"By the Lord, Luke!" exclaimed Anthony, "I wish you would take Bessie yourself. She would make an admirable parson's wife." Luke paused a moment before he replied, then he answered, in a constrained voice, coldly: "Anthony, in such matters I follow my own impulse, and not the directions of others. You speak thinking only of yourself, and your wish to be able once more to see your sister makes you suggest what might be distasteful to her and unsuitable to me." "There, there, it was a joke," said Anthony. "Excuse me if I be a little fretted by separation from Bessie. She would be of the greatest possible assistance to Urith, and Urith has no one----" "There is still one course open to you, which may lead to reconciliation," said Luke. "And that----?" "Is to go to Hall and see your father. Try what effect that has on him. It cannot make matters worse, and it may make them better." "Oh, repeat the story of the Prodigal Son! But I am not a prodigal. I feel no repentance. I cannot say, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against thee--make me as one of thy hired servants.' I cannot say what I do not feel. It is he who has transgressed against me." "And you expect him to come to you, beating his breast; and then you will kill the fatted calf and embrace and forgive him?" Anthony laughed, with a heightened colour. "Not so, exactly; but--it will all come right in the end. He can't hold out, and in the end must take me back into favour. To whom else could he leave Hall?" One market day Anthony and Urith were in Tavistock. Every one was there that he knew; market was attended by all the gentry, the farmers, and tradespeople of the country side; by all who had goods to sell or wanted to buy, and by such as wanted to, or were able to do, neither one the other, but who could exchange news and eat and drink at the ordinary, and perhaps thereat get drunk. Urith rode to market on pillion behind Anthony, holding to the leather belt about his waist. The day was bright, and as they rode, he turned his head over his shoulder and spoke to her, and she answered him. They were as children full of mirth, only one little cloud on the horizon of each--on that of Anthony the lack of warmth with which his old acquaintance greeted him, a matter that vexed him more than did the estrangement from his father; on that of Urith, the consciousness that she had disobeyed her mother's last wishes; but in the great splendor of their present happiness these little clouds were disregarded. In Urith's bosom was a rose--the first rose of summer--that Anthony had picked, and he had himself fastened in with a pin to her bodice, and she had kissed his head as he was engaged thereon.