‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found.
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