Mr. Cardew and he knew one
another slightly, for there were few persons for miles round who did
not know and then visit Mr. Furze's shop.
"Good evening, Mr. Cardew."
"Ah! Mr. Catchpole, is that you? What are you doing here?"
"I have been to hear you preach, sir, and I thought I would have a
stroll before I went home."
"I thought I should like a stroll too."
The two went on together, and sat down on the seat. The moon had
just risen, nearly full, sending its rays obliquely across the
water, and lighting up the footpath which went right and left along
the river's edge. Mr. Cardew seemed disinclined to talk, was rather
restless, and walked backwards and forwards by the bank. Tom
reflected that he might be intruding, but there was something on his
mind, and he did not leave. Mr. Cardew sat down again by his side.
They both happened to be looking in the same direction eastwards at
the same moment.
"If that lady thinks to cross to-night," said Tom, "she's mistaken.
I'd take her over myself, though it is Sunday, if the boat were not
locked."
"What lady?" asked Mr. Cardew--as if he were frightened, Tom
thought.
"The lady coming down there just against the willow."
Mr. Cardew was short-sighted, and could not see her. He made as if
he would go to meet her, but he stopped, returned, and remained
standing. The figure approached, but before Tom could discern
anything more than that it was a woman, it disappeared behind the
hedge up the little bypath that cut off the corner into Rectory
Lane.
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