"There is no hope. None whatever. Dr. Bernard gives none."
"And the mother?"
"She is very quiet, very submissive under it all."
"She knows the worst, then?"
"She guesses it, and bears up wonderfully. How it will be by-and-by, when the worst is over, I don't like, cannot bear to think of; you must come and talk to her then?"
"I?" he said, "no, that will never do; she has her husband."
"He's a wretch! I have no patience with him. As cold as an icicle."
"My dear Anne," he said, reprovingly.
"Oh! my dear Tom, I am so glad you are not like him," and then she burst out crying, a most unusual thing for her, "and I am so glad now I have no children: it must be dreadful to lose them. After this I will be the most contented little mortal going."
And she went back again to Amy, leaving her husband somewhat surprised, and regretful that he should have consented to have allowed her to remain in a scene evidently too much for her.