Mr. Nelson had placed a Nemesis in his household, and she gave him full measure of retribution. The few days of sunshine which he had purchased, soon faded away; and he was left to wander to and fro in that splendid house, more desolate than the pauper whom his wife sent haughtily from his door.

Step by step, the woman for whom he had sacrificed every thing, became a very tyrant in his house. Indifferent at first, then arrogant, and at last insufferably insolent, she scarcely gave him breathing room in his own home. The very tread of his foot in the vestibule filled her with a sort of resentment, as if he had no right, in any degree, to disturb the luxury of her existence. Nothing but her insatiable vanity won for him even a gleam of favor. That was the strong passion of her nature, and in its complete gratification she sometimes condescended to endure his presence with some show of cheerfulness.

True, Mrs. Nelson was now comparatively independent. A few short weeks of coquetry—for that is really the name by which her attempts at affection should be given—had won this much from her infatuated victim; but it often happens that a woman who scatters her husband's money with recklessness, proves parsimonious where her own is concerned. This was the case with Mrs. Nelson; she had no fancy for diminishing her own resources; on the contrary, she had, without consulting Nelson, placed them in a way to command more than the usual interest, at the inevitable result of more than ordinary risk.

Thus the demands of unlimited extravagance made it important that something like marital cordiality should be maintained with her husband, and from this necessity, gleams of coquettish affection would sometimes break upon his loneliness, which she foolishly believed would always prove sufficient to keep him at her feet.

It is generally the dregs of poor wine that become sour. That love can turn to hate, no one who ever felt the true passion will believe. But there are mixed feelings that combine with affection in evil natures, like foreign ingredients in the wine, and these yield to circumstances as that does to the atmosphere, turning to indifference, contempt, or hate, as the case may be.

This change was going on with Nelson. His wife did not see it, for, with a good deal of cleverness, she had not the intellect to comprehend a character like his. Her reign over him had been so complete—he had received her slightest favors with such gratitude—that any idea of revolt never entered her mind. A few blandishments had always obtained power over him to any extent, and these she had always at command.

But she too was setting up a Nemesis in the household, not the less powerful that it was slow to come.

This woman's life had become one wild commotion—nothing contented her. The desire of one day was flung off by the caprice of the next. The house was one thoroughfare of fashion. Her position once acknowledged in that world which every one talks of, but which, in a republic like ours, is never permanently defined—her hold upon it became complete; but it was maintained at great cost; morning breakfasts, evening parties, and those exquisite little suppers which are the gems of a sumptuous establishment, came and went in endless succession. Her life was a triumph of vanity—her ambition fulfilled. She had no character for higher aspirations, and only aimed at something new, something that would sweep all social competition aside.

This was altogether opposed to Nelson's ideas of domestic life. His ambition was of a sterner nature. He wanted power abroad, and domestic love at home. But the woman he had chosen overshadowed him with her dashing frivolity—put him aside with her insolent pretension. His strong nature revolted at last. Month after month he had walked through her magnificent festivities like a stranger, scarcely recognized by her guests, or approached by herself, unless the great need of money brought her smiling to his presence, and all this time one fact was brooding in his mind—for all his love the woman had given him nothing.

These thoughts hardened the rich man against the woman he had almost adored. He grew sombre and stern as a rock. No one ever saw him smile, or if he did, the gleam of a serpent stole into his eyes, revealing the venom within. This state of things might have gone on for months, perhaps years, but for a new source of excitement which the lady had searched out for herself. Hitherto the expense and ostentation of her life had been its chief objection. But display requires great genius in its arrangement not to become monotonous, and of all things on earth the routine of a merely fashionable life is the least interesting. Mrs. Nelson began to feel this. Even the triumphs of her vanity grew sickly; she wanted new fields for display. This feeling led her to the very verge of a precipice. There was one corner in Nelson's heart in which a sleeping serpent lay coiled, which even she must not dare to arouse. But with her usual audacity she trampled even there.

In New York there is always a floating population of foreigners whose business it is to be amused, and who have, with the aid of liberal travel abroad, introduced many customs into our republican society which a New Englander of any class is not quite prepared to accept.

Now Mrs. Nelson began to weary of her fashionable dissipation—the attentions of those very men made one of the chief attractions of her life. They were invited to her house; she received with pleasure their exaggerated flatteries, and gradually her whole mode of thought became so changed that the woman was scarcely to be recognized.

What Nelson suffered at first is beyond the power of description; although it wounded his pride terribly, he gave these troubles no utterance, and had scarcely expressed a word of disapproval, but his brow grew heavy with frowns and an iron pressure of the mouth became habitual. He never sought his wife's presence now, and even passed her, if they chanced to meet, with lowering avoidance.

With this new caprice Mrs. Nelson's extravagance had somewhat abated, and having no special favors to ask, she treated her husband's frowns with the utmost disdain, if for a moment they excited her attention. He took no pains to enforce his displeasure upon her, but with stolid firmness went on his way.

During her married life this woman had made many efforts to find out the sources of her husband's wealth, but except that all her expenditures were supplied in foreign gold, she could form no real idea of his resources. But this fact convinced her that he must have made vast investments abroad, and the strongest desire she had left was to ascertain the exact position and amount of these investments, which, in the end, must, she was certain, become her own, either by depletion or bequest.

But for the fixed conviction of his wife's indifference, the art of this woman would, in the end, have gained the information she craved; but Nelson felt that in this secret lay his entire hold on her. In fact he dared not trust her or divide the corroding anxieties of his existence with any human being. At length, in the pauses of a foreign flirtation, for with her these things never approached a point beyond that of gratified vanity, she began to reflect on the persistent silence of her husband, and viewing him as the source of all her luxuries, became vaguely uneasy, as she had done once before, lest he should escape her control.

One evening, when it chanced that she had no visitors, this doubt came across her, and under its influence she went in search of her husband.