Having never been there before, it took him some time to find the home, together with that particular portion of it in which the Reardons lived.
"If it's Matthew Reardon you want," exclaimed a young girl, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in a thin coloured shawl, which scarcely concealed her ragged dress, "he's just gone out, and his wife with him. I wonder you didn't hear him cough. A regular churchyard cough it is, and no mistake."
"I am sorry that he should have been obliged to go out in the cold," said Marshall.
"For the matter of that," replied the girl, "poor people can't afford to be particular. It's kill or cure with them!"
"And suppose it should prove to be the former—what then?" asked Marshall.
"Why, they must die, to be sure;" and the girl laughed lightly.
"And after that?" persisted the old man.
"I don't know," was the reply. "It won't bear thinking about."
"The Bible tells us," continued Marshall, "that he who believeth on the Son hath everlasting life, and that he who believeth not the Son, shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him."
"The wrath of God!" repeated his companion, shivering as she spoke. "It is a hard saying!"