The dear girl believed me, and with a sweet angelic smile forgave, and blamed herself for being so easily disturbed.
We passed the evening happily, and for several days my jealousy slumbered.
But again the demon got possession of me, and again my infernal suspicions goaded me almost to madness. Why did I not go mad! See how the fiends mock me, and with their fleshless fingers point at me, crying—“You are mad now”—but no—no—I am not mad!
It was a lovely day in October. I had walked out far from city haunts. The pure breath of heaven cooled my fevered brain—my pulse beat less wildly, until by degrees a sweet serenity crept over me. I thought of Fanny—of her love—of the patience and forbearance with which she had met my cruel treatment of her. My heart bled for her, and tears of pity bedewed my cheek.
Once more I sought my home. It was long since I had offered my injured Fanny any of those kind attentions it should be a husband’s pride and pleasure, as well as his duty, to bestow—but in this softened, subdued moment I resolved to take her to ride—the day was so lovely, the air so bland, it would do her good.
I entered the house—and the demon stole in by my side—though I felt him not. I ran up stairs—Fanny was not in her room, so again I went below, and was about to enter the parlor, when the words “life insurance” met my ear. It was the voice of Fanny. “Ha!” cried the demon, grasping my heart in his sharp talons, and wringing it until my life’s blood seemed bursting out—“ha! do you hear!”
Unperceived we stole into the room—the demon and I. Fanny was in earnest conversation with a female friend, whose husband I knew to be wasting away in a consumption. Tears stood in the beautiful eyes of Fanny—while her friend held her handkerchief to her face as if in deep grief. Their conversation was low—the only words I could catch were those I have named. My wife grew more earnest as she proceeded—her companion removed her handkerchief and appeared to listen intently—she even smiled—and so did Fanny—and again the words “life insurance” hissed through my brain!
This was proof enough. My artful wife was no doubt setting forth to her friend the pleasures she would reap from my death, and that when I was placed in the tomb—then, and only then, should she begin to enjoy life! And not only was she thus wickedly anticipating my death, but she was also encouraging this worthy friend of hers to take advantage of this same institution, instigated and supported by the Evil One, to secure to herself a good round sum of money, and a round sum of enjoyment.
Perhaps they were even then devising means to murder us! So said the demon.
I could bear no more. I rushed upon them like a maniac.