Dr. Mauncel was altogether astonished and confounded. The woman now before him had the repute of a termagent; and yet she spoke so affectionately, and bitterly upbraided herself, for her former cruel treatment of her husband. Nor did she appear at all under the influence of strong drink. “Good woman,” he at length inquired, “where is your husband?” “He has gone and sold himself to the devil, for my conduct towards him. I have made earth miserable, and he would rather live in hell, than dwell with me any longer. Oh! how I could now love him! My heart is changed, but it is too late! Yes, yes, it is too late!” and she wrung her hands in wild agony, tore her hair, and shed more tears than Jeremiah could have done. “Mrs. Chiselwig,” returned the vicar, “you have, indeed, been anything but a dutiful and affectionate wife to your spouse, but now begin a thorough reformation. It is only a dream of evil with which you have been visited, and Gideon shall, doubtless, be spared to you for many a long year yet.” “It cannot be! Although the storm rages, he is not in the house; he has gone and sold himself for my shameful conduct. In the afternoon I forbade him to go to bed, until I should have arisen; nay, more, I planted these nails in his face and head, as a tender good night for a dear husband. Ah! wretch that I am, and yet, he patiently submitted, took the hand which had struck him, so affectionately, and was making gaiters for the feet which had kicked him.” “Ah! Mrs. Chiselwig, you were a sad wife,” chimed in the parson. “What tempted you,” asked Mary Mauncel, “to be cruel to Gideon? He was always so kind and attentive to you.” Her cousin William approached, and whispered something which was inaudible to all others, save Mary herself. She smiled so prettily, and with such an affectation of malice, as she tossed her head, and said, “Try me, you are free at present, but have given me the chain. I’ll rule you, and beat you into the sober obedience of a husband. You have told me frequently that you were my slave: I shall shortly prove it.” “Dear Mary, go on, go on, and tell me what a good little wife you will make.” Nelly once more appealed to the vicar, with great earnestness. “Oh! sir, have you not a charm to be obtained from all those books, from all your sermons, from all your robes, by which you can break the contract with the devil. Laugh not; he appeared to me, in such a form, and uttering such words, that to my dying day I dare not rehearse them. To-morrow night he comes to claim Gideon! Your profession is to tame and conquer the enemy. Oh! now exert that power!”