sible they heard not?

They heard!--they suspected!--they knew!--they were making a mockery of
my horror! this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better
than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could
bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or
die!--and now--again!--hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed--tear up
the planks! here! here! it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

THE UNCLE

H. G. BELL

I had an uncle once--a man
Of threescore years and three,
And when my reason's dawn began,
He'd take me on his knee,
And often talk, whole winter nights,
Things that seemed strange to me.

He was a man of gloomy mood,
And few his converse sought;
But, it was said, in solitude
His conscience with him wrought;
And then, before his mental eye,
Some hideous vision brought.

There was not one in all the house
Who did not fear his frown,
Save I, a little, careless child,
Who gamboled up and down,
And often peeped into his room,
And plucked him by his gown.

I was an orphan and alone--
My father was his brother,
And all their lives I knew that they
Had fondly loved each other;
And in my uncle's room there hung
The picture of my mother.

There was a curtain over it--
'Twas in a darkened place,
And few or none had ever looked
Upon my mother's face;
Or seen her pale, expressive smile
Of melancholy grace.

One night--I do remember well,
The wind was howling high,
And through the ancient corridors
It sounded drearily;
I sat and read in that old hall;
My uncle sat close by.

I read--but little understood
The words upon the book,
For with a sidelong glance I marked
My uncle's fearful look,
And saw how all his quivering frame
In strong convulsions shook.

A silent terror o'er me stole,
A strange, unusual dread;
His lips were white as bone--his eyes
Sunk far down in his head;
He gazed on me, but 'twas the gaze
Of the unconscious dead.

Then suddenly he turned him round,
And drew aside the veil
That hung before my mother's face;
Perchance my eyes might fail,
But