“So, Stuart, I leave this in your hands. If I succumb, seek out my Margery and give her her rights. To you I leave all, for I know you will do as I wish; and remember she is your cousin and your equal. Guard her, Stuart, from harm, if it be in your power, and may Heaven bless and reward you for all you may do! It will be necessary to explain how I discovered Margery to be my child. As I told you, I made most minute inquiries, learning all particulars from people both in Chesterham and Hurstley. I sought for Dr. Scott, the medical man who had attended during the railway accident; he had left Chesterham many years before, but he remembered the incident well, and his description of the poor dead woman only confirmed my hopes and fears. Acting upon his advice, I went to Newton, and by dint of money and able men traced my darling’s life during two long years of misery. The story of her sufferings, of her daily toil, her heart-broken life, I cannot dwell on. Heaven grant you may never know the terrible agony of hopeless remorse and longing that I am now enduring! Despair seizes me when I remember my madness, her wrong--my angel-wife! Even the joy of finding my child cannot bring me peace. The happiness I experience in the knowledge of her existence is tinged with never-dying bitterness and sorrow, for she recalls her mother. “But I weary you with my moans, Stuart; let me get on with my story. Gladys then, without a friend in the world--for her aunt would have nothing to say to her, being especially bitter when she learned we were separated--doubted and wronged, had, in addition to her other troubles, the hardship of poverty to face. She struggled to get employment, with little success however; from time to time she managed to make money by teaching, but this never for long. Still, through all her trials, her courage never forsook her; she lived for her child. I have spoken with some who knew her in those days; they dwelt on her sadness, her sweetness, her innate refinement, little knowing how their words rent my heart. It would be useless to describe the hopelessness, the misery of her life; she parted with all her jewelry, and at last in desperation answered an advertisement for a situation as maid. “Beyond this I cannot write positively, but my heart tells me the truth. The situation that Gladys had obtained meant separation from her child. She had heard me speak of my cousins, the Crosbies; and I am convinced she was on her way to seek protection from your mother and shelter for the baby before taking up her new duties, when death claimed her and ended her sorrows.