Uncle Lusthah stepped before him with clasped hands and quivering lips. "Ef marse cap'n des list'n ter de ole man a minit. I ain't gwine ter talk big en long. I kyant. I des wanter say I hab 'spearance. Dat sump'n, marse cap'n, you kyant say not'n agin--rale 'spearance, sump'n I KNOWS." "Well, you kind old soul, what do you know?" "P'raps des what mars'r knows ef he ony tinks a lil. Let us git right down ter de root ob de marter, kaze I feared dere ain' time fer 'locutions." "Now you're right at least, uncle. I must set my house in order. I must write to my wife." "Marse cap'n, you gwine on a journey. Wa't yo' wife wish mo'n dat you git ready fer de journey? She tek dat journey too, bime by soon, en you bof be at de same deah home." "Ah, uncle, if that could be true, the sting of death would be gone." "Sut'ny, marse cap'n. Didn't I know dat ar w'en I mek bole ter speak? Now des tink on hit, mars'r. Yere I is, an ole ign'rant slabe, kyant eben read de good Book. De worl' full ob poor folks lak me. Does you tink ef de Lawd mean ter sabe us't all He'd do hit in some long rounerbout way dat de wise people kyant mos' fin' out? No, bress He gret big heart, He des stan' up en say to all, 'Come ter me en I gib you res'." "Yes, uncle, but I haven't gone to Him. I don't know how to go, and what's more, I don't feel it's right to go now at the last minute as if driven by fear." "Now, cap'n, fergib de ole man fer sayin' you all wrong. Haint young mistis been breakin' her lil gyurlish heart ober yo' trouble? Am de Lawd dat die fer us wuss'n a graven himage? Doan He feel fer you mo'n we kin? I reck'n you got des de bes' kin' of prep'ration ter go ter 'Im. You got trouble. How He act toward folks dat hab trouble--ev'y kin' ob trouble? Marse cap'n, I des KNOWS dat de Lawd wanter brung you en yo' wife en dat lil Sadie I year you talk 'bout all togeder whar He is. I des KNOWS hit. Hit's 'spearance." "Miss Baron," said the captain calmly, "Isn't it wonderful? This old slave says he knows what, if true, is worth more to me than all the accumulated wisdom of the world. What do you think of it?" "It seems as if it ought to be true," she answered earnestly. "I never so felt before that it OUGHT to be true. We never should have been born, or given such love as you have for your dear ones, if it isn't true. Oh, to be just snatched hopelessly away from such ties is horrible. My whole soul revolts at it." "See here, uncle," said the captain almost sternly, "I'm not going to groan, sigh, weep, and take on in any of your camp-meeting tactics. I am before the last great enemy and I know how to meet him like a man and soldier, if not a Christian. I'm willing to do anything not insincere or unmanly to meet my wife and children again. If my thought and feeling for them at this time isn't right, then I've been created wrong."