the lenses revealed that today the man was not Elizabeth-Jane's
lover.

It was one clothed as a merchant captain, and as he turned in the
scrutiny of the road he revealed his face. Henchard lived a lifetime the
moment he saw it. The face was Newson's.

Henchard dropped the glass, and for some seconds made no other movement.
Newson waited, and Henchard waited--if that could be called a waiting
which was a transfixture. But Elizabeth-Jane did not come. Something
or other had caused her to neglect her customary walk that day. Perhaps
Farfrae and she had chosen another road for variety's sake. But what did
that amount to? She might be here to-morrow, and in any case Newson, if
bent on a private meeting and a revelation of the truth to her, would
soon make his opportunity.

Then he would tell her not only of his paternity, but of the ruse by
which he had been once sent away. Elizabeth's strict nature would cause
her for the first time to despise her stepfather, would root out his
image as that of an arch-deceiver, and Newson would reign in her heart
in his stead.

But Newson did not see anything of her that morning. Having stood still
awhile he at last retraced his steps, and Henchard felt like a condemned
man who has a few hours' respite. When he reached his own house he found
her there.

"O father!" she said innocently. "I have had a letter--a strange
one--not signed. Somebody has asked me to meet him, either on the
Budmouth Road at noon today, or in the evening at Mr. Farfrae's. He says
he came to see me some time ago, but a trick was played him, so that he
did not see me. I don't understand it; but between you and me I think
Donald is at the bottom of the mystery, and that it is a relation of
his who wants to pass an opinion on his choice. But I did not like to go
till I had seen you. Shall I go?"

Henchard replied heavily, "Yes; go."

The question of his remaining in Casterbridge was for ever disposed of
by this closing in of Newson on the scene. Henchard was not the man to
stand the certainty of condemnation on a matter so near his heart. And
being an old hand at bearing anguish in silence, and haughty withal,
he resolved to make as light as he could of his intentions, while
immediately taking his measures.

He surprised the young woman whom he had looked upon as his all in this
world by saying to her, as if he did not care about her more: "I am
going to leave Casterbridge, Elizabeth-Jane."

"Leave Casterbr