Again, inspired by a natural and wifely desire to "jog some spirit into him," she had carefully prepared a slippery place on the front yard walk which a slight snow concealed from his view when he arrived in the evening. He came down hard, and though he was not hurt, he pretended to be; for he saw through her trick at once, and to punish her howled for assistance and blamed his own carelessness, but uttered no word of suspicion or reproach. Neighbors assisted him in, and all that evening, prone upon the couch, he enjoyed the ministrations of a contrite and tearful wife, who tried to atone for her sins of commission (and omission, for she did not confess) by softly spoken sympathy and frequent service of watered brandy to relieve the pain--a remedy which Beverton liked, but which was denied him as a beverage. And so, as their young married life went on, he shamed and tamed her, not by breaking her spirit, but by compelling her to break it herself; and though she remained a tigress against those she _imagined_ his enemies--for the man had none--she displayed toward him an attitude of meekness, adoration, and almost slavish obedience which made him at times regret the transformation; for her tantrums were the charm which had first attracted him. But at this period it seemed to him that the tantrums had struck in. They slept in separate rooms, and one night he awoke to find her leaning over him with a pail of water poised above his head. Before he could catch the tilting pail, she had deluged him, but even this did not disturb his equanimity; he merely sprang out of bed, caught her by the arm, and asked what he had done to deserve a ducking. She answered with a scream, and, dropping the pail, clung to him in the darkness. She did not know where she was--she could not explain, but at last he understood. "Do you walk in your sleep, Grace?" he asked, gently. "Oh, no--yes," she stammered; "but not since our marriage. I thought it had left me. Oh, I'm so sorry. Did I waken you?" "With a bucket of water," he answered, dryly as was possible in his moist condition. "I had the habit when very young, but they cured me by radical treatment. You're too old to be punished, Grace, but we must find _some_ way. You may set fire to me next time." But he knew of no way, and when she had repeated the feat with the pail of water, and a little later made a midnight assault upon him with the carving-knife, he could only nail her bedroom window partly open for ventilation, and put a bolt on his side of her door. Her grief and horror were pathetic, and it sorely tried Beverton to lock up his wife like a wild beast; but she had become a menace to his health, and perhaps his life; for, though on each occasion he had wakened in time to realize her intent, he had not wakened in time to save himself completely. He had not quite avoided the downcoming knife; aimed at his heart, it had grazed his arm as he wrenched from under.