er the
Havre Gosselin, with sharp peaks of cliffs piercing through.

Olivia was sleeping yonder behind that veil of shining mist; and, dear
as Guernsey was to me, she was a hundredfold dearer.

But my night's ride bad not made my day's task any easier for me. No new
light had dawned upon my difficulty. There was no loop-hole for me to
escape from the most painful and perplexing strait I had ever been in.
How was I to break it to Julia? and when? It was quite plain to me that
the sooner it was over the better it would be for myself, and perhaps
the better for her. How was I to go through my morning's calls, in the
state of nervous anxiety I found myself in?

I resolved to have it over as soon as breakfast was finished, and my
father had gone to make his professional toilet, a lengthy and important
duty with him. Yet when breakfast came I was listening intently for some
summons, which would give me an hour's grace from fulfilling my own
determination. I prolonged my meal, keeping my mother in her place at
the table; for she had never given up her office of pouring out my tea
and coffee.

I finished at List, and still no urgent message had come for me. My
mother left us together alone, as her custom was, for what time I had to
spare--a variable quantity always with me.

Now was the dreaded moment. But how was I to begin? Julia was so calm
and unsuspecting. In what words could I convey my fatal meaning most
gently to her? My head throbbed, and I could not raise my eyes to her
face. Yet it must be done.

"Dear Julia," I said, in as firm a voice as I could command.

"Yes, Martin."

But just then Grace, the housemaid, knocked emphatically at the door,
and after a due pause entered with a smiling, significant face, yet with
an apologetic courtesy.

"If you please, Dr. Martin," she said, "I'm very sorry, but Mrs. Lihou's
baby is taken with convulsion-fits; and they want you to go as fast as
ever you can, please, sir."

"Was I sorry or glad? I could not tell. It was a reprieve; but then I
knew positively it was nothing more than a reprieve. The sentence must
be executed. Julia came to me, bent her cheek toward me, and I kissed
it. That was our usual salutation when our morning's interview was
ended.

"I am going down to the new house," she said. "I lost a good deal of
time yesterday, and I must make up for it to-day. Shall you be passing
by at any time, Martin?"

"Yes--no--I cannot tell exactly," I stammered.

"