“I was quite at a loss what to do. My heart was broken, for I had loved my husband very dearly. I had neither spirit, life, hope, energy or care for life left. What could life give me, now that he whom I had loved so dearly had proven not only false, but all that was mean, wicked and cruel. If I had knelt by my husband’s grave--if I had known him dead, it would have been ten thousand times easier to bear. I had no money. Sir Alfred never allowed me the free use of his purse. I had no friends. I shrank from going near any of the fashionable acquaintances I had made. Who would believe me innocent if he said I was guilty? Suddenly it flashed across me that this scandal must have been afloat in London, and that was why people looked so shyly at me; that was why the ladies I had known and liked avoided me, and no one could have spread that scandal but my husband. What chance had I against him--my word against his? “Where was I to go? In all the world there was no one so utterly friendless and wretched. I thought heaven itself had worked a miracle in my favor when later on that day there came a letter from a London lawyer, a Mr. Hewson, saying that my aunt, Donna Maria de Borga, was dead, and had left all her money to me. It had been transmitted by her desire from Spain to England, and was ready for me any time I liked to claim it. At last, then, I had money, more than sufficient to live upon in the greatest comfort. I think no one was ever so grateful for a legacy as I felt then. “An idea occurred to me. I resolved to go to London, and see this Mr. Hewson; perhaps he could advise me what to do. The more I thought of this plan the more advisable and prudent it appeared to me. I acted upon it. Sir Alfred had not given me much jewelry, but the little I possessed was made into a parcel, together with everything he had given me, and was sent to him. Then I bade farewell to the home I only remember with hatred and disgust. “I went at once to the address in the letter--No. 10 Lincoln’s Inn. I found him there, and somewhat surprised to see me. “‘I had no idea you would answer my letter in person, Lady Pelham,’ he said. ‘Sir Alfred is in town; I met him this morning.’ “‘I came because I wish to consult you on several matters. First of all, let us settle about my aunt’s legacy.’ “We did so. He told me the exact amount--how it should be invested; and I asked him to take my affairs in hand. Then I told him there was another and far graver matter on which I wished to consult him. “‘I want to ask you,’ I said, ‘not only to be my lawyer, but my friend. Some people might laugh at the notion. I only say to you that I am the most desolate, the most wretched woman on the face of the earth. Will you be my friend?’ “He looked at me in utter surprise. “‘Your husband, Lady Pelham, where is he?’ “‘He is my persecutor. I will tell you my story, Mr. Hewson. I ask you, strange, cruel, and incredible as it is, to believe me.’