Time passed, and no tokens of yielding on the part of the father appeared. Luke spoke again to his cousin. Now Anthony's tone was somewhat altered. His father was holding out because he believed that by so doing he would prevent the marriage, but he was certain to relent as soon as the irrevocable step had been taken. Just as David mourned and wept as long as the child was sick, but washed his face, and ate and accommodated himself to the situation when the child was dead, so would it be with the Squire. He would sulk and threaten so long as Anthony was meditating matrimony, but no sooner was he married than the old man would ask them all to dinner, kiss, and be jolly. Luke by no means shared his cousin's sanguine views. Mistress Penwarne was in the house, and from her he learnt the circumstances of the marriage and subsequent disagreement of old Anthony and Margaret; and he could to some extent understand the dislike the old Squire had to his son's marrying the daughter of his rival. He knew the hard, relentless, envious nature of the man, he had suffered from it himself, and he doubted whether it would yield as young Anthony anticipated. It was true that Anthony was the Squire's son and heir, that he was the keystone to the great triumphal Cleverdon arch the old man had been rearing in imagination; it was certain that there would be a struggle in his heart between his pride and his love. Luke was by no means confident that old Cleverdon's affection for his son would prove so mastering a passion as to overcome the many combined emotions which were in insurrection within him against this union, and impelling him to maintain his attitude towards his son of alienation and hostility. When Luke spoke to Anthony of the difficulties that stood in his way, Anthony burst forth impatiently with the words, "It is of no use you talking to me like this, cousin. I have made up my mind, I will have Urith as my wife. I love her, and she loves me. What does it matter that there are obstacles? Obstacles have to be surmounted. My father will come round. As to Urith's mother, the old woman was prejudiced, she was angry. She knows better now, and is sorry for what she said." "How do you know that?" "Oh! of course it is so." "But do you suppose that Urith will go in opposition to her mother's dying wish?" "She will make no trouble over that, I reckon. Words are wind--they break no bones. I appeal from Alexander drunk to Alexander sober, from the ill-informed and peppery old woman, half-crazed on her death-bed, to the same in her present condition. Will that content you?" "You have not spoken to Urith on this matter?"