My uncle opened the door, and closed it behind him. His lamp and matches stood ready on his table: it was my part to see they were there. With a sigh, which seemed to seek me in the darkness and find me, he came forward through it. I caught him round the legs, and clung to him. He gave a great gasp and a smothered cry, staggered, and nearly fell. “My God!” he murmured. “Uncle! uncle!” I cried, in greater terror than he; “it's only Orbie! It's only your little one!” “Oh! it's only my little one, is it?” he rejoined, at once recovering his equanimity, and not for a moment losing the temper so ready, like nervous cat, to spring from most of us when startled. He caught me up in his arms, and held me to his heart. I could feel it beat against my little person. “Uncle! uncle!” I cried again. “Don't! Don't!” “Did I hurt you, my little one?” he said, and relaxing his embrace, held me more gently, but did not set me down. “No, no!” I answered. “But I've got a secret, and you mustn't kiss me till it is gone. I wish there was a swine to send it into!” “Give it to me, little one. I will treat it better than a swine would.” “But it mustn't be treated, uncle! It might come again!” “There is no fear of that, my child! As soon as a secret is told, it is dead. It is a secret no longer.” “Will it be dead, uncle?” I returned. “--But it will be there, all the same, when it is dead--an ugly thing. It will only put off its cloak, and show itself!” “All secrets are not ugly things when their cloaks are off. The cloak may be the ugly thing, and nothing else.” He stood in the dark, holding me in his arms. But the clouds had cleared off a little, and though there was no moon, I could see the dim blue of the sky-lights, and a little shine from the gray of his hair. “But mine is an ugly thing,” I said, “and I hate it. Please let me put it out of my mouth. Perhaps then it will go dead.” “Out with it, little one.” “Put me down, please,” I returned. He walked to the old chest under the gable-window, seated himself on it, and set me down beside him. I slipped from the chest, and knelt on the floor at his feet, a little way in front of him. I did not touch him, and all was again quite dark about us. I told him my story from beginning to end, along with a great part of my meditations while hesitating to do the deed. I felt very choky, but forced my way through, talking with a throat that did not seem my own, and sending out a voice I seemed never to have heard before. The moment I ceased, a sound like a sob came out of the darkness. Was it possible my big uncle was crying? Then indeed there was no hope for me! He was horrified at my wickedness, and very sorry to have to give me up! I howled like a wild beast. “Please, uncle, will you kill me!” I cried, through a riot of sobs that came from me like potatoes from a sack.