"'Tis changed, isn't it?" said Philip, quietly, reading my thoughts as we passed down the garden walk, upon which way of entrance we had tacitly agreed in preference to the front door. "I can see the big dog walking ahead of me, and hear the kitten purring in the basket, and feel little Tom's soft hand, and see at the other side of me—well, 'tis the way of the world, Bert!"
He had the same boyish look; notwithstanding his face was longer and more careworn, and his hair was a little sprinkled with gray though he was but thirty-one.
I left him on the rear veranda, when old Noah had opened the hall door and shouted a hysterical "Lor' bress me!—it's Massa Phil!" after a moment's blinking inspection to make sure. From the cheered look on Mr. Faringfield's face that evening, and the revived lustre in Mrs. Faringfield's eyes, I could guess what welcome 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.