The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1889-03-07

lie put one huge hand under my
chin, and forcibly lifted my face.
The expression of intense fear writ
| ten there seemed to amuse him. for
| his black moustache parted in dread.
ful smile, which showed set of very
big white teeth.
Enlightened = eh?n he remarked
brusquely, passing his other heavy
hand over my head. 81 suppose l am
| rather notwithstanding for shy
| wee thing like you; but l don't mean
to eat you, Nelly"
He gave gruff, hearty laugh, prob
| ably meant TO reassure me, but it had
| an entirely opposite effect, and | felt
intensely terrified when he released me.
'Would you like some dessert?" he
asked, pointing TO the well-laden table.
"a few grapes, an orange, or any
thing?"
No. thank you" l whispered trem-
ulousiy, shrinking as far as possible
from him.
Don't You know my name, little
Nell?" he asked, rather reproachfully,
| thought.
Yes Uncle Richard.n
''And you are my child now. |
haven't any children of my own, so l
| really and truly don't know what to do
with you"
He looked at me with half-comical,
half-puzzled expression on his dark
face, and at that moment he reminded
me so vivldly of picture | had seen
of the wolf in Red Riding Hood. that,
losing all control of myself. l gave a
shnrt ND ,,itSbn1 n 70
safe shelter of the nursery.
| did not see Uncle Richard for sew,
eral days, nor did he take mulh
trouble to seek the young niece let to
his care.
When l family questioned nursie,
she told me he had gone away, and
that news completely lifted load of
terror from my mind.
Once, tired of my forced seclusion, |
went downstairs, eager to find Il pic
ture book in the sombre library.
The door stood half open, and as l
paused without. the sound of voices
broke upon my ear-mcn's deep voices,
one of which | instantly recognized as
Uncle Richards.
''Yes. she will be better out Of the
way. Your idea is good, and can be
easily acted upon" he was saying.
My dear sir, it is the only thing to
be done," the strange voice replied soft
ly. Il will take her, and leave her
there, and you will not be troubled by
her.
Here the voice was lowered, and try
as [ could, l was unable to catch the
end of that sentence.
But | had heard enough.
A strange cold numbness overpower-
ed me for a moment, soon succeeded
by burning sense of indignant wrath.
He, the wicked uncle, was even
worse than | had pictured-he lost no
time in bringing my short life to some
fearful end.
turned away, and with sudden
wild desire to escape my doom, hurried
across the dim corridor to door |
knew led to the garden.
1t was not locked, and easily opened :;
before | had half realized the madness
of my conduct, l was flying down the
silent street-hurrying as if pursued
by countless bad spirits.
| don't quite remember how it hap
pened, but as | crossed one of the
muddy roads heard a loud noise rs of
many horses tearing behind me.
A harsh voice shouted "Stop!" some
one clutched my arm in tight grasp,
then a hard blow fell on my head, and
all was darkness.
When | awOke to consciousness
again, found myself lying in a soft
white bed; a lady with the sweetest
face | had ever seen was bending over
me. and as | struggled weakly to a
sitting posture, she gently ciasped her
arms about me.
My poor little darling, What
made you run like that? Had l not
been passing at that moment, Heaven
knows what might not have hap
pened!n
She looked SO sympathetic, so loving,
that | could not help resting my head
against her, and sobbing out a discon-
nected tale Of nIy woes. Her lips
quivered little as | ended and she
bent to press a tender clinging kiss up
on my brow.
Poor Uncle Richard! And did you
really think he wished to kill you?"
she asked softly. You have been left
too lonely, too long in the care of
ilcl SSt GU ~ NOLoSl 4O uS-
sired TO send you to me-"
"To you?a | gasped, not quite un-
derstanding even yet. 80 you?
"Yes. You have been very foolish
little girl, and the cause of much anx-
iety to one of the best men that ever
breathed. Uncle Richard wanted to
make you happy, more like other
children, and had just decided to send
you to me, his cousin, when you ran
away. Had | not recognized You by
this descriDtion, he would have been
sadly distressed, not knowing what
had become of YOU
How long have / been here?" l
asked. feeling terribly ashamed and
foolish.
Three days"
..Where is Uncle Richard? Can |
see hlm?n | whispered humblv, and
with a smile and a kiss, my kind nurse
left me.
The next moment, however | was
clasped close in the arms of my wicked
uncle.
My own little Nell. You will love
me now?' he said, and his voice sound
ed no longer grutf, or perhaps | had
imagined it before, and | sobbed half
gladly as / kissed his bronzed bearded
cheek.
Yes; l will love you always-you
and this kind lady" murmured, hold
ing out an impuisive hand to her.
Uncle Richard smiled very tenderly,
and looked from my fearful face to her
pretty one.
That is Aunt Grace, darling, she is
to be my wife soon, and then we can
both take care of you"
| felt very glad when | heard that,
and happiness made me quickly better;
so quickl Y indeed did the time pass.
that l could hardly believe whole
month had gone before Uncle Richard
took me home TO Betty again-not
home alone, for sweet Aunt Grace was
with us, and it was a very different
child who leaped into old dnursie's arms
to the one VINO had run away four
short weeks ago.
He is good. and l love hint" l
L