from
Johanna Carey:

"DEAR MARTIN: Your father and Julia have been here this
afternoon, and have confided to me a very sad and very painful
secret, which they ask me to break gently to you. I am afraid
no shadow of a suspicion of it has ever fallen upon your mind,
and, I warn you, you will need all your courage and strength
as a man to bear it. I was myself so overwhelmed that I could
not write to you until now, in the dead of the night, having
prayed with all my heart to our merciful God to sustain and
comfort you, who will feel this sorrow more than any of us. My
dearest Martin, my poor boy, how can I tell it to you? You
must come home again for a season. Even Julia wishes it,
though she cannot stay in the same house with you, and will go
to her own with her friend Kate Daltrey. Your father cried
like a child. He takes it more to heart than I should have
expected. Yet there is no immediate danger; she may live for
some months yet. My poor Martin, you will have a mother only a
few months longer. Three weeks ago she and I went to Sark, at
her own urgent wish, to see your Olivia. I did not then know
why. She had a great longing to see the unfortunate girl who
had been the cause of so much sorrow to us all, but especially
to her, for she has pined sorely after you. We did not find
her in Tardif's house, but Suzanne directed us to the little
graveyard half a mile away. We followed her there, and
recognized her, of course, at the first glance. She is a
charming creature, that I allow, though I wish none of us had
ever seen her. Your mother told her who she was, and the
sweetest flush and smile came across her face! They sat down
side by side on one of the graves, and I strolled away, so I
do not know what they said to one another. Olivia walked down
with us to the Havre Gosselin, and your mother held her in her
arms and kissed her tenderly. Even I could not help kissing
her.

"Now I understand why your mother longed to see Olivia. She
knew then--she has known for months--that her days are
numbered. When she was in London last November, she saw the
most skilful physicians, and they all agreed that her disease
was incurable and fatal. Why did she conceal it from you? Ah,
Martin, you must know a woman's heart, a mother's heart,