“Little one, you comfort me,” sighed my uncle. “I cannot tell you this thing, for when I had told it, I should want to kill myself more than ever. But neither can I bear that you should not know it. I will _not_ have a secret with that woman! I have always intended to tell you everything. I have the whole fearful story set down for your eyes--and those of any you may wish to see it: I cannot speak the words into your ears. The paper I will give you now; but you will not open it until I give you leave.” “Certainly not, uncle.” “If I should die before you have read it, I permit and desire you to read it. I know your loyalty so well, that I believe you would not look at it even after my death, if I had not given you permission. There are those who treat the dead as if they had no more rights of any kind. 'Get away to Hades,' they say; 'you are nothing now.' But you will not behave so to your uncle, little one! When the time comes for you to read my story, remember that I _now_, in preparation for the knowledge that will give you, ask you to pardon me _then_ for all the pain it will cause you and your husband--John being that husband. I have tried to do my best for you, Orbie: how much better I might have done had I had a clear conscience, God only knows. It may be that I was the tenderer uncle that I could not be a better one.” He hid his face in his hands, and burst into a tempest of weeping. It was terrible to see the man to whom I had all my life looked with a reverence that prepared me for knowing the great father, weeping like a bitterly repentant and self-abhorrent child. It seemed sacrilege to be present. I felt as if my eyes, only for seeing him thus, deserved the ravens to pick them out. I could not contain myself. I rose and threw my arms about him, got close to him as a child to her mother, and, as soon as the passion of my love would let me, sobbed out, “Uncle! darling uncle! I love you more than ever! I did not know before that I could love so much! I could _kill_ that woman with my own hands! I wish I had killed her when I pulled her down that day! It is right to kill poisonous creatures: she is worse than any snake!” He smiled a sad little smile, and shook his head. Then first I seemed to understand a little. A dull flash went through me. I stood up, drew back, and gazed at him. My eyes fixed themselves on his. I stared into them. He had ceased to weep, and lay regarding me with calm response. “You don't mean, uncle,--?” “Yes, little one, I do. That woman was the cause of the action for which she threatens to denounce me as a murderer. I do not say she intended to bring it about; but none the less was she the consciously wicked and wilful cause of it.--And you will marry her son, and be her daughter!” he added, with a groan as of one in unutterable despair. I sprang back from him. My very proximity was a pollution to him while he believed such a thing of me!