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?"
"No—I have not seen her since the funeral. I have had that much grace in me. But I will see her to-day, I swear to you. I will tell you what I think," said Anthony, with vehemence. "You are as cold-blooded as an eel. You have never loved—all your interest is in old stones, and pots and pans dug up out of cairns. You love them in a frozen fashion, and have no notion what is the ardour of human hearts loving each other. So you make one difficulty on another. Why, Cousin Luke, if there were mountains of ice I would climb over them, seas of fire, I would wade through them, to Urith. Neither heaven nor hell shall separate us."
"Do not speak like this," said the curate, sternly. "It is a tempting of Providence."
"Providence brought us together and set us ablaze. Providence is bound to finish the good work and unite us."
"There has been neither consideration nor delay in this matter, and Providence, maybe, raises these barriers against which you kick."