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She was more happy as Countess of Stair than she had been as Lady Primrose. Yet her new husband had one failing, which occasioned her no small uneasiness. Like most other gentlemen at that period, he sometimes indulged too much in the bottle. When elevated with liquor, his temper, contrary to the general case, was by no means improved. Thus, on reaching home after a debauch, he generally had a quarrel with his wife, and sometimes even treated her with violence. On one occasion, when quite transported beyond the bounds of reason, he gave her so severe a blow upon the upper part of the face as to occasion the effusion of blood. He immediately after fell asleep, unconscious of what he had done. Lady Stair was so overwhelmed by a tumult of bitter and poignant feeling that she made no attempt to bind up her wound. She sat down on a sofa near her torpid husband, and wept and bled till morning. When his lordship awoke, and perceived her dishevelled and bloody figure, he was surprised to the last degree, and eagerly inquired how she came to be in such an unusual condition. She answered by detailing to him the whole history of his conduct on the preceding evening; which stung him so deeply with regret—for he naturally possessed the most generous feelings—that he instantly vowed to his wife never afterwards to take any species of drink except what was first passed through her hands. This vow he kept most scrupulously till the day of his death. He never afterwards sat in any convivial company where his lady could not attend to sanction his potations. Whenever he gave any entertainment, she always sat next him and filled his wine, till it was necessary for her to retire; after which, he drank only from a certain quantity which she had first laid aside.