upon it, a tranquil smile lighted up her pale features. I laid my hand

softly on her shoulder. She started - it was only a passing dream. I

leaned forward again. She screamed, and woke.

'One motion of my hand, and she would never again have uttered cry

or sound. But I was startled, and drew back. Her eyes were fixed on

mine. I knew not how it was, but they cowed and frightened me; and I

quailed beneath them. She rose from the bed, still gazing fixedly and

steadily on me. I trembled; the razor was in my hand, but I could not

move. She made towards the door. As she neared it, she turned, and

withdrew her eyes from my face. The spell was broken. I bounded

forward, and clutched her by the arm. Uttering shriek upon shriek,

she sank upon the ground.

Now I could have killed her without a struggle; but the house was

alarmed. I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs. I replaced the

razor in its usual drawer, unfastened the door, and called loudly for

assistance.

They came, and raised her, and placed her on the bed. She lay bereft

of animation for hours; and when life, look, and speech returned, her

senses had deserted her, and she raved wildly and furiously.

Doctors were called in - great men who rolled up to my door in easy

carriages, with fine horses and gaudy servants. They were at her

bedside for weeks. They had a great meeting and consulted together in

low and solemn voices in another room. One, the cleverest and most

celebrated among them, took me aside, and bidding me prepare for

the worst, told me - me, the madman! - that my wife was mad. He

stood close beside me at an open window, his eyes looking in my face,

and his hand laid upon my arm. With one effort, I could have hurled

him into the street beneath. It would have been rare sport to have

done it; but my secret was at stake, and I let him go. A few days after,

they told me I must place her under some restraint: I must provide a

keeper for her. I! I went into the open fields where none could hear

me, and laughed till the air resounded with my shouts!

She died next day. The white-headed old man followed her to the

grave, and the proud brothers dropped a tear over the insensible

corpse of her whose sufferings they had regarded in her lifetime with

muscles of iron. All this was food for my secret mirth, and I laughed

behind the white handkerchief which I held up to my face, as we rode

home, till the tears Came into my eyes.

'But though I had carried my object and killed her, I was restless and

disturbed, and I felt that before long my secret must be known. I could

not hide the wild mirth and joy which boiled within me, and made me

when I was alone, at home, jump up and beat my hands together, and

The Pickwick Papers