“I swear I never shall; an’ I’ll thank you to drop it, Minnie. I don’t want to think my wife is a fool. Nothing on God’s earth shall come between me an’ Sim—be sure of that.”
The girl’s lips tightened again, but she was too wise to answer. In truth she had no just grievance against her sweetheart’s friend. Titus had asked her to marry him a week before Daniel put the question; and she had refused him. Two days later with passion he had implored her to reconsider her decision; and when again she answered “No,” he had spoken wildly and called Heaven to witness that she should be his wife sooner or later. His white face had flamed red for once, and his smooth, steady voice had broken. But on their next meeting Titus was himself again. He had then begged Minnie’s pardon for his temper; and when their little world knew that she was going to take the gamekeeper’s son, Mr Sim was the first to give Daniel joy and congratulate Minnie.
She had no definite case against him; but a deep intuition dominated her mind, and frankly she regretted Daniel’s affection for his old rival.
Now, however, she returned silence to her lover’s angry words, according to her custom. Soon the climb to the Moor was accomplished, and the cold wind lit Minnie’s eyes and calmed her sweetheart. Over the great expanse of autumnal purple and gold they took their way, and now sank into valleys musical with falling water, and now trotted upon great heaths, where sheep ran, ponies galloped, and the red kine roamed. To the horizon rose the granite peaks of the land. Eastward there billowed Hameldon’s huge, hogged back, and to the north rolled Cosdon; but Yes Tor and High Willhayes—the loftiest summits of the Moor—were hidden. Westerly a mighty panorama of hills and stony pinnacles spread in a semicircle, and the scene was bathed with the clear light that follows rain. The sun began to sink upon his cloud pillows and heaven glowed with infinite brilliance and purity.
“’Twill be good to live up here in this sweet air, along with you, dear heart,” said Minnie.
“Yes, an’ it will; an’—an’ I’m sorry I spoke harsh a minute agone, my own dear darling Min,” he cried.
“I forgived ’e afore the words was out of your mouth,” she answered.
Whereupon he dropped the reins and hugged her close and nearly upset the trap.