He knew what I meant; it was an old tale, in our neighbourhood, of a nobleman's second wife who would not allow her step-children even the use of a yellow basin.
"What! do you mean to say"--and he began to tremble exceedingly--"that you have found any trace, any clue even, to my poor darlings?"
"Yes, thank God, I have. Oh, Uncle, I am so glad!" And I threw myself into his arms: his head fell heavily on my shoulder, and I felt that I had been too sudden. He could not speak, but fetched one long sob. I parted his white hair, and looked at him as if in surprise at his hastiness.
"Dear Uncle, we must not be certain yet. I mean that I have found something, or fancy I have found something, which--which--I mean if properly followed up--may lead in time--but you know how sanguine I am."
"Clara, you are playing with me. It is a mistake to do so. I cannot bear it, child. But the sudden shock I can bear. Let me know all at once. Are they alive or dead?"
"Alive, I think, dear Uncle; and I hope to find them soon, if you will calmly advise me."
"You have found them. No more fencing. I know it by your eyes. All the truth this moment, unless you wish to kill me."
He stood up as if to seize me, for I had withdrawn from his grasp, but his poor legs would not carry him; so I was obliged to seize him instead. He fell sideways on a chair, and vainly tried to speak; but his eyes never faltered from mine.
"Dearest Uncle, I tell you the truth. Of course I cannot be certain yet, and it won't do to make a mistake; and so I want more evidence."
"I want no more. Only let me see them." He spoke very slowly, and the muscles of his face twitched at every word.