It isn't no
better since--" The cough interrupted the end of the sentence, and
affecting to misunderstand her, Mr. Alden said--
"No better than it was a week ago."
"A week ago!" said the poor girl. "It is no better since Christmas."
There was surprise in her voice, and the pity of it took Mr. Alden in the
throat, and it was with difficulty that he answered that "he hoped that
the present fine weather would enable her to get well. Such weather as
this," he said, "is as good as going abroad."
This assertion was disputed. One of the women had been to Australia for
her health, and the story of travel was interspersed by the little coughs,
terrible in their apparent insignificance. But it was Mr. Alden that the
others wished to hear speak; they knew all about their companion's trip to
Australia, and in their impatience their eyes went towards Esther. So Mr.
Alden became aware of a new presence, and he turned.
"What! is it you, Esther?"
"Yes, sir."
"But there doesn't seem much the matter with you. You're all right."
"Yes, I'm all right, sir; it's my husband."
They walked a few yards up the path.
"Your husband! I'm very sorry."
"He's been an out-door patient for some time; he's being examined by the
doctors now."
"Whom did you marry, Esther?"
"William Latch, a betting man, sir.
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