“No matter, wretch. ‘What’s not paid is but delayed.’ I shall be in at your death yet. The one burning aspiration of my soul is to live to see you hanged, Albert Goldsborough!” she exclaimed.
“So you shall, Mrs. Albert—around your pretty neck, my sweet wife, as I said before,” retorted Goldsborough.
It was while this tender interchange of affection was going on that Corsoni and Alberta rode up and halted behind the party.
“What’s the matter ahead there?” inquired the Free Sword. “Can’t you get on?”
“Yes, but very slowly. My horse carries double, you may remember. Besides, Mrs. Goldsborough is timid, and does not like me to go any faster,” replied Albert.
“It is false, you caitiff! I don’t care how fast you go—the faster the better, so that you go to the old Nick!” flashed Elfie.
“And take you with me?” queried Albert.
“Hold your tongue!” snapped Elfie.
“Go on, my dear Goldsborough, do,” recommended Corsoni.
“I am going. I only stop once in a way for a little love making with my bonny bride here, which is but natural in the honeymoon, you know,” said Albert, as he carefully proceeded on his way.