come Philip had received
from the stricken pair.

I told him the next day, in our garden, how matters stood with Fanny
and me, and that Captain Falconer had sailed for England with the
royal army.

"I don't think Mr. Faringfield will hold out for ever," said Philip,
alluding to my hopes of Fanny. "'Faith, he ought to welcome the
certainty of happiness for at least one of his children. Maybe I can
put the matter to him in that light."

"But Fanny herself will not leave, as long as she thinks they need
her."

"Why, then, he must use his parental authority, and bid her come to
you. He's not the man who would have his child wait upon his death for
happiness. We must use the hope of grandchildren as a means of
argument. For you'll come back to America at last, no doubt, when old
hurts are forgot. And if you can come with a houseful of
youngsters--egad, I shall paint a picture to his mind, will not let
him rest till he sees it in way of accomplishment! Go to England
without fear, man; and trust me to bring things to pass before you've
been long away."

"But you? Surely--"

"Oh, I shall follow you soon. I have matters of my own to look to,
over there."

He did not confide to me, at this time, his thoughts and intentions
regarding his wife (of whom we were then ignorant whether she was dead
or alive, but supposed she must be somewhere in London), or regarding
Captain Falconer; but I knew that it was to her future, and to his
settlement with Falconer, that he alluded. I guessed then, and
ascertained subsequently, that Phil gave Fanny also encouragement to
believe all should come right between her and me, and yet not to the
further sorrow of her parents. I divined it at the time, from the
hopeful manner in which she supported our departure, both in the busy
days preceding it, and in the hour of leave-taking. True, she broke
down on the ship, whither Philip and Cornelius had brought her to bid
us farewell; and she wept bitter tears on my mother's breast, which I
knew were meant chiefly for me. But at last she presented a brave face
for me to kiss, though 'twas rather a cold, limp hand I pressed as she
started down the ladder for the boat where Cornelius awaited.

"Good-bye, lad," said Phil, with the old smile, which had survived all
his toils and hurts and sorrows; "I shall see you in London next, I
hope. And trust me--about Fanny."

"Thank you, dear Phil, and God bless you! Always working for other
people's happines