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And Miss Aldclyffe was not a woman likely to be far behind any second person in warming to a mood of defiance. It seemed as if she were prepared to put up with a cold refusal, but that her haughtiness resented a criticism of her conduct ending in a rebuke. By this, Manston's discreditable object, which had been made hers by compulsion only, was now adopted by choice.
Manston's return had reached them, she had kept herself closely shut up during the day-time, never venturing forth except at night. Sleeping and waking she had been in perpetual dread lest she should still be claimed by a man whom, only a few weeks earlier, she had regarded in the light of a future husband with quiet assent, not unmixed with cheerfulness.
The first watcher, that is, the man walking immediately behind Manston, now fell back, when Manston's housekeeper, knowing the ground pretty well, dived circuitously among the trees and got directly behind the steward, who, encumbered with his load, had proceeded but slowly. The other woman seemed now to be about opposite to Anne, or a little in advance, but on Manston's other hand.
Suppose the new woman was, as stated, Mr. Manston's restored wife? Cytherea was perfectly safe as a single woman whose marriage had been void. And if it turned out that, though this woman was not Manston's wife, his wife was still living, as Owen had suggested, in America or elsewhere, Cytherea was safe. The first supposition opened up the worst contingency. Was she really safe as Manston's wife?
It was the most unlikely thing on earth that a woman who had forsaken her husband should countenance his scheme to personify her whether she were in America, in London, or in the neighbourhood of Knapwater. Then came the old and harassing question, what was Manston's real motive in risking his name on the deception he was practising as regarded Anne.
Manston's eyes from where he sat was impossible, and he could do nothing in the shape of a direct examination at present.
You are not, dear, are you? Forgive me. Your loving wife, EUNICE. This was the last of the letters from the wife to the husband. One other, in Mrs. Manston's handwriting, and in the same packet, was differently addressed. 'THREE TRANTERS INN, CARRIFORD, November 28, 1864. 'DEAR COUSIN JAMES, Thank you indeed for answering my letter so promptly.
Owen had remembered continually what his friend had frequently overlooked, that there was yet a possibility of his sister being Manston's wife, and the recollection taught him to avoid any rashness in his proceedings which might lead to bitterness hereafter. Entering the room, he found Manston sitting in the chair which had been occupied by Cytherea on Edward's visit, three hours earlier.
Manston's workbox. Thither Edward went, followed by the man. Four bell pulls, one above the other like waistcoat-buttons, appeared on the door-post. Edward seized the first he came to. 'Who did you woant? said a thin voice from somewhere. Edward looked above and around him; nobody was visible. 'Who did you woant? said the thin voice again.
As first among the latter he mentioned Miss Cytherea Graye. After getting him to describe her appearance as completely as lay in his power, she wormed out of him the statement that everybody had been saying before Mrs. Manston's existence was heard of how well the handsome Mr.
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