In the new confidence established between herself and her aunt, Kate had whispered to her that she was engaged to Walter Bramber, but the news seemed to make as little impression on Zerah as it had on Pasco, and for the same reason, that each mind was engrossed in other more immediately interesting matters. The girl submitted with that resignation which characterised her. She made little account of herself, and did not suppose that what concerned her could excite lively emotions in the hearts of her uncle and aunt. Even Mr. Puddicombe had shown more sympathy and pleasure. But then, Kate could make allowance for the preoccupation of her aunt’s mind consequent on the fire. Kate now timidly approached her uncle, keeping her eyes riveted on his face, and, standing on the other side of the little round table on which was his jug, she asked’ “Are you quite sure my dear father is all right?” Pasco looked sharply at her. “Questions again?” he said hastily, and a flush came into his cheek. “I have a right to ask this question,” said Kate firmly. His eye fell under hers; he set down the glass unsteadily and upset the cider. “Hang it! why have you a right?” “I want to know that my father is alive.” “I say he’s gone to Portsmouth.” “But how did he go?” “That was his affair, not mine; the Atmospheric, I suppose.” “He could not cross during that night’at least, not till near dawn, and so must have been here when the warehouse was burnt.” “I don’t see that; there are other ways of getting away. He went on to Shaldon.” That was certainly possible. Quarm might have pursued the right bank of the river to where it could be crossed at any tide, but this was not probable. An interruption was occasioned by the entry of the rector. After the usual salutations, he at once turned to the topic which had been engaging thoughts and tongues before he appeared. “I have no desire to intrude,” said he, “but I have come to prevent a scandal, if possible, and perhaps a quarrel. Mr. Pooke is in a great heat, and vows he will have a search-warrant to turn over the heaps, as you have refused him to explore them. You are churchwarden, Mr. Pepperill, and I not only desire to prevent unpleasantness on your own account, but on that of the Church. You have, I believe, sent Mr. Pooke off?” “I have.” “But why so? He may have acted irregularly, but it was with good intentions, and you were absent.” “He had no right to touch what was mine.” “No doubt he erred, but you were absent, consider; and your wife, your niece, the whole village, were in excitement and alarm. He did what seemed fit to allay this unrest; to find out whether Mr. Quarm had been here or not.” “It is no good. He’ll get no warrant, unless magistrates be fools. He has no case’not a ghost of a case. Jason went to Shaldon, and so over the water.” “You are sure?”