The poor creature walked to the bedside, and it seemed as if sanity was vainly struggling to regain its place.
'Come closer,' he exclaimed to Hiram, who was standing near him.
Hiram advanced at the word of command, and the other again took his arm; and both stood very still, looking at the dead woman.
'Had we better wake her, think you?'
Hiram shook his head.
'You are right. I must first earn the money—earn the money. Then—then I will wake her. Yes, then I will wake her.'
'Is it your wife?' demanded Hiram, timidly, impelled by an irresistible impulse to ask the question.
'Wife!' shouted the other, glaring on Hiram—'wife! who talks to me about wife? Do you? Say quick!—do you?'—and he raised the cleaver in a menacing manner.
'It was not I,' said Hiram, with as much calmness as he could command, while he looked at the other fixedly—'it was not I.'
'Glad to hear you say so. If it had been, I would have made kindling wood of you—yes, kindling wood of you!—That's all got along with,' he added, lowering the cleaver. 'Now take a seat.'