m. He wrote word of his domestic
affliction with a manly sorrow which touched me, said that his health
was failing, and begged me, as soon as possible, to come and visit him
in Scotland. I went, and continued to reside with him till his death,
some months afterwards. By his will I succeeded to his ample fortune on
condition of taking his name.

As soon as the affairs connected with this inheritance permitted, I
returned to Paris, and again saw M. Sartiges. I had never heard from
Louise, nor from any one connected with her since the letter you have
read. No steps had been taken to annul the marriage, and sufficient time
had elapsed to render it improbable that such steps would be taken now;
but if no such steps were taken, however free from the marriage-bond
Louise might be, it clearly remained binding on myself.

At my request, M. Sartiges took the most vigorous measures that occurred
to him to ascertain where Louise was, and what and who was the relation
with whom she asserted she had found refuge. The police were employed;
advertisements were issued, concealing names, but sufficiently clear to
be intelligible to Louise if they came under her eye, and to the effect
that if any informality in our marriage existed, she was implored for
her own sake to remove it by a second ceremonial--answer to be addressed
to the avoue. No answer came; the police had hitherto failed of
discovering her, but were sanguine of success, when a few weeks after
these advertisements a packet reached M. Sartiges, enclosing the
certificates annexed to this letter, of the death of Louise Duval at
Munich. The certificates, as you will see, are to appearance officially
attested and unquestionably genuine. So they were considered by M.
Sartiges as well as by myself. Here, then, all inquiry ceased; the
police were dismissed. I was free. By little and little I overcame the
painful impressions which my ill-starred union and the announcement of
Louise's early death bequeathed. Rich, and of active mind, I learned to
dismiss the trials of my youth as a gloomy dream. I entered into public
life; I made myself a creditable position; became acquainted with your
aunt; we were wedded, and the beauty of her nature embellished mine.
Alas, alas! two years after our marriage--nearly five years after I
had received the certificates of Louise's death--I and your aunt made a
summer excursion into the country of the Rhine; on our return we rested
at Aix-la-Chapelle. On