“Daddy will come too, dear. I will call you when you are to come in.”
Murchison was still sitting at the breakfast-table when she returned, looking like a man who had lost his all at cards. His figure appeared shrunken, and hollow at the shoulders, his face expressionless as though from some sudden palsy of the brain.
“James!”
He started as though he had not heard her enter.
“The children, where—?”
“In the garden. Tell me, what has happened?”
“Happened? My God, Kate, see, read!—what have I done?”
She stretched out her hand, her face piteously brave.
“This letter?”
He nodded.