I well remembered his downcast grey eye, deprived of
its fellow; and the malignant pleasure he took in thwarting and
disturbing my childish amusements. This prepossessing Cyclop held a
tinder-box, and was preparing to light a match. My uncle's figure I
could not mistake: a score of winters had cast their shadows on his brow
since we had separated; but he still stood as he was wont--tall, erect,
and muscular, though age had slightly drooped his proud forehead; and I
could discern his long-lapped waistcoat somewhat less conspicuous in
front. He was my mother's brother, and the only surviving relation on
whom I had any claim. My fears were set at rest, but curiosity stole
into their place. I felt an irrepressible inclination to watch their
proceedings, though eaves-dropping was a subterfuge that I abhorred. I
should, I am confident--at least I hope so--have immediately discovered
myself, had not a single word which I had overheard prevented me. The
"will" to which they alluded might to me, perhaps, be an object of no
trivial importance.
"I wish with all my heart it were burnt!" said mine uncle.
"The will, or the house?" peevishly retorted Gilbert.
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