e circumstances as I heard it this evening; for it
touched me so much, that I cannot forbear entering upon it.

Mr. Eustace,[263] a young gentleman of a good estate near Dublin in
Ireland, married a lady of youth, beauty, and modesty, and lived with
her in general with much ease and tranquillity; but was in his secret
temper impatient of rebuke: she is apt to fall into little sallies of
passion, yet as suddenly recalled by her own reflection on her fault,
and the consideration of her husband's temper. It happened, as he, his
wife, and her sister, were at supper together about two months ago, that
in the midst of a careless and familiar conversation, the sisters fell
into a little warmth and contradiction. He, who was one of that sort of
men who are never unconcerned at what passes before them, fell into an
outrageous passion on the side of the sister. The person about whom they
disputed was so near, that they were under no restraint from running
into vain repetitions of past heats: on which occasion all the
aggravations of anger and distaste boiled up, and were repeated with the
bitterness of exasperated lovers. The wife observing her husband
extremely moved, began to turn it off, and rally him for interposing
between two people who from their infancy had been angry and pleased
with each other every half-hour. But it descended deeper into his
thoughts, and they broke up with a sullen silence. The wife immediately
retired to her chamber, whither her husband soon after followed. When
they were in bed, he soon dissembled a sleep, and she, pleased that his
thoughts were composed, fell into a real one. Their apartment was very
distant from the rest of their family, in a lonely country house. He now
saw his opportunity, and with a dagger he had brought to bed with him,
stabbed his wife in the side. She awaked in the highest terror; but
immediately imagined it was a blow designed for her husband by ruffians,
began to grasp him, and strive to awake and rouse him to defend himself.
He still pretended himself sleeping, and gave her a second wound.

She now drew open the curtains, and by the help of moonlight saw his
hand lifted up to stab her. The horror disarmed her from further
struggling; and he, enraged anew at being discovered, fixed his poniard
in her bosom. As soon as he believed he had despatched her, he attempted
to escape out of the window: but she, still alive, called to him not to
hurt himself; for she might live. He