“Is she dead?” repeated Lansing.
“No, she is n't dead.”
“Is she dying, then?”
“No, she is well.”
“It's the children, then?”
“No,” answered Pinney. “They are all right.”
“Then, in God's name, what is it?” demanded Lansing, unable to conceive what serious evil could have happened to him, if nothing had befallen his wife and babies.
“We can't keep it from him now,” said Pinney to his wife. “You 'll have to give him her letter.”
“Can't you tell me what it is? Why do you keep me in suspense?” asked Lansing, in a voice husky with a dread he knew not of what.
“I can't, man. Don't ask me!” groaned Finney. “It's better that you should read it.”