“Because Providence willed that I should wait. And even now I’m only hopeful, not positive. I should have striven to do all and bring you the glad news when I’d got it proved beyond the doubt of the world; but now Heaven has hit upon a better way. Yes, ‘Heaven’s’ the word, for in righting Daniel in the world’s eyes, I pray God will right me in yours, Minnie Sweetland.”
He paused, but she only surveyed him silently, and he spoke again.
“Thus it stands. The poor soul commonly called ‘Drunkard’ Parkinson, is now at his last gasp, or near it. He cannot live more than a month; doctor has told him so. But, as I have always feared, that man has evil secrets. What they are I only guess, but my guess during the last few days has developed into certainty. You know young Prowse lives in the cottage that adjoins Rix Parkinson’s? Two days ago he came to tell me that poor Rix wanted to see me, and to know how soon I could call upon him. I went at once, and then he confessed that there is much upon his conscience. I begged him to see Parson West, whose deep wisdom and sympathy and knowledge of Heaven are denied to no sinner; but he refused. ‘Not him, nor any other man,’ he said. ‘’Tis a woman I want to see—the wife of that chap, Dan Sweetland, as runned away after that they’d taken him for murder.’ He did not know that Dan was dead, and I did not tell him, for the fact might have changed his determination. I promised to bring you to him, and I prevailed with him that he would let me be present also. He is desirous to tell you something, and since the confession must have a witness to make it of any worth, I, too, shall hear it, that it may be supported in the world after Parkinson dies. For he is on the way to die, and he specially told me that the thing he meant to tell you must not be made public until his death. What it is I can guess, as I have said; and doubtless you can, too.”
“He killed Adam Thorpe.”
“I believe so with all my soul. They were old enemies, and three years ago Parkinson went to gaol for three months after assaulting Thorpe. Either he did it, or he knows right well who did. And he knows that the man who did it was not our poor Daniel.”
“I will come when he pleases,” said Minnie. “I hope your opinion may be the right one, Mr Sim.”
“And I hope that you will think kinder of me when, through my ceaseless toil and labour, I have cleared my friend’s memory.”
He left her then without waiting for an answer, and a week later a day was fixed.
It happened that Minnie was in Moretonhampstead upon the occasion of making this final appointment to visit the sick man, and as she returned to the Moor, she met young Samuel Prowse—well known to her as an old friend of Daniel. She passed him with a nod of recognition; then she changed her mind; a thought suddenly struck her, and she called the youth to her side.