My uncle removed his hand from his face, glanced at me, nodded his head, which was the first indication he had given that he was conscious of my presence, after I began to relate my story. The look that accompanied the nod was anything but a pleasant one. There was something like malignant satisfaction in the glance that he bestowed upon me.
"Then you did request Mr. Parasyte to reduce me to subjection, as he expressed it?"
"I did," replied he, decidedly, as he again uncovered his face, and nodded to emphasize his reply.
This was hopeful, for I had at least got an answer out of him, though the reply was cold-blooded and cruel.
"Did you request him to flog me?" I demanded, a little excited by the fact that my uncle was likely to prove as malignant as the schoolmaster.
"I did," he added; and his eyes seemed to glow like two coals of fire.
It was not difficult now for me to understand the situation. My uncle hated me,—why I knew not. I could not reconcile such a feeling with the indulgence he had always extended to me. I could not see why, if he hated me, as that fierce glare of his eyes indicated, he had always allowed me to have my own way, had always given me money without stint, and had permitted me to go and come when and as I pleased, and rove at will over the broad and dangerous lake.
I have since learned that this indulgence was perfectly consistent with hatred, and that the judicious parent, who truly loves his son, would deprive him of such unhealthy and dangerous indulgences. As he hated me, so he let me have my own way. Had he loved me, he would have restrained me; he would have inquired into my conduct when away from home; and above all, he would not have allowed me to risk my life upon the stormy lake as I did.
"You did request him to flog me, and without understanding the merits of the case!" I replied, indignantly.
He nodded again.