The Cloven Foot by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

The day after Mr. Clare's visit brought Laura the expected letter from her husband, a long letter telling her his adventures at Auray.

‘So you see, dearest,' he wrote, after he had related all that Father le Mescam had told him, ‘come what may, our position as regards my cousin Jasper's estate is secure. Malice cannot touch us there. From the hour I knelt beside you before the altar in Hazlehurst Church, I have been your husband. That unhappy Frenchwoman was never legally my wife. Whether she wilfully deceived me, or whether she had reasons of her own for supposing Jean Kergariou to be dead, I know not. It is quite possible that she honestly believed herself to be a widow. She might have heard that Kergariou had been lost at sea. Shipwreck and death are too common among those Breton sailors who go to the North Seas. The little seaports in Brittany are populated with widows and orphans. I am quite willing to believe that poor Zaïre thought herself free to marry. This would account for her terrible agitation when she recognised her husband's body in the Morgue. And now, dear love, I shall but stay in Paris long enough to procure all documents necessary to prove Jean Kergariou's death; and then I shall hasten home to comfort my sweet wife, and to face any new trouble that may arise from Edward Clare's enmity. I feel that it is he only whom we have to fear in the future; and it will go hard if I am not equal to the struggle with so despicable a foe. The omnibus is waiting to take us to the station. God bless you, love, and reward you for your generous devotion to your unworthy husband, -- JOHN TREVERTON.'