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She looked inquiringly at the two letters one in Miss Aldclyffe's hand, the other in Mr. Nyttleton's. 'What is the name of your man? said Miss Aldclyffe. 'His name said the lawyer, looking down the page; 'what is his name? it is Edward Springrove. Miss Aldclyffe glanced towards Cytherea, who was getting red and pale by turns. She looked imploringly at Miss Aldclyffe.
It was Edward Springrove till the inverted vision met his eye, dreaming no more of seeing his Cytherea there than of seeing the dead themselves. 'Cytherea! 'Mr. Springrove, she returned, in a low voice, across the stream. He was the first to speak again. 'Since we have met, I want to tell you something, before we become quite as strangers to each other.
Exactly seven days after Edward Springrove had seen the man with the bundle of straw walking down the streets of Casterbridge, old Farmer Springrove was standing on the edge of the same pavement, talking to his friend, Farmer Baker. There was a pause in their discourse. Mr. Springrove was looking down the street at some object which had attracted his attention.
Springrove had come there in the full belief that Cytherea was away from home with Miss Aldclyffe; and he continued ignorant of her presence throughout the service.
As we come down the hill, we shall be continually meeting people going up. But Owen had felt that Springrove was a little the worse nevertheless. 'Of course he's rather old by this time. 'O no. He's about six-and-twenty not more. 'Ah, I see.... What is he like, Owen? 'I can't exactly tell you his appearance: 'tis always such a difficult thing to do. 'A man you would describe as short?
As Springrove lingered he heard behind the plantation a woman's dress brushing along amid the prickly husks and leaves which had fallen into the path from the boughs of the chestnut trees. In another minute she stood in front of him.
He held the two hairs to the light: they were both of a pale-brown hue. He laid them parallel and stretched out his arms: they were of the same length to a nicety. The detective turned to Anne. 'It is the body of his first wife, he said quietly. 'He murdered her, as Mr. Springrove and the rector suspected but how and when, God only knows.
'What nonsense, Cytherea! said her brother, going to the door. Edward Springrove stood in the grey light outside. 'Capital not gone to Australia, and not going, of course! cried Owen. 'What's the use of going to such a place as that? I never believed that you would. 'I am going back to London again to-morrow, said Springrove, 'and I called to say a word before going. Where is... ?
In the silence that followed the two short remarks, Springrove watched the cart round the corner, and heard the rattle of its wheels gradually dying away as it rolled in the direction of the county-town.
Whilst Springrove had been speaking the two had sat down together. The conversation, hitherto distinct to every corner of the room, was carried on now in tones so low as to be scarcely audible to the interlocutors, and in phrases which hesitated to complete themselves. Three-quarters of an hour passed. Then Edward arose, came out of the rector's study and again flung his cloak around him.
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