"I have been home," said the curate. "Urith is ill; she scarce wakes out of one faint to fall into another. I have sent your grandmother to Willsworthy to be with her."
"It is well," answered Anthony. "And, now that we have met here, I wish a word with you, Luke. I am not going back to Willsworthy."
"Not—to Urith?"
"No, I cannot. I am going to ride at once to join the Duke of Monmouth. You have the Protestant cause at heart, Luke, and wish it well; so have I. But that is not all—I must away now. I do not desire to meet Fox for a while."
"No," said Luke, after a moment of consideration; "no, I can understand that. But Bessie must not be left without some one to help her."
"There is yourself. What can I do? Besides, Bess is strong in herself. She will never go against what she believes to be right. She will never step into my shoes, nor will she help Fox to draw them on."
"You cannot ride now, with your wound."
"Bah! That is naught. You said as much yourself."
"Tony, there is something yet I do not understand," said Luke, falteringly. "Did you first strike Fox?"