"Anderson, you are a liar, and the falsehoods which you have uttered, only serve to increase your guilt, and confirm me in my resolution to sacrifice both you and that guilty woman who lies yonder. Can I disbelieve the evidence of my own eyes? Must I go into particulars, and say that last night, at about this hour, in the kitchen--ha! you turn pale--you tremble--your guilt is confessed. I would have killed you last night, Anderson, but I had not the weapons. This knife and pistol I purchased to-day, _and I shall use them_! "Try and revive that _harlot_, for I would speak with her ere she dies!" Anderson mechanically obeyed. Placing the insensible form of Mrs. Romaine upon a sofa, he sprinkled water upon her face, and she was soon restored to a state of consciousness. For a few moments she gazed about her wildly; and then, when her eyes settled upon her husband, and she saw the terrible weapons with which he was armed, she covered her face with her hands and trembled in an agony of terror, for she knew that her life was in the greatest possible danger. Romaine now addressed his wife in a tone of calmness which was, under the circumstances, far more terrible than the most violent outburst of passion: "Harriet," said he--"I now fully comprehend your reasons for requesting to be allowed to occupy a separate apartment. You desired an opportunity to gratify your licentious propensities without any restraint. Woman, why have you used me thus? Have I deserved this infamous treatment? Have I ever used you unkindly, or spoken a harsh word to you? Do you think that I will tamely wear the horns which you and your paramour have planted upon my brow? Do you think that I will suffer myself to be made an object of scorn, and allow myself to be pointed at and ridiculed by a sneering community?" "Forgive me," murmured the unhappy wife--"I will not offend again. I acknowledge that I have committed a grievous sin; but Heaven only knows how sincerely I repent of it!" "Your repentance comes too late," said Romaine, hoarsely--"Heaven may forgive you, but _I_ shall not! You say that you will not offend again. Having forever destroyed my happiness, my peace of mind, and my honor, _you will not offend again_! You shall not have the opportunity, wretched woman. You shall no longer survive your infamy. You and the partner of your guilt must die!" With these words, Romaine cocked his pistol and approached his wife, saying, in a low, savage tone that evinced the desperate purpose of his heart-- "Take your choice, madam; do you prefer to die by _lead_ or by _steel_?" The miserable woman threw herself upon her knees, exclaiming-- "Mercy, husband--mercy! Do not kill me, for I am not prepared to die!"