There was another person present who turned white at the announcement, and that was Julian Crymes; but she speedily recovered herself, and, rising, looked across the church at Urith with eyes that flamed with jealousy and hate. Her hand clenched her gloves, wrapped together in it. Yes, that wild moor-girl had won in the struggle, and she--the rich, the handsome Julian--was worsted. Her heart beat so furiously that she was afraid of leaning against the carved oak sides of the pew lest she should shake them. Her eye encountered that of her half-brother, twinkling with malice, and the sight gave back her self-possession; she would not let Fox see, and triumph over her confusion. The congregation waited with impatience for the conclusion of the service, and then, after defiling into the churchyard, did not disperse; they tarried to hear the result of the objection raised to the publication. Urith hastened away with her uncle, but she had difficulty in persuading him to go with her. He had so many friends in the churchyard, there was such a topic for discussion ready; but her will prevailed over his, and after a forlorn look back at his friends, and a shrug of the shoulders, he left with her. But Anthony remained with head erect; he knew that no objection his father could make would avail anything. He nodded his head to acquaintances, and held out his hand to friends with his wonted confidence; but all showed a slight hesitation about receiving his advances, a hesitation that was so obvious that it angered him. He was at variance with his father, and the father held the purse-strings. All knew that, and none liked to be too friendly with the young man fallen out of his fortune, and out of place. Fox alone was really friendly. He pushed forward, and seized and shook Anthony's hand, and congratulated him. The young man was pleased. "Bygones are bygones," said Fox, whose eye was covered with a patch, but no longer bandaged. "My sight is not destroyed, I shall receive it again, the doctor says. As for that affair on the moor, at the Drift--you know me better than to suppose I meant you harm." "Certainly I do," answered Anthony with warmth. "Just as you knew that when I struck you with the glove, I had not the smallest desire to hurt you. It was--well, what you like to call it--a passage of arms or a frolic. It is over." "It is over, and all forgotten," said Fox. "You will not be deterred by your father's refusal to give consent to this marriage?" "Certainly I will not," answered Anthony. "He will come round in time. It is but a question of time." There was no vestry. Old Cleverdon waited in the church till Luke had taken off his surplice, and then went up to him in the chancel. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, rudely. "How dare you--who have eaten of my bread, and whose back I clothed, take the part of Anthony against me?"