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.
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