were lying into Kingston in the _Bess_ and the word came that my uncle
was dead? Aye, you do; but don't you remember how he used to rail
against me? To be sure--you were too young. And yet a good old uncle,
who gave me never a mild word in his life but left me his all at death."

"And why shouldn't he, sir?"

"Why not? Aye, that is so. Why not? And yet he could have left it to
anybody--to you, say."

"Why to me? Who am I?"

"What? Who are you?" He ceased his pacing. "That is so, Guy--who are
you? You with the strange, quick blood writ so plain in your countenance
that there--"

"Isn't it good blood, sir?"

"Aye, Guy, be sure it is good blood. But often have I thought how he
would have stormed if--" He gazed curiously at me.

"If--"

"Aye, if--but no matter." He resumed his nervous pacing back and forth,
back and forth, hands in pockets, head up, chin out, and face turned
always toward the river, past the moss-hung cypress trees to the yellow
Savannah flowing swiftly beyond. The salt tide-water made as far as
Villard Landing, and when it was in full flood, as now, it brought the
smell of the sea strongly with it.