The next letter that Mr. B. received was dated Boston, July 19, in which she requests him to bring at the United States Hotel, some clothing and her accordeon, and adds, “call for Mr. Hale, room No. 28. Come as soon as you get this--do not say to any one that we are here.”
Mr B. called as requested, and in the course of conversation informed her that some friends whom they had known at Bangor resided at South Boston; she expressing a wish to see them; he consented to accompany her thither. On the way she informed him that Tirrell abused her, that she was afraid of him, and was determined to get clear from him. It would seem that Tirrell suspected her design, for in a short time he came with a carriage to bring her back. The husband used every effort but force to get her to go home. The following letter is the last communication Mr B. received from this unfortunate woman:
JAMES--I have just received your letter that you wrote so long ago. You want to know all, of course. I left New Bedford and went to Concord, N. H. and from there to Niagara Falls and Vermont State, and back to New York, and now I am in Boston. They have got Albert; they caught him in New Bedford; he got bailed out and will have his trial next Monday; I expect he will be sent to Charlestown. They found him with me, but said it was not me they wanted--but I know they want me for a witness. I am secreted in Boston, and no one knows where except those I stay with. He directed a letter to the Boston post office for me, and says they are trying so find out my name. I have not got one cent; if I had I would come home. I wish you would write to me as soon as you receive this--direct your letter to Mary Jackson.
Letters, &c. exhibited to the Coroner’s Jury.
MY DEAR MARIA:--I shall have to depart for New Bedford by the first train to-morrow, to be absent 8 or 9 days. I much regret not being able to see you, but hope you will be reconciled to my absence, though I am not to yours. But perhaps the following lines will better express my sentiments of regard for you, than I could have done verbally. You know you often say I shall forget you:
FORGET THEE?--If to dream by night and muse on thee by day, If all the worship deep and wild a loving heart can pay-- If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to heaven’s protecting power-- If winged thoughts that flit to thee, a thousand in an hour-- If busy fancy, blending thee with all thy future lot,-- If this thou call’st FORGETTING, thou Indeed shalt be forgot.
