One child was asleep in the Judge’s arms. The other clung to Hiram’s hand and blinked at the light streaming from the open door. The mother screamed and would have dashed upon them, but the Squire gently held her back.
“Wait, this is a wedding!” he cried. “Hands together this way! God bless you and yours. Now, Brother Hime, bring the wedding presents.”
“I ain’t a very extry lookin’ sight to come to a weddin’,” said the showman, “but I didn’t come to your first one, Klebe, and I didn’t send no present. All is, I’ve tried to square myself at this second one, and my best wishes for everlastin’ happiness goes along with ’em,” he added wistfully.
He put the sleeping child into the mother’s arms and stood back to let the Judge advance toward his son with the light of forgiveness in his eyes.
“Oh, father!” wept Kleber, stumbling forward and dragging himself on his knees toward the old man. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know until the Squire told me.”
“Stand up, my boy,” said the Judge, putting out his trembling hand. “All of us know better now, and some knowledge is bought at cruel prices.”
It was without a word that Hiram took the hand that Kleber Willard put out to him when he turned from his father after a time. But as they stood there clinging to each other Hiram leaned forward with a flash of humour that relieved the situation, whispering:
“That black eye, Klebe, is the dot, period, full stop, set down after the very last fight of my whole life, and I got it for your sake.”
“Come, people!” called the Squire from the doorway. “Come away with me now. The wedding is over. The night is getting late and the stars are out again.”
He smiled across the room at Sylvena as he said it.