We were married. Walter was the master of my fortune, my person and my future. We lived happily together, content with each other's society, and seeking, in the endearments of a pure marriage, to blot out the memory of an unholy one. My husband, truly my husband, was all that I could desire; and by me, he became the possessor of a princely revenue, free to gratify his taste for all that is beautiful in the arts, in painting and sculpture, without hinderance or control. Devoted to me, always kind, eager to gratify my slightest wish, Walter was all that I could desire. We lived to ourselves, and forgot the miserable mockery called "the fashionable world," into which Burley had introduced me. Thus a year passed away, and present happiness banished the memory of a gloomy past. After a year, Walter began to have important engagements, on pressing business, in Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore and Washington. His absence was death to me; but, having full confidence in him, and aware that his business must be of vital importance, or assuredly he would not leave me, I saw him depart, time and again, with grief too deep for words, and always hailed his return--the very echo of his step with a joy as deep. On one occasion, when he left me, for a day, on a business visit to Philadelphia, I determined--I scarcely knew why--to follow him, and greet him, on his arrival in Philadelphia, with the unexpected but welcome surprise of my presence. Clothing myself in black--black velvet bonnet, and black velvet mantilla, and with a dark vail over my face--I followed him to the ferry-boat, crossed to Jersey City, and took my seat near him in the cars. We arrived in Philadelphia late at night. To my surprise he did not put up at one of the prominent hotels, but bent his way to an obscure and distant part of the city. I followed him to a remote part of Kensington, and saw him knock at the door of an isolated two-story house. After a pause, it was opened, and he entered. I waited from the hour of twelve until three, but he did not re-appear. Sadly and with heavy steps I bent my way to the city, and took lodgings at a respectable but third-rate tavern, representing myself as a widow from the interior, and taking great care to conceal my face from the gaze of the landlord and servants. Next morning it was my first care to procure a male dress,--it matters not how, or with what caution and trouble,--and, tying it up in a compact bundle, I made my way to the open country and entered a wood. It was the first of autumn, and already the leaves were tinted with rainbow dyes. In the thickest part of the wood I disposed of my female attire, and assumed the male dress--blue frock, buttoned to the throat, dark pantaloons, and gaiter boots. My dark hair I arranged beneath a glazed cap with military buttons. Cutting a switch I twirled it jauntily in my hand, and, anxious to test my disguise, entered a wayside cottage--near the Second Street Road--and asked for a glass of water.