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.
Julian panted with anger. It was well for her that none was in the pew by her to notice her emotion. At the last Amen she flung open the door, and stepped out into the aisle, at the same moment as Urith, and both made their way to the porch, side by side, without a look at each other. They passed through the doorway together, and saw Anthony standing there.
Instantly—the whole thing was done so quickly as to escape Anthony's notice—Julian turned with flashing eye on Urith, plucked the rose from her bosom, pressed it to her own lips, then threw it on the ground and crushed it under her foot.
There was no time—that was no place for retaliation. Urith's blood rushed to her heart; then she caught her husband's arm, and with him walked away.
All that day a sense of alarm and unrest troubled her. Julian had renewed her defiance; had threatened both her and Anthony. Would this threat be as vain as her former defiance? Urith swallowed her fears, scorned to entertain them—but the sting remained.
In the evening, when about to start on her return, when his horse was ready—"You must wait for me a moment, Tony," she said, and hurried back to the porch.