“I thought you would say so,” she replied; “I did not think yours was a love that would quickly pass away, if it ever does.  There are men who can love with the constancy of a woman.  Do you know any thing of her?”

“Nothing!” I said, despondently; “I have no clew as to where she may be now.”

“Nor has Tardif,” she continued; “my brother and I went across to Sark last week to ask him.”

“That was very good of you,” I interrupted.

“It was partly for our own sakes,” she said, blushing faintly.  “Martin, Tardif says that if you have once loved Olivia, it is once for all.  You would never conquer it.  Do you think that this is true?  Be candid with us.”

“Yes,” I answered, “it is true.  I could never love again as I love Olivia.”

“Then, my dear Martin,” said Johanna, very softly, “do you wish to keep Julia to her promise?”

I started violently.  What!  Did Julia wish to be released from that semi-engagement, and be free?  Was it possible that any one else coveted my place in her affections, and in the new house which we had fitted up for ourselves?  I felt like the dog in the manger.  It seemed an unheard-of encroachment for any person to come between my cousin Julia and me.

“Do you ask me to set you free from your promise, Julia?” I asked, somewhat sternly.

“Why, Martin,” she said, averting her face from me, “you know I should never consent to marry you, with the idea of your caring most for that girl.  No, I could never do that.  If I believed you would ever think of me as you used to do before you saw her, well, I would keep true to you.  But is there any hope of that?”

“Let us be frank with one another,” I answered; “tell me, is there any one else whom you would marry if I release you from this promise, which was only given, perhaps, to soothe my mothers last hours?”

Julia hung her head, and did not speak.  Her lips trembled.  I saw her take Johanna’s hand and squeeze it, as if to urge her to answer the question.

“Martin,” said Johanna, “your happiness is dear to every one of us.  If we had believed there was any hope of your learning to love Julia as she deserves, and as a man ought to love his wife, not a word of this would have been spoken.  But we all feel there is no such hope.  Only say there is, and we will not utter another word.”

“No,” I said, “you must tell me all now.  I cannot let the question rest here.  Is there any one else whom Julia would marry if she felt quite free?”

“Yes,” answered Johanna, while Julia hid her face in her hands, “she would marry my brother.”