started strong and ready for use. She needed all this bodily
strength, to a degree that no human creature, now Peggy was dead,
knew of: for Willie had grown up large and strong in body, and, in
general, docile enough in mind; but, every now and then, he became
first moody, and then violent. These paroxysms lasted but a day or
two; and it was Susan's anxious care to keep their very existence
hidden and unknown. It is true, that occasional passers-by on that
lonely road heard sounds at night of knocking about of furniture,
blows, and cries, as of some tearing demon within the solitary farm-
house; but these fits of violence usually occurred in the night; and
whatever had been their consequence, Susan had tidied and redded up
all signs of aught unusual before the morning. For, above all, she
dreaded lest some one might find out in what danger and peril she
occasionally was, and might assume a right to take away her brother
from her care. The one idea of taking charge of him had deepened and
deepened with years. It was graven into her mind as the object for
which she lived. The sacrifice she had made for this object only
made it more precious to her. Besides, she separated the idea of the
docile, affectionate, loutish, indolent Will, and kept it distinct
from the terror which the demon that occasionally possessed him
inspired her with. The one was her flesh and her blood--the child of
her dead mother; the other was some fiend who came to torture and
convulse the creature she so loved. She believed that she fought her
brother's battle in holding down those tearing hands, in binding
whenever she could those uplifted restless arms prompt and prone to
do mischief. All the time she subdued him with her cunning or her
strength, she spoke to him in pitying murmurs, or abused the third
person, the fiendish enemy, in no unmeasured tones. Towards morning
the paroxysm was exhausted, and he would fall asleep, perhaps only to
waken with evil and renewed vigour. But when he was laid down, she