We were married at Gretna Green; and I have accompanied him ever since, through Carlisle and Dumfries, Ayr, Glasgow, and ultimately to Jock's Lodge, where the regiment is now lying. He has taken lodgings for me in Edinburgh; but of late has sadly deserted me. I have been enabled, by taking up linen, and sewing articles for the ladies' exhibition, to do something in aid of our scanty funds. But William has of late undergone a sad change. He has become addicted to gambling; has even introduced improper characters, both male and female, into my presence; and has talked, particularly in his cups, about a divorce and separation. He wishes _me_, he says, to divorce him; and takes every method of giving me sufficient grounds for so doing; but, with all his errors and vices, I love him still, nor can I think, now that I have time to reflect on it, he would have murdered me outright, even though you had not so providentially interfered. He has of late succeeded to a title, by the death of an uncle, who has disinherited him, and left his vast property past him. This preyed upon his spirits of late; and I have reason to know that he has been making love, and even offers of marriage, to a rich widow lady, who dwells not far from York Place, Edinburgh. But my marriage-lines lie sadly in his way; and it was to attain by force what he could not otherwise, that he had almost, and, but for you, would have perhaps altogether, murdered me, a few minutes ago. Poor William! my heart still bleeds for him; but I will never give up, whilst I live, the only means which I have of proving myself an honest woman.
All Edinburgh rang next morning with the news--Lord M---- had shot himself dead in his bedroom.
In the year 1831, I had occasion to be several days in Durham. It occurred to me, one day, whilst I was sauntering about the cathedral, that the house, where probably still lived the father of the poor unfortunate Mrs, or rather _Lady_ M----, might be in the neighbourhood. I made inquiry; and, without much difficulty, found it out. From what I learned in the neighbourhood, the poor woman had never taken up her husband's title. Her father, on hearing of her husband's tragical end, had relented, and taken her home, to keep his house, and comfort him in his old age. I asked for her father, and was shown into a neat parlour, where the old man sat, comfortably pillowed, but terribly pained with gout and a complication of diseases. I introduced myself as an acquaintance of Mrs Fitzwilliam, who was immediately sent for, and entered the parlour. She did not know me, nor was it wonderful; for, as I went to the country next day after the night adventure, I had no opportunity of calling upon her. Indeed, I should scarcely have known her either--her dress and manner were so much more imposing than they had been at our first and only interview. However, upon my referring to the circumstances, she immediately took me by the hand, burst into tears, and, presenting me to her father, who was almost blind, "Papa," said she, "this is the gentleman who saved my life." I had the old man's blessing. A bottle of home-made wine was called for, and discussed, and I was pressed to come back to dinner; which, however, I politely refused, for I did not know how far my enthusiastic temperament might have gone, in the case of a truly beautiful woman, whom I had saved from death, and whose gratitude led her to think very favourably of me. I have not heard of her lately; but mean to write to my brother-in-law, who lives in Durham, about her, and to ascertain whether she is still living or dead; whether she is yet unmarried, or has again ventured to face the blacksmith.