"You once asked me to tell you about my past, and at the time I lacked the courage to comply. Now, however, I believe myself at liberty to candidly tell you all. This liberty, though, is purely circumstantial, and if I await your arrival then the chance will be past. If I fail to exercise it now, the possibility of affording you the benefit of my experience will be lost forever. In such case, the promise I made that day, in full sincerity, would prove but hollow words. Having no other recourse, I set here in writing all that I should rather have told you in person."
Having read thus far, I knew now the reason for the great length of Sensei's letter. I'd doubted all along that he would trouble himself over the question of my employment. Why though would Sensei, ever the poor correspondent, take up his pen and write at such length? Why could he not wait for my return?
"He's now at liberty to tell me. This freedom, though, is fleeting and soon to be lost forever."
I repeated these words to myself, struggling to fathom their meaning. I was suddenly hit by a wave of unease. I turned to read further. In that moment, my brother called loudly from the sickroom. I rose in alarm and rushed down the hall toward the others. I steeled myself for Father's last moment, fearing it was at long last upon us.