But all argument and entreaty would have been thrown away upon Basil if it had not been for Minnie. It was she who, when they were alone, prevailed upon him to stay.
"Your mother suffered for me and died for me," he said to her, as he lay upon his bed of pain. "How like her you are growing, Minnie! Well, well, one is enough. I will stay, child, for your sake."
And she kissed him and thanked him, and whispered that he had made her happy.
The next day she told Dan in a whisper that father was not going away; and Dan clapped his hands, and quietly said, "Bravo!"
"And Joshua used to speak about us?" she remarked, with assumed carelessness.
"Often and often, Minnie," answered Dan.
"And really speak of us affectionately?"
"Ah if you had only heard him! You know what a voice he has--like music."
A sudden flush in her face, a rapid beating at her heart, a rush of tears to her eyes. None of which did Dan notice, for her eyes were towards the ground. A little while afterwards she was singing about the house as blithe as a bird. Dan, stopping in the midst of his work, listened to the soft rustle of her dress in the passage, and to her soft singing as she went up the stairs; and a grateful look stole into his eyes.
"Not to hear that!" he said. "Ah, it would be worse than death! But she is going to stay, birdie," nodding gayly to one of his pets; "she is going to stay!"