‘Yes. Only I thought you used not to care overmuch about your first bargain.’
‘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.