"I will go to Willsworthy at once, and speak to her of your matter. I have not done so hitherto—I have only sought to comfort her on the death of her mother."
"I do not desire a go-between," said Anthony, peevishly. "In these concerns none can act like the principals."
"But I cannot suffer you to go. You must think of Urith's good name, and not have that any more put into the mouths of those who go to the pot-house. It has been done more than enough already. Stay here till I return."
Luke took up his three-corner hat and his stick and went forth. On reaching Willsworthy he did not find Urith in the house, but ascertained from a maid-servant that she was in the walled garden. Thither he betook himself across the back courtyard. The rooks were making a great noise in the sycamores outside.
He found the girl seated on the herb-bank in the neglected garden, with her head on her hand, deep in thought. She was pale, and her face drawn; but the moment she saw Luke she started up and flushed.
"I am so glad you are come. You will tell me something about Anthony?"
She was only glad to see him because he would speak of Anthony, thought Luke; and it gave a pang to his heart.
"Yes," said he, taking a seat beside her, "I will speak to you about Anthony."
She looked him full in the face out of her large, earnest, dark eyes. "Is it true," she asked, "what I have been told, that he has fallen out with his father, and is driven from Hall?"
"He has taken himself off from Hall," answered Luke, "on your account. His father refuses to countenance his attachment to you."