He grew nervous and fretful.

Old dismal nursery stories and all the witch lore of boyhood came back to his memory; and he crept to his bed like a criminal to the gallows, half afraid to fall asleep lest his mysterious companion should take a fancy to transform him into a horse, get him shod at the smithy, and ride him to a witch-meeting.
And, as if to make the matter worse, his wife's affection seemed to increase just in proportion as his troubles thickened upon him.

She aggravated him with all manner of caresses and endearments.

This was the drop too much.

The poor husband recoiled from her as from a waking nightmare.