"Aye, love is shure enough an' enough's as good as a faste, but what about childther if th' come, Anna?"
"We don't cross a stile till we come to it, do we?"
"That's right, that's right, acushla; now we're as rich as lords, aren't we, but I'm th' richest, amn't I? I've got you an' you've only got me."
"I've got book learning, but you've got love and a trade, what more do I want? You've got more love than any man that ever wooed a woman—so I'm richer, amn't I?"
"Oh, God," Jamie said, "but isn't this th' lovely world, eh, Anna?"
Within a mile of Antrim they saw a cottage, perched on a high bluff by the roadside. It was reached by stone steps. They climbed the steps to ask for a drink of water. They were kindly received. The owner was a follower of Wesley and his conversation at the well was in sharp contrast to the philosophy at the stone-pile. The young journeyman and his wife were profoundly impressed with the place. The stone cottage was vine-clad. There were beautiful trees and a garden. The June flowers were in bloom and a cow grazed in the pasture near by.
"Some day we'll haave a home like this," Jamie said as they descended the steps. Anna named it "The Mount of Temptation," for it was the nearest she had ever been to the sin of envy. A one-armed Crimean pensioner named Steele occupied it during my youth. It could be seen from Pogue's entry and Anna used to point it out and tell the story of that memorable journey. In days when clouds were heavy and low and the gaunt wolf stood at the door she would say: "Do you mind the journey to Antrim, Jamie?"
"Aye," he would say with a sigh, "an' we've been in love ever since, haven't we, Anna?"