"Freely, Hilda. I forgive."
"Good bye. You will write and tell me – any news?"
"I will write, Hilda; good-bye."
As she left the room Miriam could bear up no longer. She threw herself on the sofa, and cried as if her heart would break.
Six months later, in the lovely summer weather, Dundas and Miriam were wandering through the gardens of the Manor House together – man and wife. In the little church over yonder, fraught to Miriam with so many memories, they had been married by the Reverend Augustine, now four months ago. And even Mrs. Darrow, open enemy though she declared herself, had not contrived to spoil their peace. Dicky, it is true, had been permitted to attend the wedding of his Miss Crane, but Mrs. Darrow herself had remained adamant, and stayed at home to nurse her rage and show her great displeasure.
And with the glorious peace and rest which had now come into her life, Miriam felt at last her night was over – the heavy shades had lifted, and the dawn was brightening to a golden noon. Her faith in God was justified to her even in this world.
Her husband turned, and asked her what he never tired of asking:
"Are you happy, Miriam?"
"Happy, dear? So happy! – happier than I have ever been or ever thought to be!"