1829.) a Legend of London. 287 
dream that ” [Here she gulped, as if for breath.] “ Thou wilt 
lose thy life, an thou go forth to-day, Martyn.” 
But Martyn Lessomour, like Julius Cesar, was not to be frightened 
from a fixed purpose by a wife’s dreams ; and he answered her,— 
« Wife, wife, thou art a fearful woman, and makest me fear thee ; 
but, natheless, I shall go.” 
« Go then,” she said, and rose and left him ; and he shortly after went 
from the house—he returned in the evening in the same assumed state 
as before, and went to bed. For the last two days that he had played 
this part, since his wife had begun to use threats, he had gone when he 
left his own house, either to a friend’s or a tavern, where he slept away 
all the time he was absent, in order that he might lie awake during the 
night, to watch what his wife would do; but during this day he had 
not, for disquietude of mind, been able to sleep at all; but now that he 
was in bed, such a drowsiness came over him, that in spite of all his 
endeavours he soon fell into a sound sleep. From this he was aroused by 
his wife’s getting out of bed; yet, although he at once started into 
thorough wakefulness, he had the presence of mind to pretend to be 
still asleep, and lay still and watched her. She had thrown a night 
gown around her—but her hair was loose, and hung struggling about 
her neck, and as she passed the foot of the bed, the light from a lamp 
that was burning on a table, fell through her locks upon her faee, and 
Martyn saw that it was of that livid paleness, and that her eyes were 
brightened by that hateful snakelike look, which he had only once before 
beheld in reality, though in memory, thousands and thousands of times : 
*he saw too that she held a small knife in one hand. Slowly and stilly, 
like a ghost, she glided on—but away from him; and going up to the 
place where she had hung her gown up when she undressed, she took it 
down, and ripped open one of the sleeves of it, and took something out : she 
then went to the hearth, where there was a fire burning, for it was winter, 
and having laid the knife and whatever else she held in her hand, besidethe 
lamp upon the table, she seemed searching for something about the hearth. 
-At last Martyn heard her mutter, “ Not here—how foolish—heedless of 
me—I must go and fetch it from below.” She moved towards the door 
—Martyn’s heart beat high within him, as he thought the moment she 
should be gone, he would leap from the bed and rush past her down 
the stairs, and out of the house—for he strangely felt to be alone would 
be more dreadful than to be in her most dreaded presence. She stopped, 
however, at the door—laid hold of the latch, but did not raise it—and 
continued in a low mutter, “ Not here: mayhap it was for some good 
end that I forgot it—mayhap that I should give him one more trial yet 
—shall 1? I shall—one more trial I will give thee, dear Martyn, dear 
still, though lost, I dread—one more—one more ;” and saying this, she 
hurried back to her bed, and leaning her head upon Martyn’s shoulder, 
sighed and sobbed, not loudly indeed, but as if her heart were cracking 
—and he—he lay deadly still by her side, for he really feared to speak 
to her, even though it were to speak comfort ; or when he thought of 
doing so, the remembrance of her word, “one trial more” stifled him. 
—she seemed soon after to doze. In the morning he took care to rise 
before her, and woke her in so doing—he went up, as if by accident, te 
the table, and saw that beside the knife there lay a smallish round 
dump of lead. 
“ What is this for Alice?” he said, in a careless tone—for he knew 
she was watching him, 
