"No—no. I had my hands behind me. I stood at the hearth."
"But the quarrel was yours with him, rather than his with you. If you did not strike him, why did he aim at you?"
"Luke, there were matters passed of which you need know naught—at least no more than this. My father had offered to receive me back into his good-will once more, to let the past be blotted out, no longer to insist on Bess being wed to Fox, and to return to live at Hall."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Luke, joyously. "Now can I see why Fox came to you, and why he struck you."
"It was on one condition."
"And that was——"
"That I should leave Urith, and never speak to her again."
"Anthony!" Luke's tone was full of terror and pain. "Oh, Anthony! Surely you never—never for one moment—not by half a word—gave consent, or semblance of consent, to this! It would—it would kill her! Oh, Anthony!"
Luke put up both his hands on the pommel of the saddle, and clasped them. What light there was fell on his up-turned, ash-grey face.
"Anthony, answer me. Has she been informed of that? She never thought you could be so cruel—so false; and she has loved you. My God! her whole heart has been given to you—to you, and to no one else; and you have not valued it as you should have done. Because you have had to lose this and that, you have resented it on her. She has had to bear your ill-humour—she has suffered, and has been saddened. And now—no! I cannot think it. You have not let her know that this offer was made."