My mother passed a restless and agitated night, and I, who sat up with her, was compelled to listen to all her lamentation.  But toward the morning she fell into a heavy sleep, likely to last for some hours.  I could leave her in perfect security; and at an early hour I went down to Julia’s house, strung up to bear the worst, and intending to have it all out with her, and put her on her guard before she paid her daily visit to our house.  She must have some hours for her excitement and rejoicing to bubble over, before she came to talk about it to my mother.

“I wish to see Miss Dobree,” I said to the girl who quickly answered my noisy peal of the house-bell.

“Please, sir,’” was her reply, “she and Miss Daltrey are gone to Sark with Captain Carey.”

“Gone to Sark!” I repeated, in utter amazement.

“Yes, Dr. Martin.  They started quite early because of the tide, and Captain Carey’s man brought the carriage to take them to St. Sampson’s.  I don’t look for them back before evening.  Miss Dobree said I was to come, with her love, and ask how Mrs. Dobree is to-day, and if she’s home in time she’ll come this evening; but if she’s late she’ll come to-morrow morning.”

“When did they make up their minds to go to Sark?” I inquired, anxiously.

“Only late last night, sir,” she answered.  “Cook had settled with Miss Dobree to dine early to-day; but then Captain Carey came in, and after he was gone she said breakfast must be ready at seven this morning in their own rooms while they were dressing; so they must have settled it with Captain Carey last night.”

I turned away very much surprised and bewildered, and in an irritable state which made the least thing jar upon me.  Curiosity, which had slept yesterday, or was numbed by the shock of my disappointment, was feverishly awake to-day.  How little I knew, after all, of the mystery which surrounded Olivia!  The bitter core of it I knew, but nothing of the many sheaths and envelops which wrapped it about.  There might be some hope, some consolation to be found wrapped up with it.  I must go again to Sark in the steamer on Monday, and hear Olivia tell me all she could tell of her history.

Then, why were Julia and Kate Daltrey gone to Sark?  What could they have to do with Olivia?  It made me almost wild with anger to think of them finding Olivia, and talking to her perhaps of me and my love—­questioning her, arguing with her, tormenting her!  The bare thought of those two badgering my Olivia was enough to drive me frantic.

In the cool twilight, Julia and Kate Daltrey were announced.  I was about to withdraw from my mother’s room, in conformity with the etiquette established among us, when Julia recalled me in a gentler voice than she had used toward me since the day of my fatal confession.

“Stay, Martin,” she said; “what we have to tell concerns you more than any one.”

I sat down again by my mother’s sofa, and she took my hand between both her own, fondling it in the dusk.