"Did God?"
"I cannot tell you, Fina," said Leam, to whom falsehoods were abhorrent and the truth impossible.
"Did you?" persisted Fina with childish obstinacy.
"Now go," said Leam, putting her off her lap and rising from her chair in strange disorder. "You are troublesome and ask too many questions."
Fina began to cry loudly, and Mr. Dundas, from his library below, heard her. He came up stairs with his fussy, restless kindness, and opened the door of the room where his two daughters, of nature and by adoption, were.
"Heyday! what's all this about?" he cried. "What's the matter, my little Fina? what are you crying for? Tut, tut! you should not cry like this, darling; and, Leam," severely, "you should really keep the child better amused and happy. She is as good as gold with me: with you there is always something wrong."
Fina ran into his arms sobbing. "Leam is cross," she said. "She will not tell me who killed mamma."
The man's ruddy face, reddened and roughened with travel, grew white and pitiful. "God took her away, my darling," he said with a sob. "She was too good for me, and He took her to live with the angels in heaven,"
"And Leam's mamma? Is she in heaven too with the angels?" asked Fina, opening her eyes wide through their tears,
"I hope so," Sebastian answered in an altered voice.