and
she knew it. All that is changed now."

"Well well!" he said, peevishly, "do as you like. I wash my hands of the
whole business. Julia will not forsake me if she renounces you, and I
shall have need of her and her money. I shall cling to Julia."

"She will be a kind nurse to you," I remarked.

"Excellent!" he answered, settling himself languidly down among his
pillows. "She may come in now and watch beside me; it will be the sort
of occupation to suit her in her present state of feeling. You had
better go out and amuse yourself in your own way. Of course you will go
home to-morrow morning."

I would have gone back to Guernsey at once, but I found neither cutter
nor yacht sailing that afternoon, so I was obliged to wait for the
steamer next morning. I did not see Julia again, but Captain Carey told
me she had consented that he should remain at hand for a day or two, to
see if he could be of any use to her.

The report of my father's illness had spread before I reached home, and
sufficiently accounted for our visit to Jersey, and the temporary
postponement of my last trip to England before our marriage. My mother,
Johanna, and I, kept our own counsel, and answered the many questions
asked us as vaguely as the Delphic oracle.

Still an uneasy suspicion and suspense hung about our circle. The
atmosphere was heavily charged with electricity, which foreboded storms.
It would be well for me to quit Guernsey before all the truth came out.
I wrote to Tardif, telling him I was going for an indefinite period to
London, and that if any difficulty or danger threatened Olivia, I begged
of him to communicate with my mother, who had promised me to befriend
her as far as it lay in her power. My poor mother thought of her without
bitterness, though with deep regret. To Olivia herself I wrote a line or
two, finding myself too weak to resist the temptation. I said:

"MY DEAR OLIVIA: I told you I was about to be married to my cousin Julia
Dobree; that engagement is at an end. I am obliged to leave Guernsey,
and seek my fortune elsewhere. It will be a long time before I can see
you again, if I ever have that great happiness. Whenever you feel the
want of a true and tender friend, my mother is prepared to love you as
if you were her own daughter. Think of me also as your friend. MARTIN
DOBREE."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.

IN EXILE.

I left Guernsey the day before my father and Julia returned from Jersey.

My immedia