"I not only love you, Dear, but trust you always. I don't want to seem
obstinate and impatient, Floyd, but if I could see my babies just from
the door I should be happy. And it won't hurt me. I haven't seen them in
three whole weeks."

During the long, agonizing silence the young mother gathered something
of his distress.

"Floyd, look at me!"

Slowly he lifted his white face and looked straight at her.

"Floyd, Floyd, you've tears in your eyes! I didn't mean to hurt you--"

She stopped speaking, and the pain in his heart reached hers.

"Floyd," she cried again, "is there anything the matter with--with--"

"Hush, Fledra darling, little wife, will you be brave for my sake and
for the sake of--her?"

His eyes were still full of tears as he touched the bundle on the bed.

"But my babies!" moaned Mrs. Vandecar. "If there isn't anything the
matter with my babies--"

"I want to speak to you about our children, Dear."

"They are dead?" Mrs. Vandecar asked dully. "My babies are dead?"