“Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. "When I am dead you will learn it. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. “It’s my fault. B. ” “Not yet. He has three days to live. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies.
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