"A letter?"
Aunt Clare nodded, "Yes, it was tucked into the photo frame with your and the master's picture. I only discovered it today when I accidentally knocked over the frame."
Rebecca Quentin was puzzled, "What letter?"
Aunt Clare stood up, "I'll get it for you to see."
"Okay."
A minute later, Rebecca Quentin tore open the yellowed envelope and took the letter out.
Sure enough, it was in Alexander Quentin's handwriting, seemingly written with the last of his strength when he was gravely ill. The handwriting varied in depth, reflecting his weakness at the time and causing a pang of sadness in Rebecca Quentin's heart.
Becca…
When you see this letter, daddy might have already left you a long time ago…
My dearest daughter, how have you been? The only thing daddy couldn't rest easy about in this world is you, because you're just too kind and innocent for this society.
