3. THE FIRST OF FEBRUARYAt this, the eleventh hour, the postman brought a letter for
Manston, directed in a woman's hand.
A bachelor friend of the steward's, Mr. Dickson by name, who was
somewhat of a chatterer—plenus rimarum—and who boasted of an
endless string of acquaintances, had come over from Casterbridge
the preceding day by invitation—an invitation which had been a
pleasant surprise to Dickson himself, insomuch that Manston, as a
rule, voted him a bore almost to his face. He had stayed over the
night, and was sitting at breakfast with his host when the
important missive arrived.
Manston did not attempt to conceal the subject of the letter, or
the name of the writer. First glancing the pages through, he read
aloud as follows:—
'"MY HUSBAND,—I implore your forgiveness.
