'I certainly did not at one time. One is apt to feel rather weary of wives when they are so devilish civil under all aspects, as she used to be. But anything for a change--Abigail is lost, but Michal is recovered. You would hardly believe it, but she seems in fancy to be quite another bride--in fact, almost as if she had really risen from the dead, instead of having only done so virtually.'
'You let the young pink one know that the other has come or is coming?'
'Cui bono?' The steward meditated critically, showing a portion of his intensely wide and regular teeth within the ruby lips.
'I cannot say anything to her that will do any good,' he resumed.
'It would be awkward--either seeing or communicating with her again.
The best plan to adopt will be to let matters take their course--she'll find it all out soon enough.'
Manston found himself alone a few minutes later. He buried his face in his hands, and murmured, 'O my lost one! O my Cytherea! That it should come to this is hard for me! 'Tis now all darkness--"a land of darkness as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death without any order, and where the light is as darkness."'
Yes, the artificial bearing which this extraordinary man had adopted before strangers ever since he had overheard the conversation at the inn, left him now, and he mourned for Cytherea aloud.
4. THE TWELFTH OF FEBRUARY
Knapwater Park is the picture--at eleven o'clock on a muddy, quiet, hazy, but bright morning--a morning without any blue sky, and without any shadows, the earth being enlivened and lit up rather by the spirit of an invisible sun than by its bodily presence.
The local Hunt had met for the day's sport on the open space of ground immediately in front of the steward's residence--called in the list of appointments, 'Old House, Knapwater'--the meet being here once every season, for the pleasure of Miss Aldclyffe and her friends.
Leaning out from one of the first-floor windows, and surveying with the keenest interest the lively picture of pink and black coats, rich-coloured horses, and sparkling bits and spurs, was the returned and long-lost woman, Mrs. Manston.
The eyes of those forming the brilliant group were occasionally turned towards her, showing plainly that her adventures were the subject of conversation equally with or more than the chances of the coming day. She did not flush beneath their scrutiny; on the contrary, she seemed rather to enjoy it, her eyes being kindled with a light of contented exultation, subdued to square with the circumstances of her matronly position.
She was, at the distance from which they surveyed her, an attractive woman--comely as the tents of Kedar. But to a close observer it was palpable enough that God did not do all the picture. Appearing at least seven years older than Cytherea, she was probably her senior by double the number, the artificial means employed to heighten the natural good appearance of her face being very cleverly applied.
Her form was full and round, its voluptuous maturity standing out in strong contrast to the memory of Cytherea's lissom girlishness.
It seems to be an almost universal rule that a woman who once has courted, or who eventually will court, the society of men on terms dangerous to her honour cannot refrain from flinging the meaning glance whenever the moment arrives in which the glance is strongly asked for, even if her life and whole future depended upon that moment's abstinence.
Had a cautious, uxorious husband seen in his wife's countenance what might now have been seen in this dark-eyed woman's as she caught a stray glance of flirtation from one or other of the red-coated gallants outside, he would have passed many days in an agony of restless jealousy and doubt. But Manston was not such a husband, and he was, moreover, calmly attending to his business at the other end of the manor.
The steward had fetched home his wife in the most matter-of-fact way a few days earlier, walking round the village with her the very next morning--at once putting an end, by this ****** solution, to all the riddling inquiries and surmises that were rank in the village and its neighbourhood. Some men said that this woman was as far inferior to Cytherea as earth to heaven; others, older and sager, thought Manston better off with such a wife than he would have been with one of Cytherea's youthful impulses, and inexperience in household management. All felt their curiosity dying out of them.
It was the same in Carriford as in other parts of the world--immediately circumstantial evidence became exchanged for direct, the loungers in court yawned, gave a final survey, and turned away to a subject which would afford more scope for speculation.
