Manston

“ Manston did not need to be told that the shabby marble-covered book which he held in his hand, opening endways and interleaved with blotting-paper, was an old reporting-book. He raised his eyes to the reporter's face, whose experience had not so schooled his features but that they betrayed a consciousness, to one half initiated as the other was, that his late proceeding had been connected with events in the life of the steward. Manston said no more, but, taking his newspaper, followed Owen from the office, and disappeared in the gloom of the street. ”

“ Manston also had come forward out of the gloom. Notwithstanding the farmer's own troubles, an instinctive respect and generous sense of sympathy with the steward for his awful loss caused the old man to step aside, that Manston might pass out without speaking to them if he chose to do so.
'Who is he?' whispered Edward to his father, as Manston approached. ”

“ The wet shining road threw the western glare into her eyes with an invidious lustre which rendered the restlessness of her mood more wearying. Her thoughts flew from idea to idea without asking for the slightest link of connection between one and another. One moment she was full of the wild music and stirring scene with Manston---the next, Edward's image rose before her like a shadowy ghost. ”

“ Manston's journey from London to her husband's house; a day of singular and great events, influencing the present and future of nearly all the personages whose actions in a complex drama form the subject of this record.
The proceedings of the steward demand the first notice. Whilst taking his breakfast on this particular morning, the clock pointing to eight, the horse-and-gig that was to take him to Chettlewood waiting ready at the door, Manston hurriedly cast his eyes down the column of Bradshaw which showed the details and duration of the selected train's journey. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Tolchurch Vicarage and Farmstead, lying back from the village street, were served on this principle. This fact the steward now learnt by conversing with the postman, and the discovery relieved Manston greatly, making his intentions much clearer to himself than they had been in the earlier stages of his journey. ”

“ Of a sudden, a few yards ahead, within the compass of the rays from the right-hand lamp, burst forward the figure of a man. Having been walking in darkness the newcomer raised his hands to his eyes, on approaching nearer, to screen them from the glare of the reflector.
Manston saw that he was one of the villagers: a small farmer originally, who had drunk himself down to a day-labourer and reputed poacher. ”

“ Manston is in the business. Did you ever know him to give up for weather of any kind, or for any other mortal thing in heaven or earth?’
‘——Mornen so’s—such as it is!’ interrupted Mr. Crickett cheerily, coming forward to the blaze and warming one hand without looking at the fire. ‘Mr. Manston gie up for anything in heaven or earth, did you say? You might ha’ cut it short by sayen “to Miss Aldclyffe,” and leaven out heaven and earth as trifles. But it might be put off; putten off a thing isn’t getten rid of a thing, if that thing is a woman. ”

“ Manston reached Carriford Road Station, her husband was still at Chettlewood, ignorant of her arrival, and on looking up and down the platform, dreary with autumn gloom and wind, she could see no sign that any preparation whatever had been made for her reception and conduct home. ”

“ The postman had by this time become markedly unsteady, but he still continued to be too conscious of his duties to suffer the steward to search the bag. Manston was perplexed, and at lonely points in the road cast his eyes keenly upon the short bowed figure of the man trotting through the mud by his side, as if he were half inclined to run a very great risk indeed. ”

“ Thus, amid his concentration did Manston receive perceptions of the individuals about him in the lively thoroughfare of the Strand; tall men looking insignificant; little men looking great and profound; lost women of miserable repute looking as happy as the days are long ”

“ Manston was very religious now. It is commonly said that no man was ever converted by argument, but there is a single one which will make any Laodicean in England, let him be once love-sick, wear prayer-books and become a zealous Episcopalian--the argument that his sweetheart can be seen from his pew. ”

“ Manston came by her death accidentally through the burning of the Three Tranters Inn.
3. DECEMBER THE SECOND. AFTERNOON
When Mr. Springrove came from the door of the Rising Sun at the end of the inquiry, Manston walked by his side as far as the stile to the park, a distance of about a stone’s-throw.
‘Ah, Mr. Springrove, this is a sad affair for everybody concerned.’
‘Everybody,’ said the old farmer, with deep sadness, ‘’tis quite a misery to me. I hardly know how I shall live through each day as it breaks. I think of the words, “In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even! ”

“ Manston was still living--till her brain seemed ready to burst its confinement with excess of throbbing. It was only natural that she should, by degrees, be unable to separate the discovery, which was matter of fact, from the suspicion of treachery on her husband's part, which was only matter of inference. ”

“ You see, Mr. Manston, an out-step place like this is not like a city, and there is nobody to busy himself for the good of the community; whilst poor Cytherea and her brother are socially too dependent to be able to make much stir in the matter, which is a greater reason still why you should be disinterestedly prompt.'
The steward murmured an assent. Still there was the same indecision!--not the indecision of weakness--the indecision of conscious perplexity.
On Manston's return from this interview at the rectory, he passed the door of the Rising Sun Inn. ”

“ For if any rule at all can be laid down in a matter which, for men collectively, is notoriously beyond regulation, it is that to snub a petted man, and to pet a snubbed man, is the way to win in suits of both kinds. Manston with Springrove's encouragement would have become indifferent. Edward with Manston's repulses would have sheered off at the outset, as he did afterwards. Her supreme indifference added fuel to Manston's ardour--it completely disarmed his pride. The invulnerable Nobody seemed greater to him than a susceptible Princess. ”

“ Manston is prepared with proofs, but as it concerns nobody but yourself that her identity should be publicly established (and by your absenteeism you act as if you were satisfied) he has not troubled to exhibit them. Nobody else has taken the trouble to prove what does not affect them in the least --that's the way of the world always. ”

“ Manston found that nothing could be done towards searching them at that hour of the night. He turned homeward again, in the company of the rector, who had considerately persuaded him to retire from the scene for a while, and promised that as soon as a man could live amid the embers of the Three Tranters Inn, they should be carefully searched for the remains of his unfortunate wife. ”

“ Manston left her watch and keys behind on purpose to blind people as to her escape; and that therefore she would not now let herself be discovered, unless a strong pressure were put upon her. The writers added that the police were on the track of the porter, who very possibly had absconded in the fear that his reticence was criminal, and that Mr. Manston, the husband, was, with praiseworthy energy, making every effort to clear the whole matter up. ”

“ Manston insisted upon the flask being emptied before they proceeded further. This was done, and they approached the church, the vicarage, and the farmhouse in which Owen and Cytherea were living.
The postman paused, fumbled in his bag, took out by the light of his lantern some half-dozen letters, and tried to sort them. He could not perform the task.
‘We be crippled disciples a b’lieve,’ he said, with a sigh and a stagger.
‘Not drunk, but market-merry,’ said Manston cheerfully.
‘Well done! If I baint so weak that I can’t see the clouds—much less letters. ”

“ Her touch was so light that the leather seemed to have been thick enough to keep the owner of the foot in entire ignorance of it, and the noise of Manston’s scraping might have been quite sufficient to drown the slight rustle of her dress.
The person was obviously not the steward: he was still busy. It was somebody who, since the light had been extinguished, had taken advantage of the gloom, to come from some dark recess in the brewhouse and stand upon the brickwork of the copper. ”

“ Manston?' said the man.
'Yes.'
'Somebody ha' come to Carriford: and the rest of it may concern you, sir.'
'Well, well.'
'Did you expect Mrs. Manston to-night, sir?'
'Yes, unfortunately she's come, I know, and asleep long before this time, I suppose.'
The labourer leant his elbow upon the shaft of the gig and turned his face, pale and sweating from his late work at the fire, up to Manston's.
'Yes, she did come,' he said. . . . ”

“ So there's an end of him.'
It was perfectly true: Manston was dead.
The previous day he had been allowed the use of writing-materials, and had occupied himself for nearly seven hours in preparing the following confession:--
'LAST WORDS. 'Having found man's life to be a wretchedly conceived scheme, I renounce it, and, to cause no further trouble, I write down the facts connected with my past proceedings. ”

“ A pretty concern that’ll be! Nobody’s head to put on your letters; and then your honest man who do pay his penny will never be known from your scamp who don’t. O, ‘tis a nation!’
‘Warm the cockles of your heart, however. Here’s the bottle waiting.’
‘I’ll oblige you, my friend.’
The drinking was repeated. The postman grew livelier as he went on, and at length favoured the steward with a song, Manston himself joining in the chorus. ”

“ Almost the entire town was there to see them off, and hundreds of men, old and young, filled the air with cheers. Mingling in that throng were as many mothers, wives, sweethearts and sisters with aching hearts, whose sobs of anguish were woven into the cheering. Strong men wept as well. As the train rolled away, Manson fought the tears back that he might not lose the last sight of one fair girl whose heart he knew was breaking. When it was all over, and he realized that for months or years, or perhaps never, would he behold her again, he knew what war and parting meant. ”

“ MANSON. As a man might know his own soul, sir—As they say in
India. His work has been mine, so to speak.
VICAR. Bless me, you will know him better than I do. I have never seen him since I was quite a little lad.
MARY [with prodigious solemnity] . Just you think, Manson! He's my uncle—my own father's brother!
[MANSON is now up stage between the two.]
MANSON. Your brother, sir?
VICAR [fervently] . I am grateful to God for it, Manson: he is. ”

“ MANSON. It doesn't sound like the Bishop of Benares, ma'am. He generally comes very quietly.
AUNTIE. Quick!
MANSON. Yes, ma'am.
[He goes out by the main door.]
AUNTIE [rapidly] , William, I'm sorry! Really, I didn't mean you: I never thought of you; I was only thinking of Robert. I only think of you as a great scholar and a saint—yes, you are one!—and as the man I love! I would sacrifice everything to your happiness. Robert's nothing to me; that's why I . . . Think of what it might mean to Mary—we must think of others, William!—our own little child, as we try to imagine . . . ”

“ The peace, the security of a human soul depends upon it! Come, sir! Where shall we go?
MANSON. Have I your permission, ma'am
AUNTIE. Certainly; but it is most extraordinary!
MANSON [crossing] . Then I think this way, my lord, in the drawing-room . . . [He leads the way.]
BISHOP [following] . And you may be sure, my good fellow, I will give anything—I say, anything—to remedy your misapprehensions! Hm!
[They go into the drawing-room, right, MANSON holding the door for the other to pass.]
VICAR. Martha! It's no use! I can't do it!
AUNTIE [preoccupied] . Can't do what, William? ”

“ I remember going on one occasion to Mansfield. That was in the summer of 1876. I don’t recollect the month. Mrs. Padley went with me. I had not told Peace that I was going. I went by an afternoon train to Mansfield.
Did you ever write to the prisoner, telling him you were going by the nine o’clock train?—​No.
Did you tell him he must not go by train, “because he (Dyson) will go down with me,” and also say, “Don’t let him see anything if you meet me in the Wicker. Hope nothing will turn up to prevent it. Love to Janie?” ”

“ MANSON. Yes, sir: all of them.
[The VICAR stands thoughtful for a moment. He places the paten on the table, beside him.]
VICAR [slowly] . That is not always so easy, Manson; but it is my creed, too.
MANSON. Then— Brother!
[Rapt in thought, the VICAR takes his profferred hand mechanically.]
[MARY enters. She is a slim young girl in her teens, the picture of rosy sweetness and health.]
MARY. Good-morning, Uncle William! Oh! . . . I suppose you're Manson? I must say you look simply ripping! How do you do? My name's Mary. [She offers her hand.]
MANSON [kissing it] . A very dear name, too! ”