- 
 panion was uncompromisingly cold, and he seemed 
 lost in thought. 
 
 But he was not thinking of that other woman, 
 who had dismissed him with so much sang froid, 
 but of this woman here present. He considered 
 her the most incomparable woman in the world. A 
 woman like the flower of the aloe, blooming but 
 once in a century. 
 
 Most men recover from a first disappointment 
 yes, from a first dozen; after which, such disap- 
 pointments lose their soul-wringing, appetite-de- 
 stroying character. But the pent-up emotions of 
 this man's heart had not escaped by the easy chan- 
 nels of passing loves. They were yet stored within 
 his breast, and strongly barred, and yet under his 
 control ; but, if liberated, who could foretell the re- 
 sult? Would the future be of exceeding happiness, 
 the mere contemplation of which thrilled him from
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 101 
 
 head to heel? Or would the time come when he 
 would see weariness in her eyes, and a shrinking 
 from his embrace. In such a Pavia as that, all 
 would be lost. Mr. Smith had always entertained 
 a profound sympathy for Othello. Not so much 
 for his hasty jealousy, causing him to murder when 
 he loved, but that he should have been so supreme- 
 ly unfortunate. He knew himself to be but a rough 
 man, and he feared for her happiness with him. 
 
 It is only when we are carrying something rare 
 and precious that the difficulties of the road excite 
 apprehension. Would it not be better even now 
 to draw back than to selfishly link his life with 
 hers her bright life that had never known a care? 
 He felt that he was not worthy of her. "But then 
 who is?" he asked himself, "and I can at least give 
 her an honest man's love and I cannot give her 
 up." 
 
 Almost timidly he glanced at Gerry as she stood 
 holding in her hand some clustered hooks and strips 
 of bright-hued cloth. There seemed an air of de- 
 jection about her. 
 
 With deliberation he fastened portions of red flan- 
 nel to his hooks, and, dropping the line over into 
 the water, he made the end fast to the bulwark. 
 Then going to Gerry he I : 
 
 "Will you not let me help you with your hooks?" 
 
 Beaching the hooks to him, she said shyly : 
 
 "It seems very ungenerous to catch three or four
 
 102 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 of the poor creatures, all at one time, under the 
 delusion of red flannel." 
 
 "I am glad," he replied, "that you have scruples 
 against taking ungenerous advantages. Creatures, 
 other than mackerel, are often deluded to their 
 hurt." 
 
 A pause ensued. And they looked into each 
 other's eyes even as two souls that searching one 
 for the other had wandered for ages in the blue 
 empyrean, and having met, pause for a glance of 
 mutual recognition. Alas ! if a passing cloud cast 
 its shadow, and they pass on, never to meet again. 
 
 Something deterrent seemed to rise up between 
 Gerry and her lover. Invisible hands seemed hold- 
 ing them apart. And they, too, might have sepa- 
 rated, each to take a different road, but for an acci- 
 dent. 
 
 Accidents determine many things. Many battles 
 more than the greatest generals would be willing 
 to admit have been lost and won by an unforeseen 
 occurrence, fortuitous or adverse. 
 
 The old McKim had not been left well anchored, 
 and, rocked by both wind and waves, had so shifted 
 her ballast that her decks inclined to seaward al- 
 most like the roof of a house. And a sudden lurch 
 occasioned by some submarine disturbance threw 
 Gerry forward, and she would have fallen prone 
 had not the strong arm of Smith interposed. There 
 was hesitation no longer; he clasped her in his
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 103 
 
 arras and pressed her to his breast. There was si- 
 lence while you might have counted ten, then her 
 sweet pure lips had lost their virginity. 
 
 "What a great, awkward girl I am," said Gerry, 
 blushing crimson, and withdrawing herself from 
 the encircling arms. "I might have knocked you 
 into the bay." 
 
 "I should have taken you with me," he answered 
 with the utmost propriety. "Come, my Gerry, let 
 us let the mackerel alone. We will talk." The cog- 
 nac box and the cracker box were pushed close to- 
 gether and put into immediate use. But Mr. Smith 
 did not talk ; he remained strangely silent ; yet not 
 strangely, for the hush was universal. A sultriness 
 was in the air, giving the feeling as though one 
 could hear a great distance; the silence w r as abso- 
 lute, even the pelicans were silent. 
 
 When Gerry and Mr. Smith set forth the sky 
 was cloudless, and the bowlders which jutted out 
 on one side of the bay were revealed in sharp out- 
 lines, as if clear-cut with hammer and chisel. Leav- 
 ing these rocks, the bay began its magnificent curve 
 without a single indentation of the low-lying sand, 
 against which the gentle waves lapped with a soft 
 murmuring pur. Inland lay a stretch of sand, on 
 which pebbles and many-hued shells glint under 
 the glare of the sun like veritable gems. Farther 
 back from the bay slight elevations arise ; these are 
 only foot-hills, but they rise higher and higher re-
 
 104 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ceding from the water, until they become spurs of 
 the Coast Kange, over which a darkness was slowly 
 gathering. 
 
 And had those two infatuated souls only have 
 looked, they would have seen the cloud-masses 
 merge with the blackness of night over the crest of 
 the distant mountains, then to move rapidly in their 
 direction, as if to bring punishment, prompt and 
 severe, on two mortals who on this lower earth 
 dared to feel absolutely happy. 
 
 All unconscious that a storm of unusual magni- 
 tude was near, or of the passing of time there are 
 no clocks in paradise Gerry sat with her head 
 uncovered, her hat had fallen off. The crimson 
 flush had left her cheeks, leaving only a soft, tender 
 pink, and in her drooping eyes there was a world of 
 wistful expectancy. Surely this man of few words 
 would now speak the words she had so longed to 
 hear from him, that he loved her. 
 
 But he did not speak; he only looked upon her 
 with an expression, the intensity of which she could 
 not read. 
 
 Still silent, and as in absentmindedness, he 
 plucked away her comb, letting her hair fall around 
 her in its rich abundance. 
 
 Seeing some red strands in the dark mass, he 
 found voice to say : 
 
 "Why, you just escaped being a red-haired 
 lassie."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 105 
 
 "Don't you like red hair?" she asked. "And," 
 again the crimson tide swept over neck and brow, 
 "you have not said that you liked me." 
 
 "I don't like you," he answered promptly. "I 
 thought you understood, child! But I love you 
 more than my life," a wild joy thrilled through his 
 being, the freshness and richness of her beauty 
 filled him with a passionate delight, and the deep 
 ecstacy of knowing that she was his, and his only. 
 "Oh, Gerry!" he cried, impetuously, "do not be 
 faithless to me. I shall lose all the world if I lose 
 you." 
 
 "I will love you till I die and I will be faithful 
 to you." 
 
 "Will you swear it," he demanded, almost rough- 
 
 iy. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, without a moment's pause. 
 
 Impetuously he threw himself on his knees and 
 eagerly, perhaps roughly, pulled her down beside 
 him. 
 
 "Let us, here and now, plight our troths before 
 high heaven and the angels then you dare not 
 escape from me." 
 
 She placed her hand within his clasp her great, 
 brown eyes luminous and solemn and repeated as 
 dictated by him : "I will be I am your true wife 
 forever and forever. So help me God." 
 
 "And God witness," he cried aloud, as if in tri- 
 umph. "I declare myself your husband. And let
 
 106 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 the flames of hell be the portion of any who 
 should seek to divide us." 
 
 He quivered from the intensity of his feelings. 
 When strongly curbed passions are unbound, set 
 free, there comes a joy that almost kills. He did 
 not recover calmness until she had lifted her sweet 
 young lips for his kiss. The seal of a marriage made 
 in heaven, uniting indestructibly the co-existing mu- 
 tual love. 
 
 Putting his hand in his pocket he brought out a 
 bracelet; it was not a lady's ordinary trinket; but 
 one designed by himself and made of stout links. 
 
 "See, Gerry, here are my fetters; will you wear 
 them?" 
 
 She extended her wrist, and in truth she was 
 fettered. The bracelet was locked and the key 
 thrown into the deep waters of the bay. 
 
 "Get up, darling, and sit beside me," his tones 
 were very tender. "I wish I were more worthy of 
 you. You must forgive my roughness, Gerry. I 
 could not be content with only a mere promise. 
 You cannot imagine the depth of my love for you, 
 and how the presentiment has plagued me that 
 something would come between us. But it is all 
 gone now quite gone." 
 
 And twenty years seemed to have dropped from 
 his age, he seemed so gay. The fond words which 
 had hitherto refused to come were very plentiful 
 now; and it was Gerry who was the silent one.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 107 
 
 She answered no words until, with a sudden im- 
 pulse, she passed her arm around his neck and, lay- 
 ing her delicate cheek on his broad breast, mur- 
 mured : "I would like to die now, this minute, I 
 am so happy." 
 
 "Life never till now seemed to me so worth the 
 living," he answers joyously. "I now have all I 
 care for all I have longed for. And, oh, Gerry," 
 he confesses, shamefacedly, "I have loved you 
 from the first moment I saw you writing in the of- 
 fice of the collector of customs." 
 
 "Did you?" she cries rapturously, and instantly 
 believing him. "And I never dreamed it. I thought 
 you disliked me, and all the time I could not help 
 caring for you and I felt so humbled, I oh ! ah !" 
 These exclamations were caused by a crash of 
 thunder, seemingly overhead, and a vivid flash of 
 lightning revealing three or four pelicans, with 
 wild screams flying about and falling whack on the 
 deck. "Oh ! we must get back." 
 
 This was impossible, even had the small boat be- 
 longing to the Custom House been there, which it 
 was not ; it could not have lived a moment in the 
 tremendous surf that rolled between them and the 
 shore, where, through the lightning's gleams, could 
 be seen a group of figures excitedly gesticulating. 
 Gerry could recognize her father. 
 
 Ah ! since the creation, when Adam and Eve 
 brought sin and its burden of sorrow on the fair
 
 108 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 earth, which we inhabit only as strangers and pil- 
 grims, no one can say, I am happy, without speedily 
 falling into the hands of a pursuing Nemesis. 
 
 With all of life's pleasures it is ever Ave! et vale ! 
 
 "What a beast I have been," cried Smith, "not 
 to have observed this storm approaching, and got 
 you ashore." 
 
 "I am not afraid of the storm," answered Gerry 
 quickly. "It is rather nice to be rained upon, hav- 
 ing you here, all by myself, to sit beside me." 
 
 Bitterly Smith hurled imprecations and re- 
 proaches upon himself while he sheltered her in his 
 arms as well as he could, and together they crouched 
 down by the coils of old cordage, which afforded 
 some slight protection from the winds. 
 
 The uproar of the tempest prevented anything 
 like conversation, although Gerry did her best to 
 scream back consolation, in answer to his shouted 
 self-accusings. 
 
 Meanwhile the storm increased. The decks were 
 now nearly covered with sea-fowls, unmindful of 
 and not fearing human presence. The rain, which 
 had been in fitful gusts, now descended in torrents 
 with the roar of a cataract. A blaze of lightning 
 so vivid that it seemed to wrap the whole world 
 in a sheet of dazzling flame preceded a crash of 
 thunder loud as the discharge of a thousand can- 
 nons. The ship, which had shrieked and moaned 
 like a tortured, living thing, straining at her fas-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 109 
 
 teiiings, now sprang forward like a liberated cap- 
 tive. She had parted with her anchors, and now 
 in the teeth of the tempest was flying out to the open 
 sea. 
 
 Smith's face was white with horror as he looked 
 into Gerry's eyes by the lightning's gleam. 
 
 She only smiled. Her head was lying on his 
 breast. She was ready and willing to die with him. 
 She at least could emulate the swans, who, perceiv- 
 ing the great advantage there is in death, die sing- 
 ing with joy. 
 
 The ship flew on, on, until nearing the Point at 
 the mouth of the bay, then she was struck by coun- 
 ter gales and hurtled back with force so irresistible 
 that she seemed to wallow like a wounded animal 
 in the w r hite waves, until beached not a stone's 
 throw from the Custom House. 
 
 Smith and Gerry were soon got ashore, where, it 
 is safe to say, all the male inhabitants of Bonito 
 were assembled. 
 
 Gerry sprang to her father. Her fresh young 
 voice rang cheerily : "Sorry to have frightened you 
 so, papa, but we couldn't help it. Could we Mr. 
 Smith?" 
 
 Colonel Southampton rarely exhibited his deep 
 feelings, but his face convulsed strangely as he 
 gasped: "Thank God! oh, thank God! for giving 
 me back my daughter." 
 
 Not until her light feet had made, the tour of the
 
 110 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 assemblage, with a word, or a smile, or a hand-shake 
 for each, would Gerry go within doors. 
 
 All the world loved her, and she loved all the 
 world especially this night. 
 
 "Go, Gerry," said her father, when at last they 
 had got away from the crowd and were safely 
 housed ; "get off your wet clothes. Uncle Phil will 
 take you something warm. And you, too, Paul, had 
 better get into dry rigging." 
 
 "Well, good night, papa," said Gerry, turning 
 her sparkling face toward him. "And, to you, too, 
 good night Paul." 
 
 The face of each man wore the same, yet not the 
 same, expression of passionate love, as they watched 
 her leaving the room with springing footsteps. 
 
 Smith shook hands with Colonel Southampton 
 as he bade him good-night, adding : "Robert, I wish 
 to have some conversation with you to-morrow to 
 ask you to give me Gerry."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. HI 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 i 
 
 TROUBLED WATERS. 
 
 "Ask God for temperance, that's the appliance 
 Only which your disease requires." 
 
 Gerry had scarcely removed her dripping gar- 
 ments and clad herself in a warm dressing robe 
 when she heard Uncle Phil's voice at the door. 
 
 "Open de do', Miss Gerry, an' let me in 'tain't 
 no body 'tall, 'ceptin' y'u Uncle Phil. An' I goter 
 obsarvation ter make. Marse Eobert," he con- 
 tinued, after the door had been opened for him, "he 
 tole me ter prepa'r some b'ilin' hot flip, an' tote it 
 inter y'u right here. Wall, fustly, I but good 
 Lordy, honey, what is de wale ob me tellin' ter y'u 
 howter make flip? Howadzackly, arter I had done 
 made de flip an' I was totin' it ter y'u right erlong 
 down de corridy whar, I seed Marse Challey Wood 
 ercomin,' an' er wavin' 'ter me. Inco'se I hadter stop 
 an' ax what in de created wurld he wanted ter con- 
 varse 'bout dis time ernight. W T all, Miss Gerry, y'u 
 knows y'use'f dat I neber wus no great han' ter tell 
 er long story. An' he 'splained, an' de marter is 
 dess dis, dem fetched Inguns is riz, an' is up ter dey 
 debilment agin' ; quincequoncially, de solger mans is 
 ordered out arter dem quick ; an' dey is fixin' as hard
 
 112 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 as dey kin ter absquatulate befo' daybroke. An' 
 dat wus what Marse Challey Wood wus er wantin' 
 erlong ob me, ter resist on y'u ercomin' inter de 
 drawin' room, whar he is erwatin' dis blessed minit 
 ter ax y'u howdy befo' he goes arter dem blamed 
 Inguns. An', Miss Gerry, I tell it ter y'u fer a 
 fac', he looked dat peaked an' mizzible dose In 
 guns is powerful ambitious erbout er white man's 
 ha'r dat I 'wised him ter keep ter de off ob ertree, 
 de bigger de better. An' ter raise his sperits I gin 
 him de flip. He drinked it down, an' before de 
 Lord, Miss Gerry, in all my borned days I neber seed 
 flip do no body so little good. But he set himse'f 
 down on er cheer, an' dars whar he is now ef he 
 ain't gone erway no whar." 
 
 He had not gone anywhere, and there is where 
 Gerry found him a few moments later, after a hur- 
 ried arrangement of her dress. 
 
 It was quite evident that the flip had done its 
 work ill, and had not raised his spirits. His face 
 was drawn and almost ghastly; yet Gerry in the 
 exuberance of her happiness failed to see it as he 
 rose to meet her. 
 
 With outstretched hands she advanced swiftly, 
 with sparkling eyes, and every feature of her beau- 
 tiful face glorified by the mighty power of Love's 
 magical influence. She spoke quickly : 
 
 "Congratulate me, Charley. I am just the hap- 
 piest girl in all the world. Don't you wish me
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 113 
 
 joy?" she asked inpatiently, seeing that he hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 This young fellow was suffering tortures. He 
 had stood for hours on the drenched beach, not 
 heeding the fury of the tempest, and a prey to hor- 
 rible anxiety while Gerry was in danger. There 
 had been one blissful moment when her safety was 
 assured. But the sight of her glowing face coupled 
 with the arrogant satisfaction of "that man Smith," 
 whose countenance wore the pleasing assurance of 
 a man on top and certain of his ability to stay 
 there, smote him to the heart, sharp as a knife. 
 
 Henceforth the world, for him, was changed. The 
 one object he so coveted was lost to him, utterly, ir- 
 retrievably. 
 
 The sudden call to arms was very welcome, and 
 he hoped, he prayed that his heart aching with 
 such sharp pain as to make him, strong man that 
 he was, shudder would be the billet for the first 
 hostile bullet. But once again he must see her. 
 Once again he must look on her sweet face. "Oh, 
 God !" he moaned, "what are men made for to feel 
 such anguish; to be so besotted about one woman?" 
 There were thousands and thousands of other wom- 
 en in the world, but he wanted only this one. 
 
 "Oh! sweeter far than wealth, than fame, than all, 
 Is first and passionate love: it stands alone." 
 
 He had seen eyes perhaps as bright, faces per- 
 haps as fair, but about this girl there was some en-
 
 114 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 chantment more than her beauty by which all men 
 were bewitched. 
 
 Love is a hardy plant ; it can exist on very little 
 aliment, or none at all. And like Jonah's gourd it 
 can spring up to maturity, bearing flowers and 
 fruits in a single night. And the unreasoning hope 
 which, in buoyant youth, refuses to be extinguished 
 had found a resting place in the bosom of this young 
 officer. But now he felt that between himself and 
 Gerry had come a material, a determinate change ; 
 that the right was no longer his to say to the woman 
 of his choice that he loved her. 
 
 Such an avowal he now felt would be an in,sult to 
 the lady he most delighted to honor. 
 
 Love is a familia; love is a devil; 
 
 There is no evil angel but love. 
 
 Yet Samson was so tempted, and 
 
 He had .an excellent strength. 
 
 Yet was Solomon so seduced, and 
 
 He had a very good wit. 
 
 Cupid's shaft is too strong for Hercules' club, 
 
 And therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier." 
 
 Well, all that was left him was to suffer and 
 die. Yet from her he would avert the most insig- 
 nificant pang. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gerry, . do wish you joy. God Al- 
 mighty knows I do." 
 
 His very voice was changed, its clear tone was 
 gone and his words dropped slowly, one by one,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 115 
 
 with a hard metallic ring, which would have grated 
 painfully on ears less happy than those of the girl 
 who stood so smilingly before him. 
 
 "Yes, Charley," said she, sinking upon a chair 
 and motioning him to another, "Mr. Smith does 
 like me he has told me so." 
 
 Poor Charley was very magnanimous, but he was 
 human, and he could not refrain from the pbserva- 
 tion : 
 
 "Mr. Smith ! Why, he is as old as your father." 
 
 "I like old men," Gerry replied, with beaming 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 "He will tyrannize over you," Charley ventured 
 to say. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! he will tyrannize over me," assented the 
 smiling Gerry. 
 
 "He does not love you half well enough," pro- 
 tested the young man. 
 
 Gerry's face clouded, as she honestly admitted 
 her opinion that if the affections of herself and of 
 her betrothed were weighed in the balance her side 
 would be the heaviest. "But," she added, hopefully, 
 her face clearing, "as I shall conform to all his 
 wishes he is so superior, not at all young and with- 
 out discretion I shall, no doubt, become less ob- 
 jectionable, and in time the warmth of his feelings 
 toward me will improve. But it is impossible that 
 he can ever care for me as I care for him." 
 
 Brevet-Captain Wood looked at Miss Southamp-
 
 116 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ton in sheer wonder. Prompt as he always had 
 been to perceive and admire her good qualities he 
 had not up to this moment suspected humility to 
 be among the number. And weakness did not be- 
 long to her temperament. 
 
 "But it all comes," he thought, bitterly, "of her 
 unaccountable infatuation for that strange dark 
 man." And how it could have come about perplexed 
 his honest mind, and caused misgivings about the 
 possible administration of occult pow T ders there 
 might be such things, he reasoned; the secrets of 
 the profound alchemist are terrible. Also he thought 
 of the theory announced by Baron Reichanback, and 
 Herschel, and Muller, of the mind-controlling-mind 
 power. Perhaps she was hypnotized! If so, the 
 only help could come from God. He was power- 
 less; and he could not even remain near to assist 
 her should the occasion arise when the services of 
 a faithful heart and a strong hand might be of use 
 to her. Obedience is the soldier's creed, and he 
 must go where ordered. The farewell wrench must 
 come, and why prolong the interview? 
 
 Bravely the gallant young fellow faced the. or- 
 deal. He rose with such calmness as he could com- 
 mand, and said: 
 
 "I will not detain you longer, Miss Gerry, and 
 will now say good-night and good-bye." 
 
 He took her hands within his own as they walked 
 together to the door, and, pausing at the thresh-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 117 
 
 old, he pressed them gently for a moment, and 
 with drooping head he almost whispered : "May I 
 not for just once call you Gerry?" 
 
 It is impossible to describe the tender inflexion 
 he gave to her loved name. Then he walked rapidly 
 away, carrying the heaviest burden a human being 
 can bear a heart wounded nigh unto death. 
 
 "Poor boy," murmured Gerry, looking after him 
 with solicitude, "I do hope he may come to no harm 
 from the Indians. I am very fond of him he is al- 
 most like South or Fred." 
 
 This farewell scene was not without a witness. 
 Mr. Hamilton had, as was very frequent, been 
 "reading to Mrs. Southampton," and was on the 
 corridor was it by chance? The expression on 
 his face was very near satanic, as he muttered: 
 "By Jove ! it looks as if he had kissed her." 
 
 The storm was quite over, and the moon well up, 
 showing her round disc, and illuminating objects 
 with distinctness. 
 
 The waters of the bay were still troubled, and 
 rushed shoreward with a seething, hissing sound; 
 while out in the offing could still be heard the loud 
 booming of the wicked waves. Mr. Smith's mind 
 was on none of this as he calmly promenaded the 
 beach under the conviction that he could now safely 
 indulge in pleasurable anticipations of his assured 
 happiness. 
 
 Past infelicities were forgotten, or at least
 
 118 tiNCLE PHIL. 
 
 seemed to belong to the petites mise'res de la vie 
 humaine. He was so perfectly, so absolutely happy. 
 In fancy he could still feel Gerry's arms clinging 
 about his neck. And in fancy kiss again the sweet, 
 pure lips. 
 
 Thus absorbed in his meditations, he did not see 
 Mr. Hamilton approach, and was startled to find 
 some one at his side commenting on the beauty of 
 the night after so rough a storm. "Although," he 
 laughed disagreeably, "there is rather too much 
 light for the adieux of lovers, such as I, by the 
 merest chance, witnessed over there," he nodded 
 toward the Custom House. 
 
 Smith, wishing to get rid of the person, and not 
 being at any time what could be called a suave gen- 
 tleman, said roughly: 
 
 "What in h 1 are you talking about?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing," answered Hamilton lightly, "if 
 it comes your way. But I saw Captain Wood and 
 Miss Southampton execute a very tender parting 
 he is under marching orders you know." 
 
 Jealousy ! oh, what a fiend it is ! A remorseless, 
 cruel fiend, striking where it loves; and, like the 
 base Judean, throwing a pearl away richer than all 
 his tribe. 
 
 A deadly pallor spread over Smith's face, his fore- 
 head furrowed with passion, as he faced round, lay- 
 ing a heavy hand on Hamilton's shoulder, and his 
 voice changed into a growl of savage menace.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 119 
 
 "Tell me the truth. The plain truth. You had 
 better trifle with the devil." 
 
 Internally Mr. Hamilton was amused by the out- 
 burst, but he answered, rather deprecatingly : 
 
 "I really beg pardon if I have been indiscreet I 
 had no idea of making trouble. But if you want the 
 truth, there is not a great deal that I can tell. I 
 only saw them a moment as they stood together out- 
 side yonder door, and I saw Captain Wood clasp 
 Miss Southampton's hands to his bosom, stoop over 
 he is a long-limbed fellow and kiss her." 
 
 With a fierce oath, Smith thrust Hamilton from 
 him, and burst away, carried headlong by the im- 
 pulse to seek the young officer and to kill him. But 
 he checked himself suddenly ; his anger had quickly 
 given place to loathing. "What do I want with his 
 blood? He is welcome to her she is not worth hav- 
 ing. Merciful Heavens ! are all women base?" He 
 feared they were; but he felt utterly undone as he 
 recommenced his walk by the fretful tide uttering 
 frightful blasphemies. Demons had taken posses- 
 sion, and hours passed before he became conscious 
 of his extravagant actions. He took off his hat, and 
 the cool, dank sea air soothed his hot brain, and 
 he became somewhat calm. He replaced his hat, 
 and, putting UB his hands, he felt that his cheeks 
 were damp. "Tears!" he said, "is it possible?" 
 Great sobs now came from his heaving breast, and
 
 120 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 the salt tears brought the smart to his bronzed 
 face. 
 
 Kestlessly he walked on, plunged in gloomy med- 
 itations, calculating all probable and improbable 
 chances. 
 
 His better self told him that he had condemned 
 Gerry unheard, and perhaps wrongly, because of 
 falsehoods told by an impertinent meddler. A flush 
 of shame swept over his face as he said : "I am not 
 longsuffering, yet I listened to hear Gerry lightly 
 spoken of, and did not resent it. But I did doubt 
 her, and it is only just that I should tell her all. 
 And if she says 'not guilty' I will believe her 
 against the world. And then if she will put her 
 hand in mine and trust to me, what man born of 
 woman shall come between us?" He walked on 
 till the stars faded, and the gray light across the 
 heaving waters told him a new day was breaking, 
 without having lain down to rest.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 121 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN OMEN. 
 
 "Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, 
 I can but grieve, unable to defend." 
 
 There were other eyes than those of Mr. Smith's 
 that had outwatched the stars. The morning sun 
 found Miss Southampton still up, never having re- 
 tired to rest. 
 
 She was too happy to sleep, and passed the hours, 
 like the hapless Juliet, in chiding the tedium of 
 the time which must elapse before she could with 
 propriety see her Romeo. 
 
 The door opened; it was to admit Uncle Phil, 
 carrying a small waiter. 
 
 "Here, Miss Gerry, I fetched y'u dis coffee. Drink 
 it down warm, chile it's comfortin' ter de innerds 
 on er yearly mornin'. An' 'sides" he stopped in 
 embarrassment. It is not every ambassador that is 
 charged with congratulations. He had a disagree- 
 able message to deliver; and to exonerate himself 
 from any odium attaching to it he began recalling 
 to her remembrance divers circumstances calculated 
 to evince the affectionate nature of his feelings for 
 her "Miss Gerry, dus y'u, or dus y'u not mind, 
 in Wirginny, when y'u wus little, 'bout all dem 
 bird aigs I fotched y'u an' when y'u wanted ter
 
 122 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 go out inter de rain, which wus onproper, an' I re- 
 posed y'u, y'u hollered, I ain't sho' dat y'u dident 
 kick, tell y'u reforced me ter tote y'u out onter niy 
 sho'l'er, an' I hilt er umereller ower y'u an' eber 
 sense Marse Robert he fotched us all here ter Kali- 
 forny, ain't I always been good an' kine ter vou?" 
 
 "Indeed I have not forgotten one bit of it all, 
 Uncle Phil. You are just worth your weight in 
 gold." 
 
 "Inkose, Miss Gerry," he replied, in a mortified 
 tone, "ef I wus ter be sot up oner block ter be sole 
 I wouldn't fotch no little price like er low-down 
 common nigger." 
 
 "Oh, dear Uncle Phil," said Gerry, "I did not 
 mean anything of that sort what a ridiculous 
 idea ! I meant to say how much attached to you I 
 am. Don't you know it?" 
 
 "Yes, chile, I dus know it," responded Uncle Phil 
 very solemnly, "an' whateber Marse Robert an' de 
 good Lord may see fitten ter do wid ole Phil, I will 
 always be thankful fer two things, dat I was borned 
 in Wirginny, an' wid de Southamptons. But, Miss 
 Gerry, what I fust sot out ter norrate ter y'u, wus 
 ter reliber er message from Miss Frawnces. She's 
 wantin', mighty bad, so she say, ter see y'u up in 
 her repartment immegiately ef not sooner. But, 
 Miss Gerry, I wouldn't be in no powerful hurry 
 'bout it. An' I wouldn't pay no 'tention ter her 
 remarks 'tall. Me an Marse Robert don't."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 123 
 
 Gerry laughed aloud. What was there in Mrs. 
 Southampton, or in any one, to dread on this jocund 
 morning? Nothing could annoy her. She was 
 proof against all the arrows and slings of the most 
 outrageous fortune. She could even defy fate. But 
 what did this young girl know about adverse fate, 
 even by hearsay? From her cradle to the present 
 moment she had been surrounded by those whose 
 best pleasure it had been to strew her pathway with 
 flowers, and to screen from her even an unpleasant 
 sight. 
 
 "Well, Uncle Phil," was her smiling answer, "if 
 Mrs. Southampton wishes to see me, I'll make her 
 a visit. It is not often she desires my presence. 
 But what does she want?" 
 
 "I carnt tell y'u, Miss Gerry. She fergot ter tell 
 me, an' I fergot ter ax her. But she is in er weawin- 
 way dis mornin', fer er fac'. I dess neber seed her 
 so upsot. An' ef I was y'u, chile, I wouldn't be in 
 no hurry 'bout gwien I wouldn't keer ef I didn't 
 go 'tall. Miss Frawnces is po'ly in health, but she 
 dess kin discomboberate er rigiment ob solger-mans 
 when she sots her mine dat way." 
 
 "'Oh, if the interview promises to be breezy," said 
 Gerry, lightly, "I had better have it over." 
 
 With a gay laugh, she opened the door, and w r as 
 just stepping out, when the pet rabbit of some child 
 living near, ran across the corridor.
 
 124 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 She started back, turning pale. 
 
 Why is it so ominous, that a harmless little rab- 
 bit crossing one's path should cause alarm? 
 
 It is said that the great Caesar almost turned 
 back from that last visit to the Koman senate be- 
 cause one of these fateful creatures crossed his 
 path. 
 
 "Come back, Miss Gerry ! Come back !" screamed 
 Uncle Phil, catching her dress. "Come right back 
 inter y'u repartment, an' stay dar tell de sun goes 
 down." 
 
 To admit the truth, Gerry was herself sufficiently 
 alarmed. She had been well instructed by her 
 black nurses, and later by Uncle Phil, about the 
 dire calamities presaged by this portent; only to 
 be evaded by an instantaneous and a backward re- 
 treat behind the door last passed, and remaining 
 rearward its lintel until the shadows of evening re- 
 lieved the embargo. 
 
 But if she remained shut up in her room how 
 would she see Mr. Smith; and how would Mr. 
 Smith see her? And to pass the day without seeing 
 him was simply an impossibility. She must see 
 him! But how she did wish that wretched little 
 animal had kept away from the corridor. 
 
 "This is the air-drawn dagger" 
 
 which no power of ratiocination can strike down 
 a painted fear that sometimes confronts the stout- 
 est hearts and weakens the strongest nerves.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 125 
 
 Our poor Gerry was sorely troubled. The new 
 feeling so strange to one of her temperament had 
 dominated her existence till all power of volition 
 was lost free agency gone. That he w r as not worth 
 the affection so freely given, so ungrudgingly sur- 
 rendered, did not affect the matter at all. It is the 
 nature of some women, and not the worst of them, 
 to love with the touching devotion of a beaten dog. 
 
 That Mr. Smith would wish to see her she thought 
 certain and his was the right to command. And 
 to see him, to use a homely phrase, fire nor water 
 could keep her back ; but she shuddered at the im- 
 pediment reared by the little rabbit, and it was only 
 in half-hearted tones that she commanded: 
 
 "Let me go, Uncle Phil ! I cannot imprison my- 
 self for an old, and perhaps foolish, superstition 
 let me go, I say." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Gerry, chile," he implored, his face 
 ashen, "be 'wised by de ole Uncle Phil. He knows 
 better den y'u dus, my po' little, precious young 
 mistis. 'Tain't no light marter dat critter wus sont 
 ter y'u in warnin', but heart-breakin' 'flictions. 
 Don't go agin ole Uncle Phil dis time, chile. Step 
 backerds inter y'u repartment, my larm" in the 
 intensity of his feelings he threw himself across 
 the doorway "Ef y'u go, y'u will have ter tromple 
 on my body !" 
 
 Gerry paused a moment as one will to collect 
 and organize the energies before facing an impend-
 
 126 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ing danger then she said, brightly as she could, 
 "Why it is only a little jump," and sprang over 
 him. 
 
 He rose to follow, with every limb shaking. 
 
 "Wall, ef y'u will dar' it, I'll dar' it too. An' 
 what is wisited on y'u will be wisited on me too. 
 O Lord!" he prayed aloud, creeping rather than 
 walking after her, his face drawn into a thousand 
 wrinkles and working convulsively, "O Lord, 
 spar' dat chile. Take it all out on ole Phil he's er 
 no-'count nigger, an' 't wel sarve him right but 
 spar' dat chile ! She wus borned in Wirginny, an' 
 she is one ob de Southamptons." He stopped short, 
 and, fairly yelling, caught her skirts, detaining her 
 with all his strength. The restless rabbit had again 
 crossed the corridor. 
 
 "Go back, chile ! go back. Ef y'u go back now y'u 
 mought 'scape some ob it ! Oh, go back, Miss Gerry, 
 honey, please go back." 
 
 "Let go my dress, Uncle Phil," she said with 
 frightened impatience. 
 
 "Oh, chile !" moaned the old man, "I carat let y'u 
 go y'u po' young babby! Y'u dat neber was con- 
 traried in y'u life y'u dess don't know what y'u is 
 doin' ! Y'u is f otchin' on sech trubble as never wus. 
 Oh, go back, my putty, darlin' young mistis." 
 
 The old man's agony was so extreme that it was 
 impossible to look on him unmoved, and willingly 
 Gerry would have passed the day in a dungeon to
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 127 
 
 afford him relief. She would even have denied her- 
 self the luxury of seeing her fiance'; but it did 
 not occur to her that it would be possible for him 
 to be disappointed. And there was the interview 
 with Mrs. Southampton, which she must hurry 
 through, so as not to keep the mogul waiting. Very 
 gently she extricated her skirts, saying, "Please 
 don't worry so, Uncle Phil," and she added ingenu- 
 ously, "It was a tame rabbit, and perhaps it won't 
 count. You know yourself, there must be a differ- 
 ence." 
 
 Uncle Phil shook his head. 
 
 "Y'u carnt 'pose on me, Miss Gerry. I telled y'u 
 befo', an' I tells y'u agin, dat critter warn't sont fer 
 nuthin'." He said no more, but loyally followed 
 her, his old eyes filling with tears. Come weal, 
 come woe, he was not only ready and willing to bear 
 his part, but ready and willing to bear the burden of 
 it all. "But it's bitter, black trubble dat's comin'," 
 he said, and in the spirit of the noble Roman who 
 covered his face that he might die decently : "I'll put 
 on my Sunday clothes an' be prepared."
 
 128 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE WATERS OF MARAH. 
 
 "What is it to be false? To lie in watch there, and to 
 Think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock?" 
 
 There are some men who, by a strained idea of 
 justice, when they find the ardor of their affections 
 refrigerating toward a lawful spouse, seek to make 
 all the compensations purchasable. If they cannot 
 render unto CaBsar such things as Caesar claims, 
 they hope to make it up in money's worth. 
 
 Mrs. Southampton's own parlor was most luxuri- 
 ous; scattered around in reckless profusion were 
 bric-a-brac; cost no object. The silken couch on 
 which she reclined was sufficiently magnificent for 
 an Oriental princess; and her rich costume negli- 
 gente with its heavy embroideries would have put 
 bread into the mouths of a poor man's family for a 
 whole year. But ill-health and a repining disposi- 
 tion had scarcely left a trace of the soft beauty, so 
 captivating in her girlhood. 
 
 There are invalids who, accepting the dispensa- 
 tion coming from a mysterious but beneficent Power 
 as the discipline required to fit them for the illimi- 
 table and glorious hereafter, bear their pains and
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 129 
 
 deprivations in such a beautiful spirit of meek trust 
 that it is a privilege to come into their presence. 
 
 But, per contra, there are other invalids, and it 
 is sad to reflect, how completely wretched are their 
 lives, and that no human love can survive under 
 their peevish exactions. 
 
 After a time of patient forbearance, Colonel 
 Southampton came to the conclusion that his wife's 
 "fads" were hopelessly chronic, and that it was her 
 intention never to part with them. The outlook 
 for himself was not pleasant all comradeship be- 
 tween husband and wife was at an end ; but at least 
 he could supply her material wants, real and im- 
 aginary, which he did to the fullest extent. Then, 
 naturally, he turned to his daughter for an object 
 to love and to make happy. And to spare her young 
 life from this domestic shadow his authority had 
 been arbitrarily used. He stated distinctly that he 
 "would not have Gerry nagged at;" so her inter- 
 course with her stepmother had been confined to 
 brief and infrequent calls. 
 
 The robust health of the young girl Mrs. South- 
 ampton considered to be the chiefest of her own 
 many trials. While she, as she frequently averred, 
 never knew what it was to be free from pain, Geral- 
 dine never had so much as a headache, and never 
 out of sorts, and always gay, with no more reflection 
 than a bird. And then every one spoiled her to the 
 degree that she was perfectly unbearable. And
 
 130 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 what there was to admire in that tomboy she really 
 could not see. There was not an atom of the deli- 
 cate languor about her which should appeal so 
 irresistibly to the stronger and coarser sex, who had 
 no need for women other than to love and to pet. 
 There was the key of her animosity toward her step- 
 daughter, whom she hated with the vindictive fury 
 of a weak nature secretly accusing her of having 
 robbed herself of Colonel Southampton's affections. 
 And if she prayed at all it was for vengeance. If 
 she could only hear her husband speak harshly to 
 this pampered favorite which she instinctively 
 knew would be torture in the highest degree to 
 Geraldine that would be some compensation for 
 the years of her own unloved life. 
 
 As Gerry began to ascend the flight of steps lead- 
 ing to Mrs. Southampton's apartments she felt 
 growing upon her a distressing sense of anxious ap- 
 prehension. She ascribed it to the uncanny ren- 
 contre on the corridor, mentally saying, "I am 
 almost as superstitious as Uncle Phil of course it 
 is nonsense; but what could that horrid little creat- 
 ure mean by crossing my path twice?" 
 
 It was no new thing to regard a visit to Mrs. 
 Southampton as a bad quarter-of-an-hour, and hith- 
 erto she had taken it placidly. But on this day of 
 days, when her heart should have been as light as 
 a leai on a tree, there seemed something inimical 
 in the air a chill sensation a hostile influence
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 131 
 
 which she could not reason away. She told herself 
 that it "must be purely superficial and transitory, 
 and because of Uncle Phil being so foolish." Then, 
 to counteract these unpleasant emotions, she 
 thought of Smith. A crimson flush of pleasure, not 
 of shame, suffused her face. She felt that they were 
 now indestructibly united that the sanction of 
 book, candle and bell was only a formula soon to fol- 
 low that she must hurry through this distasteful 
 interview, then her father should receive her confi- 
 dence. Already, she felt sure, Paul Smith had 
 given his. 
 
 The happy smile playing over her rosy lips died 
 away as she reached the head of the stairs and stood 
 before the closed door. She gazed at it blankly with 
 a vehement impulse to flee, feeling that some 
 strange danger to her lay within, and separated 
 from her by a thin partition. Yet in what way 
 could that poor creature injure her? Ashamed of 
 her weakness, yet filled with trepidation, she un- 
 closed the door which moved easily on its well- 
 oiled hinges and gave the customary "good-morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "You couldn't shut that door without banging it 
 so as to shake the house?" instantly began the in- 
 valid; her querulous voice had deepened distinct- 
 ively with several shades of acrimony. "But none 
 of this family consider me, or place any stress on 
 my opinions, which would have been greatly to your
 
 132 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 advantage, missy. You would have been taught 
 civility, and not allowed such reckless freedom of 
 conduct." 
 
 "It can scarcely be said," answered Gerry blunt- 
 ly, "that I have used much freedom of conduct to- 
 ward you. Our relations have been singularly un- 
 emotional, and on my side, at least, polite. And if 
 your desire to see me this morning was only to ex- 
 patiate on my demerits, and to deplore the whip- 
 pings I didn't get, I will have the pleasure to make 
 my adieu." She turned to go, and alas! for her 
 that she suffered herself to be recalled by Mrs. 
 Southampton's excited tones. But, to use a homely 
 phrase, "Needs must when the devil drives ;" that's 
 why so much harm is done in the world. 
 
 "Stay, I command you to stay! I did not send 
 for you to speak of your habitual impertinence to 
 myself I am accustomed to that. But when you 
 bring discredit that is reflected on me because, to 
 my sorrow, I am connected with you, I will speak. 
 And, furthermore, I will appeal to your father, 
 whose generous confidence you have abused. It 
 has always been your habit to associate with gentle- 
 men just like one of themselves, participating in 
 their most boisterous pastimes; and your father 
 thinking it not amiss. 
 
 "I do not myself think playing a grace-hoop with 
 gentlemen improper. But when it comes to shoot- 
 ing with an Indian bow nearly as tall as yourself
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 133 
 
 loading and shooting pistols hewing and slash- 
 ing with a broadsword cutting and thrusting with 
 a rapier I even believe you know how to use a 
 cutlass. It is almost beyond belief, yet it came to 
 my ears, that while visiting at Mr. Hartnell's 
 ranch, you were out w T ith his sons lassoing 
 cattle, and could hardly be restrained from going 
 out with them on a bear hunt. And lately, another 
 phase, if I may so call it, has been added to your 
 repertoire; and nothing but the most fatuitous 
 blindness could have closed your father's eyes to 
 that which has been so openly evident to every one 
 else. I mean the abominable way you have been 
 running after that man Smith Titania after Bot- 
 tom ! It seems, though, that the man was reason- 
 ably honorable and kept out of your way all he 
 could until yesterday when, under the pretense of 
 mackerel fishing, which is another of your rare ac- 
 complishments, you enticed him to go with you on 
 that deserted ship. You had an ally in the storm, 
 and he could not escape from you save by leaping 
 into the bay. Pray, who began the kissing?" 
 
 Geraldine Southampton had not taken a seat, but 
 had remained standing, as she listened to the har- 
 angue of her step-mother with changing color and 
 a drooping mien, and humbled to the very dust. 
 
 Oh ! where now was all the pride of her father's 
 race that it should falter and fail and leave her un- 
 supported to the cruelty of some inner feeling, in-
 
 134 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 exorable, imperative, which in its rude awakening 
 turned against her with the fury of a tiger? 
 
 "Yes," she admitted to herself, her step-mother 
 had "some show of truth, though with exaggeration 
 and rancor." 
 
 Like lightning it flashed through her mind how 
 she had ruled her father, hectored her brothers, and 
 domineered over every male creature that came in 
 her way until "the man Smith" appeared; then 
 down went her colors, and wide open flew the gates 
 of the citadel to admit the stranger. Oh! what 
 would her father think of her after the representa- 
 tions which would be made to him by Mrs. South- 
 ampton? 
 
 To deserve a reproof from him was more than she 
 could bear. The idea of it benumbed and paralyzed 
 her faculties. 
 
 Her nature was so innately, so essentially true, 
 that not for an instant did she attempt any denial 
 of the strange, strong influence Paul Smith had ex- 
 erted over her from their first meeting, and that 
 her conduct had been totally different toward him 
 from what it had ever been to others. Yet she had 
 not dreamed of the possibility of such an interpre- 
 tation as Mrs. Southampton had placed upon it; 
 and was too crushed and heart-broken to reflect 
 that the odious Hamilton had been at work with his 
 wily statements. Had this occurred to her, what a 
 iiery reaction there would have been. Her unre-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 135 
 
 strained indignation would have sent her adversary 
 into strong hysterics, and never victory so complete. 
 But how many ships have gone down close to port, 
 and yielding, as to a necromancer's spell, Gerry 
 burst into passionate tears. Extremity of feeling 
 will sometimes cause strange exhibitions in the 
 strongest natures. There have been few scenes 
 more touching than the scene, when in the long con- 
 test over the Charter, Edward I., England's fiercest 
 King, standing face to face with his people in West- 
 minster Hall, burst into sudden and violent tears. 
 And, at times, the mighty Cromwell, with the iron 
 will, would break into weeping. And Achilles, the 
 "bravest of the Greeks," shed tears over the fallen 
 body of Penthesilia, the Amazon queen, fallen in 
 battle. 
 
 It is only the weakest of mind and body, imper- 
 vious to sympathy, that look unmoved on genuine 
 distress. 
 
 Mrs. Southampton had learned well her lesson 
 inculcated by Hamilton, and had somewhat bet- 
 tered the instruction; and knowing the joints in 
 her step-daughter's armor, had struck home. And 
 now it was a feast to her eyes to witness the suffer- 
 ing of the weeping girl who, having nothing to deny, 
 only gasped, in extenuation, "We are that is we 
 are contracted to marry." 
 
 "Marry !" cried Mrs. Southampton, "depend upon 
 it, he has no such idea. Even the most diffident of
 
 136 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 men, and that man Smith, I hear, has nothing of 
 that quality, in their pursuit of wives, prefer to go 
 about it their own way. And the girl who shows a 
 willingness to assist is always a loser. And so long- 
 as men are men, they are not expected to imitate 
 the saints, and decline to kiss a good-looking girl 
 when invited. You may take my word for it, the 
 next thing that man Smith will do will be to pick 
 a quarrel with you, and be off." 
 
 Gerry's face had become ghastly. She was no 
 guileless debutante, though in most things she was 
 as innocent as a child, having lived all her life in 
 the pure atmosphere of a father's and brothers' love. 
 It was her father's wife who had just given her to 
 eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Now she knew 
 good from evil but she feared it was all evil. Feel- 
 ing ill she turned to leave the room, the cruel darts 
 following her. "Ife'll pick a quarrel with you ! 
 He'll pick a quarrel with you !" 
 
 Slowly she descended the steps, and the corridor 
 being empty, she stopped, turning her face seaward ; 
 for the first time the incoming ocean breez failed 
 to invigorate her. 
 
 Yesterday, and all the days before she could re- 
 member how she would stand and fill and refill 
 her strong young lungs with the briny aeriform 
 fluid until she could almost fly, she felt so light and 
 glad. But to-day yesterday seemed so long ago; 
 whole ages seemed to have elapsed the world had
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 137 
 
 grown old or come to an end. "At least," she mur- 
 mured, "there is nothing left for me if I am not to 
 stand peerless in the eyes of papa, and the other I 
 do so love. With the approval of those two I can 
 present an invulnerable front to all comers. But 
 if they disapprove of me, I can face no one," and 
 she added piteously : "Oh, what have I done. I do 
 not know what to do." 
 
 Oh ! what a dreadful power lies in an embittered 
 woman's tongue when it is enabled by some favor- 
 ing chance to wreak its wantonness on a guileless, 
 sensitive nature and such a nature can suffer in- 
 credibly. 
 
 Only a little while since and this girl was so 
 happy and proud in her love, and not afraid nor 
 ashamed to make an exhibition of it to all the world. 
 Now this same love humbled her. Mrs. South- 
 ampton had made her to see the enormity of tum- 
 bling into love at sight making herself cheap 
 throwing herself at Smith's head in such a trans- 
 parent, all -may-read fashion, that she almost 
 loathed herself. "And, perhaps," she reflected, 
 "papa, Mr. Smith, South and Fred will all loathe 
 me too and they thought me so perfect." 
 
 The sun was not long risen and his early beams 
 tinged with gold the crests of the sparkling, leaping 
 waves, and the white spray rushing in played 
 around the stranded hulk of the old McKim. As 
 her eyes rested on the dismantled vessel her heart
 
 138 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 beat fast. She could almost mark the exact spot 
 where she and Smith had made their vows. In a 
 rush of feeling, she cried : "He is not false ! he will 
 be true! And to my latest day I must ever love 
 him." 
 
 A feeling of trust elated her, and she walked 
 straight on to the parlor to await his coming. 
 
 He was there awaiting her. Standing by some 
 shelves which had been arranged for her curiosities 
 curiosities which had been presented to Gerry, 
 and gathered from the four quarters of the globe 
 and examining what purported to be the shoulfler- 
 blade of a missionary devoured by the Fiji isl- 
 anders. Seemingly intent on this ghastly relic, he 
 did not look up when she entered. 
 
 Gerry felt discouraged, but bravely enough, she 
 came and stood by his side. 
 
 No man alive could have helped kissing the sweet 
 cheek so shyly and blushingly offered, but he re- 
 mained silent, and Gerry, rebuffed, drooped her 
 eyes. 
 
 "She cannot look me in the face to-day," passed 
 through this man's mind ; and his tones were gloomy 
 as he said : "Come, Gerry, sit with me on the sofa. 
 I have something to say to you." 
 
 Obediently, she sat beside him, but he seemed in 
 no hurry to have his say. 
 
 Timidly she made an effort to entertain him by 
 relating the unlucky omen of the rabbit, and added,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 139 
 
 "It does, it really does, as I have always heard, pre- 
 sage some calamity. I couldn't help being startled. 
 And I would have gone right back and remained in 
 my room all day but I thought, perhaps you 
 might wish to see me," bashfully she raised her 
 eyes, enquiringly, with a bright beautiful blush. 
 
 Smith was a self-contained man, and gave no 
 outward token of his inward struggle. She had 
 never appeared to him so temptingly lovely, and 
 it would be like death to give her up. But he 
 must give her up if she were not true. There was 
 no way left but to question her. And saying to him- 
 self he would believe whatever she would say, he 
 asked abruptly: 
 
 "Gerry, did you see Captain Wood after you left 
 me last evening?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, instantly. "His command had 
 received marching orders, and he came to me to say 
 good-bye. You know," she added, simply, "that 
 Charley has been, and is to papa and me almost like 
 South and Fred, and after them, I think he is the 
 nicest boy I ever saw." 
 
 Any man not madly in love and madly jealous 
 would have stopped there, knowing there was noth- 
 ing to fear in her frank liking for the young officer, 
 so frankly expressed, but there have been more than 
 one Othello. A spasm of jealousy seized him, and 
 catching her wrist roughly, he asked, "Did he not 
 kiss you when he took his leave?"
 
 140 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 In place of the indignant denial he so hoped for, 
 Gerry burst into tears. 
 
 It is all true, was the thought coming into her 
 mind. What Mrs. Southampton said, and he is 
 trying to pick a quarrel with me. 
 
 Smith dropped her wrist, as if it burnt him like 
 red-hot iron; his worst fears confirmed. 
 
 "So ! Shameless !" he burst out. "With your lips 
 not cold from your vows, and still warm from my 
 kisses, you dared to play the wanton !" 
 
 The agony which men sometimes inflict on the 
 beings they love best must work perpetual astonish- 
 ment in Heaven. 
 
 Gerry's tears still flowed. For the second time in 
 her life she experienced the unenviable feeling of 
 being at a deserved disadvantage. How mercilessly 
 she was lashed by the inner consciousness of being 
 too easily won. "He has no respect for me," was her 
 moan. She had no mind to plead with the tender 
 Juliet : 
 
 "Trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true than those 
 That have more cunning to be strange." 
 
 Ah! no. She wept on. Her tears exasperated 
 him. It is astonishing how brutal a man can be, 
 passionately in love. He would have given his 
 heart's blood, drop by drop, for this girl he was so 
 cruelly wounding. 
 
 "Damn the money !" he burst out in uncontroll-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 141 
 
 able wrath, "that caused you to feign love for me 
 a man old as your father, and with so much art that 
 I poor fool ! believed you, while all the time your 
 heart was given to that smooth-faced youngster. 
 Oh! Gerry, Gerry, how could you do so? How 
 could Southampton's daughter so behave?" 
 
 In an instant all was changed. With the quick- 
 ness of galvanic action, Geraldine Southampton 
 sprang to her feet, with uplifted head every ves- 
 tige of humiliation gone her tears had ceased, and 
 her eyes glittering in the fierce wrath aroused, 
 lightning streaks seemed almost to dart from them. 
 
 "If I understand you aright," she said, not in the 
 loud, vibrating voice of passion, but in the low, 
 deadly tones used when the duello is a la mort ; "if 
 I understand you aright, you say that I, Geraldine 
 Southampton, Colonel Southampton's daughter, be- 
 cause you are rich, because of your money, ran 
 after you," no other than plain words would 
 serve her now, "and tried to catch you pretended 
 to love you did, in fact, take you in, while all the 
 time my affections were given to Captain Wood. 
 Here let me say," she continued, "that I were happy 
 if I had loved him, the chivalrous gentleman, the 
 gallant soldier whose manly love would honor a 
 queen ! But no, I could care for him only as a very 
 dear, trusted friend ; while it has been my misera- 
 ble fate for no reason that I can give. Have you 
 ever been otherwise to me than uncivil and rough?
 
 142 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 to love you with so true a love that you are not 
 worthy of it, and cannot even understand." 
 
 "Good Heavens, Gerry," he exclaimed, making a 
 motion as if to approach her. 
 
 "Keep back!" she commanded. "Kecollect your 
 place. Do not insult me with your dastardly ex- 
 cuses. I might forget the restraint imposed on a 
 woman, and give you a blow." 
 
 He stood facing her. The mist cleared; and he 
 saw depicted, outwardly and visibly, a truth higher 
 and nobler than he had ever dreamed of ; and that 
 he had won a prize richer than he knew, and had 
 thrown it away. "But was it beyond recall?" 
 
 "Oh, Gerry," he pleaded, "won't you forgive me? 
 I was a poor, jealous brute." 
 
 Tears again filled her eyes, she loved him so well, 
 and would, she well knew, so long as she lived ; but 
 it was all over between them UOAV. The pearly 
 drops welled over, and rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 "Keep back ! Keep back, I say. I am not crying 
 about you I have hurt myself," she said, dragging 
 at the heavy chain bracelet he had placed on her 
 wrist, until the soft flesh bled. 
 
 Smith, seeing the utter uselessness of any attempt 
 to pacify her in her present state of excitement, de- 
 cided to immediately seek her father he would not 
 spare himself in his explanations and implore his 
 powerful aid to propitiate Gerry. But he feared she 
 would not relent. He felt that he had lost her es-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 143 
 
 teem, and the manner of losing it carried neither 
 oil nor balm. Feeling very little in love with him- 
 self, he slowly walked from the room, and had 
 scarcely reached the corridor, when the boom of a 
 cannon from one of the vessels in the harbor smote 
 his ear. He knew it to be the signal of a bark going 
 to the Sandwich Islands for her passengers ashore 
 to come on board. One of the passengers was al- 
 ready on board. Impecunious and ill, he was mak- 
 ing the voyage to stay the symptoms, perhaps de- 
 stroy them, of a pulmonary disorder. To this per- 
 son Smith had promised assistance. There being 
 no time to lose, he hailed a boat, and was soon row- 
 ing toward the ship. 
 
 Gerry, yearning to be alone, started for her own 
 apartment. It did not seem to her that it mattered 
 much what happened the whole earth was for the 
 moment as if blotted out, obliterated, unmade; but 
 she almost turned to stone at seeing Smith in a row- 
 boat and pulling hard for the vessel already making 
 her first tack to sail out from the harbor. 
 
 She saw him reach the ship, and climb up to the 
 deck, and disappear. Immovable as a statue she 
 continued her gaze, she knew not how long, until, 
 as by magic, a fog rolled up and she could see no 
 more. There are moments into which years of or- 
 dinary life seem to be compressed, and Gerry, look- 
 ing far into the future, could see no terminal point 
 but death for the agony she was suffering. Mean-
 
 144 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 while all traces of her humiliating grief must be 
 hid from the world. There was nothing left but to 
 cover her bleeding heart with her white hand^ and 
 declare she was not hurt. 
 
 Du Barry and her compeers might shriek at the 
 scaffold, but the Rohans must die mute. 
 
 Let us now see how it had been with Smith. He 
 found the person he went to visit more ill than he 
 had expected, and lost no time in giving the prom- 
 ised assistance, and was condensing in a few words 
 some valuable counsel, when he became aware that 
 the ship was under way. He rushed up on deck 
 only to find that the boats that had brought pas- 
 sengers had all returned to the shore, and that the 
 ship was zigzagging her way out of the harbor. 
 
 "Five hundred dollars!" he shouted, "five thou- 
 sand ! to be put ashore." 
 
 "Be aisy there, be aisy," said the Irish sailing- 
 master, "be aisy wid ye. I'll fetch a tack and bring 
 her to at Santa Cruz, at the mouth of the harbor, 
 where you can get a boat and be rowed back in a 
 jiffy. But the nozzle of this here sailer is set for 
 Honolulu, and nothing but the will of Providence 
 or the Captain's orders will turn her back. So there 
 is no good of cavorting around." 
 
 Smith was greatly annoyed, but in the belief that 
 it could amount only to a short detention, endeav- 
 ored to restrain himself. 
 
 But who does not know how fast and thick on
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 145 
 
 the Pacific coast a fog can roll in, becoming so dense 
 in a few moments as to make objects invisible at a 
 yard's distance. 
 
 When the fog lifted, the vessel was far out at 
 sea. Smith attempted in vain to bribe the captain 
 to return with him to Bonito. 
 
 "I can't do it," answered that surly individual. 
 "I am not the owner, and if I act contrary to orders 
 I'll lose my berth that's all there is about it. And 
 you will just have to become reconciled to our com- 
 pany as far as Hawaii." 
 
 Smith vented his feelings in not a few but a good 
 many mouth-filling oaths while being carried to- 
 ward the Sandwich Islands. And it w r as scarcely 
 a consolation to him that wind and wave were doing 
 their best for a speedy voyage. 
 
 Humanly speaking, it w r as a cruel fate that sep- 
 arated hearts loving so well. But there is a Provi- 
 dence that marks the sparrow's fall, and whose all- 
 seeing eye saw that not yet were those two strong 
 natures fitted to be welded together. 
 
 Great happiness is not bought without a price 
 deep waters are to pass rugged hills to climb 
 thorny paths to tread before the summum bonem, 
 even of this life, can be gained. And the ends we 
 shape for ourselves and the ends shaped for us by 
 Immortal hands are as different as light from dark- 
 ness, as wide apart as life from death.
 
 146 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AZRAEL. 
 
 "A summer sea and a summer sky 
 
 Itfever a ripple and never a frown, 
 Never a token of shipwreck night; 
 
 What did it matter? The bark went down." 
 
 "God help me," murmured Gerry, "I love him 
 yet." She strained her eyes toward the mouth of 
 the harbor, but the fog stood up an impenetrable 
 wall, baffling vision. 
 
 She heeded not, heard not, the hasty clatter of 
 footsteps until her name was gasped rather than 
 spoken by Uncle Phil. He was shaking as with an 
 ague, and his eyes almosjt starting from their sock- 
 ets with horror yet, even then, consideration for 
 his young lady was uppermost, 
 
 "Don't be skered, Miss Gerry, honey, f er de Lord's 
 sake, don't ! 'Tain't nuthin'. Marse Robert, he dess 
 drapped down in er little sorter faintin' fit. 'Taint 
 nuthin' I 'spec he done ober it now." 
 
 "Where? Where is he?" shrieked Gerry. 
 
 "In de office, honey. De docters, an' Mr. Hamil- 
 ton is in dar too he done fetched 'em. Don't go 
 in dar now, Miss Gerry, chile. Oh! don't dess 
 wait. Oh, Lordy ! Oh, Lordy !" he cried, wringing 
 his hands, and vainly trying to keep pace with Colo-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 147 
 
 nel Southampton's daughter, as she almost flew 
 down the corridor. "Oh, oh, oh," he continued, "it 
 will kill dat chile ! Oh, Lordy ! spar' dat chile, an' 
 take it all out on de ole Phil he ain't no 'count, 
 nohow please, good Lordy ! take it out on de ole 
 nigger, he's er mean nigger, an' y'u knows y'usef 
 dat she's one ob de Southamptons." 
 
 Colonel Southampton was a popular man and the 
 news of his sudden seizure had spread, and about 
 the closed door was a throng of people. A lane 
 was opened to let Gerry pass through. 
 
 "Let me in!" she cried imperiously, striking on 
 the door. It was opened only a little way by Hamil- 
 ton, who said : "Pray go back, Miss Gerry. The doc- 
 tors are with your father, and they do not wish any 
 one to come in at present. I will send for you the 
 moment he becomes conscious." 
 
 She pushed him aside as if he were only a straw in 
 her way. The efforts of the medical men to restore 
 consciousness had failed, and they stood, by a table, 
 in consultation. 
 
 The patient lay prone on the India matting, his 
 vest and cravat loosened, his coat-sleeves ripped to 
 bare his arms for the lancet. Oh ! to see him thus, 
 the handsome, debonair Colonel Southampton. 
 
 With a wild shriek his daughter threw herself 
 on his breast. "Papa ! papa !" That agonized cry did 
 more than the doctors' skill to arouse the stricken 
 man. His eyelids unclosed, and his lips moving
 
 148 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 slightly, articulated, "Gerry." Stimulants were 
 hastily given, his daughter clinging to him, and 
 pouring forth terms of endearment. 
 
 "Compose yourself, Miss Southampton," said one 
 of the physicians, "do not agitate your father, he 
 needs to be kept quiet." 
 
 Colonel Southampton, now perfectly conscious, 
 spoke; but it was slowly and with much difficulty. 
 "I wish to be alone with my daughter," and with- 
 out heeding the remonstrances that were made, he 
 continued in feeble tones : "My time is short I 
 want only Gerry." 
 
 All quitted the room, leaving father and daughter 
 together; only Uncle Phil had hidden in a corner, 
 and, all huddled up, rocked himself back and forth 
 in mute woe. 
 
 "Take my hand, Gerry, and try to pay attention 
 to what I have to say." 
 
 "Yes, papa," she answered, and by a mighty ef- 
 fort becoming quiet. 
 
 "Darling, darling, I have loved you best of all," he 
 murmured, looking upon her with wistful tender- 
 ness. "Another will soon take my place in your 
 affections but, thank God! I leave you in good 
 hands." 
 
 "No one can take your place in my affections, 
 papa. You are first, and I would give all the world 
 to keep you." 
 
 Again he spoke: "Gerry, I leave some means,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 149 
 
 but I can ask no one save you to care for Mrs. 
 Southampton." He said this plaintively, as if it dis- 
 tressed him to impose such a burden on her young 
 life. 
 
 "I will care for her, papa," she promised. 
 
 "Be gentle and patient with her, Gerry," he 
 pleaded; "she is so helpless." 
 
 "1 will be gentle and patient with her, papa. I 
 will consult her wishes in preference to my own." 
 
 The dying man looked at her gratefully, then his 
 eyes closed, never to open again in this world. The 
 inexorable visitor that comes once to every living 
 creature had come. Gerry kissed the cold lips, 
 which in life had always spoken to her words of 
 love ; and repeated : "Yes, papa, I will care for her. 
 I will consult her wishes in preference to my own." 
 
 This promise she regarded as a vow made to the 
 dead. God help her ! Its fulfilment was to crush her 
 heart and wring her life, and give her to drink 
 daily, as a beverage, from woe's bitterest cup. 
 
 When she rose up from her father's dead body a 
 change in her had been wrought. Such a change 
 as a rushing tornado brings in its pitiless sweep 
 over a parterre of gay flowers. 
 
 The bright, joyous Geraldine Southampton had 
 forever departed. Even physically the change was 
 utter. A dreadful pallor usurped the brilliant 
 bloom of her cheeks, whose rounded outlines seemed 
 in a moment to have become pinched and haggard.
 
 150 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Her girlhood had passed away; she was now a 
 woman, and no more exempt than her fellows from 
 the burdens of life. 
 
 We will pass over the details of the splendid 
 funeral ; how harrowing to the daughter, only those 
 who have endured a like ordeal can know. And she, 
 who had hitherto reigned as a princess, was from 
 the moment of her father's death set aside. Mrs. 
 Southampton coming to the front, or rather her 
 aid-de-camp, Hamilton, did, acting, as he said, un- 
 der Mrs. Southampton's directions. 
 
 Colonel Southampton had been buried three 
 weeks. Much of the time had been passed by Mrs. 
 Southampton and Hamilton in consultations, from 
 which Gerry had been excluded. Only Uncle Phil 
 seemed to care for her now ; and it was touching the 
 way he mastered his own grief so as not to augment 
 hers. He would sit for hours intently watching her, 
 with his hands clasped over his knees, then sudden- 
 ly he would break out: 
 
 "Don't y'u 'member, Miss Gerry, honey, dem 
 times way back in Wirginny, when y'u wus little, 
 'bout all dem bird aigs Uncle Phil fetched y'u, an' 
 when y'u wus obstroperlus an' would go out inter de 
 rain, dat it wus Uncle Phil dat toted y'u, an' hilt er 
 umereller ober y'u. An' ter devart y'u I sung y'u 
 chunes, an' played fer y'u on de jews-harp, an' I 
 ain't sho' dat I didn't daunce fer y'u?" 
 
 Sometimes she would only raise her eyes to his
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 151 
 
 mournfully without answer, and when she would 
 to say : "Oh ! yes, Uncle Phil, I remember ;" almost 
 a grin would spread over his face, and he chuckled : 
 "Tank de good Lordy fer dat much." 
 
 "See, Geraldine," said Mrs. Southampton, in a 
 dissatisfied tone, "these bonnets and veils are ex- 
 actly alike." 
 
 "Are they?" was the weary, dreary reply. 
 
 "Look for yourself," was the sharp rejoinder. 
 "Both veils are the same lengtn, and each have a 
 hem just eight inches wide." 
 
 "Yes," said Gerry, not seeing her way to any other 
 answer. 
 
 Mrs. Southampton looked at her stepdaughter 
 contemptuously. 
 
 "Excuse me," supplemented Gerry, seeing that 
 her answ r er had given offence; "but I do not think 
 that I understand." 
 
 "Of course you do not," was the spirited rejoin- 
 der, "understand the requirements of refined ladies 
 in any situation. But I will explain to you that I, 
 being the widow, should have a veil at least two 
 yards long with a hem not less than twelve inches 
 wide, while yours you being only the daughter 
 should be less suggestive of grief." 
 
 A spasm of pain passed over Gerry's face, but 
 she answered with pathetic patience: "The veils 
 can be arranged to suit you." 
 
 With half-closed eyes Mrs. Southampton surveyed
 
 152 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Gerry keenly. She had not been unobservant of 
 the great change that had come over her high-spir- 
 ited stepdaughter. She and Hamilton had com- 
 mented upon it.' They could but mark the absence 
 of the springing, elastic step which had given place 
 to slow, listless movements; and the stamp on her 
 face of an unfathomless woe that never lightened. 
 And they both concurred that while, so far, her con- 
 duct had been unobtrusive and of discretion, yet 
 its continuance was a subject of grave doubt, Mrs. 
 Southampton frankly stating the family traits: 
 "These Southamptons won't go a step further than 
 they want to go in any direction, and it is unpleas- 
 ant and dangerous to attempt to force them," and 
 she continued, "to tell you the truth, I am puzzled 
 at this extraordinary docility in Geraldine, and 
 fear that it is too contrary to nature to last. But, 
 dear Mr. Hamilton, you can count on me to further 
 your wishes by all means in my power. You know 
 it is my greatest desire to see Geraldine your wife." 
 She was honest in this. Hamilton's adroit flattery 
 formed for her the mitigating side of life. Compli- 
 ments had been plentiful in her youth, but now 
 they were as a dead letter, and no w r onder it pleased 
 her fancy, for heart she had none, when sometimes 
 in a confidential, caressing way he would stroke 
 her hair and call her, "My pretty mamma, that I 
 hope is to be." He had so completely dominated 
 her weak nature that the idea of separation from
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 153 
 
 him was insupportable. And that he should be- 
 come a member of the family was an object worth 
 scheming for, and the sacrifice of Geraldine's life 
 was not worth consideration, when her wishes and 
 comfort were at stake. 
 
 "Geraldine, has it ever occurred to you how we 
 are to live in the future? We will soon have to va- 
 cate this house for your father's successor." 
 
 "We can rent a small house and live on the means 
 left us by papa until my brothers return," was 
 Gerry's answer. 
 
 "Mr. Hamilton says there are no means." 
 
 Gerry raised her eyes and looked sternly at her 
 stepmother. 
 
 "I do not understand at all the officiousness of 
 that person in our affairs. It began at the time of 
 papa's death. He took the place of older and better 
 esteemed friends. As it was by your direction I 
 submitted that was no time for unseemly differ- 
 ences between you and me. But it is quite time now 
 for his impertinent interference to cease." 
 
 Mrs. Southampton sobbed a little, and said plain- 
 tively : 
 
 "I never meant, Geraldine, to bring it up against 
 your father, now that he is dead his wrongs to me. 
 He gave up his life entirely to frivolous amuse- 
 ments, shared by you and your brothers, leaving 
 me, his wife, a neglected invalid. Who has there 
 ever been save only Mr. Hamilton kind-hearted
 
 154 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 enough to pay me any attention? And when that 
 great shock came," here she sobbed a little more, 
 "I never could have lived through that ordeal but 
 for the friendly arm he offered me to lean upon. And 
 if the dead can know such things," she piously 
 lifted her eyes to the ceiling, "Colonel Southampton 
 is grateful at this moment for his care of me when 
 no one else, not even you, gave me a thought." 
 
 Geraldine was vanquished. She had given her 
 father a promise to be considerate, kind, and gentle 
 to this woman, and truly she had meant to be so, 
 but up to this time perhaps she had not been she 
 could not say her anguish had been so cruel ; but 
 there must be no more remissness. In tones tremu- 
 lous with emotion she said : 
 
 "I beg your pardon if I have failed in attentions 
 to you. The past few weeks have been so hard, but 
 you shall have no cause for complaint in the future. 
 Papa's last words were of you, and how dare you ac- 
 cuse him of indifference?" she burst out indignantly, 
 "when at such a time your comfort was uppermost 
 in his mind? Did I not then, to give consolation 
 to him, promise to care for you faithfully to con- 
 sult your wishes in preference to my own?" 
 
 "You promised him this, Geraldine?" asked Mrs. 
 Southampton eagerly. 
 
 Gerry bent her head in affirmation, it almost took 
 away her life to talk about her father to this worn-, 
 an. And who can say it were a mercy that no
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 155 
 
 clairvoyant gift enabled her to read the unbounded 
 satisfaction that now filled the mind of Mrs. South- 
 ampton? She saw how easy it would be to rule this 
 haughty stepdaughter, whom she now held in lead- 
 ing strings. The gyves might kill her, but she 
 w T ould never rend them asunder "trust a South- 
 ampton for keeping faith." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Gerry after a long 
 pause, "about papa not leaving sufficient means to 
 provide for our immediate wants. He told me there 
 was sufficient. After I look over his papers I can 
 understand his affairs." 
 
 "At my desire Mr. Hamilton has been kind enough 
 to give his attention to my late husband's dis- 
 ordered business. He informs me there were some 
 means, which have been consumed by the recent 
 heavy expenses ; and now there is absolutely nothing 
 left." 
 
 The miserable feeling of having been foiled by 
 an unworthy foe passed across Gerry's mind, and 
 that there was no alternative, she must begin the 
 battle of life as best she could. It was an appalling 
 outlook that confronted her after the manner in 
 which she had been brought up to work for bread. 
 But she was willing to try, and would have suc- 
 ceeded. Her pride of race would have made her 
 ashamed to be ashamed of any work that was hon- 
 est. 
 
 "You must give me a little time to think," she
 
 156 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 answered. "But you can rely upon it, I will do my 
 best. Papa and I have many friends; they will 
 surely assist me in finding something to do." 
 
 "Had many friends, you mean. Fortune and 
 friends fly away together. What do you think has 
 become of all your fine friends? Never coming 
 near us in our affliction ; not even sending cards of 
 sympathy." 
 
 The truth must be stated, Hamilton had denied 
 admittance to all under the plea that Mrs. and Miss 
 Southampton would see no one, being completely 
 overwhelmed with grief. And he had destroyed a 
 bushel of letters addressed to Gerry. He had no 
 scruples. It was necessary to sequestrate Gerry 
 until the plan he had in view had matured to frui- 
 tion. 
 
 Gerry sighed. She had not thought of it before, 
 but it seemed dreadful that no one at all cared for 
 her for herself, and that in losing her father she 
 had lost all. But she answered bravely: "There 
 must be something that I can do to earn a living 
 for us." 
 
 Mrs. Southampton sneered. By some mysterious 
 natural law the feebler the nature the more cruel. 
 
 "You might earn something of a living for us by 
 singing on the stage, or ballet dancing. I do not 
 deny that you could do one or both well, but I have 
 some regard for Colonel Southampton's name if 
 you, his petted daughter, have none. And I forbid
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 157 
 
 you, bearing his name, to appear behind the foot- 
 lights." 
 
 Gerry's eyes flashed with something of the old 
 brilliancy. 
 
 "You forget I am a Southampton by blood, and 
 that I am not likely to soil the name were I to go 
 behind the footlights to earn your bread and mine. 
 Any calling that is honestly followed can be made 
 respectable. But I can neither sing nor dance now," 
 she added sadly, "though I will immediately see 
 about doing something." 
 
 "Geraldine," cried Mrs. Southampton passion- 
 ately, "you talk like a child. You are perfectly in- 
 capable of earning money. And, but for your odious 
 selfishness, and always thinking of what suits you, 
 it is in your power to provide for us both." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Notwithstanding all your ill-treatment of him, 
 Mr. Hamilton is still willing to marry you. Why 
 not consent?" 
 
 >'A thousand deaths first," was the vehement an- 
 swer. 
 
 Mrs. Southampton began to weep. 
 
 "I shall starve ! I shall be put out of this house 
 on the high road! It is easy to see what all the 
 promises you made to your dying father will 
 amount to! You gave him, as you say yourself, 
 your solemn promise to consult my wishes. False 
 girl, can nothing wean you from your love of self?"
 
 168 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Gerry looked at her bitterly. How dreadful 
 seemed the torture to pass her life with this woman, 
 but there was no escape; that promise given bound 
 her hand and foot, and she must be patient. She 
 said soothingly : "Have no fear, I will provide for 
 you, if I have to sweep a crossing." 
 
 Kidicule from her stepmother in a storm fell over 
 and across and all around the shrinking Gerry. 
 
 This was only the opening of the attack which 
 was then commenced, and continued unceasingly. 
 No garrison, however strong, can resist effectively 
 unremitting assaults; fatigue will at length cause 
 the besieged to pause for breath. Then, the assail- 
 ants rushing in, grasp the colors from hands grown 
 too feeble to hold them and shout, "Victory !" 
 
 What wonder then that Gerry in her despair 
 should ask herself, "What did it matter?" At the 
 nadir of misery the heart can suffer not an addition- 
 al pang. 
 
 And so, at this crisis of her life, under sensations 
 morbidly exaggerated, she was led to take the 
 wrong turning. 
 
 When the Children of Israel were encamped by 
 the sea, and were sore afraid at the approach of 
 Pharaoh and his hosts, they had Moses to admonish 
 them to "stand still and see the salvation of the 
 Lord." There was no one to hold Gerry back. Oh ! 
 no, she was pushed on, as it were, into the black 
 night, to a black fate. And, ah ! it was so sad. She
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 159 
 
 was totally incapable of making a stand for herself 
 seeing everything in a false light with her vivid im- 
 agination, and her generous heart, tender and true ; 
 such a temperament can enjoy with exalted rap- 
 ture, also, it can suffer with an intensity of pain 
 that goads nearly to madness, and impels to such 
 extravagances as less ardent natures are never 
 tempted to commit. 
 
 "Well," she cried out at last, "if nothing else will 
 suit you, so be it, if Mr. Hamilton should still so 
 desire after a communication I must make to him." 
 
 "Ah, then," said Mrs. Southampton, approvingly, 
 ''now you are reasonable, and I will send Mr. Ham- 
 ilton in to you this moment. And really time is 
 pressing. He says that his father has just died, 
 and he must lose no time in returning to the 
 'States'," and she skipped from the room in quite a 
 girlish way. 
 
 Hamilton well knew that he had no ordinary girl 
 to deal with. But he quite believed in his ability 
 to have his way in the long run, and his manner was 
 assured. 
 
 "Mrs. Southampton has informed me that at last 
 you have consented to make me the happiest of 
 men." 
 
 "That is false, and you know it," she replied, 
 looking at him steadily. "I will not be responsible 
 for words other than my own. I said that I would 
 not refuse to marry you should you still desire it
 
 160 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 after you have heard what I have to tell you. I 
 have no heart to give you now, or ever. It has gone 
 out of my keeping absolutely you know to whom. 
 Perhaps you also know," she continued in the mo- 
 notonous tone of one under duress, and who is 
 forced to relate a sorrowful story without faltering, 
 "that he does not care for me. I think he despises 
 me, I was so easily won. Yet my infatuation re- 
 mains. I would prefer to throw myself under his 
 feet and be trampled to death than to live without 
 him." 
 
 "Have you no shame in telling me this?" said 
 Hamilton, flushing darkly. 
 
 "None," she answered, "and I have more to tell 
 you. I disgusted him ; and he went away and left 
 me, although there was in the sight of heaven a 
 solemn marriage between us. We knelt together 
 on the deck of the old McKim and pronounced vows 
 which I hold to be binding." 
 
 "Have you an idea," asked Hamilton, "how such a 
 sentimental ceremony would be regarded by the 
 courts?" 
 
 Without noticing his sneering remark, Gerry 
 raised her eyes to his with a look of anxious in- 
 quiry. "After this you would not wish to marry 
 me?" 
 
 "I would," he answered. "You fancied Smith, I 
 fancy you." 
 
 "Man!" she cried impetuously, "for your own
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 161 
 
 sake reconsider. Disliking loathing you as I do, 
 what will be your life with me?" 
 
 Her passionate appeal recoiled from the obsti- 
 nate, cold heart of this man like hailstones from an 
 armor of proof. 
 
 "I'll risk it," he answered. "Katharine did not 
 at first smile upon Petruchio, but she ended by 
 making him a pattern wife." 
 
 "Do not deceive yourself," continued Gerry; her 
 face was wan, and her voice retained not one ca- 
 dence of its wonted melody. "I said that I would 
 marry you, but I say to you now that I will never, 
 never be your wife. Circumstances a concatena- 
 tion of them! may condemn me to a life of false- 
 hood with you. But to my latest breath I will 
 be true to my vows, pronounced to heaven." 
 
 Hamilton gave a short, disagreeable laugh, and 
 answered : 
 
 "The partner of your vows, as you so feelingly 
 call them, did not seem to attach any particular 
 value to them." 
 
 "No," she replied, "he did not, and I do not know 
 what may come of it what I may have to suffer ; 
 but I will be faithful to him till I die. Now you 
 know all," she said, looking at him searchingly; 
 "do you still desire an empty marriage ceremony?" 
 
 Hamilton looked down. He would have been a 
 good-looking man but for an expression of hard, 
 material force denoting nothing like firmness, only
 
 162 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 obstinacy. He remembered how this girl had 
 scorned him. Is love compatible with hate? He 
 thought it was. At any rate, he had not the mag- 
 nanimity now she was in his power to give her up 
 and to allow her to depart out of his life. Also 
 there was another feeling, animosity to Smith, to 
 gratify. His had been the hand to set the ball in 
 motion which had caused the trouble between Ger- 
 aldine Southampton and her lover, and now were 
 he to go away and let matters take their natural 
 course, the two he had been at so much pains to 
 separate would again come together. He hated 
 Smith. Some animals are born to fight and so are 
 some men. And, come what might, Smith should 
 never have her. Slowly, after some reflection, he 
 looked up and answered : 
 
 "For reasons of my own, I do. I will take you on 
 your own terms." 
 
 She answered calmly, a breaking heart never 
 rants : 
 
 "Well, I have no more to say. Make what ar- 
 rangements you choose with Mrs. Southampton. I 
 promise obedience so far as I have stated." 
 
 She almost tottered as she left the room. No one 
 was in the corridor. She stopped, and, clutching 
 the hand-rail, she stood panting as if her breath 
 were leaving her. 
 
 As if in mockery of her grief the sun was at his 
 brightest and best, flooding the world with glorious
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 163 
 
 radiance. And across the bay the distant moun- 
 tains, touched by a magic brush, had taken on the 
 most gorgeous pigments. The restless wavelets, 
 pure white, sparkled and danced. Even the lethargic 
 fish disported themselves in frolic, bending their 
 flexible bodies into hoops, and merrily tumbling 
 over and over. The graceful gulls, with outstretched 
 wings, were circling round and round until with a 
 sudden scoop they darted downward to pounce 
 upon the unsuspecting minnows, and, rising, they 
 would utter shrill screams as their prey was 
 snatched from them by the larger sort of gulls 
 that subsist by robbery. Gerry, to shut out the 
 sight, pressed her hands to her eyes, and her swell- 
 ing heart asked the question: "Oh, why of all 
 others am I so miserable?" That question has been 
 asked many a time and oft, of earth and sky of 
 God and man, and no answer has come out of the 
 mysterious silence. Not till we have climbed the 
 Mountain of Expiation and purified, not hardened 
 by suffering will God speak, and His righteous wis- 
 dom be made clear as the radiance of noonday.
 
 164 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE IRON COLLAR. 
 
 "But, I remember, now I am in this earthy world; 
 When to do harm is often laudable: to do good, 
 Sometimes accounted dangerous folly." 
 
 There are times when the very air is surcharged 
 with coming woe, and Uncle Phil, unhappy and de- 
 pressed more than usual, wandered restlessly up 
 and down the corridor. 
 
 In vain he beseeched : "Miss Gerry, chile, open 
 de do'." In vain he called upon her "ter 'member 
 'bout dem bird aigs, an' de umerreller hilt ober her 
 when she wus little an' obstroperlus, in Wirginny." 
 The closed door opened not; yet instinctively he 
 hovered near like a parent bird watching its threat- 
 ened nest. He tried to reassure himself, repeating 
 over and over : "Nuthin' mo' kin happen," but no 
 consolation came, and unceasingly he continued his 
 weary beat. The long day dragged to a close, the 
 shadows of evening fell, and, planting himself near 
 Gerry's door, he muttered : "I won't go erway wid- 
 out seein' dat chile, ef I haster stan' here all nite." 
 
 Presently Mr. Hamilton came, and ordered him 
 to light the lamps in the parlor. Of late this duty 
 had been neglected, no illumination being required
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 165 
 
 in that deserted room. Uncle Phil obeyed, mutter- 
 ing discontentedly: "What's dis fer?" 
 
 One or two persons came whom he watched nar- 
 rowly, feeling their coming denoted no good, and 
 he almost refused to believe the evidence of his 
 eyes, when Mrs. Southampton made her appear- 
 ance in a white dress, leaning on Mr. Hamilton's 
 arm. After seating her, he walked directly to Miss 
 Southampton's apartment ; Uncle Phil following, it 
 was instinct, which is higher and holier being 
 heaven sent than reason with its labored processes 
 to adduce the truth, that told him Gerry was in 
 danger ; and nothing but death could now keep him 
 away from her. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton tapped on the door, saying some- 
 thing in a low voice. Gerry at once came forth. 
 Hamilton started at her appearance. She was 
 clothed in the deepest black. In place of a bridal 
 veil her draperies of heavy crape fell in somber 
 folds. 
 
 Awe-struck in despite of himselfj Hamilton 
 asked: 
 
 "Why do you not wear a white dress ?" 
 
 "Why should I not wear mourning?" she asked. 
 Then pleadingly as the drowning catch at a straw 
 she raised her eyes to his to make one more, the 
 last, appeal against a fate more bitter than death : 
 "It is not too late yet, and I implore you to have 
 mercy on yourself, if you have none for me. Aban-
 
 166 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 V 
 
 don this worse than idle, this unholy make-believe." 
 
 "You are talking nonsense," he replied coldly. 
 "Take my arm." 
 
 "I do not wish to touch you," she said, "I can walk 
 by your side. On your head fall the sin of this." 
 
 In the confusion of his mind Uncle Phil had left 
 unclosed the shutters, and when Gerry took her 
 place near the chaplain, resident of the fort, her 
 eyes fastened with strange insistence on a group of 
 Spanish boys looking in at the window, and with- 
 out volition she became absorbed in the necessity 
 of counting them. Sometimes when the mind is 
 tottering, in danger of ruin, a merciful Providence 
 interposes with a mental lethargy. 
 
 She heard the chaplain's voice say: "I require 
 and charge you both, as you will answer at the 
 dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all 
 hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know 
 any impediment why you may not lawfully be 
 joined together in matrimony, you do now confess 
 it" but it was as a voice in the distance, and without 
 meaning; but she must count those Spanish boys 
 her life, her reason, depended on it. But it was so 
 hard to count them. In her frantic efforts to enum- 
 erate she even paraphrased "Tom Brown and his lit- 
 tle Indian boys ;" one little Spanish boy, two little 
 Spanish boys, three little Spanish boys; but there 
 were more of them, and she had lost her count and 
 must begin again. Confusedly, she recommenced,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 167 
 
 "One little Spaniard, two little Spaniards." "Why 
 don't you bow your head?" whispered Hamilton. 
 She looked at him in a bewildered way ; but turned 
 again to the necessity of counting the Spanish 
 boys. There seemed to be more of them than ever ; 
 yet she must count them it was so difficult she 
 was almost in despair. The chaplain's voice now 
 ceased, and her stepmother stood before her. She 
 recognized Mrs. Southampton, and this knowledge 
 gave her pleasure, as it proved to her that she had 
 not become demented, as she feared she had. Quiet- 
 ly she submitted to Mrs. Southampton's kiss, but 
 her words, "I congratulate you, Mrs. Hamilton," 
 dispelled the semi-trance which had enchained her 
 faculties. Then, realizing the nature of the awful 
 sacrilege she had committed, without a word, with- 
 out a groan, she reeled and fell heavily on the floor. 
 
 Under the lamp-light her features looked white 
 and dead, and so like her father's that Mrs. South- 
 ampton, filled with remorse, shrieked : "She is dead, 
 and 'tis I who have killed her !" and went into vio- 
 lent hysterics. 
 
 The chaplain and his assistant, saying something 
 about "sending a physician," hastily withdrew, and 
 Hamilton rushed out for help. 
 
 Poor Uncle Phil, raising the insensible body of 
 Gerry into his faithful arms, bore her without, and, 
 laying her prone on the cool night sand, knelt beside 
 her, and, clasping his aged hands, he prayed the "ef-
 
 168 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 fectual, fervent prayer," that rises to the throne of 
 God and is always answered in His own good time 
 and way. "Oh, Lordy! Oh, Lordy! hab mussy on 
 dis chile. She ain't done nuthin', an' she is one ob 
 de Southamptons. Wisit it all on ole Phil, but 
 spa'r dis chile," words failing him, he repeated : "Oh, 
 Lordy ! Oh, Lordy !" wringing his hands. 
 
 The pure salt breeze soon did its work, and", Gerry 
 opening her eyes sat up. The shrieks of her step- 
 mother were filling the air all around ; and, recalled 
 to duty, Gerry said : "Come, Uncle Phil, we must 
 go to her." 
 
 And tenderly all through the night she ministered 
 to the agonized, shrieking woman, vainly attempt- 
 ing to soothe her; but not until morning did those 
 frightful shrieks cease, from exhaustion, and she 
 sank into a troubled sleep. When she awakened, it 
 was evident her feeble life had received its death- 
 blow. 
 
 When the final hour comes it is an honest one 
 illusions fade, deceptions are useless. As in a glass 
 the deeds done in the body pass in review. Clearly 
 this woman now saw that by indolence and selfish- 
 ness she had wrecked her own life, and, worse still, 
 how wretchedly she had wronged this daughter of 
 the husband who had submitted to her many ex- 
 actions without a harsh word. "Oh! how can I 
 meet him?" she moaned. "Geraldine! oh, Geral- 
 dine, won't you forgive me it might help me per-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 169 
 
 haps, if anything can help me where I am gong?" 
 
 Gerry was silent. Her compact w r ith her father 
 had in effect given to this woman her bond for a 
 pound of flesh, which had been demanded, and 
 rendered. Did not her lacerated, bleeding heart still 
 feel the torture of the merciless knife? No, she 
 could not say, truly, that she forgave her, but she 
 spoke to her gently, saying : "Try to sleep." 
 
 "I shall soon sleep," said the wretched woman, 
 writhing in her agony, "and never wake. Oh ! won't 
 you forgive me, Geraldine will Robert's daughter 
 let me die unforgiven?" 
 
 There was resistless power in that loved name. 
 Her father had forgiven this helpless creature, and 
 she must. 
 
 "Yes," she answered briefly, "I forgive you." 
 
 With this assurance the dying woman reached 
 out for Gerry's hand, and, clinging to it, passed to 
 eternity. 
 
 Why many people are born in the world would 
 be a subject of grave doubt were we not confronted 
 by the ensample of Pharaoh. The grand designs of 
 the Creator are far removed from human under- 
 standing; we can only say what is, is right. 
 
 There is a germ of superstition in all strong na- 
 tures. Such natures will struggle, fight against ad- 
 verse circumstances until the feeling comes that 
 these adversities are brought on by the resistless
 
 170 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 sweep of Destiny that Birnan Wood has come to 
 Dunsinane. 
 
 "They have tied me to a stake, I cannot fly." 
 
 Then opposition ceases, and they with dumb pa- 
 tience await the passing of the storm, kno^Ying 
 that in the natural order of things, after the night 
 there will be morning. 
 
 Gerry felt herself to be in the toils, and without 
 means to extricate herself ; but there would be relief 
 somehow when her brothers returned, meanwhile 
 she must "dr.ee her weird." 
 
 She listened without remonstrance to Hamilton's 
 directions to make preparations for leaving Cali- 
 fornia, the land of all others so dear to her. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "there is no need for a longer 
 stay, now we have buried the old girl." 
 
 "I will not allow you," replied Gerry, in low 
 distinct tones, "to use such terms in speaking of 
 the lady who had the honor of being my father's 
 wife." 
 
 "How are you going to prevent it," he asked with 
 a wicked sneer, "if such should be my pleasure?" 
 
 "If you repeat it," she answered, in the same low 
 tone, "I shall chastise you." 
 
 Hamilton glanced at her with an ugly expression. 
 There was no flush on her face, hardly defiance, but 
 so much steady resolution that involuntarily he 
 glanced at her well-formed hands, and rounded
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 171 
 
 arms, denoting the strength, which always accom- 
 panies perfect symmetry. 
 
 "My bonny bride is particularly suave of speech," 
 he observed with a forced laugh. 
 
 "I am no bonny bride," she answered quickly, 
 "and you would do well for yourself to leave me 
 here. I can provide for myself and Uncle Phil," 
 an expression of loathing crossed her face. "The 
 money you stole from my dead father you can keep 
 were it millions, it would be a small price to pay 
 for my freedom." 
 
 A dark flush mantled his cheek. His was a cold 
 temperament, scarcely warmer than that of a fish ; 
 and it may be truly said that in this affair he had 
 acted without counting the cost of what now prom- 
 ised to be an expensive fancy. Previous to the 
 meeting with Colonel Southampton's daughter he 
 would merely have smiled at the idea of woman's 
 love affecting his life. But her gay, brilliant beauty, 
 her musical voice, her clear ringing laugh, attracted 
 him. And then what charm was there in her frank 
 unrestrained manner to others. To him, when 
 they first met, she had shown dislike and scorn. 
 There is a noble gem which pales at the approach 
 of poison; also there are some beings gifted or 
 cursed with such a high- wrought nervous organiza- 
 tion as to involuntarily recoil from an inimical 
 presence. The wound she had inflicted on his self-
 
 172 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 love stirred within him deeper depths than did his 
 admiration for her. 
 
 It was unworthy of him, as it is of any man, to 
 war against a woman she was created the weaker 
 vessel and dependent on man for her protection 
 yet in his pursuit of the dual object, revenge and 
 possession, he never paused, but hurried over the 
 miry ground without asking himself what he 
 would do with the bright, beautiful bird when 
 caught. She was soaring high in the heavens, her 
 jingling bells and flowing jesses were far above his 
 reach until an untoward earthward swoop placed 
 her in the 'fowler's hands. 
 
 That she would beat her wings against her cage 
 and struggle against captivity he expected ; but this 
 bitter hostility, which he now saw would be as im- 
 placable as the grave, almost terrified him. 
 
 Still the victory was his ! He had yet to learn that 
 some victories are more disastrous than the most 
 inglorious defeat, and there was decision in his 
 voice as he replied : 
 
 "No, notwithstanding the unusual amenities of 
 our new life, I do not choose to give you up, or let 
 you out of my sight, as you seem most anxious for. 
 Are you meditating the coup of a divorce," he asked 
 insolently, "to let that fellow Smith in?" 
 
 A moment passed before Gerry answered. In 
 many things she had the pure innocence of a child, 
 and this avenue of escape was one she had never
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 173 
 
 dreamed of, and when it was presented to her mind 
 there was a terrible temptation to free herself, but 
 it quickly passed she was her father's daughter, 
 and sister to South and Fred, and she dared not 
 drag their honorable name into a divorce court 
 freedom for her could not come this way. But it 
 was incumbent on her to make a stinging reply. 
 
 "You are gratuitously impertinent. Did I not 
 tell you that Mr. Smith went away to avoid me, and 
 is it likely that he would care for me now after my 
 disgraceful entanglement with you? He does not 
 want me." 
 
 "Upon my word!" said Hamilton, his torpid 
 blood boiling. "You are candid enough. It seems 
 then that my honor lies wholly in Smith's indif- 
 ference, not in your virtue." 
 
 "Silence! Your honor, as you call it, is safe 
 enough, connected as it is with the name of South- 
 ampton. But for that," she burst out passionately, 
 "there is no wickedness I would not perpetrate to 
 be revenged on you. You have blighted my life! 
 Whatever pleasant thing the future might have 
 brought me after the loss of my father you have 
 destroyed. And I tell you now that my hatred of 
 you is of the kind that will never sleep, and never 
 know variableness or shadow of change. Of my 
 own will I will never speak to you, and I will close 
 my eyes rather than look upon you. Now take me, 
 or leave me, as you choose,"
 
 174 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 "You will go with me," he replied with sullen de- 
 fiance, "but old Phil shall be left here." 
 
 "Uncle Phil shall go with me. I will not be sepa- 
 rated from him," she said imperiously. 
 
 Hamilton left the room muttering : "Things do 
 not look flowery, but perhaps they will go smoother 
 when I get her away from this infernal country, 
 where men are plenty and women are few, and wor- 
 shiped like angels. In the state of she will find 
 
 her level."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 175 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 SORROW'S CROWN OF SORROWS. 
 
 "Comforts in Heaven, and we are on the earth, 
 Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief." 
 
 "There is where I was born," said Hamilton, in- 
 dicating a large, old-fashioned brick dwelling at 
 the terminus of a winding avenue, bordered by 
 handsome pine trees. 
 
 Gerry was silent; she never raised her eyes. 
 
 "Have you made up your mind to be haughty and 
 disagreeable to my relations?" he asked angrily. 
 "I tell you it won't do." 
 
 Still there were neither word nor sign; he had 
 as well have spoken to a lay-figure. The carriage 
 had now stopped. 
 
 "Get out," he said sharply, "unless you prefer to 
 be driven to the stables." 
 
 Without a word Gerry -descended, not choosing 
 to see the hand he extended to assist her, and fol- 
 lowed him into the house, and into the parlor, 
 where some persons were seated, to whom she was 
 introduced by Hamilton, who said: "Here is my 
 mother. And my sister-in-law T , my brother Edward, 
 and their children." 
 
 There was a general rising, with a movement of
 
 176 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 welcome toward Gerry, which her manner checked 
 at once. She merely raised her eyes, and for a very 
 short moment glanced at the group en bloc, with 
 the slightest possible bend of her head. Her lips 
 then opened, but it was only to say : "I wish to be 
 shown to a room." 
 
 "Supper will soon be ready," said Hamilton's 
 mother, after an embarrassing pause. 
 
 Without noticing this observation, Gerry re- 
 peated : "I wish to be shown to a room." 
 
 There was another embarrassing pause, and a 
 servant was called to act as a guide to Gerry, who 
 quitted the room without saying another word. 
 
 In the silence that followed Hamilton felt de- 
 jected and uncomfortable. 
 
 By a course of scheming, and unworthy conduct, 
 and trampling on every manly instinct, he had suc- 
 ceeded in joining this girl's life with his, but the 
 result had only gone to show the sinfulness of sin- 
 ning. In effect they were separated by a gulf so 
 wide and deep that it never could be bridged. Yet 
 there was a sort of savage triumph in the reflection 
 he had separated her from Smith. He would pre- 
 fer to see her dead than in the possession of that 
 man. And, strange as it may seem, Gerry's firm, 
 simple, good-faith had won his admiration. 
 
 The first to speak was Hamilton's brother Ed- 
 ward, and if his words were offensive, his tones were 
 still more so.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 177 
 
 "Our new relation seems to be a very affable per- 
 son." 
 
 "Go to the devil," said Hamilton angrily. 
 
 "What's the matter, old man, that you are in 
 such a bad humor? Knowing, as we all did, that 
 you were a fish which would require a deal of catch- 
 ing, the news of your marriage was a surprise to 
 us an agreeable surprise and we were prepared 
 to lavish upon your bride the wealth of 
 our united affection. Pardon me for saying this 
 effort on our part has the appearance of being su- 
 perfluous. Evidently we have not carried the heart 
 of the newest Mrs. Hamilton by storm." This 
 brother of Hamilton had the reputation, and was 
 proud of it, of being able to make himself as com- 
 prehensively disagreeable as was humanly possible. 
 
 The angry flush did not leave Hamilton's face, 
 though, after a pause, he decided to answer pacifi- 
 cally : 
 
 "The lady you speak of is in affliction. She has 
 recently lost her father, and her stepmother has 
 just died, and it is not my opinion that you will 
 now or ever be favored with her regard, which is 
 not a matter of much consequence, as my stay here 
 will not be longer than to arrange the business be- 
 tween us." He then went over to his mother and 
 began a conversation with her. 
 
 Gerry had been some weeks at Hamilton's home, 
 and, persistently declining any intercourse with the
 
 178 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 family, when she was not shut up in her own room 
 she wandered through the grounds, followed by 
 Uncle Phil. 
 
 "Miss Gerry, honey," he asked her one day, "don't 
 it neber 'repear strange ter y'u what makes folkes 
 live erway from de ocean?" Ah, the ocean! 
 
 When the keynote is struck all the burial places 
 of memory give up their dead, and forms and 
 scenes long laid to rest troop back, bringing balm 
 to the heart and mind in their sorest need. Stars 
 may fall and a cloud pass across the face of the 
 moon, but so long as mind and memory survive in 
 their integrity, there remains a paradise out of 
 which no one can be driven. And Gerry was a child 
 again, wandering round the beach, that old familiar 
 playground. How well she remembered the many 
 times she had been drenched while stooping for a 
 bright-hued shell and not observing the incoming 
 wave. She had only laughed, and shaking her tiny 
 fists at the restless water, which was laughing, too, 
 had dared it to "do it again." 
 
 And how many marvels of the deep had she seen? 
 Once there was a whale, which, wounded and 
 chased by the harpooners, had in its blind rage 
 swam, fighting, shoreward, to be stranded on the 
 beach, where, with a hoarse bellow, it died. And 
 then she had joined the body of her fellow-towns- 
 people in their hurry to witness the wonder before 
 the oil-makers began with their mutilation j and.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 179 
 
 aided and abetted, she had sprung up on the dead 
 leviathan and walked upward full sixty feet to its 
 head; then, lowering herself into the wide-open 
 mouth, she had cut off a piece of the flexible bone 
 for a relic. Another time she had seen a live shark, 
 of the man-eating sort, that had in its greed for 
 prey ventured too near the shore for safety, and 
 by a dash of the waves had been borne in and left 
 high and dry on the sand, and there it lay, glancing 
 with its wicked eyes and snapping with its cruel 
 jaws at the group of excited gesticulating fishermen 
 desiring to encompass its capture; the time was 
 short, another wave might restore it to its native ele- 
 ment in safety the sea gives and takes. And 
 Gerry in her willingness to help, which was one of 
 her chief characteristics, advised "Bring lassoes." 
 Her suggestion received admiring and respectful at- 
 tention, and elicited the following affirmatives 
 from a jury of mixed nationalities : "Si senorita." 
 "Yes, missie Gerry." "Yar, dat's goode." "Yis 
 marm." " Jes lesten to the queean," etc., etc. Lassoes 
 galore, made of the stout bull's hide, were soon at 
 hand, and the creature was securely noosed and 
 dragged along in triumph, even as the Komans ex- 
 ulted over Jugurtha in chains, to a doom of torture 
 of which Gerry had no conception, or her tender 
 heart would have procured for the monster a speedy 
 death, and as painless as might be. 
 And some of her devotees among the fisher-folk
 
 180 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 caught and brought on shore and deposited in the 
 corridor of the Custom House a cuttle fish for her 
 especial inspection. And, too venturesome in her 
 curiosity, she was saved from the reach of a terrible 
 arm flung out to her by the quick movement of 
 Kanaka Jack in throwing her backward. And he 
 sorrowed days and nights over this cruel necessity. 
 Alas, she had with a red-hot iron touched off one of 
 the guns of the revenue schooner Frolic, thereby 
 making a great noise in the world, as one of the 
 officers said to her. Then she took command of 
 the trim little vessel, which she sailed all round the 
 bay, and brought back to anchorage. And on the 
 occasion of her visit to the war sloop Vincennes 
 Captain Hunter in an ill-considered moment struck 
 colors and surrendered the ship to her. She im- 
 mediately assumed command and had all hands 
 piped up for grog and a holiday, much to the an- 
 noyance of the aforesaid Captain Hunter, the 
 amusement of the ward room officers, and the hilari- 
 ous delight of the "hands." Gerry sighed, it seemed 
 so sad that all such halcyon days were gone, gone, 
 utterly gone. 
 
 "It is not possible for every one to live by the 
 ocean, Uncle Phil," she replied after a long pause. 
 "But things do appear triste away from it." 
 
 "Triste !" echoed Uncle Phil, indignant at the in- 
 sufficiency of the expression. "Gewhillikins ! dat 
 ain't no name fer it. In dis place y'u carn't
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 181 
 
 see nothin'. Y'u carn't he-ar nuthin'! Y'u carn't 
 eben breave good, quinciquonically" he stopped, 
 seeing a servant approaching, bearing a salver with 
 a card on it, which he received, and, after handing 
 it to Gerry, stood at attention," while she glanced 
 at it. Her heart swelled, and tears came into her 
 eyes as she read : 
 
 Charles Wood, U. S. A. 
 
 "Show the gentleman here," she said. 
 
 At the sight of Gerry, Captain Wood stopped 
 short, shocked, and pained beyond measure at her 
 altered appearance. 
 
 "You would not have known me, Charley?" she 
 asked, rising to meet him, and holding out her 
 hand. "Little did either of us dream when we last 
 parted how we should next foregather." 
 
 "I would know you anywhere, or in any guise," 
 he answered. "But good heavens!" the muscles 
 of his face quivering with emotion, "how you must 
 have suffered." 
 
 "Suffered?" she replied. "Why, no victim of a 
 sixteenth-century tyrant 'put to the question' ever 
 suffered such heart-breaking anguish." 
 
 "We had been out among the hills," he said, 
 "chasing hostile Indians, without coming up with 
 them for several weeks, when the intelligence 
 reached me of the calamity of your father's death. 
 Though I thought Paul Smith was with you and 
 privileged to sorrow with your sorrow, I could not
 
 182 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 keep away from you in your trouble, and obtained 
 leave of absence. Judge of my dismay to learn 
 when I arrived at Bonito of the accumulated mis- 
 fortunes which had been showered upon you. Your 
 father dead your stepmother dead and Paul 
 Smith away and strangest of all, you married to 
 that fellow Hamilton, whom I knew you despised 
 and gone, no one knew where. You have no idea of 
 the labor it has been to find you. Tell me how it all 
 happened this devil's work." 
 
 It was some moments before Gerry could find 
 voice to reply, and then it was in the low quivering 
 tones of sadness almost without hope. 
 
 "Can I tell you, Charley, 
 
 "'How happy some o'er other some can be. 
 
 why the earth opens and swallows up some, 
 and why the lightning strikes some others? 
 But sit down and I will try to tell you. 
 How can I explain?" she said wearily. "Every- 
 thing went wrong. My father died Paul Smith 
 had gone I was too easily won he was tired of 
 me." 
 
 "Stop !" cried young Wood, "you are appropriat- 
 ing unnecessary distress. It is impossible that 
 Smith voluntarily gave you up !" 
 
 "He did though," persisted Gerry. 
 
 " To be honest as the world goes is to be one picked out of ten 
 thousand."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 183 
 
 She would keep nothing back. Indeed it seemed 
 a slight solace to tell all to Charley, and, though 
 shivering with pain, she went on : "It was just the 
 morning after you had left Bonito that Mrs. South- 
 ampton sent for me. She said a great deal. I would 
 not have minded what she said, only she made me 
 see things different from what they had ever seemed 
 before. I do not think I would have cared much 
 that my life had been devoted wholly to my own 
 pleasure, which it had been, but when she spoke 
 of papa's eyes being opened to that which every one 
 was talking about, the disgusting way I had been 
 pursuing Paul that is the way she put it and 
 that he would be intensely mortified and angry with 
 me. And that Paul himself would occasion an ex- 
 cuse to break with me, and he did, Charley. He in- 
 sulted me grossly insulted me! He roughly told 
 me that I was mercenary, and accused me to my 
 face of caring only for you. And, Charley," she 
 burst out vehemently, "he had the insolence to ask 
 me if you had not kissed me when you went away." 
 
 "What answer did you make him?" inquired the 
 young officer in a low tone. 
 
 "What answer was left me to make but to order 
 him to begone. And he took me at my word, scarce- 
 ly offering an apology. Then came the horrible 
 shock of papa's death and no human came near us 
 in our desolation save Hamilton only. I do not 
 know why, but Mrs. Southampton had always liked
 
 184 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 him. And I was so bound by a promise made to 
 papa to be kind in all things, and to humor her ; and 
 nothing would serve her but my marriage. Indeed, 
 I was so tortured that I could not have been in my 
 right mind. I did resist all I could. I told him 
 that he was odious to me but he took me any- 
 how." 
 
 It was now all clear to Captain Wood. Gerry 
 had been the victim of a nefarious plot concocted 
 by Hamilton and Mrs. Southampton. Smith also 
 had been tampered with by arousing his jealousy 
 and what a poor fool he must have been not to see 
 that Gerry was as true as an angel from heaven. 
 
 "Poor sufferer," he said with infinite tenderness. 
 "But you are not friendless, in the absence of 
 Southampton and Frederic I am here to protect 
 you." 
 
 Gerry looked at him wistfully, but she answered 
 resolutely : 
 
 "I thank you, Charley, more than I can say, but 
 your good will outruns your discretion. I have very 
 little knowledge of a censorious world, but I have 
 no need to be told that you are not a suitable cham- 
 pion in the rupture of such shackles as bind me. 
 I am tied hand and foot, but I look for release in 
 the return of my brothers otherwise the life I am 
 leading would be insupportable." 
 
 Captain Wood looked at Gerry attentively. His
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 185 
 
 heart ached to mark the utter change which had 
 been wrought in her. 
 
 The bright peerless girl he knew had been forced 
 single-handed into an engagement against the Le- 
 gions of Sorrow and been vanquished. Her whole 
 person bore traces of the dreadful struggle. Her 
 bonny head had been lowered to the dust and still 
 drooped the lissom body seemed shrunken the 
 quick feet dragged slowly the sparkling eyes 
 grown dull her very identity seemed gone, but in 
 this faithful gallant young fellow's heart she was 
 Gerry still, the one woman he cared for. And he 
 would cheerfully die to restore to her the lost hap- 
 piness, and life would not be altogether vain if by 
 any personal sacrifice he could render her less un- 
 happy. 
 
 "Dona Gerry, it is hideous to me to see you so cir- 
 cumstanced, and in the absence of your brothers I 
 am your nearest friend. Would you not allow me to 
 act for you were I a married man? There is 
 that is," he stammered, the red blush flushing his 
 cheek. "I have a cousin in Virginia I don't know 
 but I think perhaps she might consent to 
 marry me were I to ask her. Would you not then 
 accept the refuge of my roof?" 
 
 Gerry looked at him with grave tenderness it 
 would not be going too far to say very like a 
 mother looking on a much loved son. 
 
 "Charley, there is no doubt about it, you are the
 
 186 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 dearest boy in all the world, and you tempt me. But 
 it would be hardly fair to the Virginia cousin, and I 
 repeat to you I am manacled with no hope of es- 
 cape except through my brothers unless Provi- 
 dence should free me by death." 
 
 The young officer shivered ; it did not seem pos- 
 sible to him that she could mean her own death 
 Heaven could not be cruel enough for that! She 
 must mean Hamilton's death. 
 
 "Well," he answered, "you shall be free from 
 Hamilton I will kill him !" 
 
 "And so bring dishonor on me," she said sternly. 
 
 "Oh ! forgive me," he cried. "Your distress mad- 
 dens me. You never would see it," he continued pas- 
 sionately, "but I have loved you ! do love you ! and 
 ever shall love you with a love so true that I would 
 bear any pain to know that you were happy. That 
 man Smith was never worthy of you ! In his cold- 
 blooded, suspicious, jealous nature he was tricked 
 by the villain Hamilton into doubting you. Had I 
 been in his stead, blessed with the assurance of 
 your love, do you think that man or devil could have 
 infused into me doubts of you?" 
 
 The tears rolled down Gerry's cheeks, and she 
 replied, slowly, as if utterance hurt her: 
 
 "Charley, I am pained to hear this;" and looking 
 upward, as if protesting against the hard decrees 
 of Heaven, she continued: "And must it always 
 be that true love shall bear such bitter fruit, and is
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 187 
 
 it a sin to be burnt out? Can those only be happy 
 whose heart-throbs make feeble demonstrations? 
 
 "But compared to my situation, how enviable is 
 yours. In the rush of man's work relief must come. 
 While I, Prometheus-like, am chained to a rock for 
 vultures to eat away my heart. Oh ! if I could only 
 climb mountains, swim rivers, fell trees, or work at 
 any hard labor to occupy the mind and tire the 
 body, I could wait for South and Fred with more 
 patience. But God help me ! I am only a woman. 
 You must go now, Charley it is bitter but I must 
 say it I may not see you again. You have spoken 
 words that we both must forget. But as a sister 
 loves a dear brother so I do and ever shall love you 
 or rather as a mother loves her only son, I feel 
 so old my youth is gone," she placed her hands 
 within his, "and now, my more than brother fare- 
 well." 
 
 Obediently the young officer left her. The tears 
 that rolled down his cheeks did not shame his man- 
 hood. His heart was rent with anguish more for 
 the sorrows of the woman he loved than for his 
 own. He never saw her again. His gallant young 
 life was soon to go out at Ball's Bluff, bravely 
 charging at the head of his regiment. With his 
 death-wound his voice had a triumphant ring as he 
 shouted: "Forward, men!" his last command. 
 But he died happy, knowing that "in the resurrec- 
 tion they neither marry nor are given in marriage."
 
 188 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "ME TER BE WHOOPPED!" 
 
 "We will not from the helm to sit and weep, 
 But keep our course, though the rough winds say 'No.' " 
 
 Gerry sat for some time filled with the saddest 
 thoughts without perceiving the absence of Uncle 
 Phil a feeling of delicacy had caused him to with- 
 draw during her interview with Captain Wood 
 missing him, she at once rose to ascertain his where- 
 abouts. Some inner sense had warned her it were 
 best to keep watch over the old man. And that 
 same inner sense guided her in the choice of a path 
 that lead to the rear of the mansion-house. An 
 oblique turn suddenly presented to her view the 
 domestic machine in movement. The white part of 
 the family seemed to be almost as busy in directing 
 as the black part was in executing the directions. 
 
 Hamilton's brother Edward who, seemingly had 
 just returned from a ride on horseback, with his 
 riding- whip still in his hand, stood watching the 
 operations, and not infrequently making a remark 
 of altogether disproportioned severity. 
 
 Some one had given Uncle Phil a pair of shoes 
 to be cleansed; it was true he polished his own, 
 feeling it to be necessary in order to present a suit-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 189 
 
 able appearance, but to be commanded in a harsh 
 tone to clean a pair of extremely soiled shoes was 
 an indignity that cut him to the quick. "Dess like 
 I was one ob y'u common low down niggers," was 
 the mental comment as he began the cleansing proc- 
 ess in, it must be confessed, a very dilettante man- 
 ner. Edward Hamilton's angry look fell upon him. 
 "Come here, you old scoundrel," he ordered, rais- 
 ing his whip. 
 
 "My Gawd !" exclaimed Uncle Phil in a voice of 
 agony, "me ter be whoopped !" 
 
 But as often happens, at the supreme moment suc- 
 cor was near. 
 
 "When the need is highest, help is nighest." 
 
 There was a sound like that of a gale at sea, and 
 with blazing eyes and teeth set, Gerry caught the 
 whip before it could descend on Uncle Phil's shrink- 
 ing shoulders; and Edward Hamilton felt himself 
 to be in the grasp of a Titan, while the heavy blows 
 were falling like rain from the hot swift lash. 
 
 "Woman ! fiend !" he gasped, struggling in vain 
 to get loose; then yelling with pain he shouted, 
 "Murder! help!" 
 
 It would have been a bold thing to do to rescue 
 him. None there durst attempt it. And not until 
 he had received what he would himself, under differ- 
 ent auspices, have called "a devil of a whipping" 
 did Uncle Phil's young lady desist, and release her
 
 190 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 hold upon him. Then turning to the group of her 
 new relations, who in wondering terror were hud- 
 dled together she stood like a tower of strength 
 standing four square to every wind that blows 
 and said in accents that seemed to fall from iron, 
 so hard and inflexible were their ring : 
 
 "I have just one remark to make. Uncle Phil, 
 my father's valued friend, and mine, is old and un- 
 accustomed to labor, and it is my will that he shall 
 not be called on to perform any service. Also, 
 I will state that if he is interfered with in the least 
 I will flog whoever and by whom it is done." She 
 then began to walk away. 
 
 The whip w r hich she had dropped was instantly 
 seized by Edward Hamilton, who, maddened with 
 pain and rage, looked about him for a victim. 
 
 A partly foolish boy called Ben was, or rather 
 had been, scouring knives, for he had suspended his 
 employment and was gazing into space, with his 
 eyes almost bursting from their sockets. 
 
 "Come here, Ben," he ordered. 
 
 Gerry instantly returned, and, placing herself be- 
 fore the frightened boy, said : 
 
 "I cannot allow anyone to suffer through an act 
 of mine. Therefore, I will have to make common 
 cause with Ben. Whip him if you like, but for 
 every blow you give him, I promise you ten." 
 
 The foiled man, with an imprecation, turned 
 away and walked into the house, followed by his
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 191 
 
 wife and mother. Their attempts at consolation 
 were rudely repulsed. 
 
 "This must not get out," he said ; "I shall be dis- 
 graced for life ! Go and caution the negroes. Say, 
 if it is only hinted, I will make them all drink sor- 
 row by the cupful." 
 
 This task was undertaken by his mother. "Your 
 Miss Geraldine was only in fun. She was playing 
 with your Marse Edward," she stated with empha- 
 sis to Hannah, the cook, in the hearing of all the 
 other still bewildered servants. 
 
 "Yes'm, I seed she wus. Miss Geraldine kin be 
 mighty funny when she tries," was the politic an- 
 swer. 
 
 Could Edward Hamilton have beheld Colonel 
 Southampton's daughter after gaining the sanctu- 
 ary of her room, the sight of her self-abasement 
 would have seemed almost the equivalent of an act 
 of indemnity. 
 
 Heavily she dropped on a chair, the crimson flush 
 dyeing her cheeks with a blush so deep that it 
 pained her. And Lady Macbeth's apostrophe to the 
 hands which "all the perfumes of Arabia could not 
 sweeten," was not more bitter than the reflections 
 over her own which she regarded as having been 
 put to a most vile use, and looking with positive 
 aversion on the tapering fingers she murmured, 
 "What next new degradation is in store for me, I 
 wonder?"
 
 192 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 "Luncheon's ready, Miss Geraldine," announced 
 a female servant tapping at the door. The atten- 
 tion of this girl had been irresistibly attracted all 
 along by the want of deference shown by "Miss Ger- 
 aldine ter we alls white-folks;" now it seemed to 
 her that the stranger was no mere mortal, and the 
 sable hand-maiden determined to secrete herself 
 that very night in the bedroom to witness the un- 
 dressing process, to see if there were not wings 
 somewhere. 
 
 Luncheon! Must she again face those people? 
 Yes, there was no help for it; it would never do for 
 them to suspect her humiliation. 
 
 Slowly she rose, without elasticity, almost me- 
 chanically like bodies of wood or stone are trans- 
 ported on derricks, and descending the stairs took 
 her^place at the table. 
 
 The several pairs of eyes which glanced at her 
 quickly, almost surreptitiously, could not discern 
 an atom of change in her consistently haughty silent 
 demeanor, suggesting the idea that she was in the 
 midst of a party of strangers for the first time. 
 The aversion with which she had been regarded by 
 Hamilton's family now had taken on an ingredient 
 of fear. She was something mysterious and alto- 
 gether beyond their understanding, and, strange as 
 it may seem, she rose in their respect. 
 
 Hamilton was absent, and his absence appeared 
 unnoticed by her.
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 193 
 
 The luncheon over, she walked outward and seat- 
 ed herself, some distance from the house, under one 
 of the large pine trees where she habitually passed 
 much of her time. A location that, although um- 
 brageous, would not seem desirable on account of 
 its resinous nature but those large pine trees were 
 some reminder of her old home in California. 
 
 Uncle Phil was with her. He had definitely made 
 up his mind to separate from her as little as pos- 
 sible, but seeing Hamilton approaching he with- 
 drew to a neighboring pine, and spreading his ban- 
 dana handkerchief on the periwinkle, seated himself 
 on it, and gave free play to his meditations on the 
 great desirability of Virginia and California as 
 places of residence. 
 
 Hamilton's face wore a heavy frown. 
 
 "I have been told," he said angrily, "that fellow 
 Wood was here this morning." 
 
 A faint sighing of the light breeze that rustled 
 the pine needles was his only answer. 
 
 "Did you not hear me?" laying his hand on Ger- 
 aldine's shoulder. 
 
 "Remove your hand," she commanded. 
 
 "Answer me," he said, roughly. 
 
 With seemingly little effort she threw off his 
 hand as one might toss away a pebble. "Touch me 
 again, if you dare." 
 
 How strong she is, passed through his mind.
 
 194 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Folding his arms he asked : "What did Wood want 
 here?" 
 
 "To see me, of course," she replied. "You can 
 scarcely imagine that he came to see you." 
 
 "I will tell you what it is," he rejoined passion- 
 ately, losing the calmness of judgment which be- 
 longed to him and only deserted him in his rare 
 moments of excitement "My object in bringing 
 you from California was to separate you from your 
 associations there, and I'll be damned if you shall 
 have any of it here." 
 
 Not even the oath from him could excite her. She 
 only looked at him contemptuously while saying : 
 
 "I really do not see how it is in your power to 
 hinder me from doing as I like. But for a reason, 
 entirely disconnected from you, I am not likely to 
 see Captain Wood again." 
 
 "Because he loves you, and has told you so !" he 
 almost screamed. 
 
 "Yes," she answered laconically. 
 
 He stood trembling with passion. 
 
 "Woman, have you no shame? No decency?" 
 
 "No, not sinice my life has been connected with 
 yours. You can now go. I have no more to say to 
 you." It is impossible to describe the disdainful 
 haughtiness of her tones. She would not have spo- 
 ken so to the meanest underling. She turned 
 abruptly from him, and he caught the glitter of a 
 bracelet she was in the deepest mourning yet she
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 195 
 
 always wore it, he remembered this now, his mind 
 being abnormally suspicious. "Is not that Smith's 
 bracelet?" he demanded. 
 
 "He placed it on my arm, certainly. Take it off 
 if you choose," she said ironically, and extended 
 her arm, showing the secure lock. 
 
 "Where is the key?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "Look for it in the Pacific Ocean. There is where 
 he threw it." And turning from him, she gazed 
 steadily on the open world before her, as if trying to 
 decipher some cabalistic characters requiring the 
 closest attention. 
 
 Foiled at every point, Hamilton walked away 
 muttering savagely: "Curse the Southamptons ; 
 they will die but they will never give up ; and her 
 resentment to me will last to the end; and most 
 persons would think I have not. drawn a matrimon- 
 ial prize, and clearly I have not, in regard to do- 
 mestic felicity, but I won my game. I am no worse 
 than other men, and it was her scorn that roused 
 the devil in me. I do not regret what I have done, 
 nothing can take away from me the satisfaction of 
 coming between her and Smith and ousting Wood 
 too." 
 
 Not till twilight did Gerry return to the house. 
 She was told that the family had gone to some tea- 
 drinking. "But ole Miss she done lef out some 
 supper fer y'u," communicated the girl the one 
 who had been curious about the wings.
 
 196 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 After drinking a tumbler of milk, Gerry went 
 into the parlor and listlessly began a tour of in- 
 spection of the pictures, but she soon desisted as 
 they were all seemingly portraits of the Hainiltons. 
 She made an impatient gesture, and quite by acci- 
 dent her hand fell against the keys of an open piano. 
 She started at the discord. She had loved music, 
 but it seemed so long ago that, and every other 
 pleasure had gone out of her life. 
 
 "I wonder if I could sing," she murmured, run- 
 ning a scale. On the rack was a book of songs, and 
 being an accomplished musician, she began playing 
 the accompaniments and singing, turning over the 
 leaves as they came until was it there, or did she 
 unconsciously change into an old, old song which 
 had been a favorite of her father's Highland 
 Mary? Her voice rose loud and clear, filling the 
 room with sweet, sorrowful strains, almost like the 
 wailing of a seraphim, in celestial sorrow for the 
 human love which weighs like lead on the earthly 
 soul separating it from its God. Louder and clearer 
 rose the wailing melody, "And still within my 
 bosom's core shall live my Highland Mary," when, 
 overcome by a rush of feeling she dropped from 
 the piano-stool to her knees, and burying her face 
 in the cushion, she broke into wild, ungovernable 
 lamentations and sobs, such as might rend soul 
 from body. 
 
 "Good gracious ! Geraldine," cried the elder Mrs.
 
 CNCLE PHIL. 197 
 
 Hamilton, in affrighted tones, "what is the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 At these words Colonel Southampton's daughter 
 raised her face, every feature quivering, and blinded 
 by her tears it took an instant to realize that the 
 Hamiltons en masse were the spectators of her an- 
 guish. With a supreme effort, such as was Alva- 
 rado's leap for life, she collected and energized 
 every resource of an indomitable will liberated 
 if these people had witnessed her debasement they 
 should feel no triumph ! Without precipitancy, she 
 rose, and confronted her enemies, as she viewed 
 them. It was a pitiful sight to see that young girl, 
 standing alone, prepared to take her own part, but 
 with the courage of her race she struck a fierce 
 blow at the author of so much of her sorrow. 
 
 "What is the matter? you ask me; it would be 
 more to the purpose if you asked him," she said, 
 her low, inflexible, imperious tones adding a thou- 
 sandfold to the force of her 'words the mere motion 
 of her hand toward him who before the world 
 passed as her husband, expressed scorn. "But you 
 would not get the truth. You shall hear it from 
 me. That creature took advantage of the circum- 
 stances, in which he must have been aided by 
 fiends, to force me I was driven! to stand by 
 his side before a minister of God while a marriage 
 service was read. But it is the last vestige of self- 
 respect remaining to me that I am not, and never
 
 198 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 have been, his wife. Sooner tban become such I 
 would endure to have my limbs lopped from my 
 body. I I know not how to free myself from 
 him, and I think I should die but for hope of the 
 relief that the coming of my brothers will bring. 
 Till then I am prepared to suffer," and with the 
 step of an empress, not uncrowned, but wearing the 
 imperial diadem, she left the room. 
 
 "O son!" cried the elder lady, "you should not 
 have done this. Marriage is a divine institution, 
 and it is wicked to enter into it" here Edward 
 Hamilton interrupting his mother, quoted : "With- 
 out the love that sanctifies and blesses it." 
 
 Hamilton was a hardened vessel, and outwardly 
 did not flinch; he only laughed disagreeably and 
 said : "I can imagine pleasanter things than hav- 
 ing our domestic infelicities proclaimed on the 
 house-top, as it were. And while in some respects 
 I am tired enough of my bargain, in other respects 
 I am not, There are compensating circumstances 
 accompanying the privilege of calling Colonel 
 Southampton's daughter Mrs. Hamilton and I 
 don't need any of your infernal sympathy."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "A LITTLE CLOUD OUT OF THE SEA LIKE A 
 MAN'S HAND." 
 
 '"Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
 The bitter clamor of two eager tongues." 
 
 The small speck on the political horizon which 
 had been long viewed by many without serious un- 
 easiness suddenly grew into gigantic proportions, 
 overshadowing America with its baneful gloom, 
 and the tempest burst, bringing war war most 
 direful civil war. 
 
 Neighbors, and, sadder still, brothers, conscien- 
 tious, good men, took opposite sides. Some to 
 support the flag under which they were born. Some 
 to aid the particular section of their birth ; among 
 the latter was Hamilton, who armed himself to sup- 
 port the cause of the South. 
 
 Geraldine's only comment was : "It is well. Had 
 you flown to arms in defense of the American flag, 
 under which I have grown up and love more than 
 my life every one of its stars and stripes, I might 
 have looked on you as one of its defenders and so, 
 perhaps, have despised you less. But now there is 
 nothing dear to me which your hand has not been 
 turned against." 
 
 Hamilton looked at her with an odd expression.
 
 200 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 The patient dignity of her bearing alone denoted 
 the bitter wrongs she had suffered, and while he 
 was not able to comprehend the high elevation of 
 her character, yet day by day he was conscious of a 
 desire growing within him to win her love, at least 
 her good will and her unvarying scorn goaded 
 him. 
 
 "It is never well," he replied, "to waste anything, 
 and you really might be more economical of your 
 words I am quite aware of your sentiments to- 
 ward me. But speak your mind you will, if the 
 devil stands at the door." 
 
 "Don't you think," she said with calmness, "that 
 you should always mention that presence with re- 
 spect. In my opinion, he can do you so much 
 harm." 
 
 Uncle Phil, knowing himself to be in a delicate 
 position, consistently sat on the fence, refusing to 
 express an opinion concerning the merits or de- 
 merits "ob dis rumpus de white folkes wus kickin' 
 up." For a change of his views, or rather in de- 
 ciding them, Virginia was responsible. When she 
 "went out" he promptly seceded with his State, as 
 "a gempleman oughter do," and boldly proclaimed 
 himself to be a Southern man, and loyally clung 
 to his politics without wavering through many dis- 
 couragements, though the dark days of corn-bread 
 severely tried his patriotism, destined to finally fall 
 under the absence of coffee.
 
 UNOLE PHIL. ,201 
 
 The previous life of Gerry had been so far re- 
 moved from sectional animosities that she was as 
 one bewildered. The whole South was in an uproar, 
 and preparing. for war with the alacrity that clearly 
 indicated that the masses had no conception of 
 what war really was privations painful march- 
 ings weary watchings and bloody battles. But as 
 if they had eaten of the weed of madness they 
 rushed on without pausing a moment to reflect on 
 the awful nature of the storm they were hurrying 
 to meet. 
 
 Owing to the active part taken by Hamilton 
 Gerry was not only invited but also expected to 
 join the Southern ladies in their soldiers' aid asso- 
 ciations, and social-political reunions. She only 
 shook her head, saying : "You must excuse me," and 
 looking at her sable clothing, added : "I am in deep 
 affliction, but I will help to nurse your wounded 
 soldiers." That time soon came, and Her promise 
 amply redeemed. For the first years of the war the 
 Northern newspapers came through "the lines" 
 quite regularly, and always with painful tidings 
 for Gerry. How sad it was for her to read of the 
 heroic death of Charley Wood while leading a 
 charge against "that terrible horse-shoe" at Ball's 
 Bluff after the fall of the brilliant gentleman and 
 soldier, Colonel E. D. Baker. Quickly fallowing 
 fell many others whom she had known and called 
 friends; with whom she had often danced and
 
 202 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 joined in many merry-makings. Indeed, she read 
 no list of the Federals killed in battle without see- 
 ing names around which clustered many pleasant 
 recollections. Poor Major Charres, mortally wound- 
 ed at Fredericksburg ! How well she remembered 
 a time, not so long ago, when returning from a 
 scouting expedition and bear-hunt combined he had 
 brought her a champagne bottle filled with an 
 oleaginous fluid which he said was "genuine bear's 
 oil, to his certain knowledge, for he had shot the 
 grizzly and tried down some of the fatty substance 
 himself for her special behoof it being good for 
 the hair." 
 
 Nor could she forget his extreme mortification at 
 her prompt and indignant repudiation of the idea 
 of subjecting her abundant tresses to other treat- 
 ment than the septuary washings with soap and 
 water followed by rinsings with the pure element. 
 
 "Your hair always looks so glossy," he said in 
 exculpation, "and I am sure I have heard that ladies 
 used pomatum, which is undoubtedly oil of some 
 sort." 
 
 "Perhaps they do some of them," she answered, 
 and graciously adding : "I will keep the bottle as a 
 relic. I have carefully put away a large and mis- 
 cellaneous assortment of valuables." 
 
 And now dead was that gay young fellow, and 
 his pleasant voice would never be heard again. 
 
 Also there was Captain Sulett, shot through the
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 203 
 
 heart at Seven Oaks ; and now that he was sancti- 
 fied by the sad mystery of death it seemed some- 
 thing akin to sacrilege to recall the uproarious 
 laughs at his expense occasioned by the admixture 
 in about equal proportions of indigenous honesty 
 and ignorance of the Spanish language. He had his 
 quarters in the cuartel, which occupied a town site, 
 in the rear of which was a small lot where the army 
 vehicles were stored. This lot was separated from 
 the premises of a muger del pais by a substantial 
 adobe wall. Over this wall one day flew one of 
 the muger's discontented gallinas, and finding 
 things to her liking she scraped together a few 
 straws and making herself a sort of nest laid into 
 it an egg. The marketable value of eggs being one 
 dollar and a half per dozen rendered eggnog a bev- 
 erage not enjoyed every day, and, as a rule, officers 
 like eggnog; therefore, Captain Sulett not only 
 added to the comfort of the nest, but also appealed 
 to the hen's appetite by scatteringlavish handfuls of 
 government corn to induce her to return. She ac- 
 cepted the bribe, and a series of diurnal visits and 
 diurnal eggs ensued until the delighted officer saw 
 his way to the desired beverage. An evening was 
 designated and his intimates invited to assist at 
 the revel. These intimes were on hand punctual to 
 a minute, but were regaled only with good hot 
 whisky punch. Of course they should have drunk 
 what was set before them asking no questions, but
 
 204 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 they clamorously demanded the promised eggnog, 
 and Captain Sulett was forced to an explanation. 
 He extenuated nothing concerning the possession 
 of a round dozen eggs, clearly his by the nine points 
 of law but he had lost them. 
 
 "How did you lose them?" was categorically de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Well," answered the centurian, seeing all re- 
 treat cut off. "I hate to call women bad names, but 
 that infernal Mexicaness who resides over the other 
 side of our adobe wall made me a visit this morning 
 in my modest bachelor quarters. I was surprised 
 and not w r holly pleased, but I hope to always have 
 the manners of a gentleman, so I hastily removed 
 my coat and vest from one of the chairs my boots 
 and some other things were on the other and po- 
 litely suggested that she be seated. I sat on the 
 side of the bed and feeling sure that she must ob- 
 serve her visit to be ill-timed I was prepared for 
 an early withdrawal. But she was not diffident, 
 and voluble. I did not understand her language, 
 yet I clearly saw that she was making some demand 
 which must be satisfied and so to get rid of her 
 I delivered up the oval treasures. But if this was 
 bad, worse was to follow," he added in a heated 
 manner. "She departed only to return with an in- 
 terpreter to thank me for the gift of the eggs and 
 to request the loan of a cart for a day, which was
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 205 
 
 the favor she had coine to ask of el senor Capitan. 
 Just imagine my feelings!" 
 
 In their moments of conviviality gentlemen are 
 prone to an excess of merriment hardly warranted 
 by delicacy of sentiment or expression, and Captain 
 Sulett's efforts to sustain with good humor the 
 united raillery directed against him did him infinite 
 credit. 
 
 "I am awe-struck at the sublimity of the idea," 
 said a gaunt veteran with a huge saber- wound scar 
 from brow to chin a Mexican souvenir "that we 
 have within our corps a comrade whom we can con- 
 fidently propose as a worthy Sunday school 
 teacher." 
 
 "He is capable of still better things," supple- 
 mented a manly major. "He ought to contract a 
 matrimonial alliance. And who knows but that he 
 might have children of his own, and the world glad- 
 dened again with a second Washington." 
 
 "Comrades mine," said a young officer, not a year 
 from West Point, "we are the victims, disappointed 
 of our dearest expectations, yet let us congratulate 
 ourselves that such transcendental integrity has 
 been found in the army. He should be put into a 
 glass case and ticketed." 
 
 "Oh ! you can laugh as much as you please," in- 
 terposed Captain Sulett, "but the honor of the 
 lady's visit was unexpected I was taken by sur-
 
 206 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 prise my toilet was inchoate and I did not know 
 what to do." 
 
 "Do?" cried the young officer with a gay laugh. 
 "Why why, you must be very peculiarly consti- 
 tuted not to be able to stand such a siege with 
 equanimity if the lady could." 
 
 "Just listen to his talk !" said the gaunt veteran. 
 "It's splendid audacity is owing to his salad days. 
 Darling," he continued, looking at the young offi- 
 cer with admiration commingled with compassion, 
 "unless you be exempt from the common fortunes of 
 men you will soon learn the tremendous advantages 
 possessed by a w r oman. If, accidentally, she gets in 
 your way you can't knock her out of it, and even 
 when she by deliberate intention deploys into line 
 and offers fight in open field, you can only surren- 
 der at, or rather with, discretion or, better still, 
 take to your heels. The latter alternative has al- 
 ways been my practice, and I am a bachelor yet, 
 thank God! But I have tender recollections, as 
 doubtless you all have. Therefore, comrades, let 
 us drink in silence to a memory, light our Habanos, 
 and depart peacefully on our several ways. Not 
 omitting to thank our host for his gracipus enter- 
 tainment, and to hope for him better luck next 
 time." 
 
 Alas ! that so much good comradeship, and its in- 
 nocent mirth, and its playful badinage, was so soon 
 to terminate forever. And, alas ! that what is called
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 207 
 
 life with all its glorious possibilities, and its bound- 
 less aims and hopes should end on the bloody field 
 of battle, and these revelers with white rigid faces 
 upturned to the pitying stars of Heaven go forth 
 to investigate the Great Perhaps. 
 
 "Man proposes and God disposes." We cau 
 scarce make a step in our appointed walk without 
 seeing some corroboration of that grand truth. 
 Look back and recall Geraldine Southampton, her 
 careless defiant ways, her frank off-hand manner, 
 her transient fits of haughtiness, each and all had 
 a several attraction, and no mere statuesque beauty 
 was ever so fair, gay and winsome. And all in a 
 moment, as it were, when her cup of happiness was 
 brimming, bubbling over, the beautiful dream came 
 to its end; and her life was emptied of its full- 
 ness at its fullest, just when she began to compre- 
 hend the magical melody that was heard first in 
 the Garden of Eden, and to understand how rich 
 and rapturous existence might be. Suddenly, with 
 scarce a note of warning, a change came, the roseate 
 sky turned black and Gerry found herself to be in 
 the grasp of some cruel, inexorable evil and trans- 
 ported to the City of Suffering for the crucial test. 
 
 In these days of equalization when the terrible 
 vox populi roars its fiat that all men are and ought 
 to be free and equal it is hazardous to repeat the 
 aphorism though it is as old as the hills that 
 "blood will tell ;" yet when brought face to face with
 
 208 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 eminent danger or certain destruction place con- 
 fidence in it. Agag, King of the Amelikites, "went 
 delicately" to the horrible doom of being "hewed 
 to pieces before the Lord." and the pitiless Saul 
 who, when wounded by the archers and the battle 
 going sorely against him, took a sword and fell upon 
 it that he might die like a king. And the "painted 
 and curled darlings" of the French King's house- 
 hold, after their army had been cut to pieces and 
 all seemed lost, springing from their silken couches, 
 fought like demons, turning disastrous defeat into 
 glorious victory. 
 
 With almost feelings of relief, as if despair was 
 making for itself an outlet, Gerry devoted herself 
 to hospital work. The harder it was the better she 
 liked it. She never held back from aiding to dress 
 bloody wounds, and was always ready to bathe 
 fevered, soiled and unshorn faces, or with patient 
 effort endeavor to soothe men wild with pain. But 
 it saddened her inexpressibly to watch for and to 
 await the end when the soul took its flight some- 
 times in awful agony from its mutilated tenement. 
 
 Perhaps in that day of reckoning before the Great 
 White Throne, and all the nations of the earth shall 
 be assembled, and each separate individual asked 
 the question by the Supreme Father, "What have 
 you done to inherit eternal life?" the best answer, 
 I fancy, will be: "I had pity on your suffering chil- 
 dren." If such be the case, Geraldine Southampton
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 209 
 
 will be entitled to a fair rebate for all of her 
 thoughtless folly before the evil days like an armed 
 man came upon her. About this child born of af- 
 fluence there was an attraction, a power of attach- 
 ment, not often possessed in so eminent a degree. 
 Her mere presence in the pain-stricken wards had 
 its charm. At her coming tired eyes would bright- 
 en, and pain would lose half its energy to torment. 
 
 Even her constant companion, old Uncle Phil, 
 was not unwelcome. And his oft-repeated recitals 
 of the glories "ob de Southamptons when dey wus 
 in Wirginny, an' dar wusent much ter complain ob 
 when dey wus in Kaliforny," were listened to with 
 pleasure. 
 
 One day passed very like another day; and the 
 active sympathy going hand in hand with Gerry's 
 ministrations fatigued her daily to almost mental 
 and physical exhaustion, and the "mouthful of fresh 
 air," when her day's work was done was always 
 looked forward to as the restorative. 
 
 Hospital nurses soon learn to distinguish the 
 sounds of war, whether it is skirmishing bridle in 
 hand either to advance or retreat, or whether it 
 be skillful generals charging with the several divi- 
 sions of their troops in regular succession. If the 
 latter, they know that the wounded will soon be 
 coming in greater numbers than their eager, will- 
 ing hands can care for. But they nerve themselves 
 for their best efforts and oh ! the torture to wit-
 
 210 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 ness those cruel wounds made in human flesh by 
 the ruthless canister. The cry can hardly be kept 
 back, "Oh where is God?" 
 
 Gerry had passed such a day, and, wearied almost 
 to the extinction of life, she was slowly making her 
 final round to wish each one "good-night," She 
 knew how much this was to these suffering men. 
 A low, strangling moan caught her ear. She paused 
 to listen she had heard such a moan before. Some 
 one was speaking, the words were labored and sol- 
 emn. Solemn because spoken in the near proximity 
 of Death. "I am dying will some one sing 
 a hymn?" Gerry waited a moment, to see if 
 one of his comrades would comply with this last re- 
 quest. No one volunteered. Again came the trem- 
 ulous words, "Will some one sing a hymn?" 
 She drew a deep breath to collect her strength, and 
 quickly passed to the dying's man cot, and tenderly 
 laying her hand on the heaving breast she began 
 to sing that noble anthem "Rock of Ages." Clear 
 as the notes of a flute like the triumphant strains 
 sung in Heaven her voice in all its passionate, 
 glorious fullness rang out with jubilant, vibrating 
 melody that thrilled heart and brain. As the last 
 strain ceased a slight shudder stirred the soldier's 
 body the suffering lips w r reathed into a smile 
 the man had ceased to suffer. 
 
 Reverently she laid the dead hands across the 
 still heart. Then by some sudden, some holy im-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 pulse, she pressed her lips on the brow which when 
 last kissed by a woman received the good-bye kiss 
 of his mother. 
 
 And as Gerry glided her way out of the rude hos- 
 pital she almost seemed to the war-worn inmates 
 like a transient visitor lent from a brighter world. 
 To them her singing was such as had never before 
 been heard by mortal ears. Memories and hopes 
 long dead lived again, and once again surrounded 
 them in bodily presence. Their drooping spirits 
 were comforted, and their saddened souls lured to a 
 higher pitch of faith in God than they could ever 
 have unassisted attained. 
 
 Geraldine, Colonel Southampton's daughter, it is 
 well for you to have lived to this hour. It is well 
 to have suffered all your heart's anguish for this 
 privilege, even for a moment of speaking as in the 
 similitude of a messenger direct from Heaven to 
 tell that when earthly consolations fail there is a 
 sure refuge above, and that the Eternal Father will 
 never deny His children, and that His mercy is 
 without limit, and that the thorny road is often the 
 road to Heaven. 
 
 Although about this girl-woman, as the world 
 goes, there were higher sorts of loyalty and good 
 faith than the commoner kind of mortals can dream 
 of, she had not yet taught her own wounded spirit 
 to forget the frightful reefs over which it had bat- 
 tled, and to look above for a joy which no uncer-
 
 212 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 tainty could destroy, and no falsehood take away. 
 
 The war had been going on for three years, and 
 with following the army in its marchings and coun- 
 ter-marchings, its advances and retreats, Gerry felt 
 to be an old soldier. Though she loved not their 
 cause, she loved the Southern soldiers; she saw so 
 much to admire in their noble bearing, their patient 
 fortitude under incredible hardships. 
 
 She was sitting in her tent one day laboring as- 
 siduously with her unskillful fingers to manufac- 
 ture a shirt out of her flannel dressing-gown, for 
 a soldier whose hollow cough had attracted her no- 
 tice. Now that woolen garments were phantoms of 
 the past, or only pleasing memories, the utility of 
 such a gift may well be imagined. Uncle Phil 
 rushed *in wild with excitement, too much so to 
 observe the strict decorum of speech which, for 
 those with the army in any capacity, is highly to 
 be commended. 
 
 " 'Pore Gawd ! Miss Gerry, honey, we is whoopped. 
 We jes as well gin in at onct. Provi-dence ain't 
 neber gwien ter prosper no sich goin's on. I jes 
 hearn tell, fer er fae', dat Gineral Bragg has jes 
 gone an' had one ob dem solger-mans ob ourn an' 
 de good Lordy in Heaben knows dat we ain't got 
 none too many ob dem shot dead! jes fer liftin' 
 er chicken." He took out his old pocket-handker- 
 chief to wipe away his tears, and he whimpered. 
 "An' it ain't been so long ergo dat I hearn Gineral
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 213 
 
 Bragg myself talkin' scandlous ter a white man, jes 
 kase his pockets wus bulgin' out wid taters er ap- 
 ples I 'spose, he 'lowed dat it neber would be dis- 
 kivered. I felt so sorry fer dat white man dat I 
 would er said somethin' ter de gineral but I 
 thought mebby I had better not. In korse I ain't 
 blamin' y'u fer none ob it, honey I am jes noratin' 
 de truths; but I jes do wush from de bottom ob 
 my heart dat I had neber j'ined dis army, an' ef I 
 know anything ertall 'bout my own feelin's, I don't 
 want anything mo' ter do wid it. I don't know when 
 I eber las' did hab anything fltten ter eat. Korn- 
 braid fa'rly scratches my troat an' no coffee, 
 neber ! an' I neber wus no hand ter eat milk. An' 
 me, borned in Wirginny, wearin' de korses kine ob 
 cotton close 'lowell,' dey call it. An' fer shoes! 
 my Lord, look at dat," he said in tones of deep dis- 
 gust, putting out a foot with a very ill-made shoe 
 upon it. His statements were not eloquent, but 
 they were without ambiguity. 
 
 "I wouldn't worry if I were you, Uncle Phil," said 
 Gerry soothingly. "I hear we are going to start 
 for Mississippi soon; perhaps it won't be so 
 hard there. Don't you want to see the magnolias?" 
 
 "I don't know as I dooz," replied Uncle Phil, not 
 encouraged, "I don't 'zactly hanker arter wanderin' 
 permiscus round dis kentry I've seed ernough ob 
 it. I had er heap ruther see er sizeable plate piled 
 up wid good hot sody biskits, an' er dish ob bilin'
 
 214 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 hot coffee but 'tain't likely dat I will eber be 
 spared ter see ary one ergin." 
 
 Sure enough they soon did start for the great 
 river, but the roads were wretched beyond descrip- 
 tion, and the teams, worn nearly to exhaustion, 
 making the distance traveled seem very great. 
 
 "Look there, Uncle Phil!" cried Gerry, strenu- 
 ously exerting herself, at the first view of the noble 
 river, to speak with enthusiasm. "There is plenty 
 of water." 
 
 "Fraish water," sniffed Uncle Phil contemptu- 
 ously. But big waters did have an attraction for 
 him, and he soon wandered to the leveed shore, 
 which he examined curiously, muttering, "What's 
 dis fer?" Then he sighted Louisiana on the oppo- 
 site bank, with no pleasure, and he expressed him- 
 self disconsolately, "Mo' Ian' yit." 
 
 They found the pleasant village of Port Gibson 
 a peaceful resting place. A large number of Con- 
 federate troops were in encampment near there and 
 the one long street of the village was constantly en- 
 livened by the passing and repassing of gray-clad 
 soldiers. 
 
 Citizen-soldiers carry with them to the camp 
 their home ideas and between battles they consist- 
 ently put war's alarms out of sight and enjoy with 
 infinite zest every social pleasure within their 
 reach. And these fighters, the best the world ever 
 saw, plunged at once into a round of gayeties, prom-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 215 
 
 enades, rides, drives, parties, tableaux, and even 
 musicales. Nor was this all ; many a young fellow 
 thought it no dishonor to lay down his arms at some 
 fair maiden's feet. And he who wooes carrying his 
 life in his hand, as it were, has a tremendous ad- 
 vantage. There is no time for coyness no time 
 for the usual follies when a lover is made to fetch 
 and carry like the best of retrievers. Ah ! no, the 
 uncertainty is too great that the promised hand 
 will never be claimed. And the time too imminent 
 when the love-light now in the young hero's eyes 
 will be changed to the deadly hate engendered in 
 battle, and perhaps the last beat of his heart will be 
 throbbing with fierce rage for his foeman, and not 
 with love for the young heart that will ache none 
 the less because it can tell its sorrows only to 
 Heaven.
 
 216 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE BISHOP OF MOBILE. 
 
 "When other helpers fail, and other comforts flee, 
 Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me." 
 
 "Miss Gerry, chile, dey do tell me, fer er fac', dat 
 dose Roman Katholic folkses livin' down roun' here 
 hab done gone an' built 'em er cherch,an' dar's whar 
 I'm gwien ter dis blessed Sunday ter sorter 'mem- 
 ber me ob Kaliforny. Y'u knows y'use'f, Miss Gerry, 
 honey, dat we went ter dat cherch mor'n ha'f de 
 time. We neber had no 'Piscopalian cherch ter go 
 ter straight on reg'lar. Dat cherch wus Marse Rob- 
 ert's cherch, an', in kose ourn. But I ain't bin ter 
 no Roman Katholic cherch sense we done lef Kali- 
 forny, an' dar's whar I am gwien ter dis blessed 
 day, ef de Lord spar's me." 
 
 Gerry put on her hat. She, too, would go, though 
 she almost felt herself to be forgotten of God. But 
 the familiar ceremonials would at least be a re- 
 minder of the old happy days which now seemed so 
 long ago. 
 
 The prosperous happy go to church to return 
 thanks for benefits received to acknowledge favors 
 bestowed, and to entreat for their continuance. And 
 to bless God that they are not as others. Not so go
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 217 
 
 the ailing of mind or body. To these the temple of 
 God is a temple of refuge. He is no respecter of 
 persons, and here is the only place under Heaven 
 where all are equal, and must stand or fall as they 
 have wrought. The rich are stripped of their goods 
 the learned of their sophistries the powerful 
 separated from their high places; and the soul 
 naked as it came into the world exposed to the 
 piercing eye of Omnipotence, and if disfigured by 
 sin here is the equal remedy in the water that issued 
 from the sacred side. And many a weary, stricken 
 spirit driven here in anguish to grovel for mercy, 
 has been strengthened and comforted by the soft 
 melody whispered from divine lips : "Go in peace." 
 
 Gerry found little to remind her in that spick and 
 span new wooden edifice of the large ancient adobe 
 iglesia she remembered so well. Conspicuously ab- 
 sent were the two huge allegorical paintings, one 
 on each side of the front entrance. The painting 
 on the right hand was intended to represent the im- 
 mortal abode of the blessed with its glorified inhabi- 
 tants, presumably wandering to and fro, carrying 
 harps, their countenances indicative of celestial 
 bliss. Also there were a great number of corpulent 
 small angels swimming around in midair. 
 
 The converse represented on the left hand was a 
 picture of the lost souls condemned to expiate 
 their misdeeds in the endless torments of the lake 
 that burns with fire and brimstone, into which they
 
 218 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 had been precipitated without hope of escape, for, 
 standing on the shores, in sufficient numbers, were 
 devils armed with pitchforks to forbid a landing. 
 
 And no less in sharp contrast was the choir com- 
 posed of a few well-trained voices and a melodeon 
 to the harps and guitars and the sweet but untu- 
 tored singing of the Indians. 
 
 And of a type diametrically opposed to Padre 
 Kamiras, who, in bodily presence was a stalwart 
 warrior of the Church Militant, was the Bishop of 
 Mobile, who was here to-day to consecrate the new- 
 built church. His spare form was thin to emacia- 
 tion, and his complexion was of that peculiarly pure 
 tint acquired only by a long course of rigidly ab- 
 stemious living; and from his clear, brilliant eyes 
 the lurid light of human passions seemed to be for- 
 ever banished. All this was rather felt than per- 
 ceived by the eye of Gerry, whose mind was so much 
 occupied with painful emotions that she scarce 
 heard the familiar Latin offertory until in elevated 
 tones Father O'Bannon uttered the solemn Church 
 warning : Sursum corda. At the response, Haber- 
 nus ad Dominuin, she visibly shuddered. A per- 
 tinacious inward voice was saying, "Ah ! how can 
 I ever lift up my heart to God, filled as it with an 
 ungoverned human love, and must it forever stand 
 between me and all hopes of earth, shutting out 
 even hopes of Heaven?" A sadness almost to death 
 came over her a general sense of misery, pain and
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 219 
 
 terror. Alas ! who is strong enough to wrestle for 
 weary months with heart-breaking despair without 
 coming dangerously near the border-land of insan- 
 ity? And human beings never struggle so hard as 
 when they struggle alone, without witness, coun- 
 selor, or comfort, unencouraged, unadvised, and un- 
 pitied. Then comes that wild cry for help help ! 
 no matter how, but help ! 
 
 In the olden times Jehovah's voice was heard out 
 of flaming fire in the midst of thunder and light- 
 ning, and delivering the inflexible mandate, "If ye 
 sin ye die." But religion achieved a grand tri- 
 umph in the coming of our Savior, who walked 
 among men, and was touched by their infirmities, 
 and when bleeding on the cross opened his arms for 
 all the afflicted of earth. This was the theme of the 
 Bishop's sermon, and his gentle tones fell upon 
 Gerry's ear soothingly. Involuntarily she raised 
 her eyes, and the thought passing through her mind 
 that he looked to be good and true she was con- 
 scious of a great desire to speak with him. Not, 
 she felt, that he could say, or that any one could say 
 aught to quiet the tumult always raging in her 
 heart, yet it would be of some comfort to hear him 
 speaking to her in his kindly tones. 
 
 So strong was this desire that when the Bishop 
 was leaving the church he was stopped by Gerry 
 with the request : 
 
 "Could you give me a few minutes, father? I
 
 220 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 am not a Catholic but I ain in trouble and I 
 think that I would like to speak to you." 
 
 With grave kindness he led the way to the vestry- 
 room, and placing a chair for her, took one him- 
 self and said : 
 
 "Now,, my child, tell me all you wish. Are you 
 not Mrs. Hamilton? I have heard much of your 
 charities in the hospitals you are much to be 
 praised." 
 
 "I am to be praised for nothing !" she burst out 
 impetuously. "But I am no hypocrite, and I say to 
 you that my temperament revolts against the sight 
 of suffering in any form, and I am driven to my 
 work in the hospitals by my own restless misery." 
 The eyes she turned toward him were almost fierce 
 as she continued : "You see before you one in the 
 toils! One doomed by the wrath of Heaven! It 
 was not even given to me to die free I was driven 
 into an ignominious bondage!" She drew a long 
 sobbing breath ; then came a violent reaction ; and 
 how bitterly she regretted her display of weakness. 
 Remember she was the descendant of a long line of 
 sword-wearing ancestors, who, winning or losing, 
 could always smile pleasantly ; and who woufd have 
 expired under the knife without a groan. And she, 
 in an unguarded moment, had yielded to an unre- 
 pressed longing for sympathy. No words can de- 
 scribe the intensity of remorse and self-debasement 
 which swept over her with the feeling that she had
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 221 
 
 forgotten the traditions of her father's house for- 
 gotten that she was her father's daughter, and 
 "whined like a sick cat." 
 
 The Bishop's looks were of wondrous pity. He 
 had witnessed so much of human sorrow in all its 
 forms, and so much of human pride in all its exhi- 
 bitions, and it was easy for him to see that she was 
 bearing the burden of a sin not her own ; and that 
 all the elements of prejudice, pride, and inexperi- 
 ence were massed in force barring her way to a 
 lighter path. He sighed, thinking of the pity of it 
 that her youth should be so overshadowed. There 
 were all the materials for the making of a perfect 
 woman if her heart and brain could be brought into 
 harmonious action, and his voice was very tender 
 as he said: 
 
 "Will you not tell me the nature of your trouble?" 
 
 The face she raised to his was deeply flushed, and 
 wearing the impress of a proud humility, as she 
 answered : 
 
 "I must beg your pardon for this intrusion. But 
 you appeared to me to be so wise and good that I 
 was tempted, beyond my power of resistance to 
 seek from you a word of good cheer. And I feel 
 sure that you will accept my present humiliation as 
 my best apology. I now see what I should have seen 
 earlier, that what is laid on me to bear I must bear. 
 I have only done what seemed to me to be the bitter, 
 hard right, and I shall continue to do so in my
 
 222 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 own way moral responsibilities cannot be shifted. 
 But I suffer ! I suffer ! Can you doubt it?" There 
 was a fearless look in her eyes though her face had 
 grown white with pain. "I will now go." 
 
 "You must pardon me," said the Bishop, "if I 
 refuse to let you go. And if for your own sake I beg 
 your confidence. I am an old man with much ex- 
 perience, and if I do not see a way a lighter way 
 a way easier for you to tread, I can at least pray 
 to God for you. Confide in me, dear child." There 
 was so much persuasion in his tones that Gerry 
 was induced almost against volition to relate her 
 miserable story. 
 
 The Bishop listened attentively, and at its con- 
 clusion said : 
 
 "In one way, my child, you have acted nobly 
 the most exalted of human motives is self-sacrifice; 
 but indeed you were mistaken. By what right did 
 you consent to that marriage ceremony with him 
 who now passes for your husband, feeling yourself 
 bound by every tie of honor and affection to the 
 absent Smith?" 
 
 "I was also bound," she answered quickly, "by the 
 promise given to my dead father to care for his poor 
 invalid wife in preference to myself, and a prom- 
 ise made to the dead cannot be canceled. And I did 
 no wrong to the man Hamilton I told him the 
 truth! The wrong was all to me! He and she 
 would have it so."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 223 
 
 "Still," urged the Bishop, "as the past cannot be 
 undone for your own comfort, not to say happiness, 
 would it not be better to live on terms of amity, at 
 least, with Colonel Hamilton? I hear he is a brave, 
 efficient officer." 
 
 "No ! a thousand times no !" burst out Gerry. "If 
 I am good for nothing else I am good to tell the 
 truth and I have promised him my undying enmity. 
 For his own ends he has spoiled my life, and he 
 must drink as he has brewed ! Nature has certain 
 immutable laws, some chemicals will not unite with 
 other chemicals it would be as easy to unite fire 
 and water. And you cannot know ypu are too 
 high above such a weakness! how my ill-governed 
 heart each day weeps tears of blood over the ashes 
 of my lost love. And if I ever pray it is for deliver- 
 ance from my cruel bondage. Oh ! before my trou- 
 bles came it was such a free, glorious life I was 
 then so happy." She paused, breathing like one in 
 extremity, gasping for breath. "And must I tell 
 you that if this dominating love could be removed 
 from my heart by some triumph of surgical skill I 
 would not wish it? And how indescribably hard it 
 is to bear my appalling sensations of absolute lone- 
 liness, sometimes terror, as if everything had gone 
 away from me, and that I was left powerless to 
 contend against an inexorable, malign influence." 
 
 The aged Bishop sighed again; he was touched 
 by her passionate sorrow though all mundane
 
 224: UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 things seemed to him trivial, but he was aware that 
 she could not see things as he saw them. And who 
 does not know that the cruel paths of earthly love 
 may lead the feet that treads them to the ivory gates 
 of Heaven, and that nothing can happen not per- 
 mitted by God? Still her grief troubled him. 
 
 "Reflect, dear child," he persisted gently, "that in 
 the natural order of events the direst misery of this 
 life is only transitory, and the sanctified end must 
 be wrought by sanctified means. And is there no 
 happiness for you in the thought that you were im- 
 peratively called by our Heavenly Father to be one 
 of his ministering angels? And you may be very 
 sure that when that Great Day shall come when we 
 must all plead for mercy it is not then that a life 
 of pure happiness, were pure happiness an earthly 
 possibility, would count for much. Would it not 
 count infinitely more to be able to say, I have been 
 faithful to the work put to my hands? 
 
 "Suffering, dear child, is coeval with Adam. And 
 though we cannot fathom why, yet it must be sub- 
 serving of useful and intelligent ends. And, after 
 all, when we have climbed the Mountain of Expi- 
 ation what does it matter how often our foreheads 
 have been touched by the scourge of the Purifying 
 Angel, and often in mercy. Therefore, my dear 
 child, I earnestly counsel you to be patient. And I 
 implore you do not try to bear your troubles alone 
 a task too hard for any one ; but come to the foot
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 225 
 
 of the cross, there you will be sustained and com- 
 forted I know not how, or in what way, but by the 
 authority of the Sacred Word I can promise you 
 effectual help." 
 
 The Bishop had raised his head his face glowed, 
 and the pure light gleaming in his eyes seemed scin- 
 tillations from the pure world he was now so near. 
 
 Gerry was deeply moved, and her answer touch- 
 ing in its humility. 
 
 "I thank you, father, for your kindness, and if I 
 could I would profit by your admonitions, but my 
 nature is so faulty that I cannot recognize God's 
 hand in man's cruelty. And if there is no future 
 beyond the stars for passionate earthly love, then 
 indeed, it were better that some of us had never 
 been born."
 
 226 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE OLD LOVER EN SCENE. 
 
 i 
 
 "There be good fellows in the world, 
 
 An' a man could light on them." 
 
 Almost without warning pealed the alarm for the 
 renewal of hostilities the Federal gunboats had 
 passed the batteries at Vicksburg, heretofore styled 
 the Gibraltar of the West. There were no more 
 outings now, every man must be at his post. 
 
 The Federal fleet opened its fire upon the works 
 of Grand Gulf, Colonel Wade replying with his 
 mortars until killed at his guns. This popular offi- 
 cer was brought to the Port Gibson cemetery for 
 interment. It was a sad sight to see following the 
 hearse the led horse with the empty saddle and the 
 boots the dead officer would need nevermore. 
 
 On the next day began the land fighting for the 
 possession of Vicksburg ( "We have come to knock 
 at the back door," facetiously remarked Colonel 
 Johnston, of Major-General Grant's staff) ; and all 
 that long May day was passed by Gerry in the hos- 
 pital where the wounded men were brought from 
 the field of battle, wounded in every imaginable 
 fashion, from the little round hole not so bad to 
 look at which soldiers know so well. No surgeon's
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 sentence is needed to tell them that the man will 
 never march again in this world. And how sicken- 
 ing are those ugly hurts, rent and jagged by the 
 canister. 
 
 About sundown an ambulance was sent by Ham- 
 ilton for Gerry's removal. At the suspension bridge 
 spanning the Bayou Pierre her progress was almost 
 barred by the crowd of non-combatants hurrying 
 across, volubly announcing their patriotism and 
 their intention to stay in the Confederacy so long 
 as there was an inch of it left. 
 
 The officer, whose duty it was to burn the bridge 
 to retard the enemy, was loudly berating them, ac- 
 cusing the men of cowardice for not being in arms. 
 "And so long as you don't fight," he cried hotly, "it 
 makes no difference where you are, whether in the 
 Confederacy or in hell!" Seeing Gerry, whom he 
 knew by sight, his angry manner changed to polite 
 consideration. "Here, madam, this way, pass 
 right over." Then he ordered a squ^d of soldiers he 
 had with him to form into line and "Keep these peo- 
 ple back with your bayonets." A barrel of turpen- 
 tine had been placed on the bridge and, dipping 
 into it with a pitcher, the woodwork was soon 
 drenched with the inflammable fluid, and Gerry was 
 scarcely over when a match was applied and a 
 bright light briefly illuminated the gathering twi- 
 light. 
 
 Qn the third day afterward, Gerry in her some-
 
 228 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 what roundabout journey came across the Sixth 
 Kegiment of Missouri Infantry when they were tak- 
 ing their ten minutes' halt. This regiment had 
 been taken out of the trenches at Grand Gulf, and 
 double-quicked eight miles and precipitated into 
 the battle before Port Gibson, and were now the 
 rear-guard of the Confederate army in full retreat. 
 With little rest and little food this fatiguing duty 
 taxed to the utmost their courage and physical en- 
 durance. At the welcome halt of ten minutes every 
 two hours down they would drop, right where they 
 stood, not to lose an instant of the much needed 
 rest. A mounted courier had just come up and was 
 reading aloud an army despatch which claimed a 
 brilliant victory for the Southern forces in Virginia. 
 The reading was listened to in silence these old 
 soldiers had grown distrustful of the brilliant vic- 
 tories claimed at opportune times until the men- 
 tion was made that Stonewall Jackson had lost an 
 arm. "I wish to Heaven," said one of the weary 
 soldiers, slowly raising his head, "that they would 
 send that arm here to take command of us." It sel- 
 dom falls to the lot of an officer to be as universally 
 disbelieved in as was Pemberton. In the awful 
 siege of Vicksburg, so soon to follow, this gallant 
 regiment lost its gallant Colonel, Eugene Erwin, 
 and so many of its members that its organization 
 was lost and never restored. 
 
 Owing to the great number of crossroads Gerry
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 229 
 
 frequently found herself entangled with portions of 
 the retreating army. Her ambulance had been 
 given to the use of the disabled soldiers and nothing 
 better could be found for her to ride than an anti- 
 quated mustang pony, and Uncle Phil grumbled 
 audibly at the discomfort and disgrace of being 
 mounted on a mule. "Not fitten for no gempleman's 
 sarvant to ride." This was true but the poor mule 
 also had its side of the question; its numerous 
 years, conjoined with an intimate acquaintance 
 with the seamy side of life, would seem to render its 
 own hardship which it bore so patiently greater 
 than the hardship imposed on Uncle Phil. 
 
 These chance meetings were not unpleasant to 
 Gerry. She always had a friendly word to give in 
 lack of more substantial benefits, and for the sol- 
 diers was reserved that charming smile which so 
 seldom relieved her features from their habitual 
 gloom. 
 
 One day it was a cavalry regiment she got in the 
 thick of, and she listened with sympathetic inter- 
 est to the statements of their affairs. "Here we are, 
 and have been in the saddle for twenty-four hours, 
 and it is hard to say which are the worse off, we or 
 our horses. What sort of a fight could we make 
 now, empty as gourds? I don't believe I have 
 strength enough left to pull my saber out of the 
 scabbard." But he had, for at that moment, as if
 
 230 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 by magic, the surrounding country became blue, 
 and swords began their furious work. 
 
 Taken by surprise, Gerry was bewildered, but in- 
 stinctively she drew rein, and sat still. In a mo- 
 ment a voice she would recognize anywhere, and 
 the voice she had not heard for so long, rang out in 
 clear imperious tones, "Company F, form round the 
 lady and her attendant." 
 
 Safe within this living rampart Gerry was con- 
 fined until the skirmish was over. Its duration 
 was short, the hilly surface of the grounds and the 
 thick brushwood favored the escape of the tired 
 men on the tired horses. Then again Gerry heard 
 that voice, which always had the power to stir her 
 being to its deepest depths, giving the order, "Com- 
 pany F will file off quietly two abreast and rejoin 
 its regiment." 
 
 Only a few moments were consumed in the ex- 
 ecution of this order; then Gerry knew that Paul 
 Smith stood beside her; one glance revealing how 
 set and stern his features were her heart grew cold 
 and she dropped from the saddle as one dead. 
 Smith caught her in his arms, his features quivering 
 strangely, and like a miser who had recovered long- 
 lost gold he pressed her to his heart, murmuring 
 passionate words of endearment hungrily he gazed 
 on the sweet pale lips he might not kiss, it would 
 bring her dishonor, she was another man's wife. 
 
 The faint was a long one, yet how brief to him
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 231 
 
 seemed the moments he was thus privileged to hold 
 her. Her consciousness returned, yet for an in- 
 stant she lay quite still in his arms, her eyes closed. 
 "Oh, let me die now," she prayed silently a tear 
 escaped from the closed eyelids and trickled down 
 her cheek. 
 
 "This is more than mortal man can endure," said 
 Smith, laying her down quickly on the soft grass. 
 This action brought a faint glow to her cheeks. "He 
 despises me," she thought, her wounded womanhood 
 receiving a sharp blow. She attempted to rise but 
 the effort was ineffectual. 
 
 "Kemain quiet ; you will be stronger presently," 
 said Smith, but he did not offer her any assistance. 
 
 For shame's sake Gerry repressed her tears, and 
 by a strong effort she sat up and declared herself 
 recovered. 
 
 Where was Uncle Phil all this time? Screaming 
 with terror when he saw Gerry faint he had scram- 
 bled down from his mule with such haste as he 
 could make, being impeded by rheumatic difficul- 
 ties, but witnessing the part taken by Smith, deli- 
 cacy of feeling kept him slightly in the background 
 an anxious looker-on ; but he could now restrain him- 
 self no longer, and making a rush fell on his knees at 
 Gerry's feet, grasping her dress and sobbing like a 
 child, exclaiming in broken tones : 
 
 "Blessed be de good Marster in Heabin, my po', 
 precious, sweet babby, dat y'u is alive! an' iteer
 
 232 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 mussy dat any body iser live wid all dem weepins 
 cuttin' an' slashin' all er-roun' eber' whar." 
 
 Smith's friendly glance rested on the old man 
 while shaking hands with him. "Step aside, please, 
 Uncle Phil, I wish to say a few words to your young 
 lady. She is quite herself now." 
 
 Obediently Uncle Phil withdrew and getting out 
 of sight behind a tree, concluded to improve the 
 time by devoting it to prayer. What matters words 
 to the Pure Intelligence? No matter what they are 
 or if none at all, if the heart is only right its peti- 
 tions will never be denied, and be sure Uncle Phil 
 prayed right from his heart. "Oh, blessed Marster 
 in Heabin ! hear ole Uncle Phil dis time, y'u knows 
 y'use'f dat he don't pester y'u often, but please, good 
 Lordy ! take it all outen on dis ole no-count nigger, 
 but spar' dat chile. She is one ob de Southamptons, 
 an' 'tain't fa'r fer her terbe 'flicted." 
 
 Left alone with Smith, Gerry's whole body quiv- 
 ered like an aspen leaf. What had he to say to her? 
 What could she say to him? She had no strength of 
 her own, but as an inspiration it came to her, that 
 she must look to God for help, and mutely she 
 prayed. 
 
 At last Smith spoke he saw how she was suffer- 
 ing and he was tortured and the interview must 
 be got over ; his tones were husky utterance gave 
 him pain. "Gerry, I w r ish that I could say I had 
 loved you only as a woman, but it was worship ! and
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 233 
 
 standing here remembering there was no one but 
 myself to blame, and that in my blinded folly I 
 brought a grief upon myself that I wonder how I 
 life. It seems to me that at times evil spirits are 
 given power over us to work our ruin. I cannot ask 
 you to pardon me to think kindly of me; but I did 
 love you so ! do love you so ! that I dare not look 
 longer upon you." 
 
 Gerry looked up quickly, her face flushing he 
 did not then think meanly of her ; and after this as- 
 surance life would be less hard and, woman-like, 
 she could repress her own agony to comfort him. 
 
 "Paul," she said, "it was all my fault. Your 
 words were few, and my childish understanding 
 could not guess the ardor of your devotion which, 
 I feared, was only a passing fancy. My stepmother 
 said so, and when she said that you had been only 
 amusing yourself at my expense that made me fran- 
 tic. But why dwell on that which followed? We 
 are now separated by a gulf which neither you nor 
 I can pass. There is nothing but to say farewell, 
 and each of us to walk our appointed way. And, 
 God forgive me! but I cannot wish you the happi- 
 ness which would come in forgetfulness of me. Let 
 ine go now, please. You are a man ancl strong, and 
 I am a poor, broken-hearted woman and must flee 
 the temptation almost the irresistible temptation, 
 to ask that I may stay with you." 
 
 "You are right," he answered. "I must consider
 
 234 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 you, and will at once prepare a flag of truce to get 
 you to" he could not say your husband "where 
 I hope you may be safe. Sit down, my own," she 
 remembered long afterward how carefully ho ar- 
 ranged his cape and how tenderly he seated her 
 upon it. "I wish now to speak to Uncle Phil." 
 
 He found that aged colored person, his orisons 
 concluded, all huddled together, his chin resting on 
 his up-drawn knees. The old do not shed tears with 
 facility, but his features were twisting into divers 
 contortions expressive of great grief. With an im- 
 pulse, resulting from a life-habit of extreme polite- 
 ness, he was rising to stand respectfully. 
 
 "Keep your seat, Uncle Phil," said Smith sitting 
 down beside him. "I need not ask you to take as 
 good care of your young lady as you can, and to 
 procure for her such comforts as are attainable, but 
 you may need means. Take this," he said, placing 
 a roll of notes into Uncle Phil's hand. 
 
 That exemplary person w r as fairly galvanized into 
 action, springing up with the elasticity of youth. 
 Money only figured in the storehouse of his memory 
 among other past delights. 
 
 "Good Gawd A'mighty !" he burst out emitting a 
 chuckle. "Oh, my blessed Marster in Heabin !" But 
 he immediately grew solemn and sad, and made an- 
 swer, respectful but firm. "No, I carn't take cha'ge 
 ob it. We ain't never bin starbed ter death yit, do 
 we ain't been libin on no nick-nacks, an' ter speak
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 235 
 
 squar'ly, I think it would be onbecomin' in me an' 
 Miss Gerry ter be libin on y'u money. But ef y'u 
 ain't got no dejections I would like jes ter count it 
 ober ter sorter 'member me of ole times when nuth- 
 in' was skase." Almost lovingly Uncle Phil feasted 
 his eyes on the greenbacks, which he then, with ten- 
 der fingers, formed into a roll, and slowly, and, in 
 truth, grudgingly, handed back to the owner, but he 
 bravely said, "No, Marse Paul, me an' Miss Gerry 
 can't take none ob y'u small change her papa 
 wouldn't like it. But ef y'u wus ter git er poun' ob 
 coffee fer Miss Gerry, an' er pa'r ob butes fer me, I 
 wouldn't feel called on ter ree-cline one nor de 
 oder." 
 
 The arrangements were soon made fortunately 
 Smith had it in his power to gratify Uncle Phil 
 about the boots and the coffee and his own orderly, 
 with a small guard, was detailed to be the bearer of 
 the all-protecting white symbol. 
 
 Smith was a self-contained man, rarely showing 
 outward sign of his emotions, yet his face was white 
 with pain when he faced Gerry to speak farewell. 
 He clasped her hand, his words coming slowly he 
 never had many at command, and now they almost 
 refused to come at all : "Good-bye, Gerry perhaps 
 I may never look on your sweet face again but God 
 bless you forever and forever." 
 
 "True, Paul," she answered, fearlessly raising her 
 clear eyes to his, "we may perhaps on this earth
 
 236 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 not meet again, and let us now understand each 
 other we never did. I wish to tell you that no 
 matter how much appearances are against me I 
 am faithful to the vows pledged to you on the deck 
 of the old McKim. I am not, except in name, nor 
 ever shall be, death first ! any man's wife but yours. 
 Ah ! Paul," she continued, keeping back a sob, "it 
 is not always the love of pleasure that leads us into 
 folly and into sin. Even stronger is the impulse 
 that incites us to evil expecting good may come of 
 it. When we are woefully beset, troubled on all 
 sides, lost, and no light to guide, which path seems 
 to be the path exacted by Heaven but the rough and 
 briery one. But oh! it does seem so cruelly hard 
 to sacrifice everything for a principle, although it 
 may be a perverted one, without at least securing 
 the reward of an approving conscience. I do not 
 say it to excuse myself, but as some palliation of 
 what I did in that dark time. I had promised my 
 dead father the dead!" there w r as infinite pathos 
 in her appealing looks, "and I had always been all 
 the world to him ! and w*hen he lay dying who was 
 there but me whom he could ask to care for that 
 poor woman. I did not pause to reflect but it did 
 not matter for what I promised him then I would, 
 under the same pressure, promise him now, to con- 
 sult her wishes in preference to my own. She was 
 like wax in the hands of Hamilton and I was
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 237 
 
 forced to be wax in hers. I could not help myself." 
 Smith broke out in fierce maledictions. 
 "She is dead, Paul," Gerry interposed gently, 
 "and I forgave her. She died clinging to me. And 
 is it not strange that my heart did not then leap 
 from its place and burst? The sense of utter misery 
 was powerless to confuse the strength of facts from 
 which there were no evasion, no appeal I had been 
 deprived of everything, even self-respect. Oh, 
 Paul ! Paul ! you cannot imagine what a degraded 
 creature I feel myself to be; and what mean feel- 
 ings of envy take possession of me whenever I am in 
 the company of a good woman and her husband. 
 And I am so curiously revolutionized. I who was 
 brought up so widely removed from poverty and 
 labor. I now never pass a one-room cottage in the 
 late afternoon, when the sun is going down, that I 
 do not wish it had been Heaven's will that we two 
 were living there together you would then be com- 
 ing home from your work, and I would be cooking 
 your supper." 
 
 "Stop, Gerry," commanded Smith, "I feel myself 
 not better than a wild beast when compared with 
 you. There are heights, lengths and depths in your 
 heart it was never in me to even dream of. And per- 
 haps heaven was only taking care of its own in sav- 
 ing you from my rough keeping. I would only have 
 marred your life. You are one of the few of God's 
 creatures fitted by nature for the crucial tests. You
 
 238 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 have passed through the heated furnace and 
 emerged pure. You have been weighed in the bal- 
 ance and not found wanting, and therefore, by uni- 
 versal acquiescence, pronounced good. I would 
 rather be your slave than any other woman's king. 
 
 "Kightf ully you are mine ; mine in spirit and in 
 truth ! and I bless God for the knowledge. It will 
 make me more contented. And I will try, with 
 Heaven's help, to be a better man. I have done 
 very little of good in this world always ill-tem- 
 pered and selfish. But it is not too late to mend, 
 and, Gerry, in the future should you ever hear any- 
 thing creditable of me be sure that you are the cause 
 of it." He had been holding her hands in his; he 
 gently presses them; she feels the elastic quiver of 
 repressed strength, and sees in his eyes the look of 
 love far beyond words to express. "Good-bye, dar- 
 ling I may not kiss you, yet God knows your 
 sweet lips are mine ! Farewell, farewell !" 
 
 Thus they parted. God's ways are not our ways. 
 Yet sometimes it is permitted us to see that He 
 deals with His children in mercy ; shutting out the 
 eager feet from the flower-decked main underneath 
 which lies a deadly morass, and leading to safety 
 through a briery path. 
 
 The discipline was necessary for Paul Smith, to 
 teach him lessons of patience, and of usefulness to 
 his kind, and to bring him to his God. And to Gerry, 
 it made of her a ministering angel. And it cannot
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 239 
 
 be but those few years out of her young life dedi- 
 cated to the cause of humanity were given in vain, 
 or were a useless sacrifice, or without reward. Men 
 died blessing her wounded men prayed for her, 
 and surely benedictions from hearts laden with 
 gratitude must possess the prerogative of conferring 
 blessings far beyond those usually allotted to mor- 
 tals.
 
 240 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CARRYING THE DISPATCH. 
 
 "Heaven is above all; there sits a judge 
 No King can corrupt." 
 
 According to the Northern newspapers, the rebel 
 General de Courcy who had acquired no little celeb- 
 rity for the brilliancy and the audacity of his at- 
 tacks, was massing a force for the purpose of "hit- 
 ting out" somewhere. But the best of human wis- 
 dom is frequently erroneous. At this time General 
 de Courcy had no intention to strike anywhere, he 
 was "only praying to be let alone" while engaged 
 in collecting provisions to meet the pressing de- 
 mands farther south. 
 
 So far his most strenuous efforts had met with 
 discouragements ; the bacon and corn had not only 
 been "hard to come by," but it had been more diffi- 
 cult still to find means of transportation. The posi- 
 tion, however, was an advantageous one, and that 
 he would not be allowed to occupy it in peace and 
 quietude much longer he well knew, but it was im- 
 portant to his cause to remain there so long as he 
 could but he "must not permit himself to be 
 caught" there was the rub. 
 
 He sat alone in his tent gravely considering his
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 241 
 
 situation. His information was reliable as to the 
 location and strength of the Federal detachments 
 nearest to him, and his own force was not inconsid- 
 erable. "They will not attempt," he muttered, "to 
 drive me back until reinforced from Nashville, 
 which will be soon. And oh ! wouldn't it be a thing 
 
 o 
 
 divinely done," he smiled grimly, "to find out posi- 
 tively when that move will be made. But what 
 would be the use of risking a messenger this war 
 has been going on so long that all sorts of dodges 
 are as transparent as a woman's veil." 
 
 General de Courcy was as little given as any offi- 
 cer alive to the sparing of his soldiers, looking on 
 them as he did, as mere machines for destruction 
 and to be destroyed ; yet he was an able commander 
 and knew his duty too well to risk even a single life 
 in the face of certain failure. He shook his head, 
 not seeing his way one inch about how to obtain the 
 momentous intelligence. 
 
 Suddenly his face brightens he is not the first 
 commander indebted to chance for important re- 
 sults and yet it was no more than the hearing in 
 the distance a clear sweet voice singing : 
 
 "And never another can ruffle it here, 
 Like the lads of the snaffle, spur, and spear." 
 
 An idea flashed across the mind of General de 
 Courcy like an inspiration ; he rose quickly and sent 
 an orderly to "fetch young Mr. Fane."
 
 242 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 Of all the dare-devils in the Army of the South, 
 and their name was legion, Eeggie Fane was the 
 most splendidly reckless. At the word "Charge!" 
 he was off like a fiery scorpion--no authority could 
 keep him back and in advance of his squadron, he 
 would dash pell-mell in the midst of the enemy, and 
 with his bright blade flashing he fought like a de- 
 mon. And marvelous seemed his immunity from 
 danger, men fell in heaps all around, and he es- 
 caped scathless. 
 
 General de Courcy loved him as the apple of 
 his eye, and after every engagement never failed 
 to reprove him for his rashness, and always ended 
 his reproof by saying : "You ought to be at school, 
 sir." And so he ought to have been, he was only 
 sixteen years of age. 
 
 Very soon a slight stripling entered the Gener- 
 al's tent, saluted, and stood at attention. 
 
 For a moment General de Courcy regarded him 
 searchingly, taking in every detail of the boy's ex- 
 quisite beauty. The sun and wind, "those char- 
 tered libertines," had dealt kindly with the fairness 
 and bloom of his complexion; his perfect features 
 were delicate in their outlines, and his light chest- 
 nut hair had been blown by the wind into a tangled 
 mass of silky curls. With immutable composure 
 he stood sustaining the piercing glances of his Gen- 
 eral, who seemed in no hurry to speak; and when 
 at last he opened his mouth it was apparently to
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 243 
 
 give vent only to some irrelevant side issue, so little 
 did his remark appear to bear upon the burning 
 question that then absorbed his mind. "You are 
 not a man." 
 
 The boy's eyes twinkled as if some humorous 
 reminiscence had been suggested. 
 
 "Perhaps not, General ; still I think you must ad- 
 mit that you have seen me when I was a pretty 
 good imitation of one." 
 
 The General, declining to enter into explana- 
 tions, said abruptly: 
 
 "I want some one to go to Nashville." 
 
 "Meaning Reginald Fane?" asked the boy. 
 
 A nod was the sole response. 
 
 A look of decision beyond his years lads were 
 early trained in that rough warfaring period 
 came into young Fane's eyes as he answered : 
 
 "I am Southern born, and ready at any moment 
 to give my life to my native land, but I would pre- 
 fer it to be on the battle-field, and, frankly, General 
 de Courcy, I do not care to be a spy, and request to 
 be excused from this particular duty. I have fol- 
 lowed you long, but here I draw bridle." 
 
 "Reggie," said the General in his deep tones, "I 
 do not ask you to take a step I would shrink from 
 myself. Could I change places with you I would 
 go unhesitatingly." 
 
 The boy thawed. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, General," was the prompt
 
 244 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 answer, "for being just a trifle obtuse; but I do not 
 doubt that, if I live long enough, I will get over 
 squeamishness. However, I am now quite willing 
 to receive your instructions, and will carry them 
 out to the best of my ability." 
 
 "Reggie," said General de Courcy in tones he 
 did not often employ in speaking to his subordi- 
 nates, "I do not know how this war will end. 
 IS either do I know how right it was to bring it on, 
 but I do know, that now we are in for it, doubts and 
 regrets are out of place. We have drawn the 
 sword, the scabbard is thrown away, and I would 
 not spare my son! The mission I am going to 
 send you on is one of extraordinary danger, re- 
 quiring extraordinary address. Yet if you succeed 
 in my design it will be of great benefit to us." 
 
 He hesitated as if reluctant to explain his plans. 
 "Reggie, you will get to Nashville; choose your own 
 way. When you arrive there go at once to the resi- 
 dence of Mrs. Thompson. She lives in Blank street, 
 No. 137. This lady has a daughter, Miss Thompson, 
 who will be willing on application to furnish you 
 with all you may need of her. own clothing." Reg- 
 gie started, and seemed inclined to bolt, but re- 
 covered himself. "You will then find out at what 
 hotel General Thorne and his niece are stopping. 
 Then, in the character of a young lady, establish 
 yourself at the same hotel, plausibly; then make 
 the acquaintance of the General's niece, casually,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 245 
 
 and select a suitable time to communicate to her 
 that you are sent from me, and that I wish timely 
 warning when a force will be sent out from Nash- 
 ville to operate against me." 
 
 "General de Courcy," said the boy in amazement, 
 if not in horror, "do you mean to say that the niece 
 of General Thorne will be willing to furnish you 
 with that information?" 
 
 Imagine the feelings of a Greek professor when 
 brought to book by a controverting freshman. In 
 military affairs the pressure on private judgment 
 is even greater than in universities. General de 
 Courcy, however, only smiled indulgently, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 "This fratricidal war, my boy, is a horrid war, and 
 while General Thome's niece has and will continue 
 to aid us in any way in her power, it is likely, I 
 may say absolutely sure, that General Thorne has 
 a friend with us equally zealous to serve him." 
 
 Young Fane boyishly put two fingers to his lips 
 and subduedly imitated a steam whistle. 
 
 "Well, it really does appear," he said, "that if 
 both sides, North and South, were evened up, we 
 would be where we were before the war all at 
 peace, and in brotherly love." 
 
 Whilst Reginald Fane did not like this expedition 
 planned for him, he was not inexperienced in the 
 masquerading part of it. In private theatricals he 
 had impersonated lovely women with signal sue-
 
 46 UNCLE PtilL. 
 
 cess. But there non-success would not have en- 
 tailed any very serious consequences. Failure 
 here meant a shameful death. "Though," reasoned 
 the gallant boy, "if the risk must be encountered, 
 why not I as well as another?" and he answered 
 quite resignedly: 
 
 "Well, General, I am good to try. When do you 
 wish me to set out to make the acquaintance of the 
 ladies, Thompson and General Thome's niece? But 
 it really does look queer to me that you depend so 
 much on women. Of their enthusiasm there can be 
 no doubt, but in important matters, where men's 
 lives are at stake, I would prefer to chance the 
 steadiness of a man." 
 
 "That's because you are so young, Reggie, and 
 have not yet learned that when a woman really is 
 in earnest she is as true as steel and equal to any 
 danger. The Southern women are terribly in earn- 
 est ; but for them this war would have faded out in 
 six months. I wish you to start at once, and, Reg- 
 gie, I am imposing on you a great trust; there is 
 more depending on your success than I can explain, 
 and while I know you can be discreet beyond your 
 years, and there is little I can advise, yet I would 
 caution you about your deportment when at the 
 hotel in Nashville. You must never forget yourself 
 and sit down with your feet sprawling wide apart ; 
 but you must keep them well together and hid under 
 the folds of your gown. And above all, do not let
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 247 
 
 a spirit of mischief lead you into attempting flirta- 
 tions with the Federal officers. Inevitably you must 
 meet with them, but be reserved, and keep them all 
 at a distance, like a modest, properly behaving 
 young lady." 
 
 "Modest, properly behaving young ladies," 
 blurted out Reggie, "are not found at public hotels 
 without a chaperon; I may be young, but I know 
 that. And I know that appearances will be against 
 me, and that I just will be obliged to conduct my- 
 self with faultless discretion, otherwise my career 
 will be brief. But on this head you may rest easy, 
 General; should any of the blue-coats fall victims 
 to my charms it will be from pure cussedness. I am 
 not going to encourage any of them. It would suit 
 me to be treated with indifference bordering on 
 contempt. Therefore, if you have nothing further 
 to add give me my password and I will light out on 
 my outing. My departure from camp must not be, 
 I suppose, attended with flourish of trumpet or beat 
 of drum. The sooner I am off the sooner I will re- 
 turn perhaps." 
 
 A word was whispered in his ear, he then sa- 
 luted and stepped briskly out from the General's 
 tent, that officer looked after him wistfully, mut- 
 tering under his breath : "I wish this cursed war 
 at an end, and I don't know that I am so overly par- 
 ticular how it ends, but till the wind-up comes I 
 must do my duty."
 
 248 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 He had chosen his envoy with rare sagacity. In 
 times of war, particularly civil war, it is not un- 
 common to see old heads on young shoulders, but 
 it was something marvelous the dexterity with 
 which Reggie Fane managed his dangerous enter- 
 prise. He got into Nashville "without a bobble," 
 and adroitly established himself at the Nashville 
 House in the character of Miss Forney, a young 
 lady who expected to meet her grandmother and 
 was ineffably disconcerted at having arrived first. 
 Words can hardly do justice to the beauty of his 
 behavior reserved even with ladies. And his timid- 
 ity in receiving the courteous attentions of the 
 numerous U. S. officers who thronged the hotel was 
 touching. He showed no anxiety to make the ac- 
 quaintance of General Thome's niece while con- 
 triving to bring it about in the most natural and 
 casual manner imaginable, and the password whis- 
 pered by his General placed them at once en rap- 
 port. The niece readily promised her assistance. 
 "I will give you the information," she said, "when 
 I can get it, but such things cannot be done in any 
 set way I must wait for the opportunity to serve." 
 
 To impose as little confidence as possible seemed 
 to Master Reggie extreme wisdom, and he saw no 
 object to gain by revealing his sex to Miss Thome, 
 who had no suspicion of the truth. Indeed, it 
 seemed to her the very acme of good policy that the 
 rebel General should choose a female for this deli-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 249 
 
 cate service; and this female was so attractive of 
 appearance, and gentle of manner, as to at once 
 win the regard of General Thome's niece, and she 
 said, with the kindest intention : "Miss Forney, as 
 there will perhaps be a delay of some days, perhaps 
 weeks, and you are all alone in this big caravan- 
 sary, suppose you share my room." 
 
 Reggie Fane was completely taken aback, and 
 for the first time in his life showed the white feath- 
 er. He almost burst into tears, and stammered: 
 "It would really give me great pleasure, but I 
 can't!" 
 
 Miss Thome was surprised at this unusual exhi- 
 bition, but seeing his genuine distress, caid good- 
 naturedly : 
 
 "Oh! very well, just as you like I thought 
 it would be agreeable to you. But on no account 
 must you shut yourself up in your room ; it would 
 occasion comment army people are so sociable. So 
 you must come into the parlor occasionally, and 
 take your meals in the dining room, and when 
 thrown with the officers treat them civilly." 
 
 There never has been a time since the world was 
 made when woman's beauty and woman's timidity 
 did not appeal irresistibly to manly hearts; and 
 the exigencies of war dispenses with much of 
 the usual formalities which are expected to give 
 place to snap and vim ; therefore, Miss Forney be- 
 came at once at object of idolatry. Even the elderly
 
 250 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 heart of General Thorne surrendered at discre- 
 tion; and to his great delight the diffident young 
 lady who drew back in painful embarrassment 
 from the proffered attentions of his juniors, evi- 
 dently was more at her ease with him. 
 
 To make a long story short, it soon became the 
 ardent desire of this gallant upholder of his coun- 
 try's flag he had grown old fighting for it, and 
 still wore the sword he had used at San Juan de 
 Ulloa, National Bridge, Contreras, Cerro Gordo, 
 Molino del Key, Churubusco, Chapultepec and the 
 City of Mexico to win this bashful, wayside flower 
 for his own. Poor gentleman ! it seemed bitter irony 
 that he who in his manly prime had never been so 
 much as tapped on the shoulder by Dan Cupid 
 should now bring his honest affection to where 
 they had no business. But that did not affect the 
 question or prevent General Thorne from really 
 feeling very happy. So happy that he quite neg- 
 lected the rebel General de Courcy, who was act- 
 ively improving his golden opportunities and dis- 
 patching many wagon loads southward of the 
 staples of life meat and corn. 
 
 From his sweet dream General Thorne was 
 aroused by a direct inquiry from the War Depart- 
 ment "why he did not move against the rebel De 
 Courcy?" Pulling himself together, he determined 
 to strike soon and hard, and return quickly to his 
 charmer.
 
 tNCLE PHIL. 251 
 
 No matter what be the urgency of the need a 
 corps d'armie cannot start on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, for a distant delivery of battle. It must 
 make ready, and in making ready General Thorne 
 certainly displayed the most energetic activity. The 
 bustle of preparation had hardly commenced when 
 the General's niece handed a folded paper to Miss 
 Forney and suggested its delivery to General de 
 Courcy without loss of time. Reginald Fane felt a 
 thrill of rapture. 
 
 His days of enforced idleness had been days of 
 moral and physical torture. He pined with the 
 longing of a caged bird for the careless gayety of 
 the rough camp he had left behind, and which to 
 rejoin would be a w r ork of difficulty, and must be 
 begun at once. He displayed strategy of a high or- 
 der in the manner by which he contrived to pass 
 unnoticed from the crowded hotel. And, avoiding 
 populous streets, he threaded his sinuous way until 
 he saw not very far distant the blessed haven of 
 Mrs. Thompson's roof, under which the female 
 dress, that not only hampered his limbs, but more, 
 it seemed to narrow his mental and moral nature, 
 could be exchanged for his own glorious and much- 
 prized masculine habiliments. Suddenly, as if 
 dropped from the clouds, General Thorne stood be- 
 fore him. Young Fane's blue eyes gleamed with 
 that wicked light first seen when Cain struck 
 down his brother, and a sharp-edged stiletto flashed
 
 52 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 in the sunlight. "Don't try to stop me, or by God 
 I'll kill you !" he said in a hissing whisper. 
 
 A braver or a readier man never lived than Gen- 
 eral Thorne, but he staggered back, as if confronted 
 by a horrible apparition conjured by some unhoty 
 incantation. "Oh, my Lord !" he groaned, as if lie 
 had received a mortal stab. His knees smote to- 
 gether and his forehead was damp with an awful 
 dew. "Oh, merciful heavens! what has happened 
 to me?" A deep sob burst from him. His pious 
 ejaculations seemed an exorcism, for the vision was 
 no longer before him, it had disappeared. He 
 moved on slowly. A depression as from beyond 
 the grave completely mastered him as he recalled 
 the past. "I have always been too forward in bat- 
 tle, and the blood I have shed has come back in a 
 frightful, a material form it has assumed the form 
 I love best to torment me. Perhaps it foretells my 
 approaching doom ; and some poor spirit has come 
 back from its unquiet prison house to say to me: 
 'We shall meet again at Philippi !' Lord help me ! 
 Lord help me!" Ill in body and mind he reached 
 the hotel and retired to his chamber, nor was he 
 again visible until the morning of the forward 
 movement, then he asked his niece: "Where is 
 Miss Forney?" 
 
 "Lying down in her room suffering with a head- 
 ache," was the prompt answer. 
 
 General Thorne felt an emotion of pleasure,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 253 
 
 doubtless she was distressed that he was starting 
 for battle. 
 
 "Could I not see her just for a moment to take 
 leave?" he asked, almost piteously. 
 
 "Certainly not," was the decided answer, "Miss 
 Forney has nerves, and they are troubling her at 
 present. She nearly snapped niy head off a minute 
 ago when I recommended a teaspoonful of vale- 
 rian." 
 
 General Thorne w r as disappointed at not seeing 
 Miss Forney, yet he felt some satisfaction; it was 
 encouraging that her headache and his going away 
 should be simultaneous. 
 
 It is needless to say that Master Reggie's dis- 
 appearance from General Thome's bewildered sight 
 was owing to a rapid flank movement, skillfully ex- 
 ecuted ; and that he lost no time in reaching cover 
 and replacing his feminine garb with his own rough 
 costume, which, thanks to Mrs. Thompson, had been 
 washed and the crowning luxury of cleanliness 
 was added to its suitability. 
 
 The good fortune which seemed to have marked 
 him for her own did not desert the young tactician 
 until he had evaded the various lines of pickets and 
 was well out on his way back to the uncomfortable 
 camp to which he was attached. How sharply it 
 contrasted with the well-appointed accommoda- 
 tions for soldiers he had just left ; but, oh ! he did 
 so yearn to see it again, and how glad and free he
 
 254: UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 felt ! he could scarcely refrain from shouting with 
 joy. He felt inclined to sing, and was just ready 
 to uplift a merry stave. 
 
 Young people will not see it; but their elders 
 have seen it and know that from a cloudless sky 
 a thunderbolt not infrequently strikes ; and that it 
 is always better to wait for the coming of night be- 
 fore praising a fair day. If he had not been so pre- 
 occupied with his foolish joy he would have ob- 
 served and avoided that group of Federal soldiers 
 in front of him. Now it was too late; he was almost 
 in their midst. They, too, were taken by surprise 
 as they lounged on the grass a party of scouts 
 each man holding his horse by the bridle-rein 
 loosely, or not at all, so busy were they in eating 
 a luncheon. 
 
 Instinct is heaven born, and sometimes serves 
 in better stead than the most elaborate process of 
 ratiocination; and our youngster was excelled in 
 cheek by no son of Adam. "My eyes ! my hearties !" 
 he drawled, sauntering up, "are you game for a 
 partner in your grub?" 
 
 A beautiful thoroughbred, with its large and in- 
 telligent eyes and upraised graceful head its 
 bridle-rein thrown over the protuberant part of the 
 saddle-bow stood near. "A nicish bit of horse- 
 flesh ! Say, now, where did you come up with that 
 Kentucky racer?" asked Reggie Fane, wriggling
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 255 
 
 along until at the horse's side. Then quick as a 
 flash he was in the saddle and galloping away. 
 
 Fifteen or twenty guns were raised. 
 
 "Don't shoot, men !" ordered the leader. "Mount 
 and follow ; that booming water-course three miles 
 ahead will stop him. The young scamp deserves 
 a canter for his smartness." 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the boundless, 
 rollicking, exhilarating joy that throbbed through 
 and through every nerve and fiber of Reggie's body 
 as he felt the bounding of the good horse under 
 him. Even the importance of his mission and his 
 peril could not destroy the exquisite pleasure of the 
 rapid motion. 
 
 Let no one deny the good-fellowship that not in- 
 frequently exists between steed and rider. By some 
 mysterious process, in a life-and-death crisis, the 
 heart and mind of each are linked together in one 
 common impulse, and Reggie felt sure that his 
 silent friend was a friend indeed, and would neither 
 falter nor fail. On, on he went, his pursuers hard 
 behind, until not three hundred yards in his front 
 his quick eye caught the glitter of a broad rolling 
 stream, which like a band of silver lay across his 
 way. He heard the peals of the loud laughter be- 
 hind. "Caught in a trap," he muttered : "But we'll 
 try for freedom! won't we my beauty?" he apos- 
 trophized the horse. Glancing backward, to cal- 
 culate the distance separating him from that steady
 
 256 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 galloping group, he gently drew rein, for he well 
 knew that the horse, good as he was, required eas- 
 ing before the terrific burst of speed to give him im- 
 petus for that wide, wide leap. 
 
 When he slackened his speed, his pursuers also 
 slackened theirs, from a grim sense of humor, think- 
 ing his capture distant only a short interval of time. 
 Warily Eeggie scanned them from over his shoul- 
 der while considering to an inch the decreasing 
 margin of ground before him until, it was now or 
 never. He tightened his grasp of the bridle, and, 
 bringing into use every one of the many methods 
 by which the practiced rider can assist a tired steed, 
 he urged the good horse on to the leap. There was 
 a dash like the rushing of a tornado, then rising 
 high in the air, the swift waters flowing beneath 
 them, the good horse sprang over, and they are 
 landed on the safe side with only one scant inch 
 to spare. 
 
 With shouts of rage the baffled pursuers quickly 
 bring their guns to bear, and from the dark muz- 
 zles leap short jets of flame, hurling out the dead- 
 ly bullets. But without pause, that young-old boy 
 took his horse in hand, and galloped on until he 
 reached a safe eminence, then with his blue eyes 
 sparkling with mirth, he turned square around in 
 the saddle, and, raising his cap with a courteous 
 movement, shouted : "I hope it is not farewell, gen- 
 tlemen, only au revoir!"
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 257 
 
 He then jogged quietly on, with an easy stride, to 
 which hill or dale never came amiss, and the miles 
 were swallowed up like furlongs, until the familiar 
 camp of his comrades came into sight. 
 
 His impulse was to indulge in "the rebel-yell." 
 But age is a question of experience, not of time, 
 and in consideration of what he had gone through 
 he thought that manifestation too boyish, and in 
 lieu of which he began singing: 
 
 "We are the boys that can wrestle and ride, 
 
 Empty a saddle, and empty a can; 
 Keeping the rights of the Border side 
 
 Warden to warden, and man to man. 
 Never another so welcome here 
 
 As the lads of the snaffle, spur, and spear." 
 
 A soldier's life is a hard one, but it has its com- 
 pensations "chaff" is one of the most common. 
 
 In an incredibly short space of time Reggie was 
 surrounded by the Gray Jackets, and if their wel- 
 come was rough it was well meant. 
 
 "Hip ! hip ! hurrah for Reggie!" 
 
 "Reggie is my darling, the young chevalier !" 
 
 "And Reggie it is, fit as a fiddle and fine as a 
 star !" 
 
 "Been a courting, now." 
 
 "Reggie, my dear, where did you get that sweet 
 angel you are on?" 
 
 "Keep hands off, every mother's son of you," re- 
 quested the object of so much special attention.
 
 258 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 "Can't a body slip home to get clean clothes without 
 all this pow-wow about it? As for the horse, I 
 just found him all bridled and saddled, ready to 
 my hand, and I borrowed him." 
 
 "Are you going to make him a present to the 
 General?" asked several voices. 
 
 "I rather guess not. But where is the General? 
 I had better go and explain to him. I expect his 
 ideas are that I had gone a glimmering. Answer 
 some of you, one at a time." 
 
 "Well, at present he is in his tent sleeping 
 thank heaven! I think he has been hearing bad 
 news, his temper has got to be so fractious is no 
 name for it. And, Keggie, my pet, I wouldn't ad- 
 vise you to be the man to wake him up ; for while 
 he hasn't asked for you, so far as I know, 
 I've seen him look over to where you hang out more 
 than once." 
 
 "Oh! you dry up, Jim Bates, trying to unhitch 
 a fellow's nerves. I don't believe he'll kill me, and 
 I can stand about as much scare as the next one. 
 Here you, Pete Riley, hold this quadruped until I 
 return." 
 
 He dismounted and made his way to the General's 
 tent, making no little fuss as he entered. The 
 sleeping warrior awoke with a start, and, seeing 
 Keggie, looked greatly relieved. 
 
 "I am glad to see you back, my boy, I had about 
 given you up as lost."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 259 
 
 "No, General, I was not lost ! But I have not 
 been exactly happy. However, here is your dis- 
 patch." He straightened up, saluted and pulled 
 the important paper from his pocket his fingers 
 were stiffened and cramped from the rigid clasp 
 he had been compelled to maintain on the bridle, 
 and the dispatch dropped to the ground; and, not 
 being in an envelope, spread wide open, the writ- 
 ing plain for the reading. And as Keggie read a 
 look of horror crept into his face, and he gazed as 
 if a basilisk lay at his feet. 
 
 "What are you gaping at?" demanded the Gen- 
 eral. 
 
 "Gape yourself!" cried the incensed boy, "and 
 see for yourself what comes of relying on a woman 
 for important information. She couldn't keep her 
 mind away from her gimcracks long enough to 
 see that she sent you the right paper. That thing !" 
 with intense contempt, "is a bill for a bonnet." It 
 read : 
 
 "Herewith, I send your account for the bonnet 
 purchased. Please remit by Tuesday." 
 
 "It's all right, Reggie," said the General, after a 
 hasty glance. "Things sometimes mean more than 
 appear on the surface. My experience is, you can 
 trust a woman every time." 
 
 Reggie was glad to know that it was right; 
 but he couldn't see it, and began to entertain doubts
 
 260 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 of his own ability to know what was what, particu- 
 larly concerning nouns feminine. So he saluted 
 and went out into the open air to look after and to 
 make much of the valuable horse recently ac- 
 quired. 
 
 General de Courcy, understanding that the day 
 set for payment of the female headwear referred to 
 the day the Federal troops would march out of 
 Nashville, sounded "boots and saddles," and told 
 the men to "hustle." 
 
 And General Thorne arrived in time only to find 
 the fires extinguished, and the silence of a deserted 
 camp. He went back to Nashville, and returned 
 the report that the rebel General had gone south- 
 ward after merely making a reconnoissance in 
 force; and that he had found that part of the coun- 
 try peaceable. It is a foregone conclusion that his 
 inquiries concerning Miss Forney were prompt 
 and anxious. 
 
 "Oh !" replied his niece, indifferently, "Miss For- 
 ney is not here. Owing to her grandmother's ill- 
 ness, or something equally unjustifiable, she was 
 sent for. And so far as I know, like the fishes of 
 the sea, and the birds of the air she has gone, leav- 
 ing no trace behind her." 
 
 Poor old General Thorne! his grief was sincere 
 and lasting. He had arrived at that time of life 
 when if love's light fail, and the last rose wither,
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 261 
 
 the loss cannot be retrieved. Still it is better to have 
 loved and lost than never to have loved at all. It 
 had been a dream from Paradise, A phantom star 
 that had streamed across his sky, just once then 
 fell to rise no more.
 
 262 UNCLE; PHIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE LORD. 
 
 "A good heart is the sun and the moon, or rather the sun, 
 For it shines bright, and never changes." 
 
 "I wonder that you never married, Uncle Phil," 
 began Gerry one day, trying as she often did now 
 to divert the old man from a settled melancholy, 
 from which it was difficult to arouse him. 
 
 "Well, honey, ter tell de truf," was the modest 
 answer, "dar wus er dozen er mo' young gals in 
 Wirginny dat I 'lowed ter hab hopes but I drawed 
 off in time. Mar'age has its 'sponsibilities dat I 
 dident keer ter tote. It's wery ill-conwenient when 
 er 'oman gits it inter her haid dat she is boun' ter 
 sh'ar y'u baid an' bo'de. 'Sides in siety er mar'red 
 man ain't got no show erlong 'sides ob er man dat 
 kin be kotched. It always suited me ter be run 
 arter. An'," he continued with the garrulity of 
 age, "I didn't hate mar'age none at dat time ter 
 what I doos now. But," hurriedly recollecting him- 
 self, "Good Lordy! honey, I don't mean ter hurt 
 y'u feelin's, chile. Y'u ain't ter blame fer nuthin'. 
 T'ings happen in dis world an' no body knows how 
 it wus doDe," and trying to counsel resignation, "we 
 hab jess got ter b'ar it dat's all."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 263 
 
 And indeed it frequently does seem that the priv- 
 ilege of free action belongs to no one; and that we 
 are controlled by the inevitable fetters of circum- 
 stances, and our paths limited by the regulations 
 of the part allotted. 
 
 Gerry's fierce hatred of Hamilton had given place 
 to a weary disgust. It did seem so bitter hard, 
 she was so young, that the old, happy, beautiful 
 life should be at an end forever. And sacred in 
 the storehouse of her memory was the never-to-be- 
 forgotten time when the strongest feelings of her 
 being were stirred to their depths, and revealing in 
 one supreme moment all the exquisite bliss, of 
 which her ardent nature was capable. 
 
 A shadow darkened the opening of her tent, and 
 Hamilton hesitatingly entered, accoutered for bat- 
 tle. Of late he had shown deference to Gerry's 
 wishes and rarely intruded his presence upon her. 
 Perhaps : 
 
 "Consideration, like an angel, came, 
 And whipped the offending Adam out of him." 
 
 His marriage with Geraldine Southampton, 
 which had at first seemed to him a crowning victory, 
 now confronted him as a crushing defeat. Con- 
 science may for a time be kept at bay, but a day of 
 reckoning will come, and the debt long incurred 
 will have to be paid to the uttermost farthing. And 
 the Eumenides had overtaken him. He paused,
 
 264 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 glancing at Gerry. How well he remembered her 
 gay, bright beauty which contrasted so strangely 
 with the patient sorrow that now rarely left her 
 face. He knew that his own hand had wrought 
 this change. He knew that he was accountable for 
 this fearful work of destruction, and it was useless 
 to plead that it was greater than he had intended. 
 
 It had been long delayed, but he now felt him- 
 self in the grasp of a remorse that would never 
 leave him ; and of late he had been having premoni- 
 tions, which he accepted as a certainty that the 
 next battle he went into would be his last; and 
 he had a longing to hear Gerry say that she forgave 
 him. There had been a time when his cool, scien- 
 tific, atrocity seemed rather to belong to a fiend 
 than the most depraved of men. But now he stood 
 in her presence abashed. He had come to sue for 
 her forgiveness. 
 
 The inconsistencies of human nature have been 
 wonderful in all ages. The wicked King John, 
 when he saw that his end was approaching, gave 
 especial directions that his body should be buried 
 close to the grave of Saint Wulstan, who had great 
 reputation for sanctity ; perhaps thinking it would 
 be some guarantee of safety in the next world. 
 
 Hamilton spoke .with timidity, his eyes cast 
 down: 
 
 "I am ordered to the front, and it is not probable 
 that I shall live to return Geraldine."
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 265 
 
 She looked at him quickly, with a slight frown, 
 the concluding vocative displeased her, and she 
 replied with a mocking emphasis : 
 
 "Did not the Athenians wreath with laurel the 
 sword that killed the Pisistratidae?" 
 
 This man who had been so hard of heart, whose 
 whole life had been a selfish seeking after his own 
 ends, actually paled at her tones, and gaspingly 
 he said: 
 
 "Death is horrible!" 
 
 "Not yours," she answered, "and if I w r ere a Ro- 
 manist I would then burn six great candles to our 
 Lady of Good Succor in thankfulness for my free- 
 dom." 
 
 It is strange that now, when he was using his 
 best effort to soften her, he should so go on from 
 bad to worse using the very words of all others 
 the most calculated to inflame her. 
 
 "I am asking your forgiveness. I am your hus- 
 band." 
 
 An expression immediately settled on her face 
 different from even intense anger in its absolute 
 pitilessness. Her voice took on harsh, strange in- 
 tonations, indescribable, as she asked : 
 
 "Are you trying to exert the superiority of a 
 man? And at this late day dare you claim the 
 prerogative of a husband? I am a lonely woman 
 with my affections warped, not crushed. What have 
 you made my life but one desperate struggle one
 
 266 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 long agony? Man, do you know what you have 
 made me? I am abhorrent to myself. And there 
 has always been the stinging sense of an injury un- 
 requited a dishonor unavenged a debt uncan- 
 celed ; and now you ask me to forgive you ; and you 
 seek aid from me in this eleventh hour to quiet the 
 tumult raging between a hardened heart and a re- 
 morseful conscience. No! You have sown the 
 dragon's teeth and the armed warriors have risen 
 to confront you your eyes in death will look upon 
 them. Go !" 
 
 A sob escaped the wretched Hamilton as he 
 turned hopelessly to depart. 
 
 Uncle Phil, who, crouching in a corner, had 
 been an unnoticed witness of this interview, now 
 sprang forward, and, throwing himself on his 
 knees before Gerry, pleaded with uplifted hands : 
 
 "Oh! chile! chile! fer my sake fer y'u sake 
 fer de honor ob de Southamptons ! say y'u fergive 
 him ! Somethin' in my ole heart seems ter say dat 
 he is gwine ter his doom. Don't lay up dat sin ter be 
 arnswerd fer dat y'u 'fused fergiveness ter er man 
 on his de'th-baid, so ter speak, an' saunt his soul ter 
 torment. Chile ! chile ! jes say y'u fergive him ! jes 
 dis onct!" 
 
 Gerry looked down on the old man. He was now 
 grasping her dress, his eyes streaming, and his lips 
 continuing to move in wordless supplication. 
 
 Miracles have not ceased, then occurred one as
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 267 
 
 tremendous as when, at the stroke of Moses, the liv- 
 ing waters flowed from the dry rock, and approxi- 
 mating in grandeur the divine words of forgiveness 
 uttered on the cross by a dying Savior. 
 
 Gerry placed her hands on the white head of 
 Uncle Phil, and let them rest there, as if to gather 
 strength to speak the words which almost seemed 
 to take her life, though they were few: 
 
 "I forgive you. Go in peace." 
 
 Hamilton quitted the tent with his head droop- 
 ing. Three hours later he was killed in battle. 
 
 Disaster after disaster followed the arms of the 
 South until there came that awful defeat before 
 Franklin. 
 
 For some time past Gerry had been viewing with 
 great concern the condition of Uncle Phil on whom 
 privations and troubles had increased in an in- 
 verse ratio with his ability to bear up under them. 
 He was old and poor, but not alone. The child he 
 had brought "bird aigs ter, an' hilt er umereller 
 ober," was now a woman, and in her turn was 
 ready to care for him. And she resolved that what- 
 ever length of life should be allotted to him should 
 be accomplished in such ease, and with such com- 
 forts, as her best efforts would be able to procure 
 for him. 
 
 She had been tenderly brought up, and lovingly 
 shielded from all rough contact; and it seemed an 
 appalling thing to leave such helps as still sur-
 
 268 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 rounded her, and to step out in the cold, perhaps 
 unfriendly world, and join the army of bread-win- 
 ners battling for subsistence. But the strength of 
 her purpose required neither concentration nor ar- 
 rangement many of her instincts seemed to have 
 the basis of reason; and quickly she evolved her 
 plans all for the welfare of Uncle Phil. 
 
 She wrote a letter, a kindly letter to Hamilton's 
 mother, saying that her son had perished in battle 
 fighting gallantly, and that his interment had taken 
 place with due care, and that when his mother 
 wished, his remains could be removed for burial 
 with the others of his family. And for herself she 
 renounced forever such pecuniary interest as 
 might be hers at law. Then Gerry took an affec- 
 tionate leave of the people with whom she had been 
 living so long, and went away with Uncle Phil to 
 Nashville, where she established herself not in a 
 boarding house, but in a small cottage, and Uncle 
 Phil fairly reveled in the management of their 
 small housekeeping. 
 
 Gerry's beautiful hand-writing readily secured 
 for her plenty of copying to do for the lawyers, and 
 she not only earned sufficient for their absolute 
 wants, but also to furnish Uncle Phil with such 
 clothing as gladdened his heart, 
 
 In his neat suit of black broadcloth, and with 
 his gold-head cane he presented a venerable, and, 
 as he fully persuaded himself, a dignified appear-
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 269 
 
 a nee, as he passed and repassed the principal 
 streets carrying a portfolio containing Gerry's 
 copyings. And on one day, when a large rocking- 
 chair was bought for his own use, his joy knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 "But, Miss Gerry, honey, I ain't sho' dat it ain't 
 onproper fer me ter be settin' in dat cheer. Now ef 
 it wus er cricket it wouldn't be onproper. In Wir- 
 ginny, ole Miss she had crickets settin' round mos' 
 eber wh'ar fer us sarvents ter set oursefs on." 
 
 "Good Gracious, Uncle Phil !" said Gerry with a 
 smile, "how could you ever sit on a cricket?" 
 
 "Dat's so, chile; 'do I mought manage ter set 
 down on it but dar's de gettin' up, which would be 
 diffikilt, wid my ole, stiff knees." 
 
 The rocking-chair proved of great comfort to him, 
 and hour after hour he would sit rocking himself 
 gently, crooning old-time hymns. 
 
 To do one's duty willingly and honestly in the 
 state of life decreed by Providence always ensures 
 content, and often happiness. And youth is such 
 a beautiful, bountiful possession, with its elastic 
 spirit and its inexhaustible resources. 
 
 Gerry had lost the feeling of being over-weighted, 
 and with no heart for the race of life, and she no 
 longer felt inclined to challenge fate, and to im- 
 peach its hard decrees. She was not living a life 
 of idleness and frivolity, but a full, dignified life of
 
 270 UNCLE PHIL. 
 
 practical usefulness. And Uncle Phil frequently 
 declared : 
 
 "I neber 'lowed ter be so happy ergin in dis 
 world." 
 
 And so time went on until the whole country 
 went wild over the peace that was made at the Ap- 
 pomattox Court House. 
 
 There came a day, when Gerry was sitting at her 
 writing, when Uncle Phil rushed in. As usual, she 
 looked up to give him the welcoming smile, and it 
 was easy to see that something unusual had oc- 
 curred. The old man's appearance and demeanor 
 indicated the pressure of some strong mental ex- 
 citement. He grinned his eyes rolled and he 
 took one or two dancing steps, chuckling like a boy. 
 
 Gerry smiled pleasantly, expecting nothing more 
 had happened than that he had found some "high 
 quality white gempleman," who had listened with 
 interest to his talk about Virginia, and perhaps the 
 Southamptons. But he burst out, quivering with 
 excitement : 
 
 "Oh ! Miss Gerry, chile, honey, don't 'cite y'use'f. 
 T'aint nuthin! it mought happen eber day but 
 I jess heard from Marse Paul I seed him, an' here 
 he is." 
 
 This was all the preparation, but : 
 
 "If he is sick with joy, he will 
 Recover without a physician." 
 
 And the two persons, to whom their love had
 
 UNCLE PHIL. 271 
 
 caused so much grief, now stood face to face with 
 no longer an unbridged gulf between them. Uncle 
 Phil had withdrawn. And surely this was a meet- 
 ing to be witnessed only by the angels. 
 
 Sometimes fortune comes with both hands full; 
 and it was not a modest tap, but a bold roulade on 
 the knocker which drew Uncle Phil to the door, and 
 in a few moments he reappeared, but not alone. 
 And now, it was not the joy of earth, but the pure 
 light of Heaven that glistened in his eyes, and his 
 voice had taken on an intonation it never had be- 
 fore. There was no preamble. 
 
 "Miss Gerry, I have de honor ter denounce ter y'u 
 de safe return ob our young gemplemens. Glory 
 ter de Lord!" 
 
 The young Southamptons had indeed returned. 
 And the cup of happiness which had been so long 
 in its plenishing now flowed over, and they drank 
 of its sweet waters in silent thankfulness. 
 
 An unusual sound drew their attention to Uncle 
 Phil. He was standing, but unsteadily. His body 
 swayed his trembling hands were crossed on his 
 breast, and the strangely musical voice was again 
 heard : 
 
 "Mine eyes hab seed de glory ob de Lord! Let 
 thy sarvent now depart in peace." 
 
 It was Gerry who sprang and caught the falling 
 body in her strong young arms, but the Messenger 
 had been before her. Uncle Phil was dead.
 
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