"What is it, Mary?" she asked, mechanically, almost unconsciously.
"Mr. Sherrod, ma'am—you must come quick. In the studio," gasped the maid.
"Is Jud here?" asked Justine, raising herself in the chair. A new light struggled into her eyes. Celeste, cold with the certainty of some terrible news, straightened to receive the blow.
"Is it—bad, Mary?" she asked.
"Oh, ma'am, I—I can't tell you," almost whispered the girl. "It's awful! I'll see him to my dying day."
"He—he is dead?" The question came from frozen lips.
The maid burst into tears.