at I should yet recover my beloved child. After having
been many years deprived of both bodily and mental vigour by his
paralysis, my husband died. I was free; but wherefore should I live!...
I had lost my faith in everything which makes life dear, and I stood
alone, on the verge of old age, surrounded by darkness and bitter
memories. Thus did I still feel but a few days ago, when I received a
writing from the present Commandant of K----. Within lay an unsealed
letter, which he said had been found in a drawer into which my husband
was wont to throw old letters and papers, of no worth or
importance.--And this letter ... Oh! how it would have changed my heart,
and my future! This letter was written by my husband, apparently
immediately after his severe paralytic stroke; but its words, in an
unsteady hand, said, that the lost child still lived, and directed me
for further explanation to a certain Sergeant Roenn, in Bergen. Here the
letter appeared to have been broken off by a sudden increase of his
attack. I was, as it chanced, absent from home on this day. When I
returned I found my husband speechless, and nearly lifeless. Life was
indeed restored through active exertions, but consciousness continued
dark, and half of the body powerless;--thus he lived on for some years.
In a moment of clearness which occurred to him shortly before he
expired, I am convinced that he desired to unfold to me the condition of
the boy, or the existence of the aforesaid letter--but death prevented
him ... How this letter became thrown amongst the old papers I do not
understand--perhaps it might be done by my husband's own hand, in that
moment of privation of consciousness in which the letter closed--enough,
the hand of Providence saved it from destruction, and allowed it to
reach me!...

"You know now the cause of my hasty journey. And if it should for me
terminate here--if I shall never achieve the highest wish, and the last
hope of my life--if I never may see again my sister's son, and myself
deliver into his hands that which has been unjustly withheld from
him--then, listen to my prayer, my solemn injunction! Seek out, as soon
as you can, in Bergen, the person whom I have named, and whose address
you will further find in the paper. Tell him, that in my last hour I
commissioned you to act in my stead; spare no expense which may be
necessary--promise, threaten--but search out where my sister's son is to
be found! And then--go to him. Bear to