get what I heard, and if she
don't turn up alive my mind will be as sure as a Bible upon her
murder, and the parson shall know it, though I do get six months on the
treadmill for being where I was."

'"And if she should turn up alive?"

'"Then I shall know that I am wrong, and believing myself a fool as well
as a rogue, hold my tongue."

'I glided out of the house in a cold sweat. The only pressure in heaven
or earth which could have forced me to renounce Cytherea was now put
upon me--the dread of a death upon the gallows.

'I sat all that night weaving strategy of various kinds. The only
effectual remedy for my hazardous standing that I could see was a
simple one. It was to substitute another woman for my wife before the
suspicions of that one easily-hoodwinked man extended further.

'The only difficulty was to find a practicable substitute.

'The one woman at all available for the purpose was a friendless,
innocent creature, named Anne Seaway, whom I had known in my youth,
and who had for some time been the housekeeper of a lady in London. On
account of this lady's sudden death, Anne stood in rather a precarious
position, as regarded her future subsistence. She was not the best kind
of woman for the scheme; but there was no alternative. One quality of
hers was valuable; she was not a talker. I went to London the very next
day, called at the Hoxton lodging of my wife (the only place at
which she had been known as Mrs. Manston), and found that no great
difficulties stood in the way of a personation. And thus favouring
circumstances determined my course. I visited Anne Seaway, made love to
her, and propounded my plan.

* * * * *

'We lived quietly enough until the Sunday before my apprehension. Anne
came home from church that morning, and told me of the suspicious way in
which a young man had looked at her there. Nothing could be done beyond
waiting the issue of events. Then the letter came from Raunham. For the
first time in my life I was half indifferent as to what fate awaited me.
During the succeeding day I thought once or twice of running away, but
could not quite make up my mind. At any rate it would be best to bury
the body of my wife, I thought, for the oven might be opened at any
time. I went to Casterbridge and made some arrangements. In the evening
Miss Aldclyffe (who is united to me by a common secret which I have no
right or wish to disclose) came to my house, and alarm