“Why, then Dan will; an’ God will! Be He behind His own men and women in love an’ kindness? Now I can die laughing. To think ’twas in human power of a wife to forgive me!”
“Come,” said Sim. “We will leave him now.”
Titus rose and turned to get his hat. He was only removed from them a moment, but in that space the sufferer beckoned Minnie with his eyes and she leant her head towards him.
“Don’t marry that man!” he whispered under his breath; then continued aloud, to mask his message, “Good-bye—say, ‘good-bye’ to a sinner, who yet can go fearless now—ay, an’ thankful too. Fearless an’ thankful, because you could forgive him. ’Tis your goodness, widow Sweetland, that has lifted me to trust the goodness of God; ’tis your pardon hath made me trust in His. I’ll go to my punishment without flinching or fearing, for I know He’ll forgive me at the end.”
Mrs Prowse entered with food for the sick man, and Minnie and Sim took their eternal leave of him.
Within half an hour Parkinson was again sleeping peacefully, and while Titus ran home without stopping, for he was late, Minnie walked slowly to the Moor. Her sad face shone with this blessed news. She longed to cry from the housetops; she thirsted to tell each passer-by that her husband was innocent of the evil linked with his name. She thought of his mother first and then his father; she even felt more tenderly towards Titus Sim for the deep joy he had expressed on hearing the truth; but presently the living faded from her memory and she was in thought alone with her husband. At Bennett’s Cross, hard by Warren Inn, an impulse moved her from the lonely road to the lonely stone. And she passed over the heath and knelt by the ancient granite carved into the symbol of her faith. She knelt and prayed and so passed on, much uplifted by the blessing of the day. She moved forward thankful, grateful for this unutterable good, strong to endure her life without him, fortified to face an existence which, like the faded yet lovely passage of an Indian Summer, should not lack for some subdued goodness, should not be void of beauty and content. The power to do good remained with her; she repined no more; her native bravery rose in her heart. She looked out fearless and patient upon the loneliness to come, and in that survey she intended that a memory would be her beacon, not a man. The dying drunkard need have felt no fear for Daniel’s widow. It was not in her nature to marry again.
CHAPTER XVIII
A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE
The accident of illness prevented Henry Vivian from visiting Minnie in her home, as he intended. A bad chill struck him down soon after returning home, and for some days there was a fear that the evil would touch his lungs and become serious. Dan nursed him. He ran no small risk of detection, but escaped for three days. Then his master gained strength, and, since he could not visit Mrs Sweetland, his first act was to write to her and entrust the letter to her husband.