“There is no doubt of that, my friend,” replied the conjurer.
“No, sir, there is not. I am not aisy in my mind, somehow.”
“Hundreds of thousands are so, as well as you,” replied the other. “I would be glad to see the man who has not something to trouble him; but will you allow me to ask you what it is that troubles you?”
“I took her, sir, widout a shift to her back, and a betther husband never breathed the breath of life than I have been to her;” and then he paused, and pulling out his handkerchief, shed bitter tears. “I would love her still, if I could, sir; but, then, the thing's impossible.”
“O, yes,” said the conjurer; “I see you are jealous of her; but will you state upon what grounds?”
“Well, sir, I think I have good grounds for it.”
“What description of a woman is your wife, and what age is she?”
“Why, sir, she's about my own age. She was once handsome enough—indeed, very handsome when I married her.”
“Was the marriage a cordial one between you and her?”
“Why, sir, she was dotin' upon me, as I was upon her?”