have taken him to her side."
Later.—I had to lay aside my pen and rest, and now my hands tremble
with weakness; but justice to one who has never received justice at
my hands urges me to make my confession. Harold, I cannot remember
the time when I did not feel jealous of you. As a child, you were
loving in nature, winning your way without effort to every heart.
You were mother's pet and pride. Father could scarcely see a fault
in his big, brave, and beautiful boy. When Aunt Sarah came, all that
I could say to prejudice her against you had no effect. She loved and