“I don’t leave her again,” cried the woman, passionately; “I’d sooner die.”
Garstang gazed down at them wildly for a few moments, and then rushed across into the dining-room, obtained the brandy, a glass, and a carafe of water, and returned, to begin bathing Kate’s temples and hands, but without the slightest result, save that her breathing became fainter, and the ghastly symptoms of collapse slowly increased.
“She’s going—she’s going!” moaned the shuddering woman, who knelt by the couch, holding Kate tightly as if to keep her there. “We’ve poisoned her! we’ve poisoned her!”
The panic which had seized upon Garstang increased, as he gazed wildly at his work. Strong man as he was, and accustomed to control himself, he began now to lose his head; and at last, thoroughly aghast, he caught the housekeeper by the shoulder and shook her.
“Don’t leave her,” he said, in a husky whisper. “I’m going out.”
“What!” cried the woman, turning and catching his arm; “going to try and escape, and leave me here?”
“No, no,” he whispered; “a doctor—to fetch a doctor.”
“Yes, yes,” moaned the woman; “a doctor—fetch a doctor; but it is too late—it is too late!”
Garstang hardly heard her words, as he bent down and took a hurried look at Kate’s face. Then hurrying to the door, he caught sight of Becky still watching.
“Go down and help your mother,” he cried, excitedly; and unfastening the door, he rushed out.