stand well up in the book of life.

My uncle, then, approached his room without knowing there was a live
kernel to the dark that filled it. I hearkened to every nearer step as he
came up the stair, along the corridor, and up the short final ascent to
the door of the study. I had crept from my place to the middle of the
room, and, without a thought of consequences, stood waiting the arrival
through the dark, of my deliverer from the dark. I did not know that many
a man who would face a battery calmly, will spring a yard aside if a
yelping cur dart at him.

My uncle opened the door, and closed it behind him. His lamp and matches
stood ready on his table: it was my part to see they were there. With a
sigh, which seemed to seek me in the darkness and find me, he came
forward through it. I caught him round the legs, and clung to him. He
gave a great gasp and a smothered cry, staggered, and nearly fell.

"My God!" he murmured.

"Uncle! uncle!" I cried, in greater terror than he; "it's only Orbie!
It's only your little one!"

"Oh! it's only my little one, is it?" he rejoined, at once recovering his
equanimity, and not for a moment losing the temper so ready, like nervous
cat, to spring from most of us when startled.

He caught me up in his arms, and held me to his heart. I could feel it
beat against my little person.

"Uncle! uncle!" I cried again. "Don't! Don't!"