She got up and looked at her husband.
"Now we can go," she said.
"And understand this," added Barlow, whose voice, even in passion, sounded genial and mellow contrasted with his wife's—"Mind this, you dirty dog, if I spend every farthing I have on earth, and have got to borrow more on my knees from my neighbours, I'll fight you to the end, till my daughter's righted in the face of the nation. And when that's done, may God help you, for there won't be any other party to do it. And Winter will say the same."
Jacob was unshaken.
"The spoken word remains," he answered, "and the long story remains—every item—stamped in my brain for eternity. They may lie; but justice is justice. No power on earth can undo what's done, or leave it doubtful."
"You speak true," said Mrs. Huxam. "God Almighty will see to that. There'll be no shadow of doubt on earth, or in hell, or heaven, when this is blazed to the light."
They went out to drive away. Snow had begun to fall again and the full force of a blizzard was reserved for this night.
"Best tell your driver to go by the lower road," said Jacob calmly, as he stood and saw them depart. "There'll be drifts already on the other way."
BOOK II