'So long! There was a man once who, at the bidding of a magician, but dipped his head into a bucket of water----' he paused moodily.
'Yes, yes!' exclaimed the girl eagerly, advancing a step towards him, with a desire to propitiate him. 'Go on. Tell me about him. I'm fond of stories about magicians.'
He stared at her. 'Injured innocence,' he said, 'speak when you're spoken to.' She tossed her head, and retreated, and uncle Bryan again questioned my mother. 'How long has this little----'
'Young lady,' interposed the girl, with rather a comical assertion of independence.
--'This little girl--how long has she been here?'
'About an hour, Bryan.'
'Long enough, I see, to make herself quite at home.' He seemed to be at a loss for words, and sat drumming his fingers on the table, moving his lips as if he were holding converse with them, and with his eyes turned from us.
In the silence that ensued, the girl stole towards him. My mother's footstool was near his chair, and she sat upon it, and resting her hand timidly on his knee, said, in a sweet pleading voice,
'I wish you would be kind to me.'
Her face was upturned to his. He looked down upon it, and placing his hands on her shoulders, said in a tone which was both low and bitter, which was harsh from passion and tender from a softer emotion which he could not control,