“None whatever. He has passed away peacefully and tranquilly, and to all appearance without pain. Be thankful for that.”
The bereaved wife burst into tears. He had never been at any time an affectionate partner, or even a passable sort of husband, but the suddenness of the blow quite unnerved his widow, who demonstrated an amount of feeling which few would, perhaps, have given her credit for.
“Dead!” she iterated in sorrowful accents, “and the last time we met we parted in anger.”
“There is no occasion for you to make that declaration, my dear lady; people will talk quite soon enough without you giving them a handle for their discourse. Say as little as possible upon that subject, which is nobody’s business but your own. Poor Bourne, I confess I was not prepared for this, but after all, everything is for the best.”
“I do not understand your meaning,” said Mrs. Bourne.
“Umph, no, perhaps not. When was the doctor last seen alive?”
“When he went into the surgery—in the early part of last evening.”
“And by whom?”
“By me, sir,” returned Amy.
“And did he appear in his usual health at that time?”