"I can't—not entirely; it's got too strong a hold on me," he confessed.
"That's the way of it. Well, you'll have to choose between drink and Salome—that's my opinion—for you're killing her by slow degrees."
Josiah started; but Mrs. Moyle did not pursue the subject further. She told him he had better go to bed, and make no noise to disturb his daughter. Accordingly, he took off his boots and crept upstairs in his stockinged feet, whilst Mrs. Moyle, having put out the lamp, and ascertained that the door of the cottage was securely fastened, returned to Salome, whom she found sleeping peacefully.
The next day, Josiah put himself in the way of Silas Moyle, and actually apologised to him for having struck. And Silas was magnanimous and forgave him, though it must be admitted, he regarded the other's black eye and swelled cheek with a sense of satisfaction. They were marks that would remain to remind Josiah of his ill conduct for some days to come.
Salome was poorly for nearly a week, and the first occasion on which she showed herself in the village, she was met on all sides by commiserating looks and words which showed her plainly that everyone was quite aware that her father had been the cause of her accident. The sympathy thus evinced towards her, though kindly offered, cut her to the heart, and she returned home utterly miserable.
During the days which followed, Mr. Amyatt made several ineffectual attempts to induce Josiah to take the pledge. No, Josiah said, there was no need for him to do that; but he had made up his mind to turn over a new leaf, nevertheless, and the Vicar would see that he could take his glass of beer like other men and be none the worse for it. The Vicar shook his head at that, but Josiah was not to be moved, so the matter was, perforce, dropped.
Margaret was the first of the inmates of Greystone to hear of Salome's accident. Mrs. Moyle gave her full particulars of it one morning when she had an errand at the shop. And before going home, she went to inquire for her lame friend, whom she found sitting in the porch of the cottage with such a bright, hopeful expression on her pale countenance, that she was surprised, and remarked upon it.
"Oh, I am ever so much better!" Salome assured her with a smile.
"Are you really?" Margaret asked anxiously. "You have a nasty bruise on your forehead."
"Oh, that's nothing, indeed, miss! Have you heard how it happened? They haven't made you believe father did it on purpose, have they? He wouldn't hurt me for anything, if he could help it. Oh, Miss Margaret, I do believe father means to be steadier for the future!"