The first impression he had received from Anthony's conduct was that he put the offer from him altogether; and yet, on further consideration, he persuaded himself that he had been mistaken. Had Anthony finally decided to reject his offer, why had he not said so in words? The old man's nature was coarse—he could not understand the struggles of a generous mind and resistance to mean motives. Anthony had not spoken, because he did not choose to speak before Julian, because he thought it seemly to affect difficulty of persuasion, because he wanted time in which to consider it, because—because—the father could find many reasons why Anthony should not immediately close with the proposal.
The more the old Squire turned the matter over, the more obvious it became to him that Anthony would do as he wished. It was inconceivable to him that he should persist in a course of opposition to his best interests. The boy was proud; but he had learned, by sore experience, that pride brought to misery. He had tried his strength against his father's—had shown what he could do; and now, if he gave way, he was not humiliated. Why, in the Civil Wars, when Salcombe Castle was held by Sir Edmund Fortescue for five months against the Roundheads, and held after every other fort in the country had been taken or had surrendered; and then, when starved into yielding, it was on the most honourable terms, and Sir Edmund marched forth with all the honours of war, bearing away with him the key of the castle he had so gallantly defended. This was no disgrace to him, it was a proud act of which all Devon men would speak with elation. Why then should not Anthony surrender? He should march forth with flying colours, and it would be no blow to his self-respect, no jar to his pride. The old man, having worked himself into the conviction that his case was won, was full of elation, and, with the petty spite of a mean mind, he resolved at once to show Fox he had no longer need of him. Then it was that he remembered that Fox and Bessie were to walk towards Hall till he caught them up, and he turned his horse's head and rode back till he met them.
"Heigh, there!" shouted the old man; "how goes the suit, Tony Crymes? Hast thou won her consent?" He paused for an answer.
"Her mother brought her naught," he continued, when Fox remained silent, not well knowing what answer to make.
"That I know," said Fox; "but he who wins Bessie Cleverdon wins a treasure."
"I am glad thou thinkest so. I hope that will satisfy thee. Come, Tony, lend a hand to the maid's foot, and help her up on the pillion behind me."
Fox obeyed; the dirty road had soiled Bessie's boot so that he could not preserve a clean hand.
"Find her heavy, eh?" asked the Squire, in a mocking tone.
"Much gold and many acres stick to thy hand when thou puttest it forth to her, eh?"