It happened that I had heard less than usual at this period, and
indeed for many months before it, of Jessie and her proceedings.
My son had been ordered out with his regiment to the Crimea in
1854, and had other work in hand now than recording the sayings
and doings of a young lady. Mr. Richard Yelverton, who had been
hitherto used to write to me with tolerable regularity, seemed
now, for some reason that I could not conjecture, to have
forgotten my existence. Ultimately I was reminded of my ward by
one of George's own letters, in which he asked for news of her;
and I wrote at once to Mr. Yelverton. The answer that reached me
was written by his wife: he was dangerously ill. The next letter
that came informed me of his death. This happened early in the
spring of the year 1855.

I am ashamed to confess it, but the change in my own position was
the first idea that crossed my mind when I read the news of Mr.
Yelverton's death. I was now left sole guardian, and Jessie
Yelverton wanted a year still of coming of age.

By the next day's post I wrote to her about the altered state of
the relations between us. She was then on the Continent with her
aunt, having gone abroad at the very beginning of the year.
Consequently, so far as eighteen hundred and fifty-five was
concerned, the condition exacted by the will yet remained to be
performed. She had still six weeks to pass--her last six weeks,
seeing that she was now twenty years old--under the roof of one
of her guardians, and I was now the only guardian left.

In due course of time I received my answer, written on
rose-colored paper, and expressed throughout in a tone of light,