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. “Vile, unfeeling wretches!” I exclaimed, “is it thus you plot and plan for the death of your husbands! Is it thus you form schemes for reveling in the ill-deserved wealth which may then be yours! With suppressed laughter you would close the coffin-lid, and dance over our scarce cold remains, shouting, Ho-ho-ho! for the merry Life Insurance!” Before I had done speaking, poor Fanny was stretched senseless upon the floor, while frightened and amazed her companion fled the room. And so did I. Leaving my wife in a state of insensibility, I flew to my chamber. I raved and tore like a madman—but remember, I was not mad! No, it was not madness—for madness utters it knows not what, and memory takes no heed; but _I_—I knew all—no, I was not mad—I _am_ not mad!