ty of
her husband. O, the villain! I will overpower him with my wrath!"

"My turn comes first," interrupted Ragnar.

"Ah, ha, I understand. My cup is filled to the brim--blood must
flow--Lonner do you wish to kill my husband, then?"

"To fight with him. God forbid. Such things I leave to people of rank. I
have another method of doing my business."

"And what is that?"

"O, it is very simple. I thought that nothing would be more unpleasant
to him than to be placed in a disgraceful position before his wife, and
perhaps a greater punishment for such a miserable man could not be
devised than to--but no matter, your husband knows why he leaves his
house every day."

Mrs. Ulrica clapped her hands together violently. Now the riddle was
solved. She now knew the cause of the sudden change in her husband's
conduct.

"And, as it has been impossible to find him at home in the daytime,"
continued Ragnar, "I have come this evening to settle with him in this
place, and at this hour."

Ragnar had scarcely ceased speaking, when heavy and slow footsteps were
heard ascending the stairs.

Like an infuriated tigress waiting for her prey, Mrs. Ulrica, enveloped
in her crimson shawl, sat up in her bed; her eyes flashing with rage,
and her face flushed to a redness which outvied the crimson of her
shawl. She was awaiting the approach of her husband.

Ragnar arose, and as silent and unmoved as a statue awaited the entrance
of Mr. Fabian. Ragnar had not produced a dagger or sword; but he drew
forth from under his loose jacket a cow-hide of the greatest elasticity,
and the best quality.

Without dreaming of the terrible storm that had gathered, and was about
to pour down upon his devoted head, Mr. Fabian entered the apartment.
But the moment his eyes fell upon the forms of his wife, the doom
pronouncer, and Lonner the genius of revenge, he staggered back towards
the door, and had not his legs refused their office he would have sought
safety in flight; but at two stern glances, one from Lonner, the other
from his wife, he sank powerless to the floor.

And yet, if ever, this was the time for him to assume the character of
Brutus. And what better cause had he to arouse himself from his stupor,
than that Lucretia had received a male visitor in her bed-chamber. True,
Mrs. Ulrica had not received an insult, neither did she appear prepared
sacrifice herself, like Lucretia, as an atonement for the outrage. All
in all, present appearances