Mrs. Sherwin coughed--a very weak, small cough, half-stifled in its
birth.

"There you are again!" he said, turning fiercely towards.
her--"Coughing again! Six months of the doctor--a six months' bill to
come out of my pocket--and no good done--no good, Mrs. S."

"Oh, I am much better, thank you--it was only a little--"

"Well, Sir, the evening after you left me, I had what you may call an
explanation with my dear girl. She was naturally a little confused
and--and embarrassed, indeed. A very serious thing of course, to
decide at her age, and at so short a notice, on a point involving the
happiness of her whole life to come."

Here Mrs. Sherwin put her handkerchief to her eyes--quite noiselessly;
for she had doubtless acquired by long practice the habit of weeping
in silence. Her husband's quick glance turned on her, however,
immediately, with anything but an expression of sympathy.

"Good God, Mrs. S.! what's the use of going on in that way?" he said,
indignantly. "What is there to cry about? Margaret isn't ill, and
isn't unhappy--what on earth's the matter now? Upon my soul this is a
most annoying circumstance: and before a visitor too! You had better
leave me to discuss the matter alone--you always _were_ in the way of
business, and it's my opinion you always will be."

Mrs. Sherwin prepared, without a word of remonstrance, to leave the
room. I sincerely felt for her; but could say nothing. In the impulse
of the moment, I rose to open the door for her; and immediately