"Yes; tell me his words—every word."
Nigel could not; she was expecting too much. He made an effort, and failed; then drew an envelope from his pocket, and gave it to her. "From my father to me," he said huskily. "I found it—afterwards." He did not watch his mother while she read, but sat with his right hand pressed across brow and eyes.
"Yes," she said, in a slow, quiet voice, when she reached the end; and a long breath of sorrow was woven into the word.
Then a pause.
"Has Fulvia seen this?"
"No."
"Or—any one?"
"No."
"He never told me—never let me suspect—But Fulvia, knows?"
"Yes."