two or three years into out-of-the-way parts of the world
(Mr. Port shuddered) "until her poor broken heart gets well. Not that
it ever will get quite well again, you know; but she will be brave, and
try to pretend for your sake that it has. So it shall be just as you
say, dear; only for Pennington's sake, who loves me so much, Uncle
Hutchinson, I hope that perhaps you may be willing to let me go."

And having concluded this moving address, Miss Lee extended one of her
well-shaped hands to Mr. Pennington Brown--who grasped it warmly, for
he was deeply moved by so edifying an exhibition of affectionate and
dutiful unselfishness--and with the other applied her handkerchief
delicately to her eyes.

Mr. Port was not in the least moved by Dorothy's professions of
self-sacrifice; but he was most seriously alarmed by her threat--that
opened before him a dismal vista of bilious misery--to cart him for
several years about the world on the pretext of a broken heart that
required travel for its mending.

[Illustration: Page 67 084]

He believed, to be sure, that in a stand-up fight he could conquer
Dorothy; but he had his doubts as to how long she would stay
conquered--and between constant fighting and constant travel there is
not much choice; for Mr. Port knew from experience how acute is
that form of biliousness which results from rage. After all,
self-preservation is the first law of nature; and under the stress thus
put upon him, therefore, it is not surprising that Mr. Port's qualms
of conscience incident to his failure to do his duty to his neighbor
vanished to the winds.

Mr. Pennington Brown still held Dorothy's hand in his own. "Will you
make this great sacrifice, Hutch, for your old friend?" he asked.

Mr. Port hesitated a little, for he felt a good deal like a criminal who
is shifting his crime upon an innocent man; and then he answered, rather
weakly both in tones and terms: "Why, of course."

"Dear Uncle Hutchinson, how good you are!" exclaimed Miss Lee. "And you
really think that you can spare your angel, then?"

And both promptly and firmly Mr. Port answered: "Yes, I really think
that I can."

End of Project Gutenberg's The Uncle Of An Angel, by Thomas A. Janvier

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