"Oh! she is pulling at the apron-string. Let me not detain you." Anthony walked away. He was annoyed. It was absurd, preposterous of Fox to speak to him as if he were in subjection to his wife. The words of Fox left an uneasy feeling in his breast, as if it had been touched by a nettle, a tingle, a sting, nothing to signify--but a perceptible discomfort. He reached the church-porch as Urith and Julian were leaving the church, and he arrived at a critical moment. That morning before leaving Willsworthy, Urith had taken her gloves to draw them on, when she found them stuck together with some adhesive matter. On pulling them over she found that the palms and fingers were covered with pitch. It then occurred to her that she had laid her hands on some rails that been recently blackened with pitch to preserve them from decay, by her husband and that it was not dry as she had supposed. The gloves were spoiled--she could not wear them. She was not possessed of another pair, and could not ride to Tavistock with hands uncovered. Her eyes fell on the pair that had belonged to Julian, and which had been cast at her in defiance. After hesitating for a moment, she drew these on, and resolved to purchase herself fresh gloves in the fair. On reaching church, she drew off her gloves, and laid them across the rail of the pew. Julian Crymes was near, in the Kilworthy pew--that belonging to the Glanvilles, as did the pew in Peter Tavy Church also, attached to another house owned by the family in that parish. Urith did not give her gloves a thought till she saw Julian's eyes fixed on them, and caught a dark glance from her. Then she coloured, conscious of the mistake she had made, but recovered herself immediately. She had won in the match--a fair one, and had carried off the stakes. A sense of elation came upon her, she held up her head, and returned Julian's look with one of haughty triumph. She saw Julian's colour darken, and her lips tremble; a passage of arms took place in the church, the weapons being but glances of sharp eyes. What was played and sung neither considered, each was engaged on her own thoughts. Elated Urith was--happiness fills the heart with pride. She--she whom no one hitherto had regarded, had wrested away the great prize against tremendous odds--Julian's beauty, family position, wealth, and the weight of his own father's advocacy. For her sake he had thrown away everything that others esteemed. She had cause to be proud--reason to feel her heart swell with the sense of victory: and who that has won a victory does not desire a public triumph? No sooner was service over, than Urith, with a little ostentation, drew on the gloves, then took the rose Anthony had pinned to her stomacher, and looking fixedly at Julian, loosened it, pressed it to her lips, and replaced it. Her rival read in the act the very thoughts of her heart. That rose which had been given her was the pledge of Anthony's love.