Giving her orders to the postillion on the pavement in the morning, she named a South-westerly direction out of London, and after entering the chariot, she received a case from one of the footmen.
'What is that, my dear ?' said Mrs.Pagnell.
Aminta unlocked and laid it open.

A pair of pistols met Mrs.Pagnell's gaze.
'We shan't be in need of those things ?' the lady said anxiously.
'One never knows, on the road, aunt.' 'Loaded?
You wouldn't hesitate to fire; I'm sure.' 'At Mr.Morsfield himself, if he attempted to stop me.' Mrs.Pagnell withdrew into her astonishment, and presently asked, in a tone of some indignation: 'Why did you mention Mr.Morsfield, Aminta ?' 'Did you not write to him yesterday afternoon, aunt ?' 'You read the addresses on my letters!' 'Did you not supply him with our proposed route and the time for starting ?' 'Pistols!' exclaimed Mrs.Pagnell.

'One would fancy you think we are in the middle of the last century.

Mr.Morsfield is a gentleman, not a highwayman.' 'He gives the impression of his being a madman.' 'The real madman is your wedded husband, Aminta, if wedding it was!' It was too surely so, in Aminta's mind.

She tried, by looking out of the window, to forget her companion.