“Uncle,” said Kate after a long course in silence, “I cannot think how that lucifer acts, if there be no flint and no steel. How else can the match be made to light?”
“How is no matter to me—kindle it does, somehow.” Then, abruptly, “Have you got your cotton dress on? The wind is from the east and chilly.”
“Oh no, uncle, I have on my thick woollen dress, and am very warm—thank you kindly for considering me.”
“The thick wool, is it?”
“Yes, uncle—very sure, very thick and warm.”
Then that would not do. It had occurred to him to drop a lighted match on her frock, set her in flames, and throw her out into the road at a lonely spot. No, that would not do. He reversed his whip and beat the cob with the handle.
“Diamond is not going badly, uncle,” said Kate in mild remonstrance.
He was in reality trying the weight of the whip handle and the stiffness of the stem. That would not effect his purpose; there was no metal to signify at the butt-end. The horse did not greatly mind a blow dealt it with a full swing of its master’s arm.
Pasco bore no malice against his niece. In his cold fashion he liked her. She was useful in the house, and saved him the expense of a maid. It was doubtful whether any servant would have been as submissive to Zerah as was Kitty, whether any would have continued so long in service to her. He had forgotten his momentary resentment at Kate refusing the offer of John Pooke. He wished the girl ill for no other reason than his own safety. Had he been able to send her away, out of the country, that would have satisfied him. But as there was no opportunity for getting her out of the way without hurt to himself, she must be removed by such means as were possible to him.
How to do this, and where to do it, remained undecided. Not where he then was could it be attempted, for he was now approaching Newton. The lights were twinkling through the trees, cottages were passed with illumined windows, and sometimes with persons standing in the doors.