The letter was brought to Owen Graye, the same afternoon, by one of the
vicar’s servants who had been to the box with a duplicate key, as usual,
to leave letters for the evening post. The man found that the index had
told falsely that morning for the first time within his recollection;
but no particular attention was paid to the mistake, as it was
considered. The contents of the envelope were scrutinized by Owen and
flung aside as useless.
The next morning brought Springrove’s second letter, the existence of
which was unknown to Manston. The sight of Edward’s handwriting again
raised the expectations of brother and sister, till Owen had opened the
envelope and pulled out the twig and verse.
‘Nothing that’s of the slightest use, after all,’ he said to her; ‘we
are as far as ever from the merest shadow of legal proof that would
convict him of what I am morally certain he did, marry you, suspecting,
if not knowing, her to be alive all the time.’
‘What has Edward sent?’ said Cytherea.
‘An old amatory verse in Manston’s writing. Fancy,’ he said bitterly,
‘this is the strain he addressed her in when they were courting--as he
did you, I suppose.’