me were not in
my wife's handwriting.

"Very true," said he; "these, as you will perceive by the official
stamp, are sworn copies, duly attested at the Prefettura--the originals
are safe."

"And with what object," asked I, gasping--"safe for what?"

"For you, lllustrissimo," said he, bowing, "when you pay me two thousand
francs for them."

"I'll knock your brains out first," said I, with another clutch at the
poker, but the muzzle of the pistol was now directly in front of me.

"I am moderate in my demands, signor," said he, quietly; "there are men
in my position would ask you twenty thousand; but I am a galantuomo----"

"And the friend of Gioberti," added I, with a sneer.

"Precisely so," said he, bowing with much grace.

I will not weary you, dear reader, with my struggles--conflicts that
almost cost me a seizure on the brain--but hasten to the result. I beat
down the noble Count's demand to one-half and for a thousand francs
I possessed myself of the fatal originals, written unquestionably and
indisputably by my wife's hand; and then, giving the Count a final piece
of advice, never to let me see more of him, I hurried off to Mrs O'Dowd.

She was out paying some bills, and only arrived a few minutes before
dinner-hour.

"I want you, madam, for a moment here," said I, with something of
Othello, in the last act, in my voice and demeanour.

"I suppose I can take off my bonnet and shawl first, Mr O'Dowd," said
she, snappishly.

"No, madam; you may probably find that you'll need them both at the end
of our interview."

"What do you mean, sir?" asked she, haughtily.

"This is no time for grand airs or mock dignity, madam," said I, with
the tone of the avenging angel. "Do you know these? are these in your
hand? Deny it if you can."

"Why should I deny it? Of course they're mine."

"And you wrote this, and this, and this?" cried I, almost in a scream,
as I shook forth one after another of the letters.

"Don't you know I did?" said she, as hotly; "and nothing beyond a venial
mistake in one of them!"

"A what, woman? a what?"

"A mere slip of the pen, sir. You know very well how I used to sit up
half the night at my exercises?"

"Exercises!"

"Well, themes, if you like better; the Count made me make clean copies
of them, with all his corrections, and send them to him every day--here
are the rough ones;" and she opened a drawer filled with a mass of
papers all scrawled over and blotted. "And now, sir,