“Well, you understand it all.  Of course, by the time we got to Calais, I was head over heels in love, and so was she, for that matter.  The old man was a jolly old John Bull of a man.  I don’t believe he had the slightest approach to any designs on me.  He didn’t know any thing about me, so how could he?  He was jolly, and when we got to Calais he was convivial.  I attached myself to the two, and had a glorious time.  Before three days I had exchanged vows of eternal fidelity with the lady, and all that, and had gained her consent to marry me on reaching England.  As to the old man there was no trouble at all.  He made no inquiries about my means, but wrung my hand heartily, and said God bless me.  Besides, there were no friends of my own to consider.  My parents were dead, and I had no relations nearer than cousins, for whom I didn’t care a pin.

“My wife lived at Exeter, and belonged to rather common people; but, of course, I didn’t care for that.  Her own manners and style were refined enough.  She had been sent by her father to a very fashionable boarding-school, where she had been run through the same mould as that in which her superiors had been formed, and so she might have passed muster any where.  Her father was awfully fond of her, and proud of her.  She tyrannized over him completely.  I soon found out that she had been utterly spoiled by his excessive indulgence, and that she was the most whimsical, nonsensical, headstrong, little spoiled beauty that ever lived.  But, of course, all that, instead of deterring me, only increased the fascination which she exercised, and made me more madly in love than ever.

“Her name was not a particularly attractive one; but what are names!  It was Arethusa Wiggins.  Now the old man always called her ‘Arry,’ which sounded like the vulgar pronunciation of ‘Harry.’  Of course I couldn’t call her that, and Arethusa was too infernally long, for a fellow doesn’t want to be all day in pronouncing his wife’s name.  Besides, it isn’t a bad name in itself, of course; it’s poetic, classic, and does to name a ship of war, but isn’t quite the thing for one’s home and hearth.

“After our marriage we spent the honeymoon in Switzerland, and then came home.  I had a very nice estate, and have it yet.  You’ve never heard of Dacres Grange, perhaps—­well, there’s where we began life, and a devil of a life she began to lead me.  It was all very well at first.  During the honey-moon there were only a few outbursts, and after we came to the Grange she repressed herself for about a fortnight; but finally she broke out in the most furious fashion; and I began to find that she had a devil of a temper, and in her fits she was but a small remove from a mad woman.  You see she had been humored and indulged and petted and coddled by her old fool of a father, until at last she had grown to be the most whimsical, conceited, tetchy, suspicious, imperious, domineering, selfish, cruel, hard-hearted, and malignant young vixen that ever lived; yet this evil nature dwelt in a form as beautiful as ever lived.  She was a beautiful demon, and I soon found it out.