Four years later he took her to London, where she met Mr.Francis Morton and married him.
She led six or seven years of very happy married life when one day, like a thunderbolt from a clear, blue sky, she received a typewritten letter, signed 'Armand de la Tremouille,' full of protestations of undying love, telling a long and pathetic tale of years of suffering in a foreign land, whither he had drifted after having been rescued almost miraculously from the wreck of the _Argentina_, and where he never had been able to scrape a sufficient amount of money to pay for his passage home.

At last fate had favoured him.

He had, after many vicissitudes, found the whereabouts of his dear wife, and was now ready to forgive all that was past and take her to his loving arms once again.
"What followed was the usual course of events when there is a blackguard and a fool of a woman.

She was terrorised and did not dare to tell her husband for some time; she corresponded with the Comte de la Tremouille, begging him for her sake and in memory of the past not to attempt to see her.

She found him amenable to reason in the shape of several hundred pounds which passed through the Brighton post office into his hands.