"What do you mean?" demanded Reginald.
"That your servant is poisoned," replied the surgeon.
"Poisoned!" exclaimed the rector. "Oh! no—you must mistake. She would not take poison herself, and I do not believe she has an enemy on the face of the earth."
"Nevertheless, Mr. Tracy," said the surgeon positively, "she is poisoned."
At these words Kate's sobs became more convulsive.
"But is it too late?" cried the rector: "can nothing be done? Is she past recovery?"
"Past all human succour, I repeat."
"My poor servant—my faithful friend," exclaimed Reginald Tracy, burying his face in his hands: "Oh! what could have induced her to commit suicide?"
"Suicide!" echoed Katherine, starting from her seat, and coming forward: "Oh! no, sir—do not wrong her memory thus! She was too good—too pious—too much bent upon the mercy of her Redeemer, to commit such a crime."
"Alas! suicide it must have been, my poor girl," said the rector; "for who could have administered poison to so harmless, so charitable, so humane a creature? Some secret grief, perhaps——"