Abner was seated at his wife's sickbed, weeping uncontrollably, when his wife, mustering the dregs of her strength, drew herself up to one elbow.
"Abner," she whispered, "Abner I cannot go to my Maker without confessing my misdeed."
"Not now," muttered the stricken husband. "Not now, my dear. Lie back and rest."
"I cannot," she cried. "I must tell you I have been unfaithful to you, Abner. In this very house, not one month ago . . ."
"Hush, dear. " soothed Abner. "I know all about it. Why else have I poisoned you?"
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