On the Monday after Springrove's visit, Owen had walked to the top of a hill in the neighbourhood of Tolchurch--a wild hill that had no name, beside a barren down where it never looked like summer. In the intensity of his meditations on the ever-present subject, he sat down on a weather-beaten boundary-stone gazing towards the distant valleys--seeing only Manston's imagined form.
Had his defenceless sister been trifled with? that was the question which affected him. Her refusal of Edward as a husband was, he knew, dictated solely by a humiliated sense of inadequacy to him in repute, and had not been formed till since the slanderous tale accounting for her seclusion had been circulated. Was it not true, as Edward had hinted, that he, her brother, was neglecting his duty towards her in allowing Manston to thrive unquestioned, whilst she was hiding her head for no fault at all?
Was it possible that Manston was sensuous villain enough to have contemplated, at any moment before the marriage with Cytherea, the return of his first wife, when he should have grown weary of his new toy? Had he believed that, by a skilful manipulation of such circumstances as chance would throw in his way, he could escape all suspicion of having known that she lived? Only one fact within his own direct knowledge afforded the least ground for such a supposition. It was that, possessed by a woman only in the humble and unprotected station of a lady's hired companion, his sister's beauty might scarcely have been sufficient to induce a selfish man like Manston to make her his wife, unless he had foreseen the possibility of getting rid of her again.
'But for that stratagem of Manston's in relation to the Springroves,' Owen thought, 'Cythie might now have been the happy wife of Edward. True, that he influenced Miss Aldclyffe only rests on Edward's suspicions, but the grounds are good--the probability is strong.' He went indoors and questioned Cytherea.
'On the night of the fire, who first said that Mrs. Manston was burnt?' he asked.
'I don't know who started the report.' 'Was it Manston?' 'It was certainly not he. All doubt on the subject was removed before he came to the spot--that I am certain of. Everybody knew that she did not escape _after_ the house was on fire, and thus all overlooked the fact that she might have left before--of course that would have seemed such an improbable thing for anybody to do.' 'Yes, until the porter's story of her irritation and doubt as to her course made it natural.' 'What settled the matter at the inquest,' said Cytherea, 'was Mr.