“Seek then, an’ if you can find my son’s innocence, me an’ his mother will bless you for evermore, when us wakes and when us lies down. You’ve my leave to come here as often as you will, an’ I’ll tell Thomas an’ t’others that you’m free of the woods. Your way home along is by the path yonder. ’Twill fetch ’e out ’pon the side of Hameldon; then to the high road ban’t above a mile.”
The old man left her, and Minnie, sitting down upon the fallen tree which he had pointed out, made a quiet and systematic plan of search. But her thoughts were divided between this present site and that whereon she had stood half-an-hour earlier. Now she mapped out the region of the fray, and began her work where Daniel’s gun had been discovered by Titus Sim. She took a reel of stout white thread from her pocket and with sticks marked out a space of three square yards. Then yard by yard she went over the ground, lifting every leaf and examining every inch of grass and soil. Not an atom of ground escaped this most laborious scrutiny. With immense patience and care she pursued the task, and at the end of three hours, in the silent heart of the woods, she had inspected six square yards. Nothing rewarded the examination: but only a very trifling tract out of that involved was yet inspected, and Minnie, having carefully marked the portion investigated, left Middlecott Lower Hundred and prepared to return home.
She still lived at Hangman’s Hut, and the fifty pounds with which Daniel had started life promised to keep her there until time should pass and news of her husband reach her. Already the wonder waned and folks began to talk of the “widow Sweetland” and ask each other how long she must in decency remain alone before taking another husband. That Titus Sim would be the man few doubted. He often visited her, and he strove valiantly in many directions to discover the secret of Thorpe’s death. Sometimes he grew elated at the shadow of a clue; then, again, he became cast down as the hope of explanation vanished and the problem evaded him.
Three nights after Minnie’s first great search, Mr Sim called upon her. Of late he had seen her not seldom, because the family at Middlecott was away and the servants consequently enjoyed unusual leisure.
Titus found Mrs Beer with her neighbour, for the innkeeper’s wife often spent an evening hour at the lonely girl’s cottage, and Mr Beer also would occasionally run over if business was quiet. But his motives were selfish, for Minnie proved a good listener, and though she did not praise the fat man’s poetry, she was always prepared to give it respectful hearing.
The footman knocked and entered, according to his custom; then he sat by the fire and stretched his gaitered legs to the blaze.
“A rough night,” he said. “I had a regular fight with the wind coming up over the heath; but you’m snug enough seemingly. I do welcome these days when our people are away; for they give me a chance to be in the air. Sometimes I’m sore tempted to throw up this life and get out-of-door work again.”
“You wasn’t meant for a flunkey, I’m sure,” declared Mrs Beer. “I never can think ’tis a very dignified calling for a grown man, though of course the quality must have ’em.”
“You are almost so fond of the woods and the wild things as my Daniel is,” declared Minnie.
“True for you,” he answered. “True for you, Mrs Sweetland.”