"What is up, Phil?" said; "a bad report of our work laid before the public, or what?"
"Worse than that," said he, seating himself on the empty flour-cask which served me for a table. "Can you steel yourself to hear bad news?"
"From home?" I asked.
"Well, yes," said he, hesitating, and a chill came over my heart as I said involuntarily,
"Estelle?"
"Yes, about Lady Cressingham."
"What--what--don't keep me in suspense!" I exclaimed, starting up.
"She is, I fear, lost to you for ever, Hardinge."
"Ill--dead--O, Phil, don't say dead!"
"No, no."