"Please sit down," Johanna said, without offering him her hand.
There was a weary, sad, almost tearful sound in her voice which was new to him. Also the manner in which she went to the sofa and slowly sank amongst the cushions seemed the action of one physically weak and broken in spirit.
"I have asked you to come here," she began, "so that you shall know God's decision with regard to us. For what is about to happen is the judgment of God. I have no will in the matter, except to do His bequest. But you shall not be able to reproach me with having dealt this blow from behind in an underhand way."
Of course she was threatening him; he had expected nothing else.
"Well, what is it now?" he inquired, suppressing his rising antagonism. "What do you want of me, and will it cost me much? You pious folks have your own prices, I know."
His scoffing raillery had no effect upon her.
"Look here, Leo," she said, in a still more tired and subdued voice, "I am sorry for you. I would have given much to be able to save you and all of us, for you have involved us all in your ruin. But there is no contending against God's law, and He has spoken. The child is dead. Do you know why the child died?"
"Leave the child out of it," he murmured. "What has the child to do with you?"
"That I will tell you, Leo," she replied, stretching her languid arm towards the crucifix. "On that spot she sentenced the child to death; and she did it for your sake."
He felt as if some one had struck him with open hand on the forehead. He tried to speak, but his thoughts were in a whirl. Only a strangled laugh rose from his throat.