"Whatever is the matter, Katharine? I have asked you the same question three times," Miss Esther was saying crossly. Katharine stared at her in reply, with large, terrified eyes. Her aunt repeated her question, and tried to possess herself of the letter. Katharine came to herself with a start, and snatched it back again, and thrust it into her father's hand. "Read it, daddy," she tried to say, but no sound came; she seemed possessed of a great horror that robbed her of every faculty. The Rector smoothed out the letter silently, glanced at the florid signature, "Barrington Montague," and began to read it without waiting to put on his glasses. Miss Esther looked from one to the other, and was divided between her curiosity and her annoyance. "Really, Katharine, you are quite devoid of manners. Am I not to have the right to ask a simple question in my own house? Who is the letter from, and what is it all about?" Dorcas lingered by the door as long as she dared, under pretence of being wanted; but Miss Esther, who never relaxed her vigilance even in a crisis, detected the subterfuge and ordered her sharply out of the room. The accustomed tone of reproof helped Katharine to recover herself. She drew a deep breath, and made an effort to speak. "Ted is dying," she said. "They are afraid to tell me, but I know it is so. And it is I who have killed him, _I_! I am going to him at once." The Rector was blinking his eyes as he finished reading the letter. Miss Esther held out her hand again. "I insist upon your giving me that letter, Cyril," she said in her discordant voice. Katharine struck down her hand fiercely. Her numbness was giving way to a kind of passionate frenzy. "Leave it alone, Aunt Esther!" she cried vehemently. "It is no business of yours; you don't understand; nobody understands. I have made Ted take his life. I am going to him _now_." The last sentence was the only one that reached Miss Esther's comprehension; she at once took up her usual attitude of disapproval. "Indeed, Katharine, you will do nothing of the kind," she exclaimed querulously. "What are we coming to next, I wonder? I sincerely trust, Cyril, that you will point out to your daughter that it is quite impossible for her to visit a young man in his chambers. I really wish that tiresome young Edward would emigrate, or marry, or do something that would put him out of the way. What has he been doing now, I wonder?" Katharine paid no heed; her eyes were fixed feverishly on her father's face. "Ted is ill, and he wants me. You will let me go, daddy, won't you?" she said imploringly. "I beg you to assert your authority, Cyril, by forbidding such a mad piece of folly," cried the shrill tones of Miss Esther. Katharine turned upon her furiously. "_You_, what can _you_ know about it? You have never known what it is to want to protect some one; you don't know the awful emptiness of having no one to care for. Daddy! you understand, don't you? I may go, mayn't I?"