The Hidden Hand

A woman like a dew-drop she was purer than the purest,

And her noble heart the noblest, yes, and her sure faith the surest;

And her eyes were dark and humid like the depth in depth of lustre

Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild grape's cluster,

Gushed in raven-tinted plenty down her cheeks' rose-tinted marble;

Then her voice's music--call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble.

--Browning.

"Cap?"

"Sir!"

"What the blazes is the matter with you?"

"What the blazes! You better say what the dust and ashes! I'm bored to death! I'm blue as indigo! There never was such a rum old place as this or such a rum old uncle as you!"

"Cap, how often have I told you to leave off this Bowery boy talk? Rum! pah!" said Old Hurricane.

"Well, it is rum, then! Nothing ever happens here! The silence deafens me! the plenty takes away my appetite! the safety makes me low!"

"Hum! you are like the Bowery boys in times of peace, 'spoiling for a fight.'"

"Yes. I am! just decomposing above ground for want of having my blood stirred, and I wish I was back in the Bowery! Something was always happening there! One day a fire, next day a fight, another day a fire and a fight together."

"Umph! and you to run with the engine!"

"Don't talk about it, uncle; it makes me homesick--every day something glorious to stir one's blood! Here nothing ever happens, hardly! It has been three days since I caught Black Donald; ten days since you blowed up the whole household! Oh! I wish the barns would catch on fire! I wish thieves would break in and steal. I wish Demon's Run would rise to a flood and play the demon for once! Ohyah!--oo!" said Cap, opening her mouth with a yawn wide enough to threaten the dislocation of her jaws.

"Capitola," said the old man, very gravely, "I am getting seriously uneasy about you. I know I am a rough old soldier, quite unfit to educate a young girl, and that Mrs. Condiment can't manage you, and--I'll consult Mr. Goodwin!" he concluded, getting up and putting on his hat, and walking out of the breakfast-room, where this conversation had taken place.

Cap laughed to herself. "I hope it is not a sin. I know I should die of the blues if I couldn't give vent to my feelings and--tease uncle!"