expressions dawned upon me, and I even got so far as to believe that I
had been guilty of neglect in not visiting her oftener and doing
something for her. True, I recalled likewise that my uncle had desired
me not to visit her except with him or my aunt, but that was ages ago,
when I was a very little boy and might have been troublesome. I could
even read to her now if she wished it. In short, I felt myself
perfectly capable of entering into social relations with her generally.
But if there was any flow of affection towards her, it was the sword
that had broken the seal of its fountain.

One morning at breakfast I had been sitting gazing at the sword on the
wall opposite me. My aunt had observed the steadiness of my look.

'What are you staring at, Willie?' she said. 'Your eyes are fixed in
your head. Are you choking?'

The words offended me. I got up and walked out of the room. As I went
round the table I saw that my uncle and aunt were staring at each other
very much as I had been staring at the sword. I soon felt ashamed of
myself, and returned, hoping that my behaviour might be attributed to
some passing indisposition. Mechanically I raised my eyes to the wall.
Could I believe them? The sword was gone--absolutely gone! My heart
seemed to swell up into my throat; I felt my cheeks burning. The
passion grew within me, and might have broken out in some form or
other, had I not felt that would at once betray my secret. I sat still
with a fierce effort, consoling and strengthening myself with the
resolution that I would hesitate no longer, but take the first chance
of a private interview with grannie. I tried hard to look as if nothing
had happened, and when breakfast was over, went to my own room. It was
there I carried on my pasting operations. There also at this time I