But these shall be the last!"

Petronella, trembling in every limb, shrank silently away in the
shadows as her father approached, the sight of his grim, stern face
and the cruel-looking weapon in his hands bringing quick thrills of
pain and pity to her gentle heart. Petronella was a very tender
floweret to have been reared amidst so much hardness and sorrow. It
was wonderful that she had lived through the helpless years of
infancy (her mother had died ere she had completed her second year)
with such a father over her, or that having so lived she had
preserved the sweetness and clinging softness of temperament which
gave to her such a strange charm--at least in the opinion of one.
Doubtless she owed much of her well being to the kindly care of an
old deaf and dumb woman, the only servant in that lonely old house,
who had entered it to nurse the children's mother through her last
illness, and had stayed on almost as a matter of course, receiving
no wage for her untiring service, but only the coarse victuals that
all shared alike, and such scanty clothing as was absolutely
indispensable.

To this old crone Petronella fled with white face and tearful eyes,
as the sound of those terrible blows smote upon her ears with the
whistling noise that well betrayed the force with which they were
dealt. She quickly made the faithful old creature aware of what was
going on, and her sympathy was readily aroused on behalf of the
sufferer. The dumb request for food was also understood and
complied with. No doubt there had been times before when the girl
had crept with bread and meat in her apron to the solitary captive,
who was shut up alone without food till he should come to a better
mind.