write of the man who has betrayed us both.
Disgraced and broken as I am, there is something still left in me which
lifts me above _him._ If he came repentant, at this moment, and offered
me all that rank and wealth and worldly consideration can give, I would
rather be what I am now than be his wife.

"Let me speak of you; and (for Blanche's sake) let me speak of myself.

"I ought, no doubt, to have waited to see you at Windygates, and to have
told you at once of what had happened. But I was weak and ill and the
shock of hearing what I heard fell so heavily on me that I fainted.
After I came to myself I was so horrified, when I thought of you and
Blanche that a sort of madness possessed me. I had but one idea--the
idea of running away and hiding myself.

"My mind got clearer and quieter on the way to this place; and, arrived
here, I did what I hope and believe was the best thing I could do. I
consulted two lawyers. They differed in opinion as to whether we were
married or not--according to the law which decides on such things in
Scotland. The first said Yes. The second said No--but advised me to
write immediately and tell you the position in which you stood. I
attempted to write the same day, and fell ill as you know.

"Thank God, the delay that has happened is of no consequence. I asked
Blanche, at Windygates, when you were to be married--and she told me not
until the end of the autumn. It is only the fifth of September now. You
have plenty of time before you. For all our sakes, make good use of it.

"What are you to do?

"Go at once to Sir Patrick Lundie, and show him this letter. Follow
his advice--no matter how it may affect _me._ I should ill requite your
kindness, I should be false indeed to the love I bear to Blanche, if
I hesitated to brave any exposure that may now be necessary in your
interests and in hers. You have been all that is generous, all that is
delicate, all that is kind in this matter. You have kept my disgraceful
secret--I am quite sure of it--with the fidelity of an honorable man who
has had a woman's reputation placed in his charge. I release you, with
my whole heart, dear Mr. Brinkworth, from your pledge. I entreat you, on
my knees, to consider yourself free to reveal the truth. I will make any
acknowledgment, on my side, that is needful under the circumstances--no
matter how public it may be. Release yourself at any price; and then,
and not till then, give back your regard to the miserable