It will be remembered, that after his recovery from the wounds inflicted by Bill and Dick, as recorded in a former chapter, Hadley proceeded to Philadelphia.  When he reached that city he found his mother and uncle both very sick, and in need of constant care and attention.  She had no kind daughter to sit by her couch and smooth her pillow; and he had no affectionate wife to bathe his fevered brow with her soft hand, and by such gentle attentions as no one else can bestow, alleviate his pain.  Hadley endeavored, to the best of his ability, to fill the place of daughter to one, and of wife to the other, in his assiduous efforts to watch over, aid and comfort them; and though he did not possess all that sweet softness of manner and voice that belongs especially to woman, and though he could not perceive, with the quick intuition of the other sex, yet by constant attention he was enabled to ease many a pain and throw comfort into many an otherwise sad and lonely hour.

At first his mother was in need of the most attention, and was hardly expected to live from one day to the next; but he soon had the satisfaction of seeing her disease yield to nature and treatment, and she began to grow better.  But almost before he could relax anything in his attentions to her, the uncle became much worse; and he shared his time between the two, scarcely taking time to eat or sleep.

Between the uncle and nephew there had existed a coldness for some years, which was caused by the following circumstance: 

In his youth the uncle was the companion of an estimable young man, between whom and himself there existed the warmest friendship and sincerest attachment.  They were indebted to each other for many kind acts, and thus became mutually endeared one to the other.  At length they were separated, by the uncle going to the West Indies on business, expecting to be detained a length of time, perhaps for years, which proved to be the case.  While he was away the friend of his younger days met with that fate so common to mankind—­fell in love and got married.  The union proved to be a happy one; and when, after years of separation, the uncle returned, he found in the house of his friend a joyful wife and a beautiful, smiling daughter, a child of seven years, with a sweet disposition, and a heart to love everybody.

To this young child, Mr. Scofield—­James Scofield was the uncle’s name—­soon became very deeply and fervently attached, as did also the child to him; He saw that the father had found a nearer and dearer friend than himself, and he was glad in his heart to witness the happiness which reigned in the peaceful home so sweetly cheered by love.  Many persons would have been jealous of the wife’s ascendency in her husband’s affections; but instead of envying the wife, or feeling ill toward her, he came to love her as a friend, not only for her own sake, but, also, because she made his friend such a kind and amiable companion; and in the endearment of their little girl, who soon learned to be his pet, he was repaid for any exclusive companionship from her father that he might have monopolized had he remained, like himself, a bachelor.