Sunday morning had come, and Owen was trudging over the six miles of
hill and dale that lay between Tolchurch and Carriford.
Edward Springrove’s answer to the last letter, after expressing his
amazement at the strange contradiction between the verses and Mrs.
Morris’s letter, had been to the effect that he had again visited the
neighbour of the dead Mr. Brown, and had received as near a description
of Mrs. Manston as it was possible to get at second-hand, and by
hearsay. She was a tall woman, wide at the shoulders, and full-chested,
and she had a straight and rather large nose. The colour of her eyes the
informant did not know, for she had only seen the lady in the street
as she went in or out. This confusing remark was added. The woman had
almost recognized Mrs. Manston when she had called with her husband
lately, but she had kept her veil down. Her residence, before she came
to Hoxton, was quite unknown to this next-door neighbour, and Edward
could get no manner of clue to it from any other source.
Owen reached the church-door a few minutes before the bells began
chiming. Nobody was yet in the church, and he walked round the aisles.
From Cytherea’s frequent description of how and where herself and others
used to sit, he knew where to look for Manston’s seat; and after two
or three errors of examination he took up a prayer-book in which was
written ‘Eunice Manston.’ The book was nearly new, and the date of the
writing about a month earlier. One point was at any rate established:
that the woman living with Manston was presented to the world as no
other than his lawful wife.
The quiet villagers of Carriford required no pew-opener in their place
of worship: natives and in-dwellers had their own seats, and strangers
sat where they could. Graye took a seat in the nave, on the north
side, close behind a pillar dividing it from the north aisle, which was
completely allotted to Miss Aldclyffe, her farmers, and her retainers,
Manston’s pew being in the midst of them. Owen’s position on the other
side of the passage was a little in advance of Manston’s seat, and so
situated that by leaning forward he could look directly into the face
of any person sitting there, though, if he sat upright, he was wholly
hidden from such a one by the intervening pillar.
Aiming to keep his presence unknown to Manston if possible, Owen sat,
without once turning his head, during the entrance of the congregation.
A rustling of silk round by the north passage and into Manston’s seat,
told him that some woman had entered there, and as it seemed from the
accompaniment of heavier footsteps, Manston was with her.
Immediately upon rising up, he looked intently in that direction, and
saw a lady standing at the end of the seat nearest himself. Portions of
Manston’s figure appeared on the other side of her. In two glances Graye
read thus many of her characteristics, and in the following order:--
She was a tall woman.
She was broad at the shoulders.
She was full-bosomed.
She was easily recognizable from the photograph but nothing could be
discerned of the colour of her eyes.
With a preoccupied mind he withdrew into his nook, and heard the
service continued--only conscious of the fact that in opposition to the
suspicion which one odd circumstance had bred in his sister concerning
this woman, all ostensible and ordinary proofs and probabilities tended
to the opposite conclusion. There sat the genuine original of the
portrait--could he wish for more? Cytherea wished for more. Eunice
Manston’s eyes were blue, and it was necessary that this woman’s eyes
should be blue also.
Unskilled labour wastes in beating against the bars ten times the energy
exerted by the practised hand in the effective direction. Owen felt this
to be the case in his own and Edward’s attempts to follow up the clue
afforded them. Think as he might, he could not think of a crucial test
in the matter absorbing him, which should possess the indispensable
attribute--a capability of being applied privately; that in the event of
its proving the lady to be the rightful owner of the name she used, he
might recede without obloquy from an untenable position.
But to see Mrs. Manston’s eyes from where he sat was impossible, and he
could do nothing in the shape of a direct examination at present. Miss
Aldclyffe had possibly recognized him, but Manston had not, and feeling
that it was indispensable to keep the purport of his visit a secret from
the steward, he thought it would be as well, too, to keep his presence
in the village a secret from him; at any rate, till the day was over.
At the first opening of the doors, Graye left the church and wandered
away into the fields to ponder on another scheme. He could not call
on Farmer Springrove, as he had intended, until this matter was set at
rest. Two hours intervened between the morning and afternoon services.
This time had nearly expired before Owen had struck out any method of
proceeding, or could decide to run the risk of calling at the Old House
and asking to see Mrs. Manston point-blank. But he had drawn near the
place, and was standing still in the public path, from which a partial
view of the front of the building could be obtained, when the bells
began chiming for afternoon service. Whilst Graye paused, two persons
came from the front door of the half-hidden dwelling whom he presently
saw to be Manston and his wife. Manston was wearing his old garden-hat,
and carried one of the monthly magazines under his arm. Immediately
they had passed the gateway he branched off and went over the hill in a
direction away from the church, evidently intending to ramble along,
and read as the humour moved him. The lady meanwhile turned in the other
direction, and went into the church path.
Owen resolved to make something of this opportunity. He hurried along
towards the church, doubled round a sharp angle, and came back upon the
other path, by which Mrs. Manston must arrive.
In about three minutes she appeared in sight without a veil. He
discovered, as she drew nearer, a difficulty which had not struck him
at first--that it is not an easy matter to particularize the colour of
a stranger’s eyes in a merely casual encounter on a path out of doors.
That Mrs. Manston must be brought close to him, and not only so, but to
look closely at him, if his purpose were to be accomplished.
He shaped a plan. It might by chance be effectual; if otherwise, it
would not reveal his intention to her. When Mrs. Manston was within
speaking distance, he went up to her and said--
‘Will you kindly tell me which turning will take me to Casterbridge?’
‘The second on the right,’ said Mrs. Manston.
Owen put on a blank look: he held his hand to his ear--conveying to the
lady the idea that he was deaf.