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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Gladys, the Reaper, by Anne Beale
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Gladys, the Reaper
+
+Author: Anne Beale
+
+Release Date: March 10, 2005  [eBook #15315]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+GLADYS, THE REAPER
+
+by
+
+ANNE BEALE
+
+Author of _Fay Arlington_, _Simplicity and Fascination_,
+_The Miller's Daughter_, etc. etc.
+
+
+
+
+... standing like Ruth amid the alien corn
+
+
+
+
+Griffith Farran Browne & Co. Limited
+35 Bow Street, Covent Garden
+London
+
+1881
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Frontispiece.]
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE FARMER'S WIFE.
+
+
+It is an evening in June, and the skies that have been weeping of late,
+owing to some calamity best known to themselves, have suddenly dried
+their eyes, and called up a smile to enliven their gloomy countenances.
+The farmers, who have been shaking their heads at sight of the unmown
+grass, and predicting a bad hay-harvest, are beginning to brighten up
+with the weather, and to consult upon the propriety of mowing to-morrow.
+The barometer is gently tapped by many a sturdy hand, and the result is
+favourable; so that there are good prospects of a few weeks' sunshine to
+atone for the late clouds.
+
+Sunshine: how gracious it is just now! Down yonder in the west, that
+ancient of days, the sun throws around him his evening glory, and right
+royally he does it. The rain-covered meadows glow beneath it, like so
+many lakes--the river looks up rejoicing, and the distant mountains are
+wrapped in garments dyed in the old king's own regal colours. The woods
+look as smooth and glossy as the braided locks of maidens prepared for
+conquests; and the roads and paths that wind here and there amongst the
+trees, are as gay as little streamlets in the sun's reflected light.
+
+Suddenly a rainbow leaps, as it were, out of the river, and spans, with
+its mighty arch, the country scene before us.
+
+     'A rainbow at night
+      Is the shepherd's delight;'
+
+so the proverbially-grumbling farmers will have another prognostic to
+clear their countenances.
+
+Perchance the worthy man who inhabits the farm we have just reached, may
+be congratulating himself upon it, as he jogs home from market this
+Saturday evening. If he could look upon his homestead with our eyes, I
+feel sure he would cease to despond. How cheerily the wide, slated roof
+gleams forth from amongst the trees, and returns the warm glance of the
+sun with one almost as warm, albeit proceeding from a very moist eyelid!
+How gladly the white smoke arises once more, spirally, from the large
+chimneys, after having been so long depressed by the heavy atmosphere!
+and how the massive ivy that covers the gable end, responds to the songs
+of the birds that warble their evening gladness amongst its gleaming
+leaves! The face of the dwelling is as cheerful as are the sun, river,
+mountains and meads, that it looks down upon from its slight elevation.
+Every leaf of the vine and pyrus-japonica that covers its front, is
+bedecked with a diamond; and the roses, laburnums, nasturtiums, and
+other gay flowers in the garden, drop jewels more freely than the maiden
+in the fairy tale, as they glisten beneath the rainbow.
+
+This is what we see from the hawthorn lane below the house; but walking
+up into the highroad at the back, the scene changes, and just as our
+sympathies with beautiful nature were called forth below, so are they
+instantaneously assailed by our fellow-creatures above.
+
+We come to the substantial gate that is the entrance to the pretty farm,
+and a curious and a motley group is there. We see such groups almost
+daily, here in Carmarthenshire; but as all the counties of England and
+Wales are not thoroughfares for the Irish from their country to England,
+we will describe these poor people as graphically as we can. There is
+evidently a consultation going on amongst them, and the general
+attention is directed to one individual of their party.
+
+This is a young girl of some seventeen or eighteen years of age. She is
+seated on the ground, and leans her back against the stone wall that
+flanks the substantial gate afore mentioned. To judge from her general
+appearance she can scarcely belong to the ragged set that surround her,
+for there is an attempt at neatness and cleanliness in her attire,
+though it is poor enough, that the rest cannot boast of. She wears a
+cotton gown, shawl, straw bonnet, and shoes and stockings, which were
+once respectable and seem to have been originally intended for her.
+True, they are all worn and shabby-looking. The gown is faded, the
+bonnet very brown, and the shoes have holes in them; but they indicate
+a mind, or station, at least a degree above those of her companions. Her
+head is so inclined upon her breast, that it is difficult to see more
+than a pale face underneath the bonnet; but a pair of thin white hands
+that rest listlessly upon her lap, still tend to induce the notion that
+the girl cannot quite belong to the wild-looking company with which she
+is mixed up.
+
+Right in front of her, and looking alternately from her to a man to whom
+she is talking, stands a middle-aged woman of good-natured but terrified
+aspect. A checked and ragged handkerchief confines her black, rough
+hair--a torn red cloak covers a portion of her body, and a curious
+collection of rags and tatters makes a vain effort to shelter the rest.
+In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up,
+its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in
+munching and holding a crust of bread. At the feet of the woman are
+sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, and a tin
+saucepan, are the most conspicuous. The man to whom she is talking is a
+tall, gaunt specimen of Irish poverty and famine. He holds a rake and
+pitchfork in his hand, and leans upon them for support. Gazing into his
+face is a rough, surly-looking youth, who seems cordially to agree with
+all that he says.
+
+Leaning against the wall that flanks the gate on the side opposite that
+which supports the girl, are another man and woman, who cast from time
+to time pitying glances at the pale face beneath the straw bonnet. These
+are as raggedly picturesque in their attire as the rest--a short red
+petticoat, a blanket substituted for a shawl, and a bundle on the back,
+distinguish the female; a long great coat and short trousers the male.
+They are deep in conversation upon the common theme. A young man of more
+stalwart figure stands beside the girl, and failing to attract her
+attention, kneels down on one knee and speaks low to her. A little boy
+is seated at her feet, alternately stroking her hands, and stirring up a
+small puddle of water with a short stick. Two other children are engaged
+at a little distance in making a lean cur beg for a mouthful of bread,
+which the generous urchins would evidently rather share with the dog
+than eat alone.
+
+The one prevailing feature of the party is rags, and how they hold
+together no tongue can tell.
+
+At last there is a general movement, as well as general clamour of
+voices and much gesticulation. All, old and young, with the exception of
+the girl, gather round the woman in the red cloak, and seem to be urging
+her to do something that she does not like to do. They point to the
+girl, and the appeal is not in vain.
+
+The woman moves slowly and somewhat sulkily towards one of the boys,
+takes him by the hand, and returning to the gate, opens it, and walks
+down the good broad road that leads to the farm, the boy trotting by her
+side. We watch the bright red cloak till it disappears amongst the trees
+that surround the house; and turn again to wonder what can be the matter
+with the girl. She neither moves nor speaks, although her kindly
+companions in turn endeavour to attract her attention.
+
+In the course of a few minutes the red cloak is again seen coming up the
+road, closely followed by another figure. We soon hear sounds of earnest
+pleading, in a broad Irish brogue, from our friend of the red cloak. As
+they approach the gate sound distinctly the words,--
+
+'It's all thrue, my leddy--as thrue as the blessed gospel. I'm afeered
+she's dyin' if yer honour's glory won't lend us a hand.'
+
+'I don't know how to believe you, my good woman, for some of you come
+every week and deceive me with all kinds of stories.'
+
+'An' she's Welsh, yer honour. She's come to find out her friends, my
+leddy! God bless ye, ye've a kind eye and a gintle voice,'
+
+Red cloak spoke the truth. The woman who is now added to the group has
+truly 'a kind eye and a gintle voice.' She is short and small of form,
+of middle age and matronly appearance; neatly and even handsomely
+dressed, as becomes the mistress of one of the largest and wealthiest
+farms of a country where large farms are rare. She has a handsome,
+placid face, and looks as if the world had moved on quietly and happily
+ever since she had been on its surface. Her dark eyes, that must once
+have been bright and piercing, are softened down to gentleness by the
+quieting hand of time; and the black hair is slightly streaked with
+white by the same unsparing fingers. But for this, age would seem to
+have little to do with the comely dame who is now bending her
+neatly-attired head before the shabby-looking girl against the wall,
+
+'What is the matter with you, my poor girl?' says the 'gintle voice,'
+
+These kind words have a power that the equally kind ones of the rough
+friends around had not. The brown straw bonnet is raised from the
+breast, and we perceive that the girl is neither dead nor sleeping. We
+perceive something more--a pair of the most painfully melancholy, and
+beautiful violet eyes that we ever looked into, which are languidly
+uplifted to the farm-lady. With the words, 'I am very tired, ma'am,' the
+eyes reclose, and we see long black fringes of soft hair rest upon the
+pale, thin cheek. The ready tear of compassion springs to the matron's
+eyes, as she stoops still lower to feel the pulse in the wan hand.
+
+'What is the matter with her?' she inquires, turning to the bystanders.
+
+'Tis tiert all out she is, my leddy. We come by say from Watherford to
+Milford, and thin, yer honour, we come on foot all trough Pembrokeshire,
+and County Carmarthin, and now she's jist kilt.'
+
+'But what is she going to do? Why do you come away from Ireland at all?'
+
+'Och, my leddy, shure we're starvin' there. And we jist come to luk for
+the work in the harvest, an' we're goin' to Herefordshire to git it. An'
+plaase yer honour's glory, she come wid us to this counthry to luk for
+her mother's relations that's Welsh, my leddy, small blame to thim,
+seein' her mother married an Irishman, and come to live in our
+counthry.'
+
+'I will give you a night's lodging, and that is all I can do for you,'
+says the gentle mistress of the farm.
+
+'The Lord bless ye, my leddy, the holy angels keep ye, the blessed
+Vargin and all the saints--'
+
+'Oh, hush! hush!' exclaims the good woman, highly shocked. 'Help the
+poor girl, and come with me.'
+
+The woman went towards the girl, and trying to assist her to rise,
+said,--
+
+'Now, Gladys, asthore! An' shure, my leddy, she's a thrue Welsh name.
+I'll help ye, my darlin', there! Och! an it's betther she is already, as
+soon as she heerd of a night's lodgin'.'
+
+The young man who was kneeling by the girl just now, goes to her other
+side, and succeeds in supporting her by putting his arm round her waist,
+whilst the woman holds her by one arm; and thus they follow the good
+mistress of the farm, followed in their turn by the rest of the party.
+
+They move slowly down the road, underneath the fine oak and ash trees
+that shelter the back of the farm, until they reach a large farm-yard,
+wherein some thirty fine cows, of Welsh, English, and Alderney breed,
+are yielding their rich milk at the hands of some three or four
+rough-looking men and women who are kneeling down to get it.
+
+'Come here, Tom,' cries the mistress, authoritatively.
+
+Tom gives a knowing wink to the nearest girl, mutters, 'Irish again,'
+and goes to his mistress.
+
+'See if there is good clean straw spread in the barn, Tom, and make
+haste.'
+
+Tom goes to a large building outside the farm-yard, whither his mistress
+and the rest follow him.
+
+'Plenty of straw, ma'am, good enough for such folk,' says Tom.
+
+'Spread some more, and shut the window in the loft.'
+
+This is done in a slow grumbling way.
+
+The barn is a large, clean, airy building, that must look like a palace
+to these ragged, way-worn people.
+
+'Now you may sleep here to-night, provided you go off early and quietly
+to-morrow morning. There is a good pump down below, where you can get
+water to wash yourselves, and at eight o'clock I shall lock the barn
+door; my husband always insists upon that.' Thus speaks the mistress.
+
+'Heaven bless his honour, we're all honest. We wouldn't harm a hair of
+your blessed heads. We heerd o' ye many a time, and o' the good lodgin'
+and supper--the sun shine upon ye--ye give to the poor Irish on their
+thravels.' Thus answers the Irishwoman.
+
+'You tell one another then! And this is why we have more calls than any
+one else!'
+
+'The Lord love ye, and why wouldn't we? 'Tis the good as always gets the
+blessin'.'
+
+Whilst this little conversation is going on, the girl, Gladys, is laid
+upon the shawl-blanket of the woman who wears that singular attire, and
+a pillow, half rags, half straw, is contrived for her head. The bonnet
+is taken off to increase her comfort, and, as her head falls languidly
+back upon the rough pillow, a wan, thin face is disclosed, that, from
+the regular outline of the profile, must be pretty, under happier
+circumstances, and is interesting.
+
+Whilst the guests prepare to make themselves comfortable in different
+ways, the kindly farm-lady leaves them, amid many and enthusiastic
+blessings, and returns to the house.
+
+In less than half-an-hour she reappears, followed by a female servant,
+both carrying tokens of a true hospitality that expects no return. She
+goes towards the poor girl with a small basin of good broth and a plate
+of toasted bread, such as might tempt the palate of a more dainty
+invalid; whilst the servant places a can of real Welsh broth, smelling
+strongly of the country emblem, the leek, in the midst of the hungry
+crew who are scattered over the barn. To this she adds various scraps of
+coarse bread and hard cheese, which she draws from a capacious apron,
+and evidently considers too good for the luckless vagabonds before her.
+She is soon, however, as much interested as her mistress in the sick
+girl, to whom the latter is administering the warm restorative. Spoonful
+after spoonful is applied to her lips, and greedily swallowed though
+with evident effort. The toasted bread is soaked in a portion of the
+broth, and is also devoured as speedily as offered, with an avidity made
+still more painful by the difficulty of swallowing, occasioned by some
+obstruction in the throat.
+
+'God help you, poor girl,' says the good Samaritan, as she puts the
+last mouthful to the lips of the patient.
+
+The eyes unclose, and a tear falls upon the wan cheek, as a murmured,
+'Thank you, my lady,' is faintly heard.
+
+The 'lady' turns away with a heavy sigh, whilst the servant begins to
+arrange the blanket-shawl and rags more comfortably, and finally takes
+off her large linsey-woolsey apron to make a softer resting-place for
+the head and neck of the girl. The grateful friends that stand around
+now bless the servant as zealously as they blessed her mistress, and if
+she understood the language in which the warm Irish hearts express their
+gratitude, she would probably wonder who 'the Vargin and all the holy
+saints and angels' are, that are invoked for her sake.
+
+Again the farm-lady goes away, and returns bearing a small bottle of
+medicine, that she bids the red-cloaked woman give the sick girl in
+about an hour. She then leaves her patient and motley guests to their
+supper and night's repose, followed by such prayers as the poor alone
+know how to utter, and perhaps how to feel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE FARMER.
+
+
+The rainbow was a true prophet; the sun that went down so gloriously
+last night amid the half-dried tears of a lately weeping earth, has
+arisen this morning with a resolution to dry up all the remaining tears,
+and to make the Sabbath as it should be--a day of rejoicing. Sunrise
+amongst the hills and valleys! I wish we all saw it oftener. Not only
+would the glorious spectacle make us wiser and better, but the early
+rising would be not only conducive to health and good spirits, but to
+the addition of a vast amount of time to the waking and working hours of
+our very short life.
+
+All nature arouses herself by degrees, as the great source of light
+rises from his couch, curtained with rose and daffodil-coloured drapery.
+As these gorgeous curtains spread east and west, and he takes his
+morning bath in the clouds and vapours, rises up the proud monarch of
+the farm-yard, as if in bold rivalry, outspreads his fine plumage in
+emulation of the rose and daffodil curtains, and bids him welcome with a
+voice so loud and shrill, that he must almost hear it from his domed
+throne above. More arbitrary in his kingdom than the sun in his, this
+grand Turk insists on arousing all his subjects; and the sleepy inmates
+of his harem withdraw their heads from beneath their wings, and, one by
+one, begin to smooth their feathers, and to descend lazily from their
+dormitories. A faint twittering is heard amongst the ivy-leaves, in
+answer to 'the cock's shrill clarion,' and in a few seconds, the little
+sleepers amongst the oak and ash trees take it up, and by the time the
+sun has come out of his bath, and the cock has ceased crowing, there is
+a full chorus of heart stirring minstrelsy round about the quiet farm.
+Down below in the meadow, the cattle begin to shake off the dew-drops
+from their hides, and to send forth a plaintive low as they slowly seek
+their early breakfast in the spangled grass, or by the steaming river.
+Away among the hills, the faint bleat of the sheep echoes from heath to
+heath, whilst their white fleeces dot the plains. Over the face of happy
+nature creeps a glow that seems to come from the heart, and to make her
+look up, rejoicing, to the sun as part of herself, and yet a type of the
+Great Creator.
+
+But whilst this Sabbath morning hymn thus rises, betimes, to the throne
+of Him who sits beyond the sunbeams, tired man sleeps on. The farmer's
+household is still slumbering, and after a week of hard labour, taking
+an additional hour's repose on that day which was graciously appointed
+as a day of rest. Scarcely can the sun peep in through the drawn
+curtains and shutters of the windows, and no song of birds, or low of
+cows, seems as yet to have reached the closed ears of the sleepers.
+Master and men alike obtain the bounteous gift of sleep so often denied
+to the less laborious rich.
+
+We are wrong in supposing that all are slumbering in the farm-house.
+Quietly the mistress steps out of the back door which she has
+noiselessly opened, as if afraid of disturbing her household. As the
+brisk little figure moves across the farm-yard, it is instantly
+surrounded by a flock of poultry that seem intuitively to expect an alms
+at her hand, as do the poor Irish who haunt her dwelling. But she has
+nothing to give them thus early in the morning, and scarcely heeds their
+cackling and crowing. The fierce house-dog, however, will be noticed as
+bounding through the poultry, and knocking down one luckless hen, he
+jumps upon his mistress, and almost oversets her also. The 'Down Lion,
+down,' of the 'gintle voice,' serves only to make him more
+demonstrative, as he gambols roughly on her path as she proceeds towards
+the barn.
+
+Mrs Prothero--such is the name of our farm-lady--had been haunted all
+night long by visions of the poor Irish girl. She had not slept as
+soundly as the other members of her family, because there was a
+fellow-creature suffering within her little circle. Although she had
+lived nearly fifty years in the world, and had been variously cheated
+and imposed upon by beggars of all kinds, her heart was still open to
+'melting charity,' and liable to be again and again deceived. As she
+stopped before the barn door with the key in her hand, Lion began a low
+growl. He could never get over his antipathy to Irish beggars, and all
+his mistress's influence was necessary to prevent the growl becoming a
+bark. She put her ear to the door and listened, but no sound disturbed
+the stillness within. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. At
+last she thought she heard a feeble voice say something which she
+interpreted into 'Come in,' and she turned the key in the lock of the
+door and opened the top half of it. She looked in, and saw all her
+mendicant guests in profound repose, excepting the girl Gladys, who
+endeavoured to rise as she perceived the kindly face, but fell back
+again immediately. She unclosed the other half of the door, and
+carefully excluding Lion, by shutting it after her, walked softly across
+the barn to the rough couch on which Gladys lay. She appeared to be in
+the same state of exhaustion as on the previous night; and if she had
+noticed Mrs Prothero at all, the transient effort was over, and she
+remained with closed eyes and listless form, whilst the good woman
+looked at her and felt her pulse. Then her lips moved slightly, as if
+wishing to say something, but emitted no sound. What was to be done for
+one in such a helpless state? Mrs Prothero's kind heart sank within her.
+
+As she did not like to disturb the weary wretches, who were sleeping so
+soundly in their rags amongst the hay and straw, she prepared to leave
+the barn; but as she moved away, the girl's eyes unclosed, and glanced
+dimly at her through a film of tears. Nourishment seemed the only remedy
+that presented itself to her mind. She smiled kindly at the girl,
+murmured 'I will come again,' and went through the sleepers towards the
+door, pausing, however, to look at the peaceful face of the baby, as it
+lay on its mother's arm, covered with the old red cloak.
+
+She returned to the house, and went to the clean, large dairy, where she
+took a cup of the last night's milk, already covered with rich cream,
+from a pan and went with it to the back kitchen, where was a fire, kept
+up all night by means of the hard Welsh coal, and heat-diffusing balls.
+She warmed the milk, procured a piece of fine white bread, and once more
+returned to the barn.
+
+She administered these remedies to her patient, who swallowed them with
+the same avidity and difficulty as she had done the broth. She fancied
+she again heard the words, 'God bless you, my lady,' but they were so
+faint that she was not sure.
+
+Again she threaded her way amongst the sleepers, and left the barn. She
+went into her garden, and walked for a few moments amongst the flowers,
+as if for council. The bees were beginning to hum about the hives, and
+the butterflies to flit amongst the flowers. She stood and looked at the
+beautiful scene before her--the woods, hills, river, and above, the
+morning sun--and offered up a prayer and thanksgiving to the Giver of
+all good things. Her thoughtful face brightened into a smile, and her
+walk became more brisk as she left her garden, and went again into the
+farm-yard.
+
+The cow-man was bringing up the cows to be milked, and he looked
+astonished as he greeted his mistress. So did the two ruddy, disheveled
+farm maidens, who had barely turned out of their beds to milk the cows,
+and had paid small attention either to their toilet or ablutions.
+
+The house was perfectly quiet as she entered it, and she crept upstairs,
+and into her bedroom very softly, for fear of disturbing any one.
+
+'Where in the world have you been, my dear?' greeted her, in a gruff
+voice from amongst the bed-clothes, that covered a large old-fashioned
+bed, hung with chintz curtains.
+
+'Go to sleep and don't trouble, Davy, _bach'_, [Footnote A Welsh term of
+endearment, equivalent to 'dear,' pronounced like the German.] quietly
+replied the brisk little dame.
+
+'Go to sleep, indeed! Easier said than done, when one wakes up in a
+fright, and finds you gone, nobody knows where. Now where _have_ you
+been? You 'ont let one sleep, even of a Sunday morning.'
+
+'Well, now, don't get into a passion, my dear--I mean, don't be angry.'
+
+'What have I to be angry about when I don't know what you've been
+doing?'
+
+This was said in an injured tone, as if the heart under the bed-clothes
+were softer than the voice.
+
+'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought--'
+
+'You thought what?'
+
+'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was
+uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she
+had been doing wrong.
+
+Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes,
+ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel.
+
+'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner
+of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our
+money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of
+good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.'
+
+'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.'
+
+'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?'
+
+'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!'
+
+'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give
+her a lift home.'
+
+'But if she has no home?'
+
+'Then let her go to her parish.'
+
+'But they don't seem to have any parishes in Ireland.'
+
+'No parishes! I suppose that's the geography the vagabonds teach you?
+Well you pay dear enough for your lessons. But I tell you what, Mary,
+you just go and tell 'em all to decamp this minute.'
+
+'But the girl is too weak and ill.'
+
+'Then send her to the Union, I say, and they are bound to forward her.'
+
+'But a Sunday! and the House miles away! Oh, Davy, we really cannot do
+it to-day!'
+
+'What with the Irish, and one charity and another, I declare there's no
+peace in life! Name o' goodness, 'oornan, why do you harbour such folk?
+If the girl's too ill to go on with her gang, they must leave her at the
+Union, or else get the overseers to send for her.'
+
+'Will you just go and look at her?'
+
+'No, I 'ont, and that's plain speaking!'
+
+Here the red face, and white night-cap and tassel, suddenly, disappeared
+amongst the bed-clothes.
+
+Mrs Prothero considered a few minutes, and again left the room, and went
+to the barn. Here, all was confusion and consultation. They had tried to
+help Gladys to rise, and the girl could not stand.
+
+A clamour of voices assailed Mrs Prothero, who was bewildered by the
+noise, and terrified at the remembrance of her husband.
+
+'My good people, I don't know what to advise,' she said at last.
+
+'She don't want to laive Carrmanthinshire, my leddy.'
+
+'We'll be ruined intirely if we stop till she's cured, yer leddyship!'
+
+'Niver a frind in the worrld, yer honour.'
+
+'Her mother and father, sisthers and brothers, all dead of the faver
+and the famine.'
+
+'Nobody left but her relations in Carrmarrthinshire, and, maybe, they're
+all dead and buried, yer honour's glory.'
+
+'And what'll we do wid her, poor sowl?'
+
+Mrs Prothero was looking compassionately on the poor girl, whilst
+sentence upon sentence was poured into her ear; and as the death of her
+relation was mentioned, she fancied she perceived a movement in her
+seemingly impassive features. She opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs
+Prothero, who went to her, and seeing her lips move, knelt down by her
+side.
+
+'Let them go, and send me to the workhouse, if you please, my lady,' she
+murmured.
+
+Mrs Prothero once more left the barn, promising to return shortly, and,
+with trembling steps, again sought the apartment where her lord and
+master was reposing. A very decided snore met her ear. She stood by the
+bedside, and looked at the tassel, which was the only portion visible of
+her better half. She sat down on a chair; she got up again; she fussed
+about the room; she even opened the drawers and took out the Sunday
+attire of that Somnus before her. But nothing she could do would arouse
+him.
+
+At last she gently touched the face. A louder snore was the only reply.
+She gave a nervous push to the shoulder, and whispered into the
+bed-clothes, 'My dear.'
+
+'Well, what now?' growled the justly irritated sleeper.
+
+'My dear, I am very sorry, but the poor girl is too ill to move, and I
+really don't know what is to be done.'
+
+'Upon my very deed, if you are not enough to provoke a saint!' broke out
+Mr Prothero, now fairly sitting up in bed. 'If you will encourage
+vagrants, get rid of 'em, and don't bother me. I'll tell you what it is,
+Mrs Prothero, if all of 'em are not off the farm before I'm up, I'll
+give 'em such a bit of my mind as 'll keep 'em away for the future; see
+if I don't.'
+
+Mrs Prothero saw that her husband was redder in the face than usual, and
+she had a very great dread of putting him in a passion; still she
+ventured one word more very meekly.
+
+'But the girl, David?'
+
+'What's the girl to you or me! we've a girl of our own, and half-a-dozen
+servant girls. We don't want any more. Send her to the Union.'
+
+'How can we send her?'
+
+'Let the rascally Irish manage that, 'tis no affair of mine; but if you
+bother me any more, I vow I'll take a whip and drive 'em, girl and all,
+off the premises.'
+
+'Very well, David,' said Mrs Prothero, submissively, and with a heavy
+sigh: 'but if the girl should die?'
+
+She walked across to the door, paused on the threshold, and glanced
+back; but there was no change in the rubicund face. She went into the
+passage, and slowly closed the door, holding the handle in her hand for
+a few seconds as she did so. She walked deliberately down the passage,
+pausing at each step. Before she was at the end of it, a loud voice
+reached her ear. She joyfully turned back and re-entered the bedroom.
+
+'Yes, David?' she said quietly.
+
+'If the girl is really bad, send her in the cart, or let her have a
+horse, if you like,' growled Mr Prothero. 'Only I do wish, mother, you
+would have nothing to do with them Irishers.'
+
+'Thank you, my dear,' said the quiet little woman. 'Then if the rest go
+away, I may manage about the girl?'
+
+'Do what you like, only get rid of 'em somehow.'
+
+'Thank you.'
+
+'Oh, you needn't thank me! I'd as soon send every one of 'em to jail as
+not; but I can't stand your puffing and sighing just as if they were all
+your own flesh and blood.'
+
+'We're all the same flesh and blood, my dear.'
+
+'I'd be uncommon sorry to think so. I've nothing but Welsh flesh and
+blood about me, and should be loath to have any other, Irish, Scotch, or
+English either.'
+
+Mrs Prothero disappeared.
+
+'That 'ooman 'ould wheedle the stone out of a mill,' continued the
+farmer, rubbing his eyes, and deliberately taking off his night-cap,
+'and yet she don't ever seem to have her own way, and is as meek as
+Moses. She has wheedled me out of my Sunday nap, so I suppose I may as
+well get up. Hang the Irish! There is no getting rid of 'em. She's given
+'em a night's lodging, and a supper for so many years, that they come
+and ask as if it was their due. But I'll put a stop to it, yet, in spite
+of her, or my name isn't David Prothero.'
+
+When Mr Prothero came forth from his dormitory, he was in his very best
+Sunday attire. As he walked across the farm-yard in search of his wife,
+there was an air about him that seemed to say, 'I am monarch of all I
+survey.' Indeed, few monarchs are as independent, and proud of their
+independence, as David Prothero of Glanyravon.
+
+He was a tall, muscular man, of some fifty years of age. He was well
+made, and of that easy, swinging gait, that is rather the teaching of
+Dame Nature, than of the dancing mistress or posture master. His face
+was full and ruddy, betokening health, spirits, and that choleric
+disposition to which his countrymen are said to incline, whether justly
+or unjustly is not for me to determine. His hair had a reddish tinge,
+and his whiskers were decidedly roseate, bearing still further testimony
+to a slight irrascibility of temperament. But he was a good-looking man,
+in spite of his hair and whiskers, which, as his wife admired them, are
+not to be despised.
+
+'Where's your mistress, Sam?' roared Mr Prothero across the farm-yard.
+
+'In the barn, master,' answered a man, who was eating bread and cheese
+on the gate, and swinging his legs pleasantly about.
+
+'Tell her I want her,'
+
+In answer to the summons, immediately appeared his worthy helpmate. She
+carried a very beautiful half-blown rose in her hand, which, as soon as
+she approached her husband, she placed carefully in his button-hole,
+standing on tiptoe to perform this graceful Sunday morning service.
+
+'Thank you, mother,' said Mr Prothero, smiling, and looking down
+complacently on his little wife.
+
+What went with all his lecture upon the profligacy of Irish beggars? I
+suppose it was silently delivered from his breast to the rose, for none
+of it came to his lips, though it was quite ready to be heard when the
+rose made her appearance.
+
+All the Irish are gone except the girl, Davy, _bach_' said quiet Mrs
+Prothero, 'and they are gone to the Overseer to tell him about her, and
+I will see that she is sent to the workhouse to-night, that is to say if
+I can.'
+
+'I suppose you fed and clothed the ragged rascals?'
+
+'I just gave them some scraps for breakfast, and indeed their blessings
+did me good,'
+
+'I should think they must. People that left a dying girl behind 'em.'
+
+'They promised to come back and see after her when the hay-harvest is
+over. They are going into Herefordshire to get work, and she, poor
+thing, is looking for her relations in this county, and meant to get
+work here.'
+
+'Well, I want my breakfast. I promised brother Jonathan to go to church
+to-day. He is going to preach a charity sermon for the Church Building
+Society, and wants my shilling. He and Mrs Jonathan are to come
+to-morrow, you know, my dear. I hope in my heart everything is as fine
+as fippence, or my lady 'll turn up her nose.'
+
+'I can't make things neater, Davy.'
+
+This was said by Mrs Prothero, in a desponding tone, quite different
+from her former quiet cheerfulness, and she accompanied the words by
+rubbing her hands nervously one over the other.
+
+'There now, don't look as if you were going to be smothered. Mrs
+Jonathan isn't so bad as all that. I wish to goodness Jonathan hadn't
+married a fine lady. But then she brought him a good fortune, and it's
+all the better for our children.'
+
+'I don't want her money.'
+
+'But if it wasn't for her, my dear, Rowland would never have had an
+Oxford edication.'
+
+'I'd as soon he had gone to Lampeter, or been made a good Wesleyan
+minister, and then he might have been content to stay in Wales, instead
+of going off to England.'
+
+'There, there! never mind! He'll be a bishop some day; and though you do
+still incline to the chapel, you'll be proud of that. Now, name o'
+goodness, let's have some breakfast.'
+
+With this peculiarly Welsh interjection, Mr Prothero turned towards the
+farm, and, followed by his wife, went to the desired repast.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+'Nobody has come for that poor girl, Netta, and I have'n't the heart to
+send her away,' said Mrs Prothero to her only daughter Janetta, towards
+the close of the Sunday, the morning of which we noticed in the last
+chapter.
+
+'I am sure, mother, you have been plagued quite enough with her already.
+You have neither been to church nor chapel, and scarcely eaten a morsel
+all the day. I can't imagine what pleasure you take in such people.'
+
+'I wouldn't care if your father was at home; but I don't quite like to
+have her into the house without his leave, and she is not fit to be left
+in the barn.'
+
+'Into the house, mother! That wild Irish beggar! Why, father would get
+into a fury, and I'm sure I should be afraid to sleep in the same place
+with such a creature.'
+
+'Oh, my dear child! when will it please the Lord to soften your heart,
+and teach you that all men and women are brothers and sisters.'
+
+'Never, I'm sure, in that kind of way.'
+
+Whilst the mother and daughter continue their conversation about Gladys,
+of which the above is a specimen, we will glance at Janetta Prothero,
+the spoilt daughter of Glanyravon Farm.
+
+She is decidedly a pretty girl? some might call her a beauty. She has
+dark eyes, black hair, a clear pink and white complexion, a round,
+dimpled cheek, a fair neck, a passable nose, and a very red-lipped,
+pouting mouth. She is small of stature--not much taller than her
+mother--but so well-formed, that her delicate little figure is quite the
+perfection of symmetry. Her movements are languid rather than brisk like
+her mother's, and she either has, or is desirous of having, more of the
+fine lady in her manners and appearance. We discern, as she talks, more
+of obstinacy than reason, and more of pride than sense, in her
+conversation, and the face rather expresses self-will than intellect,
+although not deficient in the latter.
+
+We are led to suppose, from the appearance of the room in which the
+mother and daughter are located, that Miss Janetta is somewhat
+accomplished; more so than young ladies in her position commonly were
+some thirty or forty years ago. This is a large parlour, with some
+pretensions to be called a drawing-room. True, the furniture is of
+old-fashioned mahogany, the sofa of hair, the curtains of chintz, and
+all that appertains to the master and mistress of the house, of solid
+but ancient make. But the square piano, the endless succession of
+baskets, card-racks, etc., the footstools with the worsted-work dog and
+cat thereon emblazoned, the album and other books, so neatly and
+regularly placed round the table, and above all, three heads in very bad
+water-colours that adorn the walls--all proclaim the superior education
+of the daughter of the house, and her aspirations after modern
+gentility.
+
+We will just take up the thread of the conversation of the mother and
+daughter at the end of it, and see what conclusions they have arrived
+at. In a somewhat doggedly excited tone, Miss Janetta says,--
+
+'Well, mother, I know that father would be very angry, and that she
+might give us all low Irish fever. I shouldn't wonder if she brought a
+famine with her.'
+
+'Remember, Netta, who said "and if ye have done it unto the least of
+these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."'
+
+'If those people are one's brethren, as father says, the sooner we
+disown our relations the better.'
+
+Whilst Miss Janetta was uttering this unchristian speech, and greatly
+shocking her mother thereby, a young man entered with a book in his
+hand, and throwing himself on the sofa, began to read. It was soon,
+however, evident that he was listening to the conversation, although he
+professedly kept his eyes on his book. Poor Mrs Prothero continued her
+efforts to enlist her daughter on the side of charity, but did not
+greatly prevail. The young man did not interfere, probably being aware
+that it is better to let two women finish their own quarrel.
+
+Again, however, they were interrupted by the appearance of a fourth, and
+more animated personage.
+
+'Good evening, Mrs Prothero. How do you do, Netta?' exclaimed the new
+comer, shaking Mrs Prothero's hand, and pulling Netta's curls. Hereupon
+the young man arose from the sofa, and bowing profoundly, said,--
+
+'Good evening, Miss Gwynne,' with a tone as grave as his appearance.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Mr Rowland,' said the young lady, who we now
+introduce in form as Miss Gwynne of Glanyravon Park.
+
+With a very becoming grace, she advanced and held out her hand to Mr
+Rowland Prothero, eldest son of the good farmer and his wife, just
+returned from Oxford. Mr Rowland slightly touched the hand, bowed again
+gravely, and placed a chair for Miss Gwynne.
+
+'I thought I should never come here again,' said that young lady,
+turning from Mr Rowland with a nod and a 'thank you,' and retreating
+towards the window where the mother and daughter were standing, 'what
+with the rain, and poor papa's nervous complaints, and all the affairs,
+I declare I have been as busy as possible.'
+
+'Now, Miss Gwynne, I am sure you will agree with me,' cried Netta,
+suddenly brightening up and getting animated 'Do you think it right to
+encourage those Irish beggars?'
+
+'Right! no, of course I don't.'
+
+'And do you think people ought to allow them to come into the house--to
+take them in, and to--to shelter them in short?'
+
+'Decidedly not. I hope you don't do such things, Mrs Prothero?'
+
+There was a wicked twinkle in a merry eye as this was said.
+
+'The truth is, Miss Gwynne,' said Mrs Prothero, slowly rubbing her hands
+one over another, 'there is a poor Irish girl in the barn almost dying,
+and it is impossible to send her to the Union to-night, or to leave her
+where she is.'
+
+'Oh, I'll write an order for the Union in papa's name. You can't believe
+a word those Irish say. You had better get her sent off directly.'
+
+This was said with the air of command and decision of one not accustomed
+to have her orders disputed.
+
+'But, Miss Gwynne, if you only knew--' began the overwhelmed Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+'I know quite well. We are obliged to commit dozens of them as vagrants,
+and I should not at all wonder if we should not be compelled to have
+you taken up some day for harbouring suspicious characters.'
+
+The tears stood in Mrs Prothero's kind eyes. She had not much authority
+amongst the young people apparently.
+
+'There, mother! I knew Miss Gwynne would agree with me.'
+
+'And do you think the law of Christian charity would agree with you,
+Netta?' here broke in a grave and stern voice from the sofa.
+
+Both the young ladies coloured at this interruption? Miss Gwynne with
+mortified dignity, Netta with anger. Mrs Prothero cast an appealing
+glance at her son, who came forward.
+
+'She may have my bed, mother,' said the young man, colouring in his
+turn, as he met Miss Gwynne's defiant glance, that seemed to say, 'Who
+are you?'
+
+'How very absurd, Mr Rowland,' said that young lady, laughing
+scornfully. 'I suppose, according to your law of Christian charity, we
+must fill our houses with all the Irish beggars that come through
+Carmarthenshire! A goodly company!'
+
+'Have you seen this poor girl. Miss Gwynne?'
+
+'No, certainly not, but I know by heart all she has to say.'
+
+'If you would but just see her,' said Mrs Prothero entreatingly not
+daring to contradict the heiress of Glanyravon Park, who had a will of
+her own, if Mrs Prothero had not.
+
+'With the greatest pleasure; but I know all the "my leddy's," "yer
+honour's," and "the sweet face o' ye," that I shall hear.'
+
+'Don't go, Miss Gwynne, you may take the fever. I wouldn't go for the
+world,' cried Netta.
+
+'I am not afraid of fevers or anything else, I hope,' said Miss Gwynne
+contemptuously. 'You will be afraid of catching a toothache from
+infection next,' and herewith she left the room, followed by Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+During their short absence, Mr Rowland Prothero read his sister a very
+proper lecture for a clergyman, on Christian charity and filial
+obedience, to which she listened with pouting lips and knitted brow, but
+with no answering speech, good or bad. She was not silent because she
+had nothing to say, but because she was afraid of her brother, who was
+the only person of whom she was afraid. Her feelings, however, found
+vent in the leaves of a rose that she was pulling to pieces and
+scattering ruthlessly.
+
+The lecturer on Christian charity was a tall, gentlemanly-looking young
+man, whose apparently habitual gravity of deportment warmed into
+earnestness and animation as he talked to his sister. He looked and
+spoke as if his soul were in the words he uttered, and as if it had
+been choice and not compulsion that led him to become a minister in
+Christ's family.
+
+The entrance of Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne was a great relief to
+Netta. She looked up briskly at the latter, as if sure of sympathy, and
+if eyes full of tears could give it, she certainly was satisfied.
+
+Mr Rowland Prothero perceived the tears, and retired to his sofa, taking
+up his book and pretending to read.
+
+'Can I help you, Mrs Prothero? There does not seem a moment to lose. I
+will send for a doctor, or do anything I can,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Thank you, dear Miss Gwynne,' replied Mrs Prothero, 'I will put her in
+Owen's room.'
+
+'Who can we get to bring her in? Shall I go and fetch one of the men?
+Netta, do get some one to help us.'
+
+'I will help you, if you will allow me,' said Mr Rowland, rising from
+his sofa, and looking at Miss Gwynne with a glance of warm approval.
+
+'Pray do; now; at once. I will go with you whilst your mother prepares
+the room. You could carry her quite well, for she is as thin as a ghost;
+I never saw such a wretched girl.'
+
+Miss Gwynne hurried to the barn, followed by Rowland. They found Gladys
+with a farm-servant by her side, apparently either dead or asleep.
+
+Rowland Prothero knelt down, and took her up gently in his arms, Miss
+Gwynne assisting. The poor girl unclosed her eyes, and looked wistfully
+at the face that was bending over her.
+
+'You are with friends, and in God's hands,'said Rowland gently, as the
+eyes languidly reclosed.
+
+He carried her upstairs to his brother's room, and having placed her on
+the bed, left her to the care of his mother and Miss Gwynne.
+
+Whilst they were employed in getting her into bed, a house-servant came
+to say that Miss Gwynne was wanted. She found a footman awaiting her,
+who told her that his master had sent him in search of her, and was in a
+state of great anxiety about her. She ran up to Mrs Prothero for a few
+minutes.
+
+'Really papa is too absurd, too provoking,' she said with a vexed voice;
+'he has sent after me again, and I am sure he must know I am here. Let
+me hear if I can be of any service, Mrs Prothero; I will send anything
+in the way of medicine or nourishment. Good-bye, I will come again
+to-morrow.'
+
+'Mr and Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, come to-morrow,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Yes, they are to dine with us on Wednesday, and told me they meant to
+sleep here. Good evening. Dear me, how wretched that poor girl looks.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was soon hastening homewards, heedless of the splendid sky
+above, or the glowing fields beneath. She was making reflections on the
+excellence of Mrs Prothero, the silliness of Netta, the precision of
+Rowland, and the misery of the girl Gladys. Thence she turned her
+thoughts upon herself, and suddenly discovered that she had been too
+decided in at once ordering any person to the workhouse, without at
+first knowing the case.
+
+'But it is no wonder that I am too decided sometimes, when my father is
+so dreadfully weak and vacillating,' she said to herself; 'indeed I do
+not think, after all, that one can be too decided in this irresolute
+world.'
+
+This very decided young lady is the only child and supposed heiress of
+Gwynne of Glanyravon, as her father is usually called. She is an
+aristocratic-looking personage, with a certain I-will-have-my-own-way
+air, that you cannot help recognising at once. She is rather taller than
+most tall women, and the tokens of decision in her carriage, eyes,
+voice, and general deportment would be disagreeable, but for the extreme
+grace of her figure, the unaffected ease of her manner, and the
+remarkable clearness and sweetness of her voice. She is handsome, too,
+with a noble forehead, sensible grey eyes, glossy chestnut hair, and a
+very fine complexion. The many of her nominal friends and admirers who
+at heart dislike her, prophesy that in a few years she will be coarse,
+and say that she is already too masculine; but the few who love her,
+think that she will improve both in person and mind, as she rubs off the
+pride and self-opinionativeness of twenty years of country life against
+the wholesome iron of society and the world. But we shall see.
+
+At present she is fortunate enough to rule everybody she comes in
+contact with; her father, his servants, his tenants, the poor, the very
+mendicants that come to the door.
+
+Certainly there is something very charming in her appearance, as she
+hurries up the fine old avenue that leads to her ancestral home. The
+ease of her port, the graceful dignity of her extreme haste, the
+heightened colour, and the glowing eye, are all very handsome, in spite
+of the coarseness in perspective. The poor footman can scarcely keep up
+with her; he has not found the last twenty years at Glanyravon
+productive of the same lightness of step to him, as to his young
+mistress, and wishes she were a little less agile.
+
+A handsome country house in a good park has not often in itself much of
+the picturesque. Ruskin would not consider Glanyravon, with its heavy
+porch, massive square walls, and innumerable long windows, a good
+specimen of architectural beauty; still it is a most comfortable
+dwelling, beautifully situated; and the magnificent woods at the back,
+and grand view in front, would make the most unartistic building
+picturesque in appearance if not in reality.
+
+Miss Gwynne ran up the broad stairs, through the large hall, and into a
+good library. Here a very tall, thin, sickly-looking man was seated in
+an easy-chair.
+
+'My dear Freda, I am so thankful you are come!'
+
+'My dear father, how I wish you would not send for me the very moment I
+go out. I really cannot be pestered with servants. It fidgets me to
+death to have a man walking and puffing after me.'
+
+'But just consider, my love, the lateness of the hour.'
+
+'It is scarcely eight o'clock now, papa, and as light as possible.'
+
+'I am too nervous, my love, to bear your being out alone.'
+
+Miss Gwynne rang the bell authoritatively, and the footman entered.
+
+'Tell Mrs Davies to send some jelly, and whatever strengthening things
+there are in the house, to Glanyravon Farm immediately,' she said; then
+turning to her father, added, 'do you know, papa, Mrs Prothero has taken
+in a sick Irish girl, and I have abetted it.'
+
+'You, child! I hope she has no infectious disease; it quite alarms me.'
+
+'I really don't know. But Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero are going to
+Glanyravon to-morrow, and remember you invited them to dinner on
+Wednesday.'
+
+'I am very sorry! that man kills me with the antiquities of the Welsh
+language, and heaven knows what old things that happened before the
+flood. But you must entertain them. I suppose we had better ask young
+Rowland.'
+
+'Oh, papa! He is so dreadfully quiet and stiff, and thinks there is only
+one man who ever went to Oxford, and he is that man; and I can't endure
+him.'
+
+'Perhaps not, my dear--indeed, perhaps not.'
+
+'If we ask him, we must ask Netta. She has come home quite accomplished
+from boarding school, and would do in a quiet way. Mrs Jonathan would be
+pleased, and you know she _is_ a lady, though awfully particular. I
+can't endure her either.'
+
+'Perhaps you could invite Lady Mary, and Miss Nugent to meet them?'
+
+'I don't think they would like it. They would not object to the two
+clergymen, because, as Lady Mary says, 'You see, my dear, the cloth is a
+passport to all grades of society;' but they would not approve of Netta.
+That is to say, Lady Mary would think herself insulted if we introduced
+her sweet Wilhelmina to a farmer's daughter.'
+
+'She is a very superior woman, my love, and understands etiquette, and
+all that sort of thing, better than any one I ever met.'
+
+'She seems to me to understand her own interests, papa, as well as most
+people. But I will tell her that Sir Hugh and the Protheros are coming,
+and that we have asked Netta, so she can accept or decline as she
+likes.'
+
+'Do you think it wise, my dear, to put yourself so much on a level with
+Miss Prothero, as to invite her?'
+
+'Oh! she understands how we are very well. It will be a source of pride
+and satisfaction to her, without making her presume more than before;
+and the vicar and his lady will like the attention.'
+
+'I dread the vicar. His genealogies are too much for me.'
+
+'Oh, I can put up with the vicar's antiquities, but not with the young
+vicar's pedantic Oxonianism. He does think so well of himself, and quite
+rules every one at home.'
+
+'Oh! that is very fatiguing, I should think.'
+
+'I wish he would fall in love with Miss Nugent, and she with him, and
+carry off her forty-thousand pounds. She is silly enough for anything,
+and it would be such a downfall to her mother's pride.'
+
+'Her mother is much too careful, my dear, and by far too superior a
+woman. And Miss Wilhelmina is very accomplished and all that sort of
+thing, you know, and likely to make a fine match. She is very pretty,
+too.'
+
+'Yes; she and Netta Prothero would run in harness. Pretty, silly, rather
+affected, and having drawn each four or five drawings, and learnt six
+tunes on the piano. Only the one is more fashionable than the other. Do
+you know, papa, Miss Nugent can play the Irish and Scotch quadrilles,
+and Netta '_Ar hydy Nos,_' with small variations. We will have a
+concert; you know I have asked the Rice Rices?'
+
+'Very well, my dear. Now I think I will read a sermon to the servants,
+so just ring the bell.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE MISER.
+
+
+Whilst Mr Gwynne is reading his sermon, and Mrs Prothero is nursing the
+mendicant Gladys, an event is passing in the neighbouring country-town,
+involving matters of interest to her, and those belonging to her. In a
+small bedroom over a little huckster's shop, an old man lies dangerously
+ill. By his side is seated a middle-aged woman watching. In a dark
+corner, behind the bed, stands a man, who is so deep in shadow that you
+scarcely know whether he is young or old.
+
+The room is small and shabby, and contains apparently few comforts for
+one nearly approaching his last hour.
+
+There is a tap at the door, upon which the man behind the bed goes out,
+and returns, almost immediately, followed by Rowland Prothero. He goes
+towards the bed, and stooping down, whispers to the sick man.
+
+'Father, you wished to see Rowland--he is here.'
+
+Rowland advances, and takes the seat vacated for him by the woman.
+
+The three inmates of the room are Mr and Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and their
+only son, Howel. They are cousins of the Protheros, Mrs Jenkins being Mr
+Prothero's first cousin, and the members of the younger generation being
+consequently second cousins.
+
+Griffith Jenkins motions to his wife and son to leave the room, which
+they do immediately. Rowland kneels beside his bed, the better to hear
+what he has to say. He appears, however to revive, and is distinct
+enough in his enunciation of the following words, though very slow.
+
+'My son Howel is come back, Mr Rowland, and do promise to be study.'
+
+'I am very glad to hear it; it must be a great comfort to you,'
+
+'But I am not seure of him. He will be spending my money that I have
+been takking such pains to make.'
+
+'I hope he may do good with it, Uncle Griff.'
+
+'Good! no such thing. Squander, squander! Spend the beauty gold! Will
+you promise me to see to it? tak' care of it?'
+
+'I, Uncle Griff! I have no power with Howel. Would it not be better to
+pray to God to guide Howel, and trust in a higher power than mine?'
+
+Mr Jenkins put a long, thin, bony hand out of bed, and grasped
+Rowland's hand tightly. He fixed two keen black eyes upon him, and, as
+he half raised himself in bed, displayed a withered face, the most
+remarkable feature of which was a very prominent, hooked nose, like the
+beak of a large bird.
+
+'You wasn't thinking I was going to die, was you, Rowland? I 'ont just
+awhile, see you. But tell you your father there's more gold than he is
+thinking of; and Howel'll be a husband for any one, much less for Miss
+Netta. Promise me to be lending him a hand, if he do keep constant to
+your sister.'
+
+'I am sorry, Uncle Griff, that I cannot promise anything for Howel. If
+he grows steady as you say, there can be no objection; but he must prove
+it first. Would you like me to read to you, and pray to Almighty God,
+for Christ's sake, to change his and all our hearts?'
+
+'I didn't be wanting a parson, but a relation, sir; and I don't be going
+to die yet. Look you here. There's money in the bank--there's more in
+mortgages on Davies, Llansadwn, and Rees, Llanarthney--there's more on
+loan to Griffiths, Pontardewé,--Jones, Glantewey,--Pugh the draper,
+Llansant--and others. And there's a box beside. Mind you, I 'ont die
+yet, but I tell you, because I can trust you; and Howel don't know
+nothing.'
+
+'May I write it down for you, Uncle Griff; or would you have a lawyer?'
+
+'No, no. I've had enough of law in paying for Howel, and nothing come of
+it. But you may be writing down a little. Here, in that chest, there's
+pen, ink and paper; tak' you my keys, and open you it.'
+
+Griffith Jenkins took from under his pillow a bunch of keys, and
+fumbling amongst them, gave one to Rowland, with which he opened the
+chest, and procured the necessary writing apparatus.
+
+'Give you me my keys--quick, quick!' cried the old man, again hiding
+them somewhere in his bed.'
+
+At his dictation, Rowland wrote a list of the different moneys he
+possessed in various places, and was utterly astonished to find that he
+had soon written down between sixty and seventy thousand pounds.
+Everybody knew that Griffith Jenkins was rich, but nobody had guessed
+how rich he was.
+
+'Now say, "I give and bequeath to my wife, 'Lizbeth Jenkins, ten
+thousand pound out of the aforesaid mortgage on Jacob Davies Llansadwn's
+property."'
+
+'Is that all, Uncle Griff?'
+
+'Yes, I sha'n't say no more.'
+
+'And the box of gold?'
+
+Again the miser grasped Rowland's hand, and fixed his keen eyes on his
+face.
+
+'I 'ont be dying yet, and I 'ont be putting that down to-night. Tell you
+your father what there is, without the box, and without more mortgages
+and loans; but don't you be talking to anybody about it. Mind you, not
+to Howel nor to 'Lizbeth: promise me.'
+
+Rowland promised.
+
+The miser fell back exhausted.
+
+'And now Uncle Griff, may I pray for you? Only think how soon you may be
+called to your account, to say exactly how you have employed your time,
+and the talents given--'
+
+'I have done plenty--plenty--all out at interest, at five, six, even ten
+per cent.; none wrapped up in a napkin. I don't be calling a box a
+napkin, Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'May I call in Mrs Jenkins and Howel, and pray for you? Think; oh think,
+of the great Judge, and great Mediator. O God, have mercy upon us,
+miserable sinners!'
+
+As Rowland said this, he clasped his hands, and looked upwards, in
+unutterable supplication. The old man was alarmed.
+
+'I don't be going to die, but you may call 'em in.'
+
+Rowland rose and obeyed. Mrs Jenkins appeared with a candle in her hand.
+The old man rose with an effort as she drew near the bed.
+
+'Put--out--the--candle,' he muttered.
+
+As the night was fast drawing in, Mrs Jenkins hesitated.
+
+'Put--out--the--candle,' repeated the dying man, with a still stronger
+effort to rise and extinguish it himself. 'The ruling passion strong in
+death' must be attended to, and the light was extinguished.
+
+Rowland Prothero clasped his hands with a groan, and repeated aloud a
+prayer from the service for the dying. The terrified wife knelt down by
+the bed in the deep gloom, and in the still deeper gloom behind, the son
+buried his face in his arms, and leaned upon the little table.
+
+Whilst Rowland Prothero was praying from the very depth of his heart for
+the soul that was thus awfully passing to its account, they were all
+aroused by the last fearful struggle between death and life of him who
+had made gold his god. For some time they feared to rekindle the light,
+but at last they ventured. It was but to witness the last dread pangs of
+one who had made wife and son secondary to the great absorbing passion
+of avarice; and now he was constrained to depart from the scene of his
+toil, and to leave all that he had grovelled for behind him, for ever!
+
+We will not dwell upon the awful hours that succeeded his final words.
+He neither spoke nor was conscious again. Light and dark were alike to
+him. Save that he grasped something in his right hand with an iron hold,
+reason and power had left him; death was still fighting with life, and
+gradually gaining the last great victory.
+
+A few hours afterwards, and when that victory had been gained, the scene
+was changed in that small house. The chamber of death was deserted, and
+the wretched clay of the miser, decently covered with a white sheet, lay
+heavy and still, where the spirit that formerly animated it had been
+accustomed to brood over the miserable gains of its clays and years on
+earth.
+
+In the small sitting-room below, behind the little shop where these
+gains had been begun and continued for half-a-century or more, sat the
+widow, surrounded by a score of gossips, who had left their beds and
+homes at daybreak to condole with her.
+
+It would have been much more unnatural than natural if Mrs Jenkins had
+grieved at heart for the husband she had lost. Married, or rather sold
+to him, when he was fifty and she thirty, she had lived five or six and
+twenty years of pure misery with him. She had starved with him, when she
+could not pilfer from him, and had endured patiently all these years
+what seemed past endurance in expectation of the closing scene. She had
+married and lived upon the prospect of his death, and it was come at
+last; and now that it was come, the awfulness of that last struggle
+overpowered her, and she wept and lamented as copiously as if her
+husband had been the kindest and most liberal in the world. Still, she
+was free, with competence, she hoped, in perspective? and this thought,
+together with the ever all-pervading one of her idol, her treasure, her
+only son, and his expectations, more than counterbalanced that of the
+death she had witnessed.
+
+'Come you, don't you be takking on so,' said one old woman soothingly,
+as the widow rocked herself to and fro, and held her handkerchief to her
+eyes.
+
+'Tak' you this drop o' tea,' said another, 'it'll be doing you good,'
+
+'The Lord will be having mercy on his soul,' said a third, whose
+conscience was large when she was offering comfort.
+
+'There now, keep up your spirits, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' said a fourth,
+entering with a comfortable glass of gin and water that did seem of an
+exhilarating nature.
+
+'There's a comfort Howel will be to you now!' said a fifth triumphantly.
+
+'Deed to goodness, Griffey Jinkins was a saving man, and you have lost
+him, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' began the friend with the gin and water; 'but
+I am seeing no use in takking on so. When John Jones died, he was
+leaving me with ten children, and they have all come on somehow. And you
+have only wan son, and he is so ginteel! Drink you this, my dear, and
+don't be down-hearted.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins turned from the tea to the gin and water with no apparent
+reluctance, and swallowed a portion of it. Revived by the beverage, she
+responded to the condolences of her friends by more rockings, sobs, and
+applications of the handkerchief and finally unburdened herself of her
+grief in the following manner.
+
+'My son Howel, oh yes, he'll be a blessing to me, I know. Says I to my
+poor Griffey--oh, dear, only to be thinking of him now!--says I, "Let us
+be giving Howel a good eddication, and he so clever as never was, and
+able to be learning everything he do put his mind to, and never daunted
+at nothing--grammar, nor music, nor Latin, nor no heathen languages, and
+able to read so soon as he could speak, and knowing all the beasts in
+the ark one from another, when he was no bigger than that," says I, to
+my poor Griffey; "oh, annwyl! we have only wan child, let him be a
+clargy, or a 'torney, or a doctor, or something smart," and says he, "I
+can't afford it." He was rather near or so, you know, was my poor
+Griffey; but I never was letting him rest day or night, and the only
+thing he wasn't liking was being much talked over. So says I, "Come you,
+Jinkins, bach,"--he liked to be called by his sirname--"if you do larn
+Howel well, he'll be making his fortune some day," for he do say so, he
+do be always saying, "I'll be a great man, and get as much money as
+father." I eused to put in the last words of myself, for Howel never was
+taking to making money, but 'ould as soon give it away as not. Only poor
+Griffey--oh dear! oh dear!--was never knowing that, because I did be
+hiding it from him as much as I could.'
+
+Whilst the widow talks on in this strain to her sympathising friends,
+her son and Rowland Prothero are in another small room of the house,
+engaged in a very different style of conversation. The room in which
+they are is worth a few words of description, not for any beauty or
+desert of its own, but for its heterogeneous, contents. You would think
+a small music warehouse, a miniature tobacco shop, or branch depot of
+foreign grammars and dictionaries were before you. Every kind of musical
+instrument seems to have met with a companion in this tiny apartment.
+Here are a violin, violoncello, horn, and cornopean; there an old Welsh
+harp and unstrung guitar. On this shelf are pipes of all sorts and
+sizes, forms, and nations--the straight English, the short German, and
+the long Turkish; on that are cigar-boxes, snuff-boxes, and
+tobacco-boxes of various kinds and appearances. Scattered about the room
+are play-books without number, from Shakspeare to the dramatists of the
+present day; and, interspersed with these, collections of songs of all
+countries and of all grades of merit. Some few novels, mostly French,
+live with the plays and songs; and Latin, French, German, Italian,
+Welsh, Spanish, and English grammars and dictionaries take up their
+abode in every available corner. A quantity of fishing tackle and a gun
+are thrown upon the window seat, and an embroidered waistcoat, blue
+satin cravat, and a pair of yellow kid gloves lie on an unoccupied
+chair.
+
+From the general appearance of this room, the imagination would conceive
+great things of its inmate. All we shall here say is that he is one who
+has the reputation of being a natural genius, and firmly believes that
+he is one.
+
+As all natural geniuses are supposed to have something very remarkable
+in their appearance, we will just take a sketch of the miser's son, as
+he alternately leans on the table or stalks about the room during his
+earnest conversation with his cousin. He has decidedly sentimental hair;
+long, black, shining, and with a tendency to curl; he has what might be
+termed poetical eyes, bright, piercing, and very restless; the sharp,
+aquiline nose of his father, slightly modified; and a mouth and brow
+which curl and knit in a manner that may be poetic, but might be
+disagreeable, under less soothing influences. That he is very handsome
+no one could dispute, and it is equally certain that he has an air much
+above the position in which he was born; but the expression of his face
+inspires distrust rather than confidence, and conveys the impression
+that there is more of passion than feeling beneath the fiery eyes and
+compressed mouth.
+
+A great contrast to this family genius is presented in the person of his
+cousin Rowland, now addressing him earnestly and seriously upon the
+grave subjects naturally uppermost at such a time. He, too, is
+sufficiently good-looking, with an open, though grave, cast of
+countenance, fine, soft, hazel eyes, and a tall, manly figure. By
+'sufficiently good-looking,' I mean that he is neither very handsome nor
+ugly, and when his lady friends debate upon his outer man they generally
+wind up by saying, 'Well, if he isn't handsome, he is very genteel.'
+
+We are not going to repeat here the well-known fable of the 'Hare and
+the Tortoise,' but something of the character of those animals may be
+found in the cousins. At their first dame's school, as well as at the
+more advanced grammar school of their little town. Howel was always able
+to beat Rowland in swiftness, whilst Rowland effectually distanced
+Howel in the long run. It was Rowland who carried off the prizes, when
+study and prolonged endeavour were necessary to obtain them, whilst
+Howel eclipsed all his contemporaries, if a theme were to be written, or
+a poem learnt.
+
+Such differences are so frequent, and have been so often discussed that
+it is scarcely necessary to pursue the contrast further; but the result
+at the present stands thus. Howel, the elder of the two, has dipped a
+little into everything; has gained a reputation for genius; has been
+articled to an attorney--but is in no apparent danger of becoming
+one--has written various articles for the county papers, and has had the
+pleasure of seeing them printed; has acquired a smattering of several
+languages, and various styles of music; and has proved himself an
+admired beau amongst the ladies, and a favourite boon companion amongst
+the gentlemen. He has been idolised and spoilt by his mother, and
+stinted and pinched by his father, and having no very great respect or
+admiration for the talents or conduct of either parent, has not tried
+much to please them, save when it suited him.
+
+The result of all this, if not already apparent, will doubtless be seen
+hereafter, for, at four or five and twenty, conduct and principles begin
+to establish themselves.
+
+Rowland Prothero is very much the reverse of all this. From a child he
+had a desire to enter the Church, which desire was fostered by his uncle
+and aunt into a resolution, when he grew old enough to resolve. As they
+very nearly adopted and educated him, his parents made no objection, and
+as they were ambitious to raise their family in worldly position, they
+spared no expense.
+
+Rowland was reckoned dull, but plodding, at Rugby, whither his uncle
+sent him. However, his dulness and plodding were more successful than
+the brightness of many, since they managed to gain a scholarship at
+school, which helped him at Oxford. He was called proud and obstinate,
+and he was both. Pride and obstinacy were the characteristics of his
+family, but in him they fortunately tended to good: inasmuch as his
+pride generally led him to do well, and his obstinacy kept up his pride.
+
+At present, it would be difficult to say whether he is a young man
+likely to shine in the path he has chosen, or to walk quietly along it
+unnoticed. His friends do not anticipate anything remarkable, but they
+expect him to be slow and sure. He did very well at college, but gained
+no greater honours than the respect and goodwill of those he was known
+to. Query--Is not that worth as much, morally, as a first class?
+
+At home, he is understood by few. He has not many associates, because,
+either from his own fault, or some mental peculiarity, he cannot fall in
+with those who are immediately about him; and consequently is rather
+feared by his acquaintances and reckoned proud, stiff, and
+conceited--above his birth, in short.
+
+With him, as with Howel and every one else, the course of years will
+show the man. 'Handsome is that handsome does.'
+
+'The fact is, Rowland,' said Howel, as he suddenly stood still in one of
+his rapid walks across the room, 'you and I never could agree in
+anything, and never shall.'
+
+'I hope we may yet agree in many things,' said Rowland gently. 'At
+present, all I wish you to do is to pay your debts, go to London, take
+out your stamps, and become an attorney.'
+
+'I am the best judge of that, and shall be my own master now. At all
+events, I can make some people ashamed of themselves.'
+
+'I only wish to advise you for your good, now that you are your own
+master. Your poor father begged me--'
+
+'Oh, Rowland, I can't stand any more about my father. Everybody knows
+what he was, and, I suppose, nobody expects me to live in the same line.
+I am emancipated, thank heaven! and the world shall soon know it.'
+
+'Still, he was your father.'
+
+'No one knows that better than I do, I should imagine; but if you expect
+me to mourn as others do for a parent, you will be disappointed. He
+never showed me one token of love, or acted by me as a father from the
+day of my birth till his death.'
+
+'At least he has left you and your mother handsomely provided for, and
+with his last words, hoped that you were now very steady.'
+
+'He did! I wonder who dares to say that I am not steady? But how do you
+know how we are provided for?'
+
+'He begged me to write down what he was worth. I will give it you at
+some future period, but not now.'
+
+'Why not now?'
+
+'Because I think it is scarcely yet a time to consider money matters.
+After the last duties are performed you shall have the paper. Part of
+his property is written down, but a box of gold and some other sums he
+did not name. After that last sad scene one can scarcely think of
+anything earthly. Oh, Howel! I wish you would consider the shortness and
+uncertainty of life, and what is its end.'
+
+'So awful do I consider its end that I mean to enjoy it while it lasts.
+But don't go off with the impression that I was not shocked and
+frightened with what we have just seen. It is one thing to read and
+write about a death-bed and another to witness it. But I cannot weep or
+pray as some people can.'
+
+'You might do both if you would only seek aright.'
+
+'There, enough! I am past being preached to as a naughty boy, and can
+now look forward to some enjoyment without robbing my own father, or
+getting my mother to rob him, to procure it. But I shall never forget
+that last struggle? no, never.'
+
+Here, with a face of horror, Howel began his restless walk again.
+Rowland sat in melancholy silence.
+
+'Rowland,' suddenly broke in Howel, 'how is Netta?'
+
+'Quite well, I thank you,' answered Rowland gravely.
+
+'I have not seen her for a long time? will you remember me to her?'
+
+'I cannot promise to do so.'
+
+'Do you think me a fiend, sir, that my name cannot be mentioned to my
+cousin? I will manage to convey my own remembrances.'
+
+'Howel, you know how it is? I do not mean to be unkind. If only you
+would give up your old life, enter your profession, and begin another--'
+
+'That is as I choose. I shall be glad of the paper you wrote for my
+father, and then you and I, Rowland, are best apart.'
+
+'Good-bye then, Howel? perhaps some day you may know that I wish you
+well. I will bring the paper at the funeral.'
+
+'For heaven's sake stay, or send some one else! I cannot bear to be
+alone here? his ghost will haunt me.'
+
+'Then let me read to you.'
+
+Howel assented gloomily and threw himself on the bed in the corner of
+the room. Rowland took a small Testament from his pocket and resolutely
+read several chapters.
+
+During the reading Howel fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE FARMER'S SON.
+
+
+At about ten o'clock on Monday morning Miss Gwynne rode up to the door
+of Glanyravon Farm, and, dismounting, entered the house. She was
+attended by a groom, and told him that she should not be long.
+
+'How is that poor girl, Netta?' were her first words on entering the
+house.
+
+'Very ill indeed, I believe,' said Netta, rather sulkily.
+
+'Where is your mother?'
+
+'She has been with the Irish beggar all the morning, and all night too.
+I don't know what father and uncle and aunt will think.'
+
+'Will you ask your mother whether I can see her for a few minutes?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Netta, you must come and dine with us on Wednesday, with your uncle and
+aunt.'
+
+'Thank you,' said Netta, brightening up as she left the room.
+
+'I'm sure I scarcely know whether she will behave rightly,' muttered
+Miss Gwynne, tapping her hand with her riding-whip.
+
+Mrs Prothero soon appeared.
+
+'You good, clear Mrs Prothero!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, running up to her
+and taking both her hands. 'You look quite worn out. How is that poor
+girl?'
+
+'Alive, Miss Gwynne, and that is almost all,' was the reply very gravely
+uttered.
+
+'Can we do anything? Did Dr Richards come?'
+
+'Yes, Miss Gwynne, and was very kind. He has been again this morning.'
+
+'I came to invite Mr Rowland and Netta to dinner on Wednesday, with Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan Prothero.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss Gwynne, I will tell Rowland; but I really think Netta
+had better not go.'
+
+'I have just told her of the invitation.'
+
+'Dear me! I am really very sorry. I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne, but it
+will put ideas into her head above her station.'
+
+'We shall be very quiet.'
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rowland. He
+drew back on seeing Miss Gwynne, and bowed, as usual, profoundly. She
+also, as usual, advanced and held out her hand.
+
+'My father begged me to ask if you would come and dine with us on
+Wednesday,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Thank you, I am much obliged,' stammered Rowland, whilst a bright Hush
+overspread his face, 'I shall be very happy, if I am not obliged to be
+elsewhere. Mother, poor Griffith Jenkins is dead. I have been there all
+the night.'
+
+'Dead! I had no idea he was so ill! Oh, Rowland, how did he die?'
+
+'Just as he lived, mother. With the key of his coffers so tightly
+clasped in one hand that it was impossible to take it from it after he
+was dead. And the said coffers hidden, nobody knows where. But poor Mrs
+Jenkins has no friend near who can be of any real comfort to her. I wish
+you could go to her for a few hours.'
+
+'This poor girl, Rowland--what can I do with her? And your uncle and
+aunt coming.'
+
+'I think I can manage my uncle and aunt till your return. As to the poor
+girl I really know not what to say.'
+
+'Oh! if you will trust her to me, Mrs Prothero, I will nurse her till
+you come back!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne eagerly. 'I assure you I can
+manage capitally, and will send back the horses, and a message to papa.'
+
+'I am afraid it would not be right--I think the girl has low fever--Mr
+Gwynne would object.'
+
+'I assure you it would be quite right, and I don't fear infection and
+papa would let me do just as I like. In short, I mean to stay, and you
+must go directly. Is young Jenkins at home, Mr Rowland?'
+
+'Yes, he returned a few hours before his father's death.'
+
+'I suppose that horrid old man died as rich as Croesus, and, according
+to custom in such cases, his son will spend the money.'
+
+'I wish he had not got it,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'That is scarcely a fair wish, mother. Let us hope that he will do well
+with it.'
+
+'Never, never. He was not born or bred in a way to make him turn out
+well.'
+
+'Nothing is impossible, mother.'
+
+'You must take care of Netta, Mrs Prothero. But now do go to that
+wretched Mrs Jenkins, and leave the poor girl to me, and Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan to Mr Rowland. I hope you have been studying the antiquities of
+Wales at Oxford, Mr Rowland?'
+
+This was said as Mrs Prothero left the room; and Rowland was startled
+from a rather earnest gaze on Miss Gwynne's very handsome and animated
+face, by this sudden appeal to him, and by meeting that young lady's
+eyes as they turned towards him. A slight blush from the lady and a very
+deep one from the gentleman were the result. The lady was indignant with
+herself for allowing such a symptom of female weakness to appear, and
+said somewhat peremptorily,--
+
+'Will you be so good as to tell Jones to take the horses home, and to
+let my father know that he must not wait luncheon, or even dinner for
+me?'
+
+'Excuse me, Miss Gwynne,' said the young man, recovering his composure,
+'but I do not think my mother would be justified in allowing you to
+attend upon that poor girl.'
+
+'Allowing me! Really I do not mean to ask her. I choose to do it, thank
+you, and I will speak to the servant myself.'
+
+It was now Miss Gwynne's turn to grow very red, as, with haughty port,
+she swept past Rowland, leaving him muttering to himself.
+
+'What a pity that one so noble should be so determined and absolute. Let
+her go, however. Nobody shall say that I lent a hand to her remaining
+here. In the first place she runs the risk of infection, in the second
+every one else thinks she degrades herself by coming here as she does.
+Still, her desire to take care of the girl is a fine, natural trait of
+character. I must just go and look over the _Guardian_. A curacy in
+England I am resolved to get, away from all temptation. Yet I hate
+answering advertisements, or advertising. If my aunt's friends would
+only interest themselves in procuring me a London curacy, I think I
+should like to work there. That would be labouring in the vineyard, with
+a positive certainty of reaping some of the fruits.'
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the reappearance of Mrs Prothero,
+dressed for her walk.
+
+'Mother, you ought not to let Miss Gwynne stay.'
+
+'I! my dear Rowland! Do you think she would mind what I say to her?'
+
+Miss Gwynne entered.
+
+'I have sent off the servant, and now let me go to the girl.'
+
+This was said with the decision of an empress, and with equal grandeur
+and dignity was the bow made with which she honoured Rowland as she made
+her exit, followed meekly by Mrs Prothero.
+
+A short time afterwards she was alone by the bedside of the sick girl.
+Every comfort had been provided for her by Mrs Prothero, and Miss Gwynne
+had little to do but to administer medicines and nourishment.
+
+'Is there anything I can do for you, my poor girl?' she said, leaning
+over her bed. 'Anything you have to say--any letter I can write--any--'
+
+'If--you--would--pray--my lady,' was the slow, almost inarticulate
+reply.
+
+Pray! This was what Miss Gwynne could not do. 'Why,' she asked herself,
+'can I not say aloud what I feel at my heart for this unhappy creature?
+I never felt so before, and yet I know not how to pray.'
+
+She went to the head of the stairs, and called Netta.
+
+'Will you ask your brother whether he will come and read a prayer to the
+poor girl?' she said.
+
+A few seconds after there was a knock at the door. She opened it and
+admitted Rowland. He went to the bed, and began to whisper gently of the
+hope of salvation to those who believe. Gladys opened her eyes, and
+caught the hand extended to her.
+
+'More--more,' she murmured. 'Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.'
+
+Rowland read the Office for the Sick, from the prayer book, and she
+responded inwardly, her lips moving. Miss Gwynne came to the bed, and
+kneeling down, joined in the prayers.
+
+Again Rowland spoke soothingly to the girl of the need of looking to
+Christ, the Saviour, alone in the hour of her extremity; and she
+murmured, 'He is my rock and my fortress.'
+
+'Do you trust wholly in Him?'
+
+'In whom else should I trust? All human friends are gone.'
+
+'Not all, you have friends around you.'
+
+'Have I? Thank you, sir? God bless you.'
+
+'I will come again and read to you when you are able to bear it.'
+
+Rowland said this and withdrew, without speaking again to Miss Gwynne,
+or even bowing as he left the room.
+
+'He certainly reads most impressively,' thought Miss Gwynne; 'I could
+scarcely believe he was not English born and bred; but still he is quite
+a Goth in manners, and I am sure he thinks no one in the country so
+clever as himself.'
+
+Rowland met Netta at the foot of the stairs.
+
+'Netta, I really am ashamed to think that you can allow Miss Gwynne to
+wait upon that girl in your own house.'
+
+'I'm sure, Rowland, Miss Gwynne needn't do it if she didn't choose. I
+don't want to catch the fever, and I never will run the risk by nursing
+such a girl as that.'
+
+'Surely, Netta, you cannot be our mother's daughter, or you could not
+use such unchristian expressions.'
+
+'I'm no more unchristian than other people, but you're always finding
+fault with me.'
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a loud knocking at the house door,
+and Farmer Prothero's voice was heard without, calling,--
+
+'Mother, mother, where are you? Here we are, all come!'
+
+Netta flew to open the door, and was soon industriously kissing a lady
+and gentleman, who had just alighted from a little four-wheeled
+carriage, and were waiting, with her father, for admission. Rowland,
+also, in his turn, duly embraced the lady, who seemed much pleased to
+see him. They brought in various packages, and proceeded to the parlour.
+
+'Where's mother, Netta?' exclaimed Mr Prothero.
+
+Rowland answered for her.
+
+'She is gone to Mrs Griffey Jenkins, father; perhaps you have not heard
+that Uncle Griff is dead.'
+
+'Not I, indeed. Well! he's as good out of the world as in, though I'm
+sorry for the old fellow. But what'll we do without mother? She's always
+nursing somebody or other, either alive or dead.'
+
+Rowland turned to his aunt, and said that his mother begged him to
+apologise for her necessary absence for a few hours.
+
+'I shall do very well, I daresay,' said the aunt, whose countenance wore
+a somewhat austere expression.
+
+She was a lady of middle age, who prided herself upon having a first
+cousin a baronet. Her father, a clergyman, rector of a good English
+living, was the younger son of Sir Philip Payne Perry, and she an only
+child, was his heiress. Mr Jonathan Prothero had been, in years gone by,
+his curate, and had succeeded in gaining the affections, as well as
+fortune, of the daughter, and in bringing both into his native country.
+He had the living of Llanfach, in which parish Glanyravon was situated,
+and lived in very good style in a pretty house that he had built
+something in the style of an English vicarage.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero, or Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, as she was usually
+called, was tall and thin, very fashionably dressed, with a very long
+face, a very long nose, very keen greenish grey eyes, a very elaborately
+curled front, a very long neck, very thin lips, and very dainty manners.
+She was proud of her feet and hands, which were always well shod,
+stockinged, gloved, and ringed, and as these were the only pretty points
+about her, we cannot wonder at her taking care of them. People used to
+say she would have been an old maid, had not a certain auspicious day
+taken the Rev. Jonathan Prothero to her father's parish, who, having an
+eye after the fashion of servants of a lower grade, to 'bettering
+himself,' wisely made her a matron. Having no children of their own,
+they lavished their affections on their nephews and niece, and their
+money on their education.
+
+'My dear Rowland,' said Mrs Jonathan, 'I think I have agreeable news for
+you. I wrote to my cousin, Sir Philip Payne Perry, whose wife's brother
+is, as you know, high in the church, and received this answer.'
+
+She put a letter into Rowland's hands, and watched his countenance as he
+read it.
+
+'My dear aunt, how very good of you!' exclaimed Rowland; 'the very
+thing I wished for. Oh, if I can only get it, I shall be quite happy. A
+curacy in London, father! Just read this. Sir Philip thinks I might not
+like it in the heart of the city, but that is really what I wish. Plenty
+to do all the week long. Oh, aunt, how can I thank you enough?'
+
+'By making every effort to advance yourself in life, and to rise in the
+world, my dear nephew,' said Mrs Jonathan.
+
+'What do you think, uncle?' asked Rowland, turning to Mr Jonathan
+Prothero, who was seated in the window, with a large book before him,
+that he had brought from the carriage.
+
+'He! what! what did you ask?'
+
+'Only what you think of this London curacy that my aunt has been so kind
+as to write about.'
+
+'Me! I! Oh, capital! just the thing in my humble opinion. If you get it,
+you will be able to go to the Museum, and look up the old genealogy we
+were talking about. Do you know I have made a remarkable discovery about
+Careg Cennin Castle. It was built--'
+
+'Never mind, my dear, just now; we were talking of Rowland's curacy,'
+interrupted Mrs Jonathan, who generally managed all business matters.
+
+'To be sure, my dear, to be sure, you know best,' said Mr Jonathan
+absently, resuming his book.
+
+'For my part, sister,' said the farmer, 'I 'ould rather he had a curacy
+in his own country, and so 'ould his mother; but he's so confoundedly
+ambitious.'
+
+'Aunt, won't you come upstairs and take off your things?' asked Netta,
+interposing, for once in her life, at the right time.
+
+'Thank you, my dear, I should be very glad,' and they accordingly
+disappeared.
+
+'Father,' began Rowland, as soon as they were gone, 'I think it right to
+tell you, that we were obliged, out of sheer charity, to take that poor
+Irish girl into the house. It was impossible to move her without risk of
+instant death.'
+
+'And upon my very deed, Rowland, if this isn't too bad,' cried the
+farmer, stamping his foot on the floor, and instantaneously swelling
+with passion. 'As if it wasn't enough to have paupers, and poor-rates,
+and sick and dying, bothering one all day long, without your bringing an
+Irish beggar into the house. I never saw such an 'ooman as your mother
+in my life; she's never quiet a minute. I 'ont stand it any longer; now
+'tis a subscription for this, now a donation for that, then sixpence for
+Jack such a one, or a shilling for Sal the other, till I have neither
+peace nor money. Come you, sir, go and turn that vagabond out directly,
+or I'll do it before your mother comes home, hark'ee, sir.'
+
+'I can't father, really.'
+
+'Then I will.'
+
+Off stalked the farmer in his passion, crying out in the passage,
+'Shanno, come here!'
+
+A servant girl quickly answered the summons.
+
+'Where's that Irish vagabond?'
+
+'In Mr Owen's room, sir.'
+
+Upstairs went the farmer, leaving Shanno grinning and saying, 'He, he,
+he'll do be turning her out very soon, she will, he, he.'
+
+Rowland ran upstairs after his father, calling out gently, 'Stop,
+father, Miss Gwynne--' but the father was in the bedroom before he heard
+the words, and had made the house re-echo the noise of his opening the
+door.
+
+He was instantaneously checked in his career by seeing Miss Gwynne
+advance towards him, with her finger in the air.
+
+'Hush, Mr Prothero,' she whispered, 'she is asleep. Look here; gently,
+very gently.'
+
+She led the enraged farmer by one of his large brass buttons to the
+bedside, where the white-faced Gladys lay. She looked so much like a
+corpse, that he started back affrighted. Then Miss Gwynne led him out
+into the passage, and seeing from his angry face the state of the case,
+instantly said,--
+
+'It was I who had her brought here, Mr Prothero; and by-and-by I will
+get her sent back to her parish, but until she is better we must take
+care of her.'
+
+At these words from the all-powerful Miss Gwynne, Mr Prothero was fain
+to put such check upon his rising choler as the shortness of the notice
+would allow. He could not, however, fully restrain the whole of the
+invective that had been upon his lips a short time before.
+
+'No offence, Miss Gwynne? but 'pon my soul, I'm sick to death of my
+missus's pensioners and paupers, and I'm determined to have no more of
+'em. You may do as you please, miss, at your own house, and I'll do as I
+please in mine.'
+
+Here Rowland popped his head out of a neighbouring bedroom
+
+'Father, Miss Gwynne is taking upon herself a risk and encumbrance that
+should be wholly my mother's. She has nothing to do with the girl,
+beyond showing her great kindness.'
+
+'Really, Mr Rowland Prothero,' began Miss Gwynne, drawing herself up to
+her fullest height, 'I wish you would allow me to manage my own
+affairs.'
+
+'Yes, yes, Rowland. What, name o' goodness, have you to do with Miss
+Gwynne? I'm ashamed of the boy. I really beg your pardon, miss, but I
+believe he's so set up by having a chance of going to London, that he
+don't know whether he stands on his head or his heels. Go you away,
+Rowland, directly. I won't have you interfaring with me.'
+
+Miss Gwynne could not help laughing as she saw Rowland's sense of duty
+struggle with his pride at this authoritative mandate; but she was very
+much surprised to see him bow politely to her and walk away. She
+wondered whether anything on earth could have induced her to obey a
+similar order.
+
+She followed Mr Prothero downstairs and made herself so agreeable to him
+and Mrs Jonathan, that they quite forgot Mrs Prothero's absence, until
+the sudden return of that good woman set all matters right, and enabled
+Miss Gwynne to leave the farm.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE MISER'S WIFE.
+
+
+'I must have money,' said Howel Jenkins as he sat alone with his mother
+in their little parlour, the evening after Mrs Prothero had left them.
+
+'My dear, there will be plenty when we can find it, be you sure of that.
+I do know well enough that your poor father was having a chest full,
+only he was keeping his door locked and barred so that I couldn't see
+him at it.'
+
+'But surely, mother, you must have some idea where my father kept his
+gold. If I don't pay a man in London by tomorrow's post, I shall be in
+jail before a week is over my head.'
+
+'Mercy! Howel, bach! Now don't you be spending the mint o' money that'll
+be coming to you, there's a good boy, before you do know what it is.
+Remember Netta! You'll be as grand as any of 'em now, if you do only
+begin right, and are being study and persevaring, and sticking to your
+business. I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be a councillor some day. Only
+to think of me, mother of Councillor Jenkins! You may be looking higher
+than Netta, and be marrying a real lady, and be riding in your coach and
+four, and be dining with my Lord Single ton, and be in the London
+papers; and I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be visiting the Queen and
+Prince Albert again, and behaving your picture taken to put into your
+own books and the "'Lustrated." I always was saying I 'ould be making a
+gentleman of you, and I have.'
+
+'But, mother, before I can do anything like this I must pay my debts and
+make a new beginning. I will marry Netta, now, in spite of the whole
+tribe of Davids and Jonathans, and they shall see us as much above them
+as--as--money can make us. Now, mother, we must have a search for the
+money.'
+
+'Not whilst your father is in the house, Howel; I should be afraid. Be
+you sure his spirit'll be looking after the money till the funeral's
+over.'
+
+'Nonsense; where are the keys? We'll have a turn at the old bureau
+anyhow. Money I must have, at once, and Rowland is as obstinate as a pig
+about what the governor told him.'
+
+'Indeet, and indeet, Howel, you had better don't. Suppose it 'ould bring
+him to life again?'
+
+'I'll risk that. Give me the keys.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins handed a bunch of keys to her son with trembling fingers.
+
+'Tak you a drop of spirits first. It do show how rich they are thinking
+us now. There's Jones, the Red Cow, and Lewis, draper, are letting us
+have as much credit as we like; and they 'ouldn't let us have as much as
+a dobbin or a yard of tape before poor Griffey died.'
+
+Howel drank a wine-glass of raw brandy and went upstairs with the keys
+in his hand. He crept stealthily into that room where the miser breathed
+his last, as if fearful of arousing the body within the drawn curtains.
+He proceeded to the bureau and tried the various keys of the large bunch
+that he now grasped for the first time in his life. At last one key
+entered the lock and turned in it. Hush! there is a sound in the room.
+He turns very pale as he glances round. He sees no movement anywhere.
+The curtains are so still that he almost wishes the wind would stir
+them. He opens the bureau and again looks wistfully round. He is almost
+sure that the curtains move. 'Coward that I am,' he cries, 'what do I
+fear?'
+
+He turns again, and, looking into the bureau, sees that all the open
+divisions are filled with papers, and imagines what must be the contents
+of the closed and secret compartments. As he touches one of these a
+tremor seizes him, and he fancies that a hand is on his shoulder. He
+starts and turns, but the curtains are motionless as ever. He goes into
+the passage and calls, 'Mother, come here. Quick! I want you directly.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins comes upstairs, looking as pale as her son.
+
+'Just help me out with this bureau, mother; I cannot examine it in this
+room, you have put such ridiculous notions into my head.'
+
+'I'm afraid, Howel.'
+
+'Nonsense, come directly, or I must get some one else.'
+
+The pair went into the room and tried to move the bureau that had stood
+for nearly fifty years in that corner untouched, save by the husband and
+father, now lifeless near them. It was very heavy, and scarcely could
+their united strength move it from its resting-place. They finally
+succeeded, however, in dragging it towards the door, in doing which they
+had to pass the foot of the bed. Unconsciously they pushed the bed with
+the corner of the bureau and shook it. They nearly sank to the ground
+with terror, expecting, for the moment, to see the miser arise, and
+again take possession of his treasures. The mother rushed into the
+passage, the son again called himself a coward, and, with a great
+effort, pushed the bureau through the door and shut it after him.
+
+'Now, mother, help to get it into my room. One would think we were
+breaking into another man's house, instead of taking possession of our
+own property.'
+
+With the whole of their joint strength they succeeded in getting the
+heavy piece of furniture into Howel's room, where, having first locked
+the door, they proceeded to examine its contents. Disappointment awaited
+them; they could find nothing but papers. Deeds, mortgages, bills,
+letters, accounts, were arranged in every open and shut division. The
+drawers contained nothing else, and the little locked cupboard in the
+centre, the key of which was found upon the bunch, also enshrined
+nothing but a few very particular documents.
+
+'These papers could not have made the bureau so heavy,' said Howel,
+biting his nails. 'There must be secret drawers.'
+
+He pulled out the drawers and papers, and threw them on his bed. He
+tried to move the bureau, and found it almost as heavy as ever.
+
+'I am thinking, Howel, bach, that cupboard don't go through to the back
+of the bureau,' suggested Mrs Jenkins.
+
+Howel seized the poker and aimed a blow at the cupboard; the mahogany
+did not give way, but they fancied they heard a chinking sound within.
+
+'I am thinking,' said the mother, 'that it must be a double bureau. It
+is looking so much broader than it do seem.'
+
+Howel examined it, and began to think so, too; he took some carpenter's
+tools down from the shelf, and set to work to try to pierce the back of
+the bureau with a gimlet, in order to see if the gimlet would appear on
+the other side.
+
+He worked the implement through a portion of the wood, and then found
+its course stopped by some still harder matter. He had recourse to his
+penknife, with which he hacked a hole in the wood, large enough to find
+that there was an inner back of iron, or some kind of metal. Each new
+obstacle served only to inflame his impatience, and to provoke his
+temper. He forgot the bed in the next room, and everything else in the
+world except the attainment of his object, and running downstairs,
+returned with a large sledge-hammer that he found in the coal-hole. With
+his strength concentrated in one blow, he swung it against the back of
+the bureau, and had the satisfaction of finding his wishes gratified.
+The concussion moved some secret spring somewhere, for as the piece of
+furniture tottered on its foundation, and fell forwards against the bed,
+out rolled such a profusion of gold, as led Howel to believe, the 'El
+dorado' was found at last. Mother and son lifted up their hands in
+astonishment; gold pieces were in every corner of the room, scattered
+here and there like large yellow hail.
+
+The noise of the blow, however, and the subsequent fall of the bureau
+had alarmed a neighbour, and before one piece of the tempting gold had
+been picked up, there was a loud knock at the door.
+
+'Say the house has fallen in; the inquisitive fools!' exclaimed Howel,
+as his mother left the room.
+
+Howel began to fill his pockets with gold pieces, and opening a box,
+pushed as many as he could hastily gather up into it also. There were
+thousands upon thousands of sovereigns upon the floor.
+
+'It was old Pal, the shop,' said Mrs Jenkins, returning to her golden
+harvest, 'she was up nursing next door, and heard the noise. I tell her
+it was the table falling down.'
+
+'Now, mother, as soon as all is over, I must go to London and clear off
+my debts with some of this money; but I must see Netta first.'
+
+'Why don't you be putting it in the bank, Howel, bach? It will make a
+gentleman of you.'
+
+'There's enough besides to make me a gentleman, if I am not one already;
+and I promise you, that when I am clear again I will come back and make
+all the rich men in the country hang their heads. But I want to see
+Netta.'
+
+'Write you a bit of a note, and I will manage to send it.'
+
+'Pick up the money, mother, and I will write the note.' Mrs Jenkins
+proceeded to obey her son, whilst he unlocked a desk, and wrote the
+following hasty lines:--
+
+'I must be in London next Monday. I must see you before I leave. Meet
+me at the old place in the wood by the little Fall, Sunday evening,
+during church time.'
+
+He folded the note without signing it, and gave it to his mother,
+without adding any address.
+
+'Seal it mother, and deliver it, or rather send it by some one you can
+trust.'
+
+'I'll manage that. Now pick you up some of the money. Here's a hundred
+pound in my apron now, and gracious me! the lots more!'
+
+'If you will keep the hundred pounds in your apron, mother, and let me
+have the rest, I shall be satisfied.'
+
+'But what'll you be doing with all this goold?'
+
+'Preparing to make you the mother of Councillor Jenkins, or of a famous
+man of some sort or other. What do you say to a poet or a prime
+minister?'
+
+'I 'ould rather you do be a councillor, than anything--like Councillor
+Rice, Llandore.'
+
+'Well, I shall perhaps, be a judge with all this money, and I daresay my
+father--'
+
+Here a vision of the bed in the next room stopped the young man's
+speech, and shuddering slightly, he kicked a heap of sovereigns that lay
+near his foot, and sent them rolling into different corners of the room.
+
+'Take away the ill-gotten gain, mother, it will never prosper; you had
+better go to bed, and I will do the same. I suppose it would be
+impossible to sleep with that yellow usury on the floor. I should have
+Plutus at the head of the imps of darkness about my bed, instead of
+"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John," that I used to pray to "bless the bed
+that I lie on."'
+
+'Don't talk so fullish, Howel.'
+
+'Why it was you taught me all that Popery.'
+
+'The Lord forgive you, Howel, I never did see the Pope, and 'ould sooner
+teach you the Methodist hymn book.'
+
+'Well, never mind, let us go to bed.'
+
+'I'll go down and sit by the fire. Lie you down here. God bless you, my
+boy, give your poor mother a kiss.'
+
+'Good-night, mother, or rather good morning,' said the son, bending down
+carelessly to be embraced by the parent who would sacrifice her life for
+him.
+
+When Mrs Jenkins had left the room, Howel hastily collected the gold
+that was scattered about, and tossed it, without counting it, into the
+box already mentioned, which he locked, and put the key in his pocket.
+He then lay down on the bed without undressing, and tried to sleep. In
+vain, no sleep would come to 'steep his senses in forgetfulness.' The
+bed in the next room, with its grim, gaunt inmate, was constantly before
+his eyes. If he dozed for a moment, the miser, his father, and the gold
+he had for years longed to obtain possession of, haunted him, and made
+him start like a thief, as if taken in the act of stealing the coin now
+by inheritance his own.
+
+'Cursed gold!' he exclaimed at last, jumping from the bed, 'what shall I
+do with it? Pay my debts, and turn a sober man? I will try. If 'Netta
+will have me, perhaps I may; indeed I am sure I could. We will come here
+and cut a dash first, however. I should like to humble some of our Welsh
+aristocrats by showing them how the son of Griffey Jenkins can eclipse
+their genealogies, by the magic power of the Golden God. I will stay
+over the funeral, then off to town and get rid of my pressing debts;
+then pay Levi and Moses, and all my debts of honour; then set myself up
+in clothes and jewels, and come home and carry off Netta; and, finally,
+have a year's pleasure at least. Take Netta to the continent, and teach
+her to _parlez-vous_ a little more fluently than she does now, and to
+assume more aristocratic manners; in short--in short--'
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the sudden explosion of some substance
+under his feet, upon which he accidentally trod as he was pacing up and
+down the room. He swore an oath that emanated from his fear, and thought
+that the lower regions had actually opened to receive the gold he was
+meditating upon, since fire and smoke accompanied the noise, together
+with a smell of gunpowder. He rushed out of the room, just as his
+mother, alarmed by the sound, was running upstairs.
+
+'They will carry him off before the funeral,' he cried, as his mother
+asked what was the matter.
+
+Ashamed of his cowardice, he made an effort to return to the room,
+followed by his mother. There was such a strong smell of sulphur that
+both recoiled.
+
+'What fools we are!' exclaimed Howel, forcing himself to enter. He
+stooped to examine the floor, and to his amusement and disgust, found
+the remains of a cracker, which had burst beneath his foot-tread. There
+were several others scattered about, that had been unnoticed, because
+they looked simply like bits of paper. These had evidently been placed
+by his father amongst the gold, in the hope of frightening any one who
+might wish to finger it, and had rolled out with the treasure they were
+intended to protect.
+
+Mother and son again left the room, the latter locking the door as he
+did so, and putting the key in his pocket. They descended to the little
+parlour below stairs, where they finished the night, alternately dozing
+in their chairs, and talking, and occasionally supporting themselves by
+draughts of the different liquors that were spread upon the table near
+them. In spite of his best efforts to throw aside such thoughts, Howel
+could see nothing all that night but the gold, the father who had won
+it, and the poor wretches who had been ruined in paying usurious
+interest for it.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SQUIRE.
+
+
+The dinners at Glanyravon were always unexceptionable. Mr Gwynne was a
+bit of an epicure, and kept a capital cook, and his daughter liked to
+see everything done in good style. Even Mrs. Jonathan Prothero declared
+that the dinner-parties at her cousin's, Sir Philip Payne Perry's, were
+scarcely more agreeable or better managed.
+
+Still, at the dinner in question, all the elements were not quite well
+amalgamated. Although the dishes were so discreetly seasoned, and the
+_entremets_ so exquisitely prepared, that the most fastidious critic of
+the gastronomic art would not have found a grain too much of any one
+ingredient, there was a less judicious mixture amongst the guests.
+Nothing could be more perfect than the bearing of the host and hostess.
+Mr Gywnne was a gentleman, even in his peculiarities--fastidiously a
+gentleman--and comported himself as such to every one. But he was too
+nervous, and had too low a voice to put his guests at ease: one half did
+not hear him at all, and the rest were slightly afraid of him on account
+of this extreme fastidiousness, his nervous complaints and his being
+very easily tired, or bored. Miss Gwynne was more successful at her end
+of the table, but she rather annoyed some of her guests by being too
+much bent on bringing out her friend Netta, and playing her off against
+Miss Nugent.
+
+She was, however, very polite to all, and, for so young a woman, made a
+very agreeable and fascinating hostess. So, apparently, thought all the
+gentlemen, as they principally addressed their conversation to her, and
+had manoeuvred, particularly the young ones, to sit as near her as
+possible. The Rev Jonathan Prothero had the place of honour at her
+right, and did not take up much of her time. He appeared to be deep in
+the speculation concerning the ancient castle of which we have already
+heard, and was learnedly descanting upon it to Mrs Rice Rice, a lady on
+his other side. The said Mrs Rice Rice, having _un oeil aux champs, et
+l'autre à la ville,_ was ostensibly listening to him, whilst she was
+really attending to her son, who was making visible efforts on the heart
+of the heiress, Miss Gwynne.
+
+The Rice Rices were people of family and fortune, living in the
+neighbouring town. Mr Rice Rice was in the law, and was at that moment
+engaged in discussing the affairs of the deceased Mr. Griffith Jenkins
+and his quondam articled pupil, Howel, with Rowland Prothero across Miss
+Nugent. He was a portly well-to-do-looking man, with a bald head and
+good-humoured countenance. His wife was even more portly than himself,
+and sat, in black velvet and marabout feathers, as stately as a princess
+at a drawing-room. The task of keeping up the family reputation of the
+ancient house of Rice Rice devolved in a great measure on this lady,
+assisted by her daughter; and, it must be said, that if any one could
+have doubted the antiquity of this honourable race after an hour's
+conversation with this enthusiastic pair he must have been a sceptic
+indeed! Family pride is a common weakness, but one could almost call it
+the stronghold of Mrs. Rice Rice, just as the various archæological and
+historical glories of Wales and the Welsh was the fortress of Mr.
+Jonathan Prothero.
+
+It was into these towers of strength that these worthies retreated on
+all occasions. One saw the bulwark in Mrs. Rice Rice's ample, immoveable
+figure, and in the glance of the eyes that looked over the somewhat
+mountainous cheek; one saw it in a certain extension of the chin, turn
+of the mouth, and slightly _retroussé_ nose. One saw it, above all, in
+her manner to the Protheros.
+
+But Mrs. Jonathan Prothero was quite as capable of sustaining the
+dignity of the Philip Payne Perrys as the Welsh lady that of the Rice
+Rices, and a satirist might have made a clever caricature of these
+patriotic dames--the one thin and stiff, the other stout and stiff--as
+they compared their family honours.
+
+But the lady of undoubted rank and pretension of the party is Lady Mary
+Nugent, who can afford to patronise or throw over-board whomsoever she
+will. She is seated next to Mr Gwynne, and is lavishing a considerable
+share of good looks and eloquence on that gentleman. Still in the prime
+of life, elegant, refined, pretty, and a skilful tactician, she is a
+dangerous rival of the young ladies, and is not wholly innocent of a
+desire to eclipse them. She and her daughter are dressed very nearly
+alike, in some white and light material, and at a little distance she
+might pass for the fair Wilhelmina's elder sister. A profusion of
+ornaments, too well arranged to appear too numerous, alone distinguish
+mother and daughter. She has a handsome profile and a captivating
+manner, two dangerous things in woman; but therewith she has an
+occasionally malicious expression of eye and mouth, that somewhat
+impairs the effect of the captivation.
+
+Her daughter is like her in profile, but has not her fascination of
+manner. She is, however, beautiful as a statue, with chiselled features
+and marble complexion. But she does not at present appear to have
+character enough to possess the clever malice of her mother. This may
+possibly come with suitors and rivals, who generally draw out all the
+evil, and sometimes much of the good, of woman's nature.
+
+She is now simpering and blushing and saying pretty nothings between
+Rowland Prothero and a certain Sir Hugh Pryse, who, on their respective
+parts, think her a goose, being attracted elsewhere. Sir Hugh is
+exerting his lungs to their utmost, and much beyond the boundaries that
+etiquette would vainly try to impose upon them, in endeavouring to
+attract the attention of Miss Gwynne; whilst Rowland is, as we before
+said, discussing the death of Mr Jenkins and the prospects of his son.
+
+Perhaps the most uncomfortable person at the table is Netta, who really
+does not quite understand how to behave herself in the new atmosphere in
+which she finds herself. She never was at a dinner-party before, never
+waited upon by grand servants, never surrounded by such gay people; and,
+in spite of her ambition to eclipse by her beauty the Misses Nugent and
+Rice Rice, she feels and looks rather awkward. Miss Gwynne does all in
+her power to reassure her, but she sits, looking very pretty--by far the
+prettiest person in the room--and very ill at ease, until the ladies
+adjourn to the drawing-room, and she takes refuge in the pictures of the
+drawing-room scrap-book and her aunt.
+
+The gentlemen arrive in course of time, which they must do, linger as
+long as they will over the delights of port and politics, and then the
+various schemes and thoughts engendered at the dinner-table are brought
+to light over the coffee-cup.
+
+Miss Gwynne patronisingly singles out Rowland Prothero, who, reserved by
+nature, feels doubly so amongst the ill-assorted elements around him.
+
+'Have you seen that poor girl since I was last at your house, Mr
+Prothero, and how is she to-day?' inquires the heiress.
+
+'She asked to see me yesterday, and I went to her. She seemed more
+composed, and liked being read to; but she is in a very precarious
+state.'
+
+'Is your father more reconciled to her being with you?'
+
+'Not at all. And it certainly is very unfortunate. But he would not
+allow her to be neglected now she is thrown on his kindness.'
+
+'I wish she had never come,' interposed Netta, who had ventured to cross
+the room to Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Have you heard of the great catch you are all likely to have, Miss
+Gwynne?' here broke in Sir Hugh Pryse, of stentorian reputation.
+
+'I do not know what you mean,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Why, Mr Rice Rice tells me there is more than a hundred thousand pounds
+to be raffled for by all the young ladies in the country. They have
+simply to put themselves into the lottery, and only one can have the
+prize.'
+
+'I never knew you so figurative before. Sir Hugh.' 'Don't pay any
+attention to him, Miss Gwynne,' said a fresh addition to the circle that
+stood round that young lady's chair. 'He means that old Griffey Jenkins,
+the miser, is dead, and that Howel comes into all his immense wealth.'
+
+Miss Gwynne gave her head such a magnificent toss that her neck looked
+quite strained.
+
+'I do not imagine many _young ladies_ will purchase tickets in that
+lottery,' she said, with a stress upon the 'young ladies.'
+
+'I have no doubt there are dozens who would, and will, do it at once,'
+responded Sir Hugh. 'And quite right too. Such a fortune is not to be
+had every day.'
+
+'But it is gentlemen, and not ladies, who are fortune-hunters,' said
+Miss Gwynne, changing her tone, when she suddenly perceived that Netta's
+face and neck were crimson.
+
+But the subject was become quite an interesting piece of local gossip,
+and, one after another, all the party joined in it.
+
+'Howel Jenkins might make anything of himself if he would but be
+steady,' said Mr Rice Rice.
+
+'Except a gentleman by birth,' said his lady.
+
+'Or the least bit of an archæologist,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero. 'I
+tried one day--you will scarcely believe it, Mr Gwynne--to make him
+understand that Garn Goch was an old British encampment, but he would
+not take it in.'
+
+'Ah, really; I do not very much wonder myself, for I cannot quite "take
+in" those heaps of stones and all that sort of thing,' responded the
+host.
+
+'What can they find to interest them in that sort of person?' asked
+Lady Mary in an aside to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Miss Gwynne overheard it, and answered for her father.
+
+'He is a young man of great talent, very rich, very handsome, and has
+had a miser for a father. Is not that the case Mr Rowland?'
+
+'I--I--really, it is scarcely fair to appeal to me, as he is a
+relation.'
+
+'And do you never say a good word in favour of your relations?'
+
+'I hope so, when they deserve it,' said Rowland resolutely, glancing at
+his sister, who was biting her glove.
+
+'If I may be allowed an opinion,' said Mrs Jonathan decidedly, also
+glancing at poor Netta, 'I should say that Howel Jenkins was a complete
+scapegrace. What he may yet turn out remains to be proved.'
+
+'Well, that is putting an end to him at once,' said Miss Gwynne, 'and I
+think we had better play his funeral dirge. Lady Mary, will you give us
+'The Dead March in Saul,' or something appropriate? Never mind, Netta; I
+daresay cousin Howel will turn out a great man by-and-by;' this last
+clause was whispered to Netta, whilst the young hostess went towards a
+grand piano that stood invitingly open, and begged Lady Mary Nugent to
+give them some music.
+
+That lady played some brilliant waltzes, after which, her daughter
+accompanied her in the small bass of a duet.
+
+'Pon my soul, that's a pretty girl, that little Prothero!' said Sir Hugh
+Pryse to young Rice Rice. 'I never saw such a complexion in my life.
+Roses and carnations are nothing to it.'
+
+'Rather a vulgar style of beauty, I think,' said Mr Rice Rice, junior,
+taking up an eyeglass, and finding some difficulty in fixing it in his
+eye. He had lately discovered that he was nearsighted, to the great
+grief of his mother, who, however, sometimes spoke of the sad fact in
+the same tone that she used to speak of the Rice Rice, and Morgan of
+Glanwilliam families. She herself belonged to the latter.
+
+'I vow she's lovely!' cried the baronet, so emphatically that every one
+in the room might have heard him. Most of the ladies, doubtless, did,
+and appropriated the sentiment, but, by-and-by, Netta was triumphant, as
+he went and sat by her, and complimented her in very audible terms.
+
+She blushed and coquetted very respectably for a country damsel, and
+wondered whether a poor baronet, or a wealthy miser's son would best
+help her to humble the pride and condescension of the Nugents and the
+Rice Rices.
+
+Whilst Lady Mary Nugent was playing, Mr Gwynne very nearly went to
+sleep, and Rowland Prothero, who liked nothing but chants, and a solemn
+kind of music that he chose to think befitting a clergyman, was, in his
+turn, looking over the drawing-room scrap book. Miss Gwynne gave her
+papa a sly push, and whispered, that she believed Mr Rowland Prothero
+played chess.
+
+Mr Gwynne aroused himself, and challenged his young neighbour. Miss
+Gwyne, assisted by all the gentlemen, brought the chess-table, and the
+game soon began.
+
+There is no doubt that there is nothing in the world more selfish, more
+absorbing, more disagreeable to every one excepting the players, than
+chess. Mr Gwynne began his game half asleep; Rowland began his in a very
+bad temper. The former was glad of anything that could keep him awake,
+the latter was disgusted at having been made the victim of Miss Gwynne's
+anxiety to preserve her father from falling fast asleep in the midst of
+his guests. But, by degrees, the one was thoroughly aroused, and the
+other forgot his annoyance. Both soon ignored the presence of any human
+being save himself and his opponent.
+
+Music and talking sounded on all sides, but they made no impression on
+the chess-players. Lady Mary performed all her most brilliant airs and
+variations in vain, as far as Mr Gwynne was concerned; and Rowland was
+even unconscious that Netta had resolutely played through all the small
+pieces she had learnt at school at the particular request of Sir Hugh
+Pryse.
+
+'That game will never finish,' at last exclaimed Lady Mary, approaching
+Mr Gwynne. 'How can any one like chess?'
+
+Mr Gwynne kept his finger on a piece he was about to move, glanced up,
+but did not speak.
+
+'They tell me you ought to have at least five or six moves in your eye
+whilst you are making one,' said Sir Hugh. 'For my part, I always find
+one move at a time more than I can manage. It certainly is the dullest
+game ever invented.'
+
+'Chess is a game of great antiquity,' said the Rev. Jonathan
+sententiously. 'It is supposed to have been invented in China or
+Hindustan, and was known in the latter place by the name _Chaturanga_,
+that is, four _angas_, or members of an army.'
+
+'The army must be proud to send such members to parliament,' said young
+Rice Rice, with a consciousness of superior wit, in which the remainder
+of the party did not appear to participate.
+
+'True, young gentleman,' said Mr Jonathan, 'and well she might, for they
+were elephants, horses, chariots, and foot-soldiers; but what such
+members of an army have to do with parliament, I should be glad to hear
+you explain. I do not remember mention being made of parliament till the
+twelfth century. It was first applied to general assemblies in France
+during the reign of Louis the Seventh; and the earliest mention of it in
+England is in the preamble to the statute of Westminster in 1272. It is
+derived from the French word _parler_, to speak.'
+
+'Then,' said Miss Gwynne, 'there must be some truth in what I have
+heard, that the first parliament was composed of women.'
+
+'Good, good, 'pon my soul!' roared Sir Hugh.
+
+'But Sir William Jones says of chess,' continued Mr Jonathan, in the
+same unchanged tone and manner, 'that the Hindus--'
+
+'Oh, my dear, pray do not let us hear anything of Sir William Jones; I
+am sick to death of all the Jones',' interrupted Mrs Prothero, causing a
+diversion, and a suppressed laugh at her expense, instead of at young
+Rice Rice's, who had made the last sally upon Mr Jonathan, and a
+somewhat mortifying retreat.
+
+It was remarkable, that whoever made a sly attack upon that worthy, with
+a view to a joke, was sure to have the tables turned upon him, by the
+matter-of-fact way in which his joke was received, refuted, and cut to
+pieces.
+
+'I assure you, my dear, there have been many very celebrated Jones', Sir
+William at the head of them. He was a great Oriental scholar. Then there
+was Inigo Jones, the architect; and John Paul Jones, the admiral; and Dr
+John Jones, the grammarian, born in this very county; and--and--'
+
+'That celebrated Mr David Jones, Mr Prothero, whose locker was so deep
+that I am sure he must have been a relation of the admiral,' suggested
+Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Truly so, my dear--but I have read--'
+
+'I am afraid I must trouble you to order my carriage, Mr Gwynne,' said
+Lady Mary, looking impatiently, first at the chess-table, secondly at
+her daughter, who was engaged in animated nonsense with Mr Rice Rice,
+junior; and thirdly at Sir Hugh, still occupied in making Netta blush.
+
+'I beg your pardon; one moment, Lady Mary; I must just castle my king.'
+
+'Perhaps you had better put an end to the game, papa,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Not for the world, my dear. What do you say, Mr Rowland?'
+
+'I should certainly like to finish it, but perhaps we are
+inconveniencing others.'
+
+'Ah, yes, to be sure. Then will you come and dine with me to-morrow, and
+we will finish it?'
+
+'Thank you, I shall be very happy,'
+
+Mr Rice Rice, junior, and Sir Hugh wished that they were good chess
+players. It was quite an honour to be invited to a family party at
+Glanyravon.
+
+'Put the chess-table into the book-room, Winifred, and lock the door.'
+
+Mr Gwynne actually rose in the excitement of the moment.
+
+'If the servants come they will disturb the men, and--and--all that sort
+of thing, you know.'
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland carried the chess-table into a small room,
+opening into the drawing-room, and duly locked the door after them.
+
+'I suppose you are fond of chess,' said Miss Gwynne for want of
+something to say.
+
+'Very,' said Rowland laconically, and she little knew what was passing
+in his mind.
+
+Always the same thoughts when in her presence--thoughts of mingled
+approbation and dislike. But she cared little what he thought of her.
+
+'Dry and pedantic, and very disagreeable,' was what she thought of him.
+
+'Your nephew is rather a sinking-looking young man,' were Lady Mary's
+words to Mrs Prothero, during his temporary absence.
+
+'Yes, he is very clever and gentlemanlike. He gained high honours at
+Oxford, and my cousin. Sir Philip Payne Perry, is going to procure him a
+London curacy,'
+
+Lady Mary looked still more favourably upon Rowland when he returned,
+with a flush on his face, from the book-room.
+
+'Do you know that young Prothero is a very handsome young man?' she said
+to Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Very handsome,' said Miss Gwynne, remembering her intentions for
+Wilhelmina. And the carriages were announced.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE MISER'S SON.
+
+
+It was Sunday evening, and all the inmates of Glanyravon Farm were
+either at church or chapel, with the exception of Netta and one of the
+servants, who remained to watch the sick Gladys. Netta said she had a
+headache, and preferred staying at home. By way of curing it she put on
+her best bonnet and went for a walk. As soon as she was out of sight of
+the house she set off at a pace that did not bespeak pain of any kind.
+She soon struck out of the country road, with its hedges of hawthorn,
+into a field, and thence into a small wood or grove, almost flanking the
+road. The warm June sun sent his rays in upon her through the trees, and
+helped them to cast checkered shadows upon her path, lighting up, every
+here and there, a bunch of fern or flowers, and brightening the trunks
+of the interlacing trees. As she saw the lights and shadows dancing
+before her she became serious for a moment, and fancied they were like
+the will-o'-the-wisp, and portended no good; but she soon quickened her
+pace, and at the first opening went out again into the road, where the
+sun was uninterrupted in his gaze, and her few fanciful thoughts took
+flight.
+
+She glanced furtively into one or two cottages as she passed them, and
+the absence of all inmates seemed to reproach her for her Sunday evening
+falsehood. At last she reached a small cross-road or lane, down which
+she turned, heedless of the profusion of wild roses that actually
+canopied the way. Another path, narrower still, and thickly bordered
+with blackberry bushes in full blossom, brought her to what seemed a
+large mass of brambles, low underwood, and occasional young oaks. There
+were, however, little patches of grass here and there amongst the
+thicket, and into one of these she got with some difficulty. This was
+the hall from which diverged one or two little passages, that looked so
+dark, narrow, and brambly, that they appeared inaccessible. But Netta
+managed to push aside some briars with her parasol and enter one. Almost
+at her first footstep she tore her pretty muslin dress, but folding it
+closer round her, she pushed her way. The smart pink bonnet was in great
+danger, but escaped uninjured.
+
+At last she found herself on the brink of a deep ravine, almost
+precipitous, and heard the sound of rushing water beneath her. Large,
+gloomy trees outspread their brawny arms on each side of this gorge and
+lovingly embraced above it, so that the rays of the sun were again
+thwarted in their purpose, and turned and twisted about before they
+could glance upon the dark waters below.
+
+Netta did not know all the tangles and tears she was to meet with when
+she set out on her walk. She had not visited this spot for some time,
+and then she had taken a more frequented path, on the other side of the
+ravine. She looked around, and down into the depth below, but she could
+see nothing but trees and brushwood. She was not strong-minded, so she
+began to be afraid. However, summoning up her courage, she pushed into
+a kind of broken stony path, down the side of the gully, and at the
+expense of a few more rents in the muslin dress, and some scratches on
+her hands, she succeeded in scrambling to the bottom.
+
+Here was a wild and beautiful scene. A waterfall rolled from a height,
+over rocks and brushwood, down into a foaming stream beneath, that
+rushed, in its turn, over huge stones through the dark ravine.
+
+As Netta stood almost at the base of the waterfall, and on the edge of
+the rapid brook, something like reflection took possession of her
+volatile mind. There was a solemn gloom and grandeur about the scene
+that reminded her of the Sabbath she was desecrating, and therewith of
+her parents, and her duty to them. For a moment--only for a moment--she
+thought she would return, and strive to atone for the falsehood, by
+giving up the object of her evening wandering. But a bright gleam of
+sunshine darted through the trees--the stream foamed and leapt towards
+it--the waterfall sparkled beneath--the arrowy fern glittered like gold,
+and Netta's heart forgot her duty, and thought of her recreant lover.
+Her repentance must come in gloom, her sin in sunshine.
+
+She plucked a bunch of the wild roses that hung around and above her,
+and dashed them petulantly into the stream. She watched them as their
+course was interrupted by the large masses of rock, and they were tossed
+here and there by the angry mischievous water. At last they hung
+trembling on a huge stone, stranded, as it were, on their impetuous
+course. Again, for a moment, a serious comparison arose in her mind, and
+she wondered whether her life might be like that of the flowers she had
+cast away from her? whether she might be carried, by the force of
+contending passions, and left to wither upon some hard shore that as yet
+she knew not of. Such ideas naturally present themselves to the mind of
+all who are not wholly devoid of imagination and when the rapid stream
+again bore, away the bunch of roses, and Netta saw them no more, she had
+quite believed that such would be her course upon the troubled waters of
+the world.
+
+But she was not long left to speculate upon her future. Whilst her eyes
+were yet fixed upon the spot whence the roses had vanished, she felt a
+hand on her shoulder, heard a voice call her name, and starting round,
+saw her cousin Howel behind her. He had crept so softly down that she
+had not heard him, and she uttered a sharp cry that sounded like one of
+terror, as she suddenly felt his touch.
+
+'A strange greeting, Netta,' were the first words, after they had shaken
+hands.
+
+'You frightened me, and why were you not here sooner? I have been
+waiting an hour,' was the rejoinder, in a tone of voice that belied the
+radiant joy of the young face.
+
+Suddenly Netta seemed to recollect something that brought a shadow over
+the sunshine.
+
+'Cousin Howel, I--I am very sorry for you. Poor Uncle Griff! How is
+aunt?--and you--you look ill, Howel; what is the matter?'
+
+It was difficult for Netta to know what to say about the death of the
+miser. She was not sorry, and she could not tell how her cousin felt.
+
+'Oh, yes; my mother is pretty well. I have been ill, but shall soon be
+all right again. Netta, how long is it since we met?'
+
+'A twelvemonth next Friday.'
+
+'You remember the day, dear Netta. Then you do not hate me, although
+they have done their best to make you do so, by calling me gambler,
+spendthrift, drunkard, and all the charming etceteras.'
+
+'Oh no, Howel.'
+
+'Take off that bonnet, and let me see if you are altered.' He unfastened
+the strings, and let the long black curls fall over the girl's neck.
+'No, you are only prettier than ever, cousin Netta. How would you look
+in lace and pearls, and all the goodly array of a fine lady?'
+
+'I don't know, Howel; but tell me what you wanted me for.
+
+'Just let me twist this bunch of roses into your hair first, to see how
+an evening toilette would become my pretty cousin Netta.'
+
+Howel had torn a spray from the rose-bush at their back, and he inserted
+it carelessly amongst the curls.
+
+'How well you look, Netta. I should like to see you in a ball-room. We
+will go together to plenty of balls, if you will only consent.'
+
+'I don't like those roses, cousin,' said Netta hastily, 'they are
+unlucky I think,' and she tore them from her hair, and threw them, as
+she had done the previous ones, into the brook. 'Now let us see where
+they will go.'
+
+'We have not time, Netta, and I do not know why I am fooling away the
+hours. You must answer all my questions truly and plainly. I am become a
+rich man, how rich I do not myself know; and I mean to let every one
+belonging to me see that I can spend my money like a gentleman, and be
+as grand as those who have hitherto lorded it over me.'
+
+'Particularly the Rice Rices and Lady Mary Nugent,' interrupted Netta.
+
+'Would you like to be grander than they, Netta? have a finer carriage,
+more beautiful clothes, a handsomer house, plate, jewels, servants, and
+all sorts of magnificence?'
+
+'Oh, yes, of all things in the world.'
+
+'Then you shall be my wife, Netta, and we will soon see whether we
+cannot be as grand as the grandest.'
+
+'Oh, cousin!'
+
+'Well, dear Netta; tell me, are you changed?'
+
+'No, cousin.'
+
+'If I ask your father's consent, and he gives it, will you marry me?'
+
+'You know we settled that long ago, cousin Howel; but father will not
+consent, unless--unless--'
+
+'Pshaw, but if I ask his consent, and he refuses it, will you marry me
+then, dear Netta, dear, dear cousin?'
+
+Howel fixed his large, piercing eyes upon Netta, who coloured and
+trembled, and murmured, 'Oh, Howel, I don't know--how can I?'
+
+'How can you? Who is to prevent you? We can marry and go abroad, and
+return and ask pardon, and I will take a fine house, and they will be
+only too proud to own us?'
+
+'Not father, Howel, unless--'
+
+'Unless I become a steady fellow, and settle down, as I mean to do, if
+you will marry me. But if you refuse me, I shall just go on as I am, or
+put an end to my wretched life perhaps.'
+
+'Howel, don't be so wicked,' cried Netta, bursting into tears.
+
+'Then, Netta, you must give me your promise to be mine, whether your
+father consents or not, whenever I write you word, through my mother,
+that I will have a carriage ready at the corner near the turnpike. But I
+can settle all particulars at the proper time, provided only you
+promise. Remember, you have told me hundreds of times that you will be
+my wife, and neither father nor mother should prevent it.'
+
+'I do not know--I cannot tell whether it would be right.'
+
+'Not right to save me from destruction, to make me what I ought to be,
+to cleave to your husband as if he were yourself, in spite of parents or
+relations! I am sure, Netta, that you are taught to do all this;
+besides, you cannot help it, if you love me. You know that I would have
+married you when I had nothing, as readily as I will now that I have
+tens of thousands, and surely this deserves a return?'
+
+Netta began to sob.
+
+'You know how it is, Howel. I am afraid of father, and could not bear to
+annoy mother, but--'
+
+'But you love me better still, Netta; so do not cry, and we will be as
+happy as the day is long. Will you promise me?'
+
+Netta sobbed on and hesitated.
+
+'I am going to London to-morrow, cousin Netta, to pay debts, and make
+myself clear of the world. If you will promise, in a few months I will
+return for you; we will travel, we will do anything in the world you
+like; I shall have plenty of money, I shall probably write a book when
+we are abroad, which will make me famous as well as rich; we will come
+home and astonish the world. If you do not promise, I shall never come
+here again, and shall probably live a gay, wretched life on the
+continent, or elsewhere, and be really the good-for-nothing fellow I am
+thought to be;--will you promise, dear cousin Netta?'
+
+Howel knew well how to assume a manner that should add force to the
+feelings he expressed, and rarely did he employ his powers of persuasion
+in vain, particularly with the fair sex, never with his cousin, to whom
+he was really attached, and who was wholly devoted to him.
+
+'Netta,' he added, in a low, sad voice, 'I fear, after all, you do not
+love me, and I have very few who care for me in this world.'
+
+'Do not say this, cousin,' sobbed Netta, 'you know I always promised--I
+always said--I--I--will do anything in the world you wish me, cousin
+Howel.'
+
+'Even if your father refuses?'
+
+'Yes, I will not care for any one but you.'
+
+'Thank you, dear Netta; now I know that we shall be happy, and you shall
+have everything you can desire.'
+
+'Stop, cousin; I shall not marry you because you are rich, or great, or
+likely to be as grand as other people--though I should like to put them
+down, just as well as you--but because we have loved each other ever
+since we were little children, and I could not care for any one
+else--not even if Sir Hugh Pryse were to ask me.'
+
+Howel was both touched and amused.
+
+'You are a good, kind, little cousin, Netta; but what can you mean about
+Sir Hugh?'
+
+Netta tossed her head, and looked vain-glorious.
+
+'Oh, I dined at Glanyravon on Thursday, and the Rice Rices, and Nugents,
+and Sir Hugh were there; and Sir Hugh was very attentive to me, and said
+a great many things to me. And he has been at our house since, and has
+met me in the road, and been as polite as possible.'
+
+'But he is desperately in love with Miss Gwynne, or her fortune; so you
+need not alarm yourself, my little cousin.'
+
+'You need not alarm _yourself_, you ought to say,' and Netta again
+tossed her head.
+
+'Well, I am not jealous. Sir Hugh, with his loud voice, vulgar manners,
+and stupid fat face, could not light a candle to me, and as to his
+title, I will back my fortune against that.'
+
+'It sounds very grand to be called my lady.' Netta said this to pique
+her cousin, and she succeeded; but she did not expect to provoke the
+storm that she raised. The dark brow lowered, and he said,--
+
+'Netta, I am in no mood to be trifled with. If you wish to be 'my lady,'
+take Sir Hugh, if he will have you; but I go halves with nobody. Now is
+the time to resolve; I shall never ask you again; and whatever your
+opinion may be upon the subject, I consider that I do you as great
+honour in asking you to be my wife, as if there were fifty Sir Hughs at
+your feet.'
+
+It was now Netta's time to pout and look cross. She generally did before
+her private interviews with her cousin ended. Their quick tempers were
+sure to inflame each other.
+
+'I am sure I don't care whether you ask me again or not. It is not such
+a great favour on your part.'
+
+'Very well; then "your ladyship" has probably decided in favour of
+this,' and Howel made a face to represent Sir Hugh swelling his cheeks
+to their utmost extent. Netta tried to smother a laugh.
+
+'I am sure he is quite as good looking as you are, with your cross face.
+You are enough to frighten one out of one's wits.'
+
+'If you had any, Miss Netta. But come, this is absurd. Is it to be Sir
+Hugh in perspective, or cousin Howel at once?'
+
+Netta was still pouting, fidgeting with her parasol, and restlessly
+pushing her foot through the grass and flowers, when they were startled
+by a voice crying,--
+
+'Is that you, Netta?'
+
+Both looked up in affright, and, to their extreme disgust, perceived
+their very sedate brother and cousin, Rowland, threading his way down
+the opposite side of the ravine. He was soon at the bottom, and in less
+than a minute had crossed from stone to stone over the brook, and stood
+by the side of his sister.
+
+'Netta, what can you be doing here?' he asked abruptly.
+
+'I came for a walk,' was the somewhat hesitating reply.
+
+'Then, perhaps, you will have no objection to walk home with me,' said
+Rowland, looking reproachfully at Howel. He met a defiant glance in
+return.
+
+'Howel,' he said, 'I do not think my father would approve of Netta's
+meeting you here, and, I therefore, must beg to break up an interview
+that had been better avoided.'
+
+'Whatever right your father may have, sir, to prevent my seeing your
+sister, at any rate you have none,' was Howel's indignant reply.
+
+'Then I shall take a brother's right, and in the absence of my father,
+assume his place. Netta, you know you are doing wrong; come with me.'
+
+Netta hesitated, but her brother's manner was authoritative, and she
+felt that she dared not disobey.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Rowland, you have always assumed a tone with me
+that I neither can nor will brook,' passionately exclaimed Howel.' I beg
+you to account for your conduct, and to understand that I will have
+either an apology or satisfaction for your ungentlemanly proceedings.'
+
+'I never apologise when I have done no wrong; and as for satisfaction,
+as you understand it, I have not the power of making it. I will not
+desecrate the Sabbath by an unseemly quarrel amidst the most beautiful
+works of creation, nor offend my sister's ear by recrimination. If you
+have any real regard for her, you will allow her to go home quietly with
+me, and remember that we are all relations, and ought to be friends.'
+
+'Friends we can never be. The only friend I have in your family is Owen,
+except, perhaps, Netta, who is turned by one and the other of you, like
+a weathercock by the winds.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, cousin Howel,' began Netta.
+
+'We have had enough of this,' said Rowland calmly. 'If you choose to
+come and see us as a relation, in a straightforward manner, Howel, we
+should be glad to see you, but underhand ways are equally disagreeable
+to us all.'
+
+'How remarkably condescending!' said Howel with a sneer. 'But I will not
+waste time with a canting, Methodist parson like you. I wish you as many
+converts as you desire, but not myself amongst them. Remember, Netta!
+Good bye. I suppose your most excellent brother will allow us to shake
+hands.'
+
+Netta held out her hand, and as Howel shook it, he again repeated the
+word 'remember.' Rowland advanced a pace or two, and partly extended his
+hand. Howel turned abruptly away, and with a contemptuous glance, merely
+said, 'Good day to you,' The brother and sister took an opposite course
+to his, and had to cross the brook, whilst he pushed his way through the
+briers that had impeded Netta's path. He turned and watched them as they
+stepped from stone to stone, and finally ascended the ravine. Netta
+looked round, and he kissed his hand to her, to which she responded by
+nodding her head; but Rowland neither turned to the right nor left.
+
+'Meddling coxcomb!' he exclaimed, 'what is there in him that commands
+the attention and respect that I fail to obtain with ten times his
+talents?'
+
+He stood for a few minutes musing, whilst the music of the waterfall
+insensibly soothed his irritated mind.
+
+'Why should I care for Netta, who could marry any one I like?' were his
+thoughts. 'I suppose because she really loves me, and because they all
+oppose me. Well, supposing I do turn over a new leaf, and spend the gold
+my father got so usuriously, in doing good! That would be making a use
+of a miser's money, rarely, if ever, made before? and might be worth the
+trial, if only to work a new problem, whether ill-gotten wealth could
+conduce to moral health. I should like to out-Herod that puppy Rowland,
+and make a saint of myself out of a sinner. That would be working out
+two problems at once. I wonder whether Netta will help me to solve
+them?'
+
+Netta, meanwhile, was receiving a very severe lecture from her brother,
+to which she did not condescend to reply, until he spoke of what his
+father would say to her meeting Howel clandestinely,
+
+'I suppose you are not going to be cross enough to tell father,' said
+Netta'
+
+'I shall certainly think it my duty to tell him,' was the reply.
+
+'Then you are an unkind, unfeeling, unnatural brother,' cried Netta,
+bursting into tears.
+
+'Will you promise not to meet Howel again without my father or mother's
+consent?' asked Rowland, relenting,
+
+'I won't promise anything? and Howel is a thousand times nicer and
+kinder than you are. You have no feeling for any one. I wish Owen were
+at home.'
+
+'Netta, you are very unjust? you know I only wish your good.'
+
+'And I suppose you wish Howel's good, too. Just as his father is dead,
+and he meaning to be good, and only wishing to see me before he goes to
+London, and having plenty of money to do what he likes, and intending to
+pay his debts with it, and--and--'
+
+Here sobs and tears came to the rescue of the voluble words that would
+soon have worn themselves out--for Netta had no great flow of language.
+
+Rowland was perplexed. He was fond of his sister? he wished Howel well?
+he did not know whether it would be best to let them marry or not. If
+they were prevented, they would either take French leave, or hate all
+their relations? and if they married they would not be happy, he was
+sure. But he knew it was wrong to deceive his parents. In this uncertain
+state of mind they reached home, through, the little hawthorn lane
+before described. Mrs Prothero was on the look out for them, she having
+returned from chapel and missed them.
+
+Netta ran past her mother into the house, without replying to her
+question concerning her headache, and Rowland at once related to his
+mother what he had seen of Howel and Netta's private interview, which
+that good lady was very much distressed to hear.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE IRISH BEGGAR.
+
+
+Glanyravon farm was anything but a quiet home during the ensuing week.
+Mrs Prothero thought it right to inform her husband of what had passed;
+and he blustered and raged even more than he had ever done about the
+Irish beggars. Everybody thought proper to try to convert Netta, but
+none of them knew the indomitable obstinacy of her character, and all
+signally failed. Even Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had their turn, and drove
+over on purpose to canvass the matter; but as the elders disagreed upon
+the various points at issue, it was no wonder that all remained much as
+it was before the unfortunate meeting we have mentioned.
+
+'For my part,' said Mrs Jonathan Prothero, when all were assembled,
+except Netta, in family conclave, 'I cannot see so much against the
+young man after all. Such a fortune as his is not to be met with every
+day, and I must say he is very handsome and clever.'
+
+Here we must remark that this lady's sentiments had undergone a change,
+since it had been rumoured that Howel was worth more than a hundred
+thousand pounds.
+
+'I tell you what it is, ma'am,' roared the farmer, 'if he were worth his
+weight in gold, he 'ouldn't be a good match for any prudent 'ooman. To
+my certain knowledge he drinks and gambles, and he shall never have my
+consent to marry Netta so long as I live, and you may tell him so.'
+
+'I do not know enough of him, sir, to have any communication of the kind
+with him,' said Mrs Jonathan, stiffly.
+
+'My dear,' interposed mild Mrs Prothero, 'if he gets steady, and settles
+down, it might be better to let them marry, than to make them miserable
+for life.'
+
+'_Study_! miserable! mother, you're a--I beg your pardon, but when
+Howel's study, I'll turn to smoking cigars. Why, the very night of his
+father's funeral he was half drunk, instead of being decent for once.'
+
+'He couldn't care much for his father, my dear; you must make
+allowances.'
+
+'An odd man, that Griff, brother David,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero, as
+if just awaking from a dream. 'Do you remember when we were lads
+together, and used to go up to Garn Goch looking for treasures? I knew,
+even then, that it was an old British encampment, and began to speculate
+upon its date, and so on; you used to hunt rabbits, and provoke me by
+overturning the walls, but Griff got it into his head that there was
+money buried somewhere, and never ceased digging for it. At last he
+found an old coin of very ancient date, and seeing that I wished to have
+it, he bargained with me, until he got all the money I had for it. Of
+course the coin was worth any money, and satisfactorily proves that Garn
+Goch was an old British encampment at the time of the invasion of the
+Romans.'
+
+'Well, brother, you _are_ by the head! That old coin is nothing but a
+well-used sixpence.'
+
+'I have every reason to believe, and I am supported in my opinion by
+various antiquaries, that it bears the inscription either of Cunobelin
+or Caractacus. There is a decided C, and we are told that money was
+coined in Britain in the time of Cunobelin.'
+
+'And how on earth did he get up to Garn Goch?'
+
+'Why, you know that Caractacus commanded the Silures, or people of South
+Wales, against the Romans, and that they held out bravely, I have no
+shadow of doubt that Garn Goch was one of their strongholds.'
+
+'But what can Garn Goch have to do with Netta and Howel? Brother, I
+always shall say you are by the head with your antiquities.'
+
+'Well, I think you had better let them marry, I really do. It's no good
+opposing young people, when they will have their own way at last.'
+
+'I sha'n't send for you to consult with again. Mother, go and bring
+Netta here, and let us see what she has to say for herself.'
+
+'My dear Davy, would it not be better to speak to her privately?'
+
+'Not a bit. I can't say a word when I am alone with her, but I could
+give her a bit of my mind when you are all present. Why don't you go,
+and not stand looking as if you was as much by the head as brother Jo.'
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero perceived that her husband was determined to have
+Netta publicly reprimanded, so, much against her will, she left the
+room. Rowland was preparing to follow, not liking the prospect of a
+scene, when his father peremptorily called him back.
+
+'Stay you, sir. If you was the better for going to Oxford, you'd try to
+teach your sister how to behave, instead of cutting off the moment
+you're wanted.'
+
+'I really do not think, father, that a public reproof is likely to make
+Netta change her mind. You would do better to talk quietly to her.'
+
+Here Mrs Prothero returned, followed by Netta, looking as sulky as she
+possibly could, and with the traces of tears on her face. There was an
+awkward silence for a few seconds, during which both Mr Prothero and
+Netta were getting redder and redder, and their inner man
+correspondingly choleric. At last the father began the strife.
+
+'Now, I say, Miss Netta,' there was a pause for a few minutes. 'Do you
+hear, miss?'
+
+'Yes, father, I hear very well,' said Netta, and muttered to herself in
+continuation, 'who could help it?'
+
+'You hear very well--I should think so. You hear a good deal you've no
+business to listen to. Do you mean to give up that scamp Howel?'
+
+No reply.
+
+'Now it's no use for you to stand there and say nothing, for an answer I
+will have.'
+
+'I don't think he's a scamp,' said Netta boldly.
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero trembled, and looked imploringly at Netta.
+
+'My dear Netta, you should not contradict your father,' said Mrs
+Jonathan, with a severe look.
+
+'You don't think he's a scamp. Then you mean to have him, I suppose?'
+said Mr Prothero.
+
+'I didn't say that, father. But I don't see why I may not speak to my
+own cousin.'
+
+Every one was surprised at Netta's answers. Like her father, she could
+talk better before numbers. She had done nothing but cry when her mother
+had reasoned with her.
+
+'Very well, miss. All I can say is, that if you meet him again
+I'll--I'll--I'll--' the good farmer did not know what he would do. He
+was not prepared to say.
+
+'He is gone to London, father,'
+
+'Will you promise not to meet him any more, you good-for-nothing girl,
+you? You most disobedient daughter!'
+
+Again Netta was silent.
+
+'Will you promise your father, Netta,' said Mrs Prothero, gently, 'not
+to meet Howel again, or have anything to say to him, without his
+consent?'
+
+Still Netta was silent.
+
+'He may reform, you know,' suggested Mrs Jonathan, 'and then you may be
+allowed to marry,'
+
+'No chance of that,' roared Mr Prothero, advancing towards Netta, taking
+her by the arm, and looking as if a few more of her rejoinders would
+bring her a good shaking. 'Do you mean to promise, miss?'
+
+'Father, you're hurting me,' said Netta petulantly. 'You needn't pinch
+me so.'
+
+Mr Prothero relaxed his hold. He doated on this obstinate, pretty,
+wilful child of his--the only girl, and whose temper was the very
+facsimile of his own.
+
+'It's you're hurting me most, Netta, by rushing into certain misery.
+Will you promise?'
+
+Again he took hold of the arm.
+
+'One would think you were a Papist, father, and this the Inquisition,'
+said Netta, growing learned under the torture of her father's grasp,
+
+'Well said, Netta,' broke in Mr Jonathan, aroused by any allusion to any
+subject out of the present. 'A cruel court that perhaps more properly
+called Jesuitical than Papistical.'
+
+Mr Prothero gave Netta a slight shake, which shook more passion into
+both of them, and frightened Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Once for all, Netta, will you promise to give up that scamp of a cousin
+of yours, Howel Jenkins?' roared the father.
+
+'I won't promise anything at all,' replied Netta doggedly; and freeing
+herself from her father, she ran to her uncle as if for protection.
+
+'You won't!' said Mr Prothero, pursuing her, 'then I tell you what it
+is. The moment you are known to keep company with him, you may find some
+other home than this; and if you determine to marry him, you shall be no
+longer a daughter of mine. I'll never, as long as I live--'
+
+'Hush, hush, David, hush, please,' said Mrs Prothero, putting her hand
+on his arm. 'Netta will not disobey us, I am sure. But it is her
+obstinate temper; she never would say anything she was commanded to
+say.'
+
+'Then you ought to have taught her better. She is a good-for-nothing
+girl, and I'll--'
+
+'Netta, you had better leave the room,' said Rowland, opening the door,
+through which Netta gladly escaped. '"Fathers, provoke not your children
+to wrath,"' he added, turning to his father. 'You will do nothing with
+her at present. She is worked up to a spirit of resistance by too much
+argument, and the more you say the more obstinate she will become.'
+
+'You are all as obstinate as mules,' said Mr Prothero; 'I can't think
+who you turn after. And then to have the impudence to say I was a
+Papist! Why, I'd rather be a Methody preacher any day. And you to
+encourage her, brother Jonathan. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'
+
+Brother Jonathan started up from his dream of Garn Goch and the
+Inquisition, to repudiate the imputation of encouragement.
+
+'I was merely glad to find that she knew anything about the Inquisition,
+and had any information at all in her head; generally speaking, women
+know so little. I assure you, David, it was far from me to wish to
+encourage her in disobedience, or to offend you; so give me your hand.'
+
+The brothers shook hands very warmly, and in so doing, the contrast
+between them was very great. The farmer I have already described. The
+clergyman was a remarkable specimen of the 'dry-as-dust' species. Very
+tall, very thin, with very loose joints, seemingly hung together on
+wires, and a very prominent nose. He had acquired the habit of poking
+his chin and looking on the ground, as if he were always in search for
+something, which he possibly was, as he never despaired of finding some
+antiquity or curiosity at any moment. It must not be augured from his
+devotion to antiquarian lore that he made a bad clergyman On the
+contrary, he was always ready at the call of the poorest parishioner,
+regular in his visits to the sick, charitable in no mean degree, and
+humble in his deportment to rich and poor. True, his sermons were
+somewhat dry, and occasionally too learned for the greater portion of
+his flock; but he made up for this by the simplicity of his conversation
+when he talked to them at their own houses.
+
+He seldom was seen without a sort of school-boy satchel at his back,
+containing a small hammer and other useful tools, which, it was
+believed, had actually carried his lesson-books years ago. All the
+villagers knew his strong-and-weak point, and he rarely appeared amongst
+them without having various stones and imaginary curiosities presented
+to him, particularly by the young people. Many of these stones found
+their way into his bag, and it was not to be wondered at that he had a
+somewhat round back, as he frequently carried a load upon it, that a
+beast of burden would not have rejoiced in.
+
+He and Mrs Jonathan were a remarkable pair; one of those ill-assorted
+couples that you wonder at. 'How in the world did they come together?'
+was the usual question, the philosophic reply to which would have been,
+that theirs was actually one of the 'Matches made in heaven.' The
+gentleman got money to enable him to follow the bent of his genius
+without anxiety for his daily bread, and therewith a stirring wife to
+take care of him and his house; the wife got her great desideratum, a
+husband, and therewith the desideratum of all women, her own way.
+
+But we must return to Netta and the other belligerents. As nothing more
+was to be made of her at present, they let her alone, perhaps the wisest
+thing they could do, and sat down to dinner. Netta declined eating, and
+consequently was left to her own reflections. Mr Prothero inquired
+anxiously of his wife, when he had cooled a little, whether he had
+really hurt Netta when he took hold of her arm; to which Mrs Prothero
+replied with unusual severity, 'No, perhaps it had been better if you
+had; she wanted some trial or punishment to bring down her proud
+spirit.'
+
+In the course of the evening, a little before Mr and Mrs Jonathan left
+Glanyravon to return home, Miss Gwynne came to inquire for the poor
+Irish girl. She joined the party in the parlour for a short time, and
+gave a message from her father to Rowland, to the effect that he was
+very anxious for another game of chess, and begged him to come and dine
+at the Park on the morrow. Of course Rowland was only too happy, and the
+rest of the party too proud.
+
+'Papa is disgusted at your having beaten him the other night,' said Miss
+Gwynne to Rowland.
+
+'I think Mr Gwynne got tired,' said Rowland modestly.
+
+'What affectation,' thought Miss Gwynne, as she said, 'oh, no! he says
+you are the best player.'
+
+'I disclaim that entirely,' said Rowland. 'I merely beat two games out
+of three, and we had not time for another.'
+
+Rowland had been, according to promise, to dine and play chess with Mr
+Gwynne; Miss Gwynne had dined with them, but had left them after dinner
+to follow their own devices, whilst she had followed hers, and did not
+reappear during the evening. Mr Gwynne had reproached her for her
+absence, and she had declared that she hated to be so long without
+talking, and that chess and young Prothero were perfect antidotes to
+conversation.
+
+'That ancient, Saracenic game, as Mr Jonathan Prothero calls it, played
+by a Goth,' she said, 'is beyond my store of politeness.'
+
+Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne went to see the poor Irish girl; they found
+her rather better, and able to speak to them with some degree of
+composure. The fever and its accompanying delirium had abated, and the
+danger was past; but, as is usual in such cases, extreme weakness was
+the result.
+
+'God bless you, my ladies,' she murmured, as Miss Gwynne stooped over
+her to inquire how she did, and Mrs Prothero took her thin hand. 'I am
+better, thank ye; I can see and understand, and know now all that you
+have done for the wretched beggar.'
+
+Here the poor girl's tears began to flow.
+
+'We only wish to see you get well,' said Miss Gwynne softly, 'and then
+we can help you to find your friends.'
+
+'I have no friends in the world miss, asthore; my father died years ago,
+and my mother, brother, and sister all died of this horrible famine and
+pestilence! oh me! oh me!'
+
+The tears flowed still faster, and Mrs Prothero begged her to be silent,
+and not to excite herself; but with restless eagerness she went on, as
+if anxious to pour forth her sorrows whilst she felt the strength to do
+so. It was remarkable that her English was very good, and that, with the
+exception of an occasional Irish epithet of endearment, you would
+scarcely have discovered her country. Indeed, the Welsh peculiarities of
+expression and accent sometimes appeared, so that it would have been
+difficult to say where she was born or brought up.
+
+'I am going to look for my friends, if I live, and then, may be, I may
+be able to repay you for your kindness to me, a poor, wretched wanderer
+on the face of God's earth. If you'll be pleased to listen whilst I have
+the strength, I will tell you my story.
+
+'My mother was a Welshwoman, born in some part of South Wales; she was
+the daughter of a clergyman, and respectably brought up. Her father
+taught her a great many things that we ignorant people in Ireland used
+to think a great deal of. Oh, she was a good and tender mother to me,
+ladies, avourneen.
+
+'My father was an Irishman, and a fine, handsome man. He was a soldier,
+a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers, and used to be called Corporal
+O'Grady. He was going through this country to Ireland, to visit his
+friends, on leave, when he first saw mother, and fell in love with her,
+and she with him. She knew that her father would not be willing that
+they should marry, so she ran away with him to Ireland. They travelled
+about for some time with his regiment, but, after I was born, mother
+went to settle in Ireland with father's family, and there she had three
+other children, two boys and a girl. After this my father was wounded in
+India, and got his discharge and his half-pay. He became a kind of
+under-agent for a gentleman that lived in England, so we were very well
+off as long as he lived; but he died when I was about twelve years old,
+and then mother did not well know what to do. I remember my father's
+death, and all our trouble, as if it was yesterday.
+
+'She set up a little school, and for some years did pretty well. She
+could teach all that the farmers' daughters wanted to learn, and I
+helped her; so we managed to live. It was a hard struggle sometimes, but
+everybody was kind to widow O'Grady and her orphans; God reward them.
+
+'But the bad time came for poor Ireland; the famine visited us, and
+then the pestilence! Ye have heard enough of the horrors, without doubt,
+but not half of what they really were. We were all starving, dying--I
+saw enough people die to make me wish myself dead hundreds of times, to
+be hidden from the sight; but I was fated to live. You, ladies, in your
+charity, have saved me again; but oh! if it were not wicked, I should
+wish myself with my mother, brothers, and sister in heaven.'
+
+Here the poor girl's sobs choked her speech, and Mrs Prothero entreated
+her not to proceed.
+
+'Only one word more, my ladies, and I have done. When they were all
+gone--all--all--and I only left, I did not care what became of me. I
+went about amongst those stricken down with the fever; but, woe is me, I
+never caught it. I fasted from morning to night, day after day, but I
+could not die of starvation; nothing would kill me. I was alone in the
+wide world, yet it would not please God to take me to another, much as I
+prayed to Him.
+
+'Before mother died she told me to go into Wales, and try to find if she
+had any relations left. It was all she said, or had strength for; and
+before she got ill she seldom talked of her friends. All that I know of
+them I heard from my father when I was quite a child. He told me that
+mother had written to her father when she settled in Ireland, and that
+her letter had been returned with a note, saying that he was dead, and
+his only son gone away, no one knew where. This was her brother, and my
+uncle, but I do not know where to find him, only I am come to seek them,
+that I may do her bidding.'
+
+'And what was your mother's name?' asked Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Margaret Jones, ma'am,'
+
+'My poor girl, there are hundreds of that name in South Wales. But we
+will make inquiries for you, and when you are better--'
+
+'I am better now, thank you, ma'am. To-morrow I think I may go on my
+way. I would not trouble you any more; a poor beggar like me is not
+fit--oh dear! oh dear!'
+
+'Now I insist on your being quiet and going to sleep, and forgetting all
+those horrors,' said Miss Gwynne, assuming her most decided voice to
+hide her emotion. 'You are not to go away to-morrow; but I daresay in a
+few days you will be able to do so, and we can help you a little. But
+your best plan now is to get as strong as you can whilst you have the
+opportunity,' and herewith Miss Gwynne put a large spoonful of jelly
+into the girl's mouth.
+
+Mrs Prothero was wiping her eyes, and stifling a rising sob behind the
+curtain, which caused Miss Gwynne to become very severe, and to utter
+something about giving way to foolish weakness which aroused Mrs
+Prothero, and made the patient bury her head beneath the bed-clothes.
+
+Miss Gwynne beckoned to Mrs Prothero, and they left the room together.
+Upon asking for Netta, Miss Gwynne was let into the secret of the family
+troubles and consultations, and greatly fearing to be made a party in
+the lecturings overhanging the luckless head of the offender, she took a
+hasty leave of Mr and Mrs Jonathan, and begging Mrs Prothero not to be
+too hard upon Netta, or to let her son Rowland preach too many sermons,
+went her very independent way.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+'You will oblige me by remaining at home this evening, my dear,' said Mr
+Gwynne to his daughter.
+
+'That I assuredly shall, papa,' was the reply, 'for dear Miss Hall is
+coming to-day, and that princess of bores, Miss Nugent, has invited
+herself to tea. I certainly do wish Rowland Prothero would fall in love
+with her. She is quite ready for the _premier venu_, be he prince or
+peasant.'
+
+'Does not Lady Mary come, my dear?'
+
+'No; I am thankful to say she is gone to spend a few days with the
+Llanfawr family.'
+
+'I am very glad Miss Hall is coming, Freda. I wish she would live with
+you; it would be very pleasant, and a protection for you, and all that
+sort of thing.'
+
+'Oh, do ask her, dear papa. I have tried a thousand times to persuade
+her to come here and live with us for ever; but I think she will not
+come on my invitation.'
+
+'I could not possibly ask her, my dear. I should break down at the first
+word; we never were very familiar. She is stiff, and I am
+nervous--and--and--I really could not summon courage.'
+
+Miss Hall had been Miss Gwynne's governess during a few years of her
+education era, and had succeeded in entirely gaining her affections, as
+well as a small portion of ascendancy over her determined will. She had
+left Glanyravon to reside with an aged father, who, having lately died,
+left her again under the necessity of seeking a situation. Miss Gwynne
+had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost
+immediately.
+
+She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage
+that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in
+great excitement, and scarcely allowed her _ci-devant_ governess to
+alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces. Mr Gwynne followed
+somewhat more leisurely, and received Miss Hall with his usual nervous
+reserve of manner, but great courtesy. She responded most warmly to the
+embraces of Freda, and quietly to the welcome of Mr Gwynne.
+
+We will not give a minute description of the new comer, because she is
+not quite a person to be described. She is neither very good-looking nor
+very plain, neither very old nor very young, neither very tall nor very
+short, neither very talkative nor very reserved, neither very much
+over-dressed nor very much under-dressed, neither very merry nor very
+grave. Freda used to say that she was the personification of gentle
+dignity and serenity, and in the days of her Italian studies called her
+occasionally _La Dignità_, but more frequently _La Serenità_, which
+epithet would sometimes be abbreviated into Serena, or Sera, or Nita, or
+anything but Miss Hall, which the love of the impulsive pupil, so hard
+to obtain, and so great when obtained, thought much too formal.
+
+When Freda took Miss Hall to the delightful apartment she had been
+adorning for her for a week past, the first impulse of the older lady
+was to throw herself upon the neck of the younger, and burst into tears.
+
+'Dearest Serena, I have been so very sorry for you,' was all that Freda
+could say.
+
+For a minute there was silence, when Miss Hall, recovering herself,
+said,--
+
+'Dear Freda, this is all so kind of you. If anything could console me
+for the loss of my last earthly support, it is such affection as yours.'
+
+We will pass over the long conversation of those two friends, its
+melancholy and its mirth, for there was much of both, and bring them to
+the dinner-table and Messrs Gwynne and Rowland Prothero.
+
+They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not
+flow easily. Mr Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarrassment Miss Hall's
+natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make
+herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited,
+were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees,
+however, they thawed a little. Mr Gwynne wished to say something that
+would set his young chess opponent at his ease, and said the very thing
+likely the most to confuse a shy man. He made a personal remark and paid
+a compliment.
+
+'I am sure your uncle and--and your father, of course, must have been
+much gratified, and so forth, at your gaining that fellowship at
+Oxford.'
+
+'I think you labour under a mistake,' said Rowland, looking more than
+usually confused when he saw Miss Gwynne's eyes turned upon him; 'I
+merely gained a scholarship at Rugby, which is really nothing. I did not
+even try for a fellowship.'
+
+'Conceited!' thought Freda. 'I suppose he thinks if he had tried he
+would have got one.'
+
+'Were you not at Baliol?' asked Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Yes; I went there because my aunt had a fancy for the college, her
+father having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College
+and tried for a Welsh fellowship, which is more easily obtained, because
+there are few competitors.'
+
+'Did you know anything of Mr Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked
+Miss Hall.
+
+'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we
+became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'
+
+'Is he clever?'
+
+'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to shine at the
+bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an
+invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have
+time before I go to be ordained.'
+
+'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in
+the corner of her eye.
+
+'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a
+blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'
+
+'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a--a great deal
+of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever,
+or I mean a--an enterprising woman.'
+
+Mr Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question,
+yet thinking it incumbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter
+glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so
+dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from
+Mr Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not
+help smiling, but said with much spirit,--
+
+'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt
+of gratitude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the
+world.'
+
+'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to
+London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.
+
+'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the
+reply.
+
+'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?'
+said Mr Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day?
+Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'
+
+Mr Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most
+respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.
+
+Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr Rowland Prothero. She
+was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with
+him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was
+to be ordained by the Bishop of London.
+
+There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in
+due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they
+found Miss Nugent awaiting them.
+
+'Whose _beaux yeux_ do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked
+Freda.
+
+'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent
+lisped.
+
+'Do you call his _beaux yeux_? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess
+again.'
+
+'Young Rithe Rithe?'
+
+'Wrong again.'
+
+'Not Captain Lewith?'
+
+'Some one much nearer home.'
+
+'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr Howel Jenkinth, who, they
+thay, will be quite a grand man.'
+
+'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr Rowland
+Prothero?'
+
+'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am
+thure he is very _gauche_ and countrified.'
+
+'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in
+excellent society, and is going at once to a London living--curacy I
+mean, but it is all the same.'
+
+Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been
+lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'
+
+'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho
+interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black
+hair, and thuch a beautiful voice. Ith Mr Prothero going to Tht
+Jameth'th?'
+
+'You shall ask him yourself; I daresay he will like you to seem
+interested.'
+
+'Are you going to Tht Jameth'th, Mr Prothero?' inquired Miss Nugent,
+when that young man entered the room shortly after.
+
+'I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand what you mean.'
+
+'Mith Gwynne thaid you were going to a London curacy; I thought it might
+be Tht Jameth'th.'
+
+'I believe not. If I go to London I shall probably be in the city--a
+very different locality to St James's.'
+
+'Oh! when we are in town we alwayth go to Tht Jameth'th, it ith thuch a
+nice church.'
+
+Freda perceived that Miss Nugent's interest fell as soon as she found
+that Rowland was going into the city. She also saw a smile lurking about
+Rowland's mouth when he said,--
+
+'I have never been in London; but I suppose St James's is one of the
+fashionable parts.'
+
+'Oh yeth, very. Numberth of grand people go to Tht Jameth'th; don't you
+with you were going to be curate there instead of the thity?'
+
+Rowland was grave in a moment.
+
+'I should wish to labour wherever there is the largest field to work in,
+Miss Nugent, whether in the city or St James's.'
+
+'Yeth, to be sure, I believe there are loths of poor people in Tht
+Jameth'th. I onthe went by chance into thuch a nathty alley clothe by
+Tht Jameth'th Threet. Thuch dirty children!'
+
+'Alas,' said Miss Hall, coming to the rescue of Rowland, who was looking
+quite distressed, 'we cannot go many steps in the London parishes, be
+they fashionable or unfashionable, without entering a "vineyard" amply
+wide enough for any one who wishes to work in it, whether priest or
+layman.'
+
+Rowland looked round brightly and pleasantly at Miss Hall. Freda could
+not help noticing the sudden animation in a face that she had considered
+a minute ago almost heavy.
+
+'When are we to have our game at chess?' interrupted Mr Gwynne. 'The
+poor of London is a subject I quite dread to hear discussed, it is so
+hopeless. One can do no good, and what is the use of tormenting oneself
+about it here in Wales.'
+
+'Oh, papa! they want very decided measures; plenty of police, active
+magistrates, and I don't know what besides,' said Freda.
+
+'Would you allow me to supply what you have omitted?' asked Rowland;
+'they want Christian sympathy, Christian teaching, brotherly kindness,
+and the aid of the rich and powerful.'
+
+Freda considered Rowland's finale to her sentence impertinent and was
+about to take up the defence of her magisterial system very warmly,
+when she met a glance so earnest and appealing, and withal so beautiful
+in its earnestness, that she could not find in her heart to answer it by
+a hard look or word; so, for want of better reply, she went to prepare
+the chess-table.
+
+'I wish you joy of that Saracenic game,' she said ironically, as her
+father and Rowland sat down to chess, not perhaps quite by the wish of
+one of the pair.
+
+'I thought you liked chess, Freda?' said Miss Hall.
+
+'Oh, pretty well, when I can get any one who does not beat me. I hate so
+to lose a game that I think it is better not to play at all than to run
+the risk of feeling in a passion, and not being able to give vent to
+it.'
+
+'Perhaps the better plan would be to control the passion,' said Miss
+Hall.
+
+'Impossible! I am sure it must be just such a feeling as a good general
+would have if he lost a battle, after having done his best to win it.'
+
+'I suppose the best general is always the calmest, both in victory and
+defeat,' murmured Rowland, without taking his eyes from his men.
+
+'If you would oblige me by not talking,' said Mr Gwynne nervously; 'I
+can never play if my opponent talks.'
+
+'I beg your pardon,' said Rowland; 'I know it is very disagreeable.'
+
+'Are you too tired to visit some of your old haunts, Serenità?' said
+Freda. 'By the way that would be a good name for Mr Prothero's ideal
+general.'
+
+'Not quite,' began Rowland, but was silent in a moment.
+
+'My dear Freda, are you going out? I really am sorry to stop your
+amusement, and so forth, but I cannot play,' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Exactly, papa; we will go directly if Miss Hall likes.'
+
+The three ladies left the room, and, as Rowland glanced after them, he
+very decidedly wished that he might be permitted to accompany them. One
+other great wish he also had at his heart, the conversion of Miss Gwynne
+to a purer and higher tone of mind. He did not, we grieve to say, bestow
+a similar pastoral thought on Miss Nugent.
+
+'That position of your queen at such an early stage of the game must be
+an oversight, I think. Excuse me, but I could not take such an unfair
+advantage,' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+Rowland was roused at once. He gave himself up to his game, and an hour
+afterwards, when the ladies returned from their walk, and candles were
+ordered, it was still in progress, but he had the best of it.
+
+'Will you sing for us, Serena?' said Freda.
+
+'Will you sing a duet with me?' was the reply.
+
+The duet was sung, and another and another and another, and Rowland lost
+the game.
+
+Mr Gwynne arose, very much elated and rubbing his hands gently,
+according to his wont.
+
+'How do you feel, general, defeated?' asked Freda.
+
+'Very much like a subaltern,' said Rowland.
+
+'Do you sing, Mr Prothero?' asked Miss Hall; 'all the Welsh are so
+musical that I think there are few who have not voices.'
+
+'I sometimes sing chants and sacred music; but I know very few songs,
+and those old ones.'
+
+'Perhaps you will take the bass of some of these old glees. Here is "The
+Chough and Crow," "When shall we three meet again," "The Canadian Boat
+Song," "The Sicilian Mariner," and I know not how many more,' said Miss
+Hall, turning over the leaves of a thick old book full of glees.
+
+'I will do my best,' said Rowland, and the glees began in earnest.
+
+All the Protheros were musical, and Rowland had a very fine clear voice.
+Miss Hall was right in saying that the Welsh are a musical people;
+Rowland was a happy example. He had been studying Church music a good
+deal, and learning to take different parts, so he acquitted himself very
+creditably in the glees, all of which he had either tried or heard sung.
+Freda was quite astonished. She had a great taste for music herself, and
+a good voice, but would never sing with any one but Miss Hall, a piece
+of wilfulness that her father occasionally reproached her with. The
+addition of Rowland was rather agreeable to her, as it enabled them to
+sing the glees that she was fond of. She no longer objected to the
+chess, and when her father proposed giving Rowland his revenge on the
+morrow, she added, 'And then we can wind up with a few more glees.'
+
+Rowland bowed his thanks and departed.
+
+During the ensuing month there were frequent chess and glee clubs at
+Glanyravon. What the effect such associations had upon Rowland he never
+confided to any one, but when Miss Hall expressed her opinion that 'Mr
+Prothero was a sensible, unaffected young man, but shy,' Freda
+condescended to say, 'Well, he is not quite such a Goth or half as
+affected as I fancied he was, but he has a very good opinion of himself,
+nevertheless.'
+
+In due course Rowland went to London to be ordained, and so ended the
+chess and glee clubs.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SAILOR.
+
+
+Argument and persuasion were alike thrown away upon Netta Prothero. She
+would make no promises, no concessions; she stood her ground with the
+obstinacy of a Cadwallader. Her father stormed for about a week, when he
+got tired of the subject and of Netta's resolute manner and cross face,
+and gave it up. He heard that Howel had started for London, having put
+his affairs in the hands of an attorney, and that it was not at all
+unlikely that he would marry some lady of rank. He laughed heartily at
+the notion. It was also rumoured that he meant to return and take a
+place in the neighbourhood, stand for the county, and be one of the
+greatest men in South Wales. In short, the enchanter, the merlin, the
+open sesame, the omnipotent sorcerer _gold_ was to work the miracles to
+which Howel had been so long looking forward. And the gossips were not
+far wrong. Gold is truly a famous master-key to all hearts and to all
+companies.
+
+But whilst the gossips--and who is not a gossip in a country
+neighbourhood?--whilst the gossips were settling Howel's future so
+comfortably and respectably for him, he was dispensing his gold amongst
+gamblers and the like--paying debts of honour as they are called.
+
+However, Mr Prothero thought it not unlikely that what the gossips said
+might prove true, and was therefore tolerably comfortable about his
+spoilt pet, Netta. When his anger and her pouting had subsided, matters
+went on much as usual for a time at the farm. Even the blaze that was
+kindled at the incursion of the Irish girl, had well-nigh gone out, and
+Mr Prothero had nearly forgotten her existence.
+
+She, meanwhile, was slowly recovering under Mrs Prothero's kind care.
+One day, that good woman was sitting with her in the little room that
+had been allotted to her, and said,--
+
+'Is there anything you could think of that would amuse you, my dear?'
+
+'If I might--' Gladys began and paused.
+
+'Pray, go on, do not be afraid to ask.'
+
+'If I might only make up that cap for you, ma'am, I should be so proud.
+I used to make caps at home.'
+
+Mrs Prothero was manufacturing a cap for herself, and had a certain
+womanly fear as to how it would turn out, if transferred to other
+fingers; but she did not like to refuse the request, so she resigned it
+into the thin hands of Gladys. She was almost immediately called away,
+and did not return for some hours. When she again visited her invalid
+she found her quite excited with her work that she had just completed.
+
+'Oh, what a pretty cap!' said Mrs Prothero, quite astonished at the
+taste displayed. 'I must just run and show it to Netta--I am so much
+obliged to you.'
+
+Mrs Prothero left the room and soon returned, followed by her daughter.
+
+'Can you trim bonnets as well as make caps?' asked Netta, forgetful of
+infection when her personal interest was involved.
+
+'Yes, miss, a little,' replied Gladys modestly.
+
+'I wish you would trim mine for me to-morrow.'
+
+'Oh, thank you, miss! If you will only let me try I shall be so
+grateful.'
+
+'She does not seem like a beggar after all,' thought Netta. 'Who taught
+you to work so nicely?' she said aloud.
+
+'I was apprenticed to a mantua-maker and milliner for six months, miss,
+and after that I worked for the neighbours.'
+
+'How could you work for them, when they are all rags and tatters?'
+
+'There were some farmers' wives, miss,' said Gladys, colouring slightly,
+'and the clergyman's family, and the steward's--I used to work for
+them.'
+
+'Then how came you here?'
+
+'People couldn't work, or pay for work, miss, when every one was
+starvin' around them.'
+
+Mrs Prothero looked at Netta reproachfully. The girl was not really
+hard-hearted, so she changed the subject.
+
+'I daresay you can knit and mark samplers?' she said.
+
+'Yes, miss, mother taught us to do that at school.'
+
+'I think, Netta,' interrupted Mrs Prothero, 'that she must go to bed
+now. She looks tired, and has been up long enough.'
+
+'What a fuss mother makes about the girl,' muttered Netta as she left
+the room.
+
+The following day the bonnet was tastily trimmed under Netta's
+superintendence, and work enough hunted up to employ Gladys for a month
+at least. Netta even found an old cotton gown, which she presented to
+her in return for her labours. It was not long enough, but Gladys
+thought she might be able to lengthen it.
+
+Whilst her convalescence and Netta's needlework were thus progressing,
+there was an arrival at the farm. One evening the family were assembled
+in the large hall, their usual sitting-room. Mr Prothero was reading the
+newspaper at a small round table, with an especial candle to himself.
+His worthy wife was mending or making shirts. At another round table,
+not very far off, Netta had some work in her hands, and one of Captain
+Marryat's novels open before her.
+
+'Why don't you do your work instead of reading those trashy stories,
+Netta?' suddenly exclaimed Mr Prothero.
+
+'I am working, father,' said Netta.
+
+'Pretty working sure enough. What nonsense have you got reading now?'
+
+'Peter Simple, father, oh it is so funny.'
+
+'Ah! it was that stupid stuff, and 'The Pilot,' and 'The Spy,' and I
+don't know what else, that sent Owen off to sea. I suppose it's there
+you learn all your nonsense. I wish you would read the cookery book, and
+help your mother to take care of the house and dairy, instead of doing
+what's no good in the world.'
+
+A loud knocking at the door interrupted a rather pert reply.
+
+'Who on earth is that at this time of night?' exclaimed the farmer,
+throwing down his paper.
+
+'Shanno,' called Mrs Prothero into the passage, 'ask who it is before
+you open the door.'
+
+'It's no great things,' suggested Netta, 'for they're knocking with a
+stick, and not with the knocker.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, what's the row?' said the farmer.
+
+'Who's there?' demanded Shanno, in the passage.
+
+The answer did not reach the hall, but Shanno came rushing in, 'It's
+them Irishers again, master, upon my deet, they do be here for ever.'
+
+'Give me my stick!' exclaimed Mr Prothero, 'if I don't give them a
+lesson my name isn't David.'
+
+He seized a stick and went into the passage, followed by his wife,
+murmuring, 'Oh, David, bach,' and by Netta as far as the door, from
+which she peeped down the passage.
+
+'Who's there?' roared the farmer in a voice of thunder.
+
+'May it please yer honour, I'm cowld and hungry. Long life to yer honour
+and her leddyship, if yell only give the loan o' yer barn, or maybe yer
+loft, or--'
+
+'I'll show you the way to my barn, you idle, good-for-nothing scamp,'
+cried Mr Prothero, opening the door, and levelling a blow with his stick
+into the moonlight, that must infallibly have knocked down any one less
+agile than the man for whom it was intended. As it was, the unwelcome
+visitor jumped aside, whilst the portly farmer tripped himself up by his
+own impetuosity, and fell upon the threshold. Mrs Prothero and Netta
+screamed, and Shanno took hold of the beggar's arm, to prevent his
+escape. But the beggar had pulled Mr Prothero up, and was beginning to
+sympathise with him in broad brogue, when that valiant anti-Irishman got
+hold of his stick again, and began to belabour the unoffending party's
+back most manfully.
+
+'Enough's as good as a faist, yer honour,' cried the stranger, skipping
+from side to side, and evading the blows very skilfully; 'pon my sowl,
+yer honour 'ud do for a fair or a wake. 'Tis madam as has the heart an'
+the conscience for the poor Irish, an' miss, too, asthore!'
+
+The impudent fellow ran round to where Netta stood, who, in terror, went
+into the house, followed by the man, and after him, the rest in full hue
+and cry.
+
+'Tin thousand pardons, miss,' said the man, taking off his hat and
+confronting Netta.
+
+'Owen! Owen!' screamed Netta. 'For shame upon you, you naughty boy,' and
+therewith Netta and the unexpected guest were hugging one another, most
+lovingly.
+
+''Tis the mother will give the poor Irisher a lodgin' and a drop o' the
+cratur,' cried that mother's well-beloved eldest born almost catching
+her up in his arms, and smothering her with kisses. 'And the masther
+isn't so hard-hearted as he looks,' he added, shaking the astonished
+farmer by the hand.
+
+'Owen! oughtn't you to be ashamed of yourself?' cried the farmer,
+laughing aloud, and rubbing his right leg.
+
+'Not kilt intirely, yer honour! didn't I take you all in, that's all!'
+
+'Where did you come from? How did you come? When did you leave your
+ship?' were the questions reiterated on all sides of the welcome guest.
+
+'I'll tell you all that to-morrow. At present I am dying of cowld and
+hunger, and haven't broke me fast since morning. Let me show you how the
+locker stands.'
+
+Owen emptied his pockets, and from a corner of one of them turned out a
+solitary halfpenny.
+
+'I shouldn't have had that if old Nanny Cwmgwyn hadn't given it to me
+just now. But I'll tell you my story to-morrow in character.'
+
+'Not an improved one anyhow,' said Mr Prothero with a gathering frown.
+
+'Don't lecture to-night, Datta, bach; you shall have an hour on purpose
+to-morrow, when I promise to listen to edification. 'Pon my word it is
+pleasant to be at home again. How I long to sleep in my comfortable bed
+once more.'
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero's countenance fell, and Netta looked malicious.
+
+'Not likely to sleep there to-night, boy,' said the farmer; 'mother has
+got visitors.'
+
+'Visitors!' exclaimed Owen, 'and gone to bed already! what sleepy
+people.'
+
+'Some of your friends of the cowld and hungry sort,' said the farmer.
+
+'Not mother's old friends, and my relations, the Irish beggars?'
+
+'Singular number, and a young lady!' said the farmer with a sneer and a
+puff of the tobacco with which he was beginning to solace himself, at
+the sight of the bread and cheese that were appearing.
+
+'A poor girl, Owen, who was taken ill,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'I understand it all, mother; never mind, she's welcome for once,
+provided I get a good bed, but to-morrow she must turn out.'
+
+'Very well, my dear,' said Mrs Prothero submissively; for Owen, though a
+prodigal, was the eldest son, and generally had his own way.
+
+'Now don't be frightened at my appetite,' said Owen, sitting down to
+cold meat and strong ale.
+
+'Bless you and your appetite,' said Mrs Prothero, kissing his forehead;
+upon which he jumped up again, and hugged her with all his heart.
+
+'Now, Netta, let us go and see about the sheets,' said Mrs Prothero,
+smoothing her dress.
+
+The mother and daughter left the room, and were not long in preparing
+the best bedroom for Owen. This done, they hastened back to the hall,
+where they found diminished ham and increased smoke, Owen having lighted
+a short pipe, and taken to smoking with his father, over a large jug of
+ale.
+
+'We must have your adventures to-night, Owen,' cried Netta, as she
+entered, 'and you must tell us why you came home so very shabby. I
+suppose you have been wrecked on a desert island.'
+
+'To be sure,' said Owen, laying down the pipe. 'But I must go out and
+find my wardrobe, and all my valuables, that my hospitable Daddy there
+caused me to throw down, when he gave me such a warm welcome.'
+
+Owen disappeared, but soon returned with a box in his hands, apparently
+of some weight, and a bundle slung across his shoulder, suspended on a
+walking stick. Putting down the box he began to sing,--
+
+     'A handkerchief held all the treasure I had.'
+
+whilst he flourished his walking-stick and bundle over his mother's
+head. When he had finished his song, he put down his bundle and went to
+the box.
+
+'I have shown you the size of my wardrobe, now allow me to show off the
+rest of my fortune and stock in trade. Father, you shall have the first
+peep. Let me put my box on the table, and the light--so. Now, stoop,
+so--look through that glass, so--and--have you got the right focus?
+Yes!--To the right, you beholds the gallant 'ero, Lord Nelson, him as
+lost his harm, a just fallin' in the harms of Capen 'Ardy and
+Victory.--To the left--but first his lordship is a singin' "England
+expects every man to do his dooty." To the left--'
+
+'Well, if that isn't as pretty a picture and as much like life as
+anything I ever saw,' said Mr Prothero, interrupting the showman. 'Come
+here, mother; Netta, look here.'
+
+Mrs Prothero glanced into the box, which was nothing more nor less than
+a penny peep-show, and Owen began again.
+
+'To the right you beholds,' when Netta, impatient, looked through a
+second glass, and exclaimed in ecstasy, 'Where did you get this, Owen?'
+
+In answer, the scene shifted, and Owen recommenced.
+
+'Here you beholds Lisbon, that wast city, or rayther what wos Lisbon
+after the great earthquake. See the ruins all around, and the women and
+children a screamin'; and the priests a-prayin'--those men in robes is
+priests, papishers, like them Irish beggars.'
+
+'Hush, Owen,' interrupted Mrs Prothero. 'Look, father, do look here!'
+
+While Mr Prothero and Netta gazed admiringly, Mrs Prothero was off and
+returned with Shanno, Mal, and Tom the boy, who were all in a broad grin
+of delight at the arrival of their prime favourite, Owen.
+
+He, meanwhile, is in his element; begins with Lord Nelson again, and
+makes the whole party take turns. Then he goes to Lisbon; afterwards he
+has The Queen of the Cannibal Islands; The Great Fire of London; a
+portrait large as life of the immense fat man Daniel Lambert, at sight
+of which the servants all exclaim 'Ach!' and a variety of other splendid
+designs, which we decline to enumerate. Suffice it to say that they all
+draw forth the approving commendations of the spectators, from Mr
+Prothero, master, to Tom, serving-lad.
+
+When the peep-show has been duly exhibited, Netta again demands her
+brother's history, and a particular account of how he procured the show.
+
+'Oh! there is not much to tell,' says Owen, 'and I won't tell that
+unless father promises to keep his lecture till to-morrow. I hate a
+sermon late at night, but don't so much mind it in the morning. Don't
+look so serious, mother; I don't mean a clerical preachment. Do you
+promise, father?'
+
+'Well, there, as you like,' said Mr Prothero, laughing? 'but I wish you
+hadn't made me break my shin.'
+
+'Here's a patch of diaculum, father. I hope you have not really hurt
+yourself?'
+
+'No, wild goose. Now, let's have the story.'
+
+'Well, here goes. Since this time twelvemonth I have been a voyage to
+Australia and back: seen Sydney and Botany Bay, and my brethren the
+convicts; done a little in the mercantile way: speculated in gin and
+'baccy on my own account, and helped the captain. Came home as first
+mate of the 'Fair Weather,' and had enough of tailoring in the worst
+voyage I ever made. We were almost wrecked more than once, and almost
+starved for the last month, owing to the time the leaky old hulk took in
+the voyage. When we landed in Plymouth we had a spree, as you may
+suppose, and soon spent most of our money. I and a messmate were to
+travel together as far as Swansea, so we just saved money enough to pay
+our way, and enjoyed ourselves with the rest; but, as ill luck would
+have it, we fell in with a poor Welsh woman, who had come to Plymouth in
+the hope of meeting her husband, and being disappointed, and having
+spent all her money, she didn't know how to get back to her home again.
+Of course we couldn't leave a fellow-countrywoman in distress, so we
+gave her what we had: enough to pay her journey home, and a few
+shillings over. We then sold some of our clothes, and stumbling upon a
+man with this old box in his arms, we bargained with him, and bought it
+for twelve shillings. He wanted a pound, but we beat him down.
+
+'Having thus a fortune in our possession we set out with our peep-show,
+and thought of getting interest for our money. We have been about three
+weeks journeying from place to place; and I assure you we have seen a
+good deal of life. We unfortunately spent the interest of our fortune as
+it came in; but, as you will perceive, I have brought the whole capital
+home with me. When we entered a town on a fair or market-day, we made a
+great deal of money, but then the temptations to spend were all the
+greater. I used to have all the labour of the imagination, for my friend
+Jack Jenkins had not the gift of eloquence; so we agreed that I should
+be showman, and he porter--a division of work that we thought quite
+fair. When we arrived at Swansea I gave him all the money we had in
+hand, and he resigned the peep-show to me, and so we parted company; he
+to go to his friends in Glamorganshire, I to come on here.
+
+'I had a rare lark on my way home. I went to uncle's, and finding aunt
+in the garden, slouched my hat over my face, and began my story. She
+ordered me off the premises instantly as a vagrant. I went round to the
+back door and got a penny a-piece from the servants, who were quite
+delighted. Then I met uncle, and telling him that I had a wonderful box
+of antiques to exhibit, he gave me sixpence, and with great curiosity
+poked his proboscis against the glass. It was worth something to see
+him. I at once put a picture of Stonehenge, and afterwards one of
+Herculaneum into the box, that I had bought on purpose for his benefit.
+I went through the history of the Druids, and managed a touch of Garn
+Goch and the Welsh castles with a strong and masterly nasal, that so
+delighted the worthy vicar, that he actually invited me in to see his
+museum. I excused myself by saying that my wife was waiting for
+me--mother, that was my only fib, I assure you--and hastened away, lest
+in his delight at finding an itinerant archæologist, he should ask my
+wife to see his museum as well. The rest of my adventures you had the
+honour and glory of sharing, so I must beg to say they are at an end.
+And now I am really and truly and soberly come to settle at home for the
+remainder of my days, and to become a farmer in good earnest if father
+will take me into partnership. The two things I like best in the world
+are, the rolling sea by moonlight and a field of golden corn in broad
+sunshine, of a fine day in autumn.'
+
+'Oh, you naughty boy!' cried Netta, as Owen ended his story.
+
+'A fine sturdy farmer you would make,' said Mr Prothero, trying to
+stifle a very hearty fit of laughter, that burst out at last in spite of
+himself. 'I'm glad you took in brother Jonathan, or he'd have had the
+laugh against me.'
+
+Mrs Prothero had a tear in her eye as she smiled sadly, and shook her
+head at the darling son who had caused her nothing but love and grief
+since he was born; but the tear was soon kissed away, and the smile
+turned into a cheerful one by that son's merry lips.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE SEMPSTRESS.
+
+
+Owen Prothero, like his sister Netta, had been very much spoilt by his
+father during his childhood and boyhood. Indeed it would have been
+difficult not to have spoilt him. Handsome in person, and frank in
+manners, he was a general favourite. His uncle, the vicar, quite
+idolised him, and would have lavished a fortune on his education had he
+been of a studious nature. His mother, alone, conscious of his many
+faults, strove to correct them, and to counterbalance the undue
+admiration he received on all sides, by impartial justice in her praises
+and reproofs.
+
+But we have not much to do with his boyhood, which was wild and
+untameable; beyond the fact that, when sent by his good uncle to Rugby
+with a view to his becoming a clergyman, he resolutely declared his
+intention of going to sea, and ran away from school to effect his
+purpose. He was captured, however by the masters, and a sharp look-out
+kept upon him for the future, which prevented further escapades.
+
+He did not make brilliant progress in his studies, though he was clever
+enough, and accordingly his aunt persuaded her vicar to adopt her
+favourite nephew, Rowland, in his stead, and to let Owen go a voyage or
+two in a merchant vessel, to cure him of his love for a seafaring life.
+
+It was Mr Prothero's wish to have one of his two sons a farmer, he did
+not much care which, so it was with some difficulty that Aunt Jonathan
+induced him to listen to her proposal of making a clergyman of Rowland.
+He yielded at last, however, in the hope that when Owen had had enough
+of the sea, he would come and settle at home, since, next to this, his
+favourite hobby, he professed to like farming.
+
+Owen was about fifteen when he first went to sea--he was just
+seven-and-twenty when he came home with the peep-show. During the
+intermediate twelve years he had been all over the world: not merely as
+a sailor, but as an adventurer, traveller, speculator, merchant, and
+wandering Jack-of-all trades. As quickly as he made money, so he lost
+it, spent it, or gave it away; and when he had no other resource, he
+worked as a common sailor, or labourer, until some lucky chance opened a
+passage for some fresh excitement. There is this to be said in his
+favour. During this long period he was never chargeable to his father in
+any way. If he got into difficulties, he got out of them pretty easily:
+if he was in want of bread, which had been frequently the case, his
+friends at home knew nothing of it. Beyond the regular new outfit, in
+the way of clothes, that his mother made for him each time that he
+returned home, he had never had anything from his parents, and
+resolutely refused it if offered. Always cheerful, hopeful, in high
+spirits, open as the day, affectionate, and attractive, he was a welcome
+guest wherever he went. Did he come home in rags, or as now, with a
+peep-show in his arms, or as once before, with a hurdy-gurdy and
+monkey, all his old friends made merry, and gave parties in his honour.
+And whatever the state of his wardrobe or exchequer, he was sure to be
+in the fields the following day, reaping, hay-making, ploughing, sowing,
+or even milking, as either of these, or similar avocations, came in his
+way. Nobody could be angry with him, and his father's lectures, and his
+brother's reasonings all melted away before the row of white teeth that
+he was for ever displaying in his joyous laughter.
+
+Of middle height, athletic, sunburnt--with hands almost as brown as his
+merry brown eyes--with black, long, curly hair, a bushy beard, and
+plenty of whiskers, a bronze neck from which, in sailor fashion, the
+blue and white shirt-collar receded--and a broad forehead, showing all
+kinds of bumps, particularly those of locality over the bushy black
+eyebrows--Owen Prothero was as fine a type of an English sailor as could
+be found the broad seas over.
+
+He was in the habit of falling desperately in love with at least one out
+of every five or six girls that came in his way, and of making frightful
+havoc in the hearts of females of all ranks and ages. Netta's general
+inquiry was,--'Well, Owen, who is the last new love?' to which Owen
+would gravely reply, by a recapitulation of the charms of some fair
+damsel on whom his affections would be for ever fixed, could he only
+afford to marry. All his beauties had bright eyes, bright complexions,
+mirthful smiles, and were very 'jolly,' which seemed to be the word
+including all that was necessary to make a woman charming in his eyes.
+
+'So, Netta, Howel has come into a fine fortune!' he began one morning,
+when he and his sister were alone together. 'I suppose he won't think of
+little cousin Netta now?'
+
+'Oh! indeed,' was Netta's reply with a toss of the head.
+
+'I wish he was here now. He is a fine fellow in his way. I do like
+Howel.'
+
+'I knew you would say so,' exclaimed Netta. 'You are a kind, dear
+brother. They are all turned against him, even mother, who can take in
+the scum of the earth, and make much of a wretched Irish beggar, and
+will not ask Howel here, who is a gentleman,'
+
+'Oh! oh! that's the way the wind blows. So you do not forget cousin
+Howel, Miss Netta.'
+
+'No, I assure you; and I won't forget him, that's more.'
+
+'Bravo! Netta. I admire a girl of spirit. But, perhaps now he is so rich
+he will not think of you.'
+
+'I suppose that depends upon whether I choose to think of him. They say
+he is coming down soon, and that he will be the grandest man in the
+county.'
+
+What Netta had heard rumoured came to pass in due time, Mr Howel
+Jenkins did come from London, and established himself in the best hotel
+of his native town, throwing out hints as to the probability of his
+taking a certain beautiful park in the neighbourhood. He was soon
+supplied with the best horses, dogs, and general appointments of any man
+in the county; and being really clever, handsome, and sufficiently
+gentleman like, had made his way into society that had hitherto been
+closed to him. Like Prince Hal, he eschewed most of his former
+companions and appeared to be beginning life anew, in a new world. The
+country rang with rumours of his enormous wealth, which, considerable as
+it was, report nearly doubled. Indeed he himself scarcely knew what he
+was worth, as he was continually finding memorandums of moneys out at
+high interest, of which his father had not chosen to speak to Rowland,
+but which his carefully secreted books and papers proved, as well as the
+knowledge of Mr Rice Rice, who had been his attorney.
+
+In the course of the autumn the Irish girl was quite convalescent and,
+although not strong, had recovered from the fever, and was regaining
+some degree of health. As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta
+did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should
+remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen's wardrobe was in a decent
+condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half
+lumber-room, half work-room, as shirt-maker in ordinary to the son and
+heir. He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father
+kept at a distance from the bone of contention.
+
+However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when
+Mrs Prothero was sitting stitching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better
+half made his appearance suddenly in the room.
+
+'Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,' he exclaimed?
+'I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded
+hedge.'
+
+As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who
+had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly. Mr
+Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not
+suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.
+
+'Oh, young 'ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me. You've got a
+new manty-maker, mother; where's Jane Morris, name o' goodness?'
+
+'We're only making shirts for Owen, father,' replied the wife meekly,
+dreading an outburst.
+
+Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst
+Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.
+
+'There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs
+Jonathan will be as proud as Punch. Rowland has been ordained by the
+Bishop of London himself, and "passed a very good examination," or
+whatever they call it. He has taken lodgings up in London, and preached
+his first sermon in a great church that 'ould hold three of ours. He has
+dined with the rector, and been to call on Sir Philip Payne Perry,--the
+three green peas as Owen calls him--and I wonder what even Mrs Jonathan
+'ould desire more?'
+
+Mrs Prothero read, her dear son's letter with tears in her eyes, the
+sudden sight of which caused sympathetic tears to flow from the eyes of
+the poor work-girl, much to the surprise of Mr Prothero, who chanced to
+look round to see whether his coat was finished.
+
+'Hang the 'oomen,' he muttered to himself, 'they can't read a bit of a
+letter without blubbing. How long will that take you to do?--what's your
+name?'
+
+'Gladys, if you please, sir,' said Gladys, looking up from her work. 'I
+shall have finished it directly, sir.'
+
+'Gladys? Gladys what?' asked Mr Prothero.
+
+'Gladys O'Grady, sir,' was the reply whilst the mending was coming to a
+close.
+
+'Where on earth did you pick up such names as that?'
+
+'One was my mother's, and the other my father's, sir,' said Gladys,
+rising and presenting the coat with a deep curtsey.
+
+Mrs Prothero was absorbed in her letter.
+
+'Name o' goodness where did your father get such a name? and where do
+you live?'
+
+The girl bent her head over the coat she held in her hand, and her tears
+fell upon it.
+
+'There, never mind? give me my coat. Thank you. Why, Lewis the tailor
+'ouldn't 'a mended it better. Why, girl, where did you learn tailoring?'
+
+'Mother taught me to mend everything, sir.'
+
+'There then, take you that old hat and see if you can make as good a job
+of sewing on the brim as you done of the coat. Mother, come you here, I
+want to speak to you.'
+
+Mr Prothero left the room, and Mrs Prothero followed.
+
+'Who's that girl, mother? I never saw her before,' were his first words
+in the passage, whilst pulling to the coat that he had begun to put on
+in the work-room.
+
+'Why, David, you see--it is--there now, don't be angry.'
+
+'Angry! what for? Hasn't she mended my coat capital, and isn't she as
+modest looking a young 'ooman as I ever saw?'
+
+'She is very delicate, but she works night and day. Indeed, she does
+more in a day than most girls in a week Owen wanted some shirts, you
+see--she made that cap you admired so much, and that new gown of
+Netta's; and has more than paid for--'
+
+'But who the deuce is she?'
+
+'There now, don't be angry, David. 'Tis that poor Irish girl that was so
+ill of the fever.'
+
+'I'll never believe she's Irish as long as I live--she's too pretty and
+tidy and delicate and fair. She's no more Irish than I am, mother, and
+you've been taken in.'
+
+'She is Welsh on the mother's side. But are you very angry, David?'
+
+'No, I don't mind her doing a little work in an honest way like that.
+I'm not such a fool. When she has done the work send her off, that's
+all. Poor soul! she does look as if she had been dead and buried and
+come to life again. Mother, you're a good 'ooman, and God bless you!'
+
+Mrs Prothero looked up into her husband's face with an expression of
+such love and joy as must have delighted a much harder heart than that
+spouse possessed. Don't laugh, gentle reader, at the conjugal embrace of
+that middle-aged pair, which seals the quarrel about the Irish girl; but
+believe me, there is more real sentiment in it than in most of the
+love-scenes you may have read about.
+
+Mrs Prothero took advantage of her husband's approval of Gladys's
+exterior to send her out into the garden in the evening to breathe the
+air, and afterwards into the fields. The girl's strength gradually
+returned, but with it there appeared to be no return of youth or hope. A
+settled melancholy was in her countenance and demeanour; and when Netta
+rallied her on being so sad and silent, her reply was, 'Oh, miss, there
+is no more joy or happiness for me in this world! all I love have left
+it, and I am but a lonely wanderer and an outcast!'
+
+When the shirts were finished, it was time to think of her departure,
+for she had exhausted all the sewing-work of the house. Mrs Prothero
+could not bear to turn the friendless, homeless girl adrift on the
+world. She ventured upon the subject one day at dinner.
+
+'What will become of her, David? And she so beautiful! I declare I think
+I never saw a prettier girl.'
+
+'Well, mother, who will you call pretty next?' said Owen, who had seen
+her once or twice by chance. 'Why, she has no more colour in her face
+than this tablecloth, and I don't believe she has any eyes at all; at
+least, I never saw them; but I mean to try whether she has any some day,
+by making a frightful noise when she drops me that smart curtsey in
+passing.'
+
+'I am sure we want hands badly enough in the wheat field, said Farmer
+Prothero. 'If the girl could pick up her crumbs a little by harvesting,
+you could keep her a while longer, and then send her off in search of
+her relations.'
+
+'Thank you, David. I will ask her what she can do,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Not much in that way, I am pretty sure,' said Netta. 'How should those
+wretched Irish, who live on nothing but potatoes, know any thing about
+the wheat harvest?'
+
+'Treue for you there, my girl,' said Mr Prothero, 'but I daresay mother
+will make believe that she knows something.
+
+'Mother' found the object of their conversation that very evening in the
+wheat field, sitting under a tree, at work. She had sent her out for a
+walk, and this was her exercise. Owen and Netta were with their mother,
+and as they approached, Gladys rose, curtseyed, and was going away, when
+Owen made an unnatural kind of whistle, as if to frighten away some cows
+in the distance. Gladys started, and with a terrified face glanced at
+him. He found that she had very beautiful, violet eyes, with lashes so
+long and black, that when she looked to the earth again they made a
+strange contrast to her pale face.
+
+'What sad, uncomfortable eyes,' thought Owen; 'I must have another
+glance at them by-and-by. If she had a colour she might be pretty, as
+mother says, but it makes one ill to look at her.'
+
+'Do you think,' said Mrs Prothero, addressing Gladys, 'that you could
+manage to help in the harvest; My husband says he will employ you, if
+you can.'
+
+'Oh, thank you, my lady! I would do my best, and if I could only stay
+here longer under any circumstances--I should--oh, be so thankful!'
+
+This was said with much hesitation.
+
+'Very well, then; if you will try to-morrow we shall be able to judge
+what you can do.'
+
+'She don't look strong enough to bind the sheaves,' said Owen.
+
+'I will try, sir, if you please,' said Gladys.
+
+'What is the name of the friends you are seeking?' asked Owen with a
+glance at his sister.
+
+'Jones, sir,' replied Gladys, again looking at Owen.
+
+'Perhaps there is a David in the family?' asked Owen.
+
+'I believe that my grandfather's name was David,' was the reply.
+
+'Now, if you walk through Carmarthenshire, and just ask every one you
+meet if they know David Jones, I am sure you would find him. It is
+astonishing what a powerful name David Jones is. I know a Rev. David
+Jones very well? a clergyman too--'
+
+'Oh! if you could only tell me where to find him. I would go anywhere
+for my poor mother's sake!'
+
+The girl clasped her hands and looked imploringly at Owen. He was
+silenced by the appeal of the eyes he did not believe in. Mrs Prothero
+glanced at him reproachfully, and said,--
+
+'It is such a common Welsh name that I am afraid it would be no guide to
+you, unless you would remember the place where he lived.'
+
+'I daresay it began with Llan,' broke in Owen.
+
+'I am almost sure it did,' said Gladys; 'but mother never liked to talk
+of the place,'
+
+'What do you say, mother, to writing to the Rev. David Jones, Llan.,
+etc., Carmarthenshire?'
+
+Netta laughed aloud; she could not help it; whilst Gladys again looked
+upon the ground.
+
+'Owen,' whispered Mrs Prothero, taking her son's arm and leading him
+away, 'what is a joke to you is death to her, remember that.'
+
+'There, don't be angry, mother; I will help her to do her work
+to-morrow.'
+
+'He was as good as his word, and the following day resolutely kept near
+the poor, timid girl, aiding her to bind up the full-eared corn, and
+carrying it himself for her to the mows, into which they were hastily
+forming the sheaves for fear of rain. He could not resist occasionally
+alluding to Mr David Jones, but receiving no encouragement to carry out
+the jest, and finding her as silent and shy as a frightened child, he
+gave up the subject, and with it all attempt at conversation. He
+declared afterwards that she worked like a slave, and knew all about
+harvesting as well as anybody, only she was not strong, and that she was
+the dullest Irish woman he ever saw in his life, since even the beggars
+had a bit of fun in them. Indeed he didn't believe her to be Irish, or
+credit a word of her story; but, as to beauty, he began to agree with
+his mother, for if she had only a colour she would be as pretty a girl,
+with as graceful a figure, as anybody need wish to see.
+
+The farmer declared that she had well earned her supper; and that if
+mother thought she would do, she might keep her instead of Betty, after
+Hollantide; the said Betty having signified her intention of getting
+married at the matrimonial season of the year. Mrs Prothero said she
+would think it over, but she was afraid she was not strong enough for
+hard farm service. It was evident that Gladys had taken a step into the
+kind heart of the worthy farmer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE WIDOW.
+
+
+'Whose grand groom is that, half afraid to ride through the yard?' asked
+Mr Prothero, as he and his son Owen were standing by the big wheat-mow,
+awaiting the arrival of a load of corn.
+
+'I'll go and see what he wants,' said Owen, and off he went.
+
+He returned, bearing a note for his father.
+
+'He says he is Mr Griffith Jenkins's groom, and waits for an answer.
+Howel doesn't do the thing by halves anyhow.'
+
+'Mr Griffith Jackanapes!' said the farmer, breaking the seal of the note
+hastily, and reading it.
+
+Owen watched his countenance assume an angry expression, and then heard
+him utter a very broad Welsh oath.
+
+'Tell that feller there's no answer,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'What is it about father? you had better let mother see it first.'
+
+'The impudent young ass! does he think I am to be taken in by all that
+gold and plush? He shall never have my consent, and you may tell him so,
+Owen.'
+
+'Come into the house a minute, father, and let us see the note.'
+
+They went into the house, the farmer giving an indignant grunt at the
+groom as he passed.
+
+'Mother, come here!' he roared as he entered the parlour, followed by
+Owen.
+
+The obedient wife left her kitchen and went to her husband.
+
+'Read you it out loud, Owen.'
+
+Owen read.
+
+     'SIR,--Being in a position to marry, and to marry any lady in the
+     county, I think you need not be surprised at my now aspiring to the
+     hand of your daughter, to whom I have been many years attached. I
+     beg, therefore, to say that my object in writing to you is, to ask
+     your permission to pay my addresses to her, and to make her my
+     wife. My attorney will see to any arrangements you may require as
+     regards settlements, which are matters of no importance to me,--I
+     remain, sir, your obedient servant,
+
+     'HOWEL GRIFFITH JENKINS.'
+
+'The impudent scoundrel!' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'Well, father, I don't see--' began Owen.
+
+'You don't see, sir, I daresay you don't. Wasn't he as near ruining you
+as possible! Didn't he teach you to gamble, and fleece you, and lead
+you into all kinds of mischief? Didn't I forbid him the house for it?
+Didn't he rob his own father, and make his mother miserable? Didn't he
+drink and keep company with the worst profligates of the country? Didn't
+he as good as rob me, sir, out of a ten-pound note when he was a bit of
+a boy, and when I found it out, called it a lark? Do you think a great
+fortune will all of a sudden change such a chap as that into an honest
+man? No, what's ill got is ill spent, and old Giffrey Jenkins's money
+'ill never turn to good account. He that grinds the poor, and goes
+against scripture as a usurer, 'ill never find his son do well. Howel
+shall never have my consent to marry Netta, and there's an end of it.'
+
+'But suppose they are determined,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Then I'll wash my hands of 'em for ever, and vow Netta's no girl of
+mine. Go you, Owen, and send off that fine yellar-band, sent to astonish
+me, and tell him I'll have nothing to do with his master nor him.'
+
+'But, father, you must write!'
+
+'Write! not I: but stop, I'll write. Bring the paper. Haven't you got
+any with a fine gloss, and coloured?'
+
+'Now, David, bach, if you would only consider a little. I am really
+afraid of the consequences.'
+
+'Now, mother, my mind's made up, and you won't wheedle me in this
+matter. So, here's the pen and ink,'
+
+Mr Prothero sat down and wrote the following reply to Howel's note:--
+
+     'HOWEL,--You have had my answer before now, and you may have it
+     again. When I know you're out-and-out a changed man, I may think
+     differently; but I don't know it yet, so you shall not have my
+     consent to marry Netta. One hundred pounds of steadiness and
+     honesty is worth a hundred thousand pounds of gold. I wish you
+     well, but if you was king of England you shouldn't have my girl as
+     you are now.'--Yours to command, 'DAVID PROTHERO,'
+
+'There, mother, there's my mind,' said Mr Prothero, giving the note to
+his wife.
+
+'Well, David, I believe you are right, only Netta is so determined!'
+
+'Determined, is she! Then I'll lock her up. Take that to yon
+yellar-band, Owen.'
+
+Owen took the note to the servant
+
+'Tell your master that I am coming to see him this evening,' he said,
+and soliloquised thus when the man was gone. 'Howel is a good fellow, I
+believe, only a little extravagant and gay. I must tell him not to be
+down-hearted about Netta. Why, the girl isn't worth such a bother? I
+never saw one that was yet. It would take a great deal of time and
+trouble to work me up into that kind of thing--and at least a dozen
+girls. Netta's very pretty, to be sure, but she has a will of her own,
+and so has Howel. I am sure they would soon fight. As to father, he is
+as obstinate as a mule. And Howel with such a mint of money! But I like
+father's pride, and I must say I reel proud of him for it. I would never
+give in just because a man has suddenly got a fortune.'
+
+When Owen had arrived at this conclusion, he perceived Netta coming
+towards him.
+
+'What did that servant want, Owen?' she asked when she came quite near?
+'and what were those two notes about?'
+
+'I dare say you know, Miss Netta. It is all over with you for this
+present. Howel has popped the question, and father has refused him.'
+
+If Owen had ever been really in love, he would have spoken less abruptly
+on such a delicate subject, as he found, when he saw Netta turn pale,
+then red, then burst into tears and run away from him into the house.
+
+He followed her, somewhat distressed, to the door of her bedroom. He
+knocked gently, but received no answer.
+
+'Netta, let me in, I have something to say to you,'
+
+No reply, but a passionate sobbing audible.
+
+'Netta, dear Netta, I am so sorry for you. Let me in.'
+
+He tried the door, but it was locked.
+
+'Netta, if you don't let me in I'll go and fetch mother directly. One,
+two, three, and, now, open the door, I'm going. One, two, three, and
+away!'
+
+He walked down the passage, and heard the door opened behind him.
+
+'Owen, come here, I will let you in,'
+
+'There's a good little sister.'
+
+'Don't palaver me, sir,' burst forth Netta, as soon as her door was
+closed. 'You are all unfeeling, unnatural, cruel, selfish, hard-hearted
+heathens! You don't care for me or Howel any more than as if we were
+strangers. Father don't mind what he drives me to, and mother cares more
+for that Irish beggar than for me--I know she does. I did think you
+would be our friend, and now you are as stiff and unfeeling as Rowland.
+Seure you are,'
+
+'Why, if I was a parson like Rowland, I'd marry you to-morrow.'
+
+'Then, why don't you try to bring father round. You know he thinks more
+of you than of anybody else.'
+
+'It's no use trying; nobody but mother has any influence with father,
+and she is not sure that 'tis right or good for you and Howel to marry.'
+
+'She is cruel and unkind,' sobbed Netta; 'I don't believe any one really
+loves me but Howel,'
+
+'Stick to that, Netta; 'I for one haven't a spark of affection for you.
+All father wants is to get rid of you, and that is why he is in such a
+hurry for you to make such a grand match!'
+
+'Oh! indeed! he and all the rest of you are as jealous of Howel's good
+fortune as you can be,--you know you are. And you wouldn't like to see
+me a grand lady, grander than Miss Rice or Miss Nugent even. Won't I let
+them know I'm somebody, and not to be looked down upon any more, that's
+all!'
+
+Hereupon Netta wiped her eyes, and walked up and down the room grandly,
+whilst Owen burst out laughing,
+
+'I beg you to go out of, my room, Owen!' said Netta, stamping her foot
+and getting into a passion. 'One can't expect manners or sympathy from
+seafaring porcupines like you. Go away directly. Why, John James, the
+carter, is genteeler than a great coarse sailor such as you. Go you
+away, I say.'
+
+'You ought to have said a seafaring dolphin or whale; they don't pay
+twopence a week to learn manners, like you land-lubbers. When you want
+me you may send for me.'
+
+Owen went off very much offended, leaving Netta to cogitate upon the
+cruelty of her relations.
+
+In the course of that afternoon, a very well-dressed woman, in the
+deepest of sables, was seen going down the road to the farm. She went
+round through the garden to the glass-door, disdaining the yard, knocked
+a great many times, to the great astonishment, of Shanno, and was at
+last admitted, as Mrs Griffith Jenkins. Shanno, all reverence at sight
+of the crape bonnet, crape veil, and widow's cap, ushered her into the
+parlour, feeling that a chasm now lay between her and the dame she had
+last seen in a high-crowned Welsh hat, striped flannel gown, and checked
+apron. Having duly dusted a chair with her skirts, Shanno glanced at Mrs
+Jenkins, and was about to leave the room, when Mrs Jenkins said,--
+
+'Tell you your missus that I am coming on particular business and wish
+to speak with her in private. Here, stop you, Shanno, where is Miss
+Netta? I 'ouldn't mind giving you a shilling to tell her I was wanting
+to see her before I am seeing her mother.'
+
+The shilling was offered, and received with much satisfaction and an
+intelligent grin, and in less than five minutes Netta was with Mrs
+Jenkins.
+
+'Deet to goodness, and you do look very poorly, Netta, fach!' said that
+worthy, 'Howel was telling me to see you, and to be giving you this
+note. Give you another to Shanno before I will be going away, and I will
+give it to my Howel. Annwyl! you shall be seeing my Howel, now; how he
+do look a horseback. Beauty seure! he do say you will have a horse, too.
+There, go you? tell Shanno to tell your mother that I do be glad to see
+her, let her tak' care how she do refuse you again.'
+
+Netta escaped with her note, and was soon succeeded by Mrs Prothero, who
+shook hands in a trembling, frightened way with Mrs Jenkins, who, on the
+contrary, strong in the consciousness of fortune and new apparel, was
+perfectly self-possessed. She began at once.
+
+'I am coming about my Howel and your Netta, Mrs Prothero Howel is in a
+fine temper, keeping noise enough, I can tell you; and I should like to
+be knowing why he isn't good enough for your doater, Mrs Prothero; him
+as is worth hundreds of thousands, and is as like to be coming a member,
+and to be riding in his own carriage, and to be dining with the Queen
+for that much! and seurely, he don't be good enough for Miss Prothero
+Glanyravon Farm! Ach a fi! some peoples do be setting themselves up! my
+Howel, too! So handsome, and genteel, so full of learning! Name o'
+goodness what would you have, Mrs Prothero, Glanyravon Farm?'
+
+Mrs Jenkins paused with a long emphasis on the farm.
+
+'I am very sorry, Mrs Jenkins,' began trembling Mrs Prothero rubbing one
+hand nervously over the other, 'but my husband is afraid that Howel is
+not quite steady enough for such a giddy young thing as Netta.'
+
+'Study! why, tak' your time and you'll be seeing how study and pretty he
+do behave. On my deet, and I 'ouldn't say that, if I wasn't as seure as
+I'm alive, he haven't took a drop too much, nor said a wicked word, nor
+keep no low company since his poor dear father was dying. Ah, Mrs
+Prothero! you was being very good to us when I was losing my poor
+Griffey. Who'd be thinking what a heap of money he'd be leaving, and
+Howel'll be building a good house for me? and seure, I must be dressing
+in my best, and having servants to wait on me? and, bless you, nothing
+as my son Howel's can be getting is too good for his poor old mother!'
+
+'I am very glad to hear he is so kind,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Then what do you say about Netta, Mrs Prothero, fach?' sharply asked
+Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'To tell you the truth, I have very little power; my husband made up his
+mind and wrote the note without consulting me.'
+
+'Then maybe I could be seeing Mr Prothero?'
+
+'I am afraid it would only lead to something unpleasant between you.'
+
+'Oh, you needn't be taking the trouble to be afraid, ma'am! I am calling
+my Howel as good or better as your Netta. There was a time when you
+might been looking higher, but now I conceit it, it will be us as do
+condescend. There's Miss Rice Rice, and the Miss Jamms's, Plas Newydd,
+and Miss Lawis, Pontammon, and Miss Colonel Rees, and Miss Jones the
+'Torney, and Miss Captain Thomas, and I 'ouldn't say but Miss Gwynne,
+Glanyravon, do be all speaking, and talking, and walking, and dancing
+with my Howels! There's for you: and yet he do like his cousin Netta
+best he do say.'
+
+'If you wish to see David, Mrs Griffey, I will call him,' said timid Mrs
+Prothero, at her wits' end for anything to say or do.
+
+'Seurely I am wishing to see him,' said Mrs Jenkins majestically.
+
+David had not come in from his farm, so there was nothing for it but to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to take off her bonnet and have some tea, to which that
+lady graciously consented. When the crape shawl and black kid gloves
+were removed Mrs Prothero perceived a large mourning brooch, containing
+a gloomy picture of a tomb, set in pearls and diamonds, and surrounded
+by the age, death, etc., of the lamented deceased; and a handsome
+mourning ring, displaying a portion of iron-grey hair, also set in
+pearls and diamonds, and surrounded with an appropriate epithalamium.
+Mrs Prothero sat 'washing her hands in invisible soap,' whilst she saw
+these ensigns of grandeur in the once mean, ill-dressed Mrs Jenkins, and
+heard of all that 'her Howels' was about to effect.
+
+Owen came in, and with due gravity admired the mourning insignia, and
+examined the dates, age, etc., of the defunct Griffey. He went so far as
+to venture upon a distant allusion to the future.
+
+'I never thought those caps so becoming before, Aunt Jenkins,' he said,
+eyeing her from head to foot, and wondering that he had never previously
+been aware of what a good-looking woman his Welsh aunt was.
+
+A Welsh aunt, be it understood, is your father or mother's cousin, and
+Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero were first cousins.
+
+'Isn't Davies, Pennycoed, that you used to tell us was once a lover of
+yours, a widower?' continued Owen.
+
+'Well, Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, not displeased, 'you are always for
+jokes, but I do mean never to marry again.'
+
+'Don't make any rash vows; a young woman like you!'
+
+Here Netta having dried her eyes, joined the party, and shortly after
+Mr Prothero's voice was heard.
+
+'After tea!' whispered Mrs Prothero to Mrs Jenkins, as she went out to
+meet her husband. 'Here's Elizabeth Jenkins, David, come over to see us,
+and she is going to stay to tea. I think she wants to speak to you
+afterwards.'
+
+'Very glad to see her; but Howel sha'n't have Netta a bit the more for
+that.'
+
+Mr Prothero put on a smart coat, brushed his hair, and came into the
+parlour, as became one about to meet a grand lady.
+
+'How d'ye do, cousin 'Lizabeth? Glad to see you looking so well; welcome
+to Glanyravon.'
+
+They shook hands, and as Mrs Jenkins made rather a grand attempt at a
+curtsey, Owen looked at Netta, and showed his white teeth; but Netta was
+as grave as a judge.
+
+Mr Prothero was as much struck with the improvement in the widow's
+appearance as his son.
+
+'Why, I declare, cousin 'Lizabeth, you look ten years younger than you
+did when I saw you last. Do you mind when we two used to go nutting
+together? If 'twasn't for my good 'ooman there--'
+
+'I was just saying so, father,' interrupted Owen; 'don't you think
+Davies, Pennycoed--'
+
+'I am not having no intentions of marrying again,' simpered the widow;
+'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey.'
+
+'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all
+conscience.'
+
+The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven
+buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper
+honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.
+
+As Shanno was very busy and very dirty, Mrs Prothero, during her
+preparations in the kitchen, was at a loss to know who was to wait if
+anything was wanted. Gladys chanced to be there, and said modestly,--
+
+'If I could do, ma'am, I would soon make myself neat in Miss Prothero's
+gown; and if I might just take in the tray instead of you.'
+
+'Thank you, Gladys, I am sure you will do,' and Gladys was installed.
+
+'There is nothing that girl cannot do,' thought Mrs Prothero, as she
+arranged everything on the tea-table as neatly and properly as Mrs
+Prothero could have done herself.
+
+'What a tidy girl you have!' said Mrs Jenkins. 'Do she mean to be
+staying over Hollantide? I am wanting a servant.'
+
+All eyes were turned on Gladys as she came into the room again, but as
+hers were always fixed on what she was carrying, or on her mistress, she
+was not aware of the sudden attention she excited.
+
+'Irish beggars!' muttered Netta.
+
+'One of mother's godsends,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'What a beautiful piece of snow,' thought Owen.
+
+After tea Mr Prothero invited Mrs Jenkins to go and see his fine fat
+cattle. The pair went together, leaving an anxious trio behind them.
+
+Farmer Prothero was a man of few words when his mind was made up, and
+was not long in beginning the subject each had at heart.
+
+'I'm sorry, cousin 'Lizabeth, that I can't let Netta marry just now.
+She's too young, and Howel isn't the lad to study her.'
+
+'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his
+poor father's death.'
+
+'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted,
+then he may have Netta.'
+
+'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in
+the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero!'
+
+'Let him marry 'em all, I don't want him.'
+
+'Then you won't let Netta marry my Howels?'
+
+'If he's study in two years, and they are both in the same mind, they
+may marry, and be hanged to 'em! I never was so bothered in my life.
+But, between ourselves, I think it's just as likely your son Howel 'ould
+be study in two years as my son Owen.'
+
+'Oh, name o' goodness, we don't want Miss Netta! No 'casion to be
+waiting!'
+
+'Then don't wait, 'ooman! Who wants you to wait?'
+
+Mrs Jenkins hurried back into the house, and left Mr Prothero with his
+cattle.
+
+'I must be going now, Mrs Prothero--my son Howels too! Thousands and
+thousands of pounds. Netta, come you upstairs, my dear, whilst I am
+putting on my bonnet.'
+
+Mrs Prothero was not duenna enough to accompany them upstairs, and
+consequently Netta gave a note to Mrs Jenkins, cried a little, and
+helped her to abuse her parents.
+
+'Never you mind, Netta, fach,' were the last words, 'Howels don't be
+meaning to give you up.'
+
+'Good evening, ma'am; good evening, Mr Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, as she
+made the attempt at a curtsey, that caused Owen to show his white teeth
+again.
+
+'Oh dear, dear! what will be the end of it?' said Mrs Prothero to Owen
+as Netta sulked upstairs. 'I wish Rowland was at home.'
+
+'Very complimentary to your eldest son!' said Owen, laughing.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE MILLIONAIRE.
+
+
+Nearly a twelvemonth passed, and an autumn morning again hovered over
+Glanyravon Farm. It would seem that all the inmates of the homestead
+were sleeping; but there was one already awake and moving furtively
+about. It was Netta, not usually such an early riser. The curtains of
+her trim little bed and window were drawn aside to admit all the light
+that a September twilight could cast upon the chamber in which she had
+slept since her childhood. A lovely bunch of monthly roses and some
+leaves of dark green ivy alone looked in upon her in the uncertain
+gloaming, as if imaging her present and future. She was dressing herself
+hastily, but with care, in her very best attire. She stood before the
+glass braiding and arranging her dark glossy hair, that luxuriant
+ornament of her bright, rosy face; then she put on the blossom white
+lace habit-shirt and striped pink and drab silk dress, her kind father's
+last gift, and the smart shawl and pink bonnet were duly arranged
+afterwards. Whatever the early visit Netta was about to make, it was
+evidently a premeditated one. When the attire was quite complete, and
+she had surveyed herself in the glass, she suddenly paused and looked
+around her. In a moment she was putting her room to rights, and pushing
+stray articles of dress into drawers, until all was quite neat; then she
+paused again, and glanced at a letter that was lying on her little
+dressing-table. Turning hastily away from this she opened the window and
+looked out. The sun had not yet arisen, though there was a streak of
+light, forerunner of his advent, on the horizon. Mountains, rivers,
+fields, and woods were all wrapped in a cold, grey mist, but still it
+was not dark. Netta tore the bunch of roses from the bough and put them
+in her bosom, then re-closed the window. She took up a large shawl that
+was lying on a chair, and a small package from underneath and
+dexterously arranged the shawl so as to fall over the parcel, as she
+held both in her hand and on her arm. Again she paused a moment and
+glanced around her. Her face was flushed, and there was moisture in her
+dark eye.
+
+Oh, pause a little longer and consider, poor Netta! But no. The sudden
+flash of sunlight into the room terrifies the thoughtless child, and she
+goes hastily into the passage. Quietly she closes her door; stealthily
+she creeps along. She makes no sound as she steals, like a thief,
+through the house where she was born some eighteen summers ago. Before
+one closed door she pauses again--listens. She can hear the breath of
+the sleepers within. She is on her knees, and represses with difficulty
+a rising sob, 'Mother! mother! forgive me! God bless you!' she whispers,
+as she once more rises and runs down the remainder of the
+passage--downstairs--through the hall--through the parlour, and out by
+the little glass door into the garden. In spite of her tears, haste,
+agitation she cannot pass that bed of carnations--her mother's
+treasure--without stopping to gather one fresh and dripping with the air
+and dews of night. Innocent flowers! they will see her mother that very
+day; but what of the stray, wandering rose of Glanyravon? Through the
+garden, and out by the little wicket into the lane; across a field
+sparkling with dewdrops; over a stile; down another lane; over another
+stile, and into another field! Here she pauses and glances round. A dark
+figure at the opposite side of the field seems to assure her that all is
+well. She runs quickly across the meadow, and within it, under shelter
+of the hedge, near a half-open gate, stands Mrs Griffith Jenkins.
+
+'Where is Howel?' asks Netta hastily.
+
+'He did write yesterday to say he 'ould bring the carriage from Swansea
+to meet us at Tynewydd, and he was sure to be there by six o'clock,'
+
+'Let us make haste then, Aunt 'Lisbeth. Why didn't he come here himself?
+I have a great mind to turn back.'
+
+'Come you, Netta, fach! we'll soon be there. See you the letter?'
+
+'Not now--not now,' cries Netta impatiently, walking along the high road
+as fast as she possibly can. Mrs Jenkins keeps up with her, but is soon
+out of breath.
+
+'There's Jack Trefortyn; he'll be sure to tell. Aunt 'Lisbeth, I will
+turn back. Father will be after me. It is too bad,' sobs Netta.
+
+'We are near by now, Netta, fach. Come you!'
+
+The little woman quickened her pace into a short run to keep up with
+Netta.
+
+'Here's the turnpike; we'll be at Tynewydd 'rectly.'
+
+'I see Tynewydd,' says Netta, straining her eyes to catch sight of some
+object far down the road; 'there is no carriage--I am sure there is
+none. Cousin Howel ought to be ashamed of himself.'
+
+Netta runs on very fast, leaving Mrs Jenkins far behind, until she
+reaches the turning to a lane that leads to a little farm called
+'Tynewydd.' She bursts out crying, and stamps her foot as she
+exclaims,--
+
+'Does he think he's going to do what he likes with me because he's rich?
+I'll tell him he shall wait for me, I will!'
+
+Hereupon she turns back and runs faster than before towards Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'Come you, Netta, fach! He'll be here by now. Read you the letter.'
+
+Netta pauses a moment to read a letter held out to her by Mrs Jenkins.
+It runs thus:--
+
+'I can't be with you to-day. Meet Netta at the appointed place, and walk
+to Tynewydd. I will be there with a carriage by six o'clock.--Yours,
+H.J.'
+
+'See you, Netta, it isn't six yet.' Mrs Jenkins pulls out a large gold
+watch, which, while Netta was running on, she has managed to put back
+half-an-hour. 'Five-and-twenty minutes to six, see you.'
+
+Netta turns again and hurries on.
+
+'There is Jones Tynewydd. If he should see me,' says Netta. 'Do make
+haste, Aunt 'Lisbeth.'
+
+They walk on for about a quarter of a mile, when carriage wheels are
+distinctly heard, and in a few moments a fly and pair is distinctly seen
+coming at great speed. The driver would have passed them, but Mrs
+Jenkins calls out,--
+
+'A gentleman for Tynewydd inside?' Upon which he pulls up. Howel is out
+of the fly, and Netta lifted in before she knows what she is about. Mrs
+Jenkins is put in almost as quickly, and the fly turned and off again in
+less time than it takes to write it.
+
+'Howel, how could you? I was going back, and I wish I had,' sobs Netta.
+
+Howel kisses her and tells her to be a good little cousin, and she shall
+see London in no time. She clings close to him, and hides her face on
+his shoulder and sobs on. He draws her to him, and lets her grief have
+way. Few words are spoken for a time, but at last Netta dries her tears
+and says,--
+
+'I was so frightened, cousin, and I didn't think it would be so hard to
+leave mother without saying good-bye. Mother was always kind.'
+
+'Hide you, Howel! hide you, Netta! there's Mr Jonathan Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jenkins, shrinking back into the corner of the fly.
+
+Howel peeps out and sees Netta's worthy uncle, bag on back, setting
+forth on some archæological search.
+
+Howel and Netta lean back in the fly whilst he passes, little thinking
+whom the vehicle contains.
+
+'Uncle and aunt will be glad at least,' says Netta. 'Aunt says you are
+very clever and handsome, Howel, and wonders why father won't let us--'
+
+'Marry, Netta--say the word. I suppose Aunt Jonathan found out my
+talents and beauty after I acquired my fortune.'
+
+After driving about ten miles they stop to change horses, and in the
+course of three or four hours arrive at the Swansea railway station,
+newly erected within the last few months. The scene is equally new to
+Netta and Mrs Jenkins, and whilst Howel goes to take their tickets they
+stand wondering and admiring. Neither of them has ever travelled by
+rail, and both are equally nervous at the prospect. They are just in
+time for the express, and soon find themselves seated in a first-class
+carriage. As it is a carriage of two compartments, Howel fastens the
+door between the two, draws down the blind, puts some coats on the
+fourth seat, and says they will now have it to themselves all the way to
+London.
+
+Netta seizes his hand and screams when the steam whistle sounds, and his
+mother falls down upon him from the opposite seat He laughs aloud, and
+seems in such buoyant spirits that the women laugh too; and very soon
+Netta has quite forgotten her home, as with her hand clasped in Howel's
+he unfolds to her his future plans and arranges hers.
+
+'Deet, and this is like a sofa in a drawing-room. I shall be asleep if I
+don't take care,' says Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'The best thing you can do, mother. I will awake you when we get to
+Reading, where the biscuits are made you used to sell, faugh! and be
+sure to show you Windsor Castle.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins obeys her son's wish, and is soon sleeping soundly.
+
+Howel then gives Netta the following intelligence, which, as it
+interests her, we will hope may be interesting to her friends.
+
+'The old gown you gave my mother, Netta, I sent to a celebrated house in
+town, and calling there the next day ordered a proper _trousseau_ to be
+made for you.'
+
+'What's a _trousseau_, Howel?'
+
+'You little dunce. Why, what we call a _stafell_ without the household
+furniture. So you will find a wedding dress and all kinds of dresses and
+garments without number awaiting you, for I gave the milliner _carte
+blanche_.'
+
+'What's _carte blanche_, cousin? You are become so grand.'
+
+'Never mind--white paper with two meanings. And here is a present to
+begin with.'
+
+Howel takes a leather case from his pocket and puts it into Netta's
+hand. She opens it, and sees a beautiful little gold watch and chain.
+
+'Oh, you dear, kind cousin, Howel!' she cries; her eyes sparkling with
+delight. 'I have longed for one all my life.'
+
+'Will you go back again, Netta dear?' asks Howel archly.
+
+The watch and chain are duly put on, and then Howel continues,--
+
+'To-morrow you will have a hard day's work. You must purchase a great
+many things that will be necessary for travelling that I could not buy.
+The rest we can get in Paris. I have invited my friends, Sir John and
+Lady Simpson, and their son and daughter, to the wedding, which I have
+fixed for the day after to-morrow. One of the reasons for my not being
+able to come to you yesterday was that I must be a fortnight in the
+parish where we are to be married before we are married. I just ran down
+by the night train, took the fly, and met you; and shall make up my lost
+night by sleeping in town, for certainly I slept nowhere yesterday.
+Can't sleep in a train like mother; always feel too excited.'
+
+'I don't like those grand people,' interrupted Netta, pouting.
+
+'You will know them directly. But don't let out anything about the farm,
+or father and mother; papa and mamma now, little coz. Miss Simpson
+guesses it is an elopement, I think, but I haven't told her so. They are
+very great friends of mine; very grand people.'
+
+'Quite like Lady Nugent, I suppose,' suggests Netta.
+
+'Quite--grander indeed. Well, I have ordered the wedding-breakfast,
+carriages, everything. Never had such fun in my life. It was quite an
+excitement. You don't know half my talents yet.'
+
+'Suppose brother Rowland were to hear of it?' says Netta, frightened at
+the idea.
+
+Howel laughs aloud, and awakes his mother.
+
+'He is east, we are west, my dear cousin. He is amongst the plebeians,
+we the patricians; he is _canaille_, we are _noblesse_.'
+
+'What are they, Howel?'
+
+''Tis a pleasure to be hearing you talk, Howel,' says Mrs Jenkins,
+yawning and rubbing her eyes.
+
+'I was saying, mother, that we are to have a grand wedding, and you must
+take care not to let anything come out about the shop, faugh! or,
+indeed, not talk much to the friends I have asked--Lady Simpson, for
+instance,'
+
+'Oh, yes? you was telling me of her. Wasn't it when you was dining with
+Prince Albert wanst, and was wanting that money of my Griffey?'
+
+'Do hold your tongue, mother,' shouts Howel, shuddering; he always
+shivers when he hears his father's name.
+
+He sees a head trying to peep through the curtain, and thinks it best to
+hold his tongue for a time, then continues,--
+
+'I mean, mother, don't mention my dining with the prince, or any of
+these old stories, to the Simpsons. You must both be very careful of
+what you say. I shall show you as much as I can of London to-morrow,
+mother, as you will be obliged to return the day after.'
+
+'Deet now, I did be thinking I should stay a week in London, now I am
+going there for the first time in my life? I'll be staying after you,
+Howel, bach. I've plenty of money now.'
+
+'You shall come up again to meet us when we return; but you must be at
+home to see to the house, and let us know what is said of our doings.
+You see we shall go direct to Paris, stay some time abroad, and then
+come and settle at home. Won't we astonish the county! Mr and Mrs Howel
+Jenkins will be no longer the Howel and Netta of old days; we shall be
+the upon, not the fawners!'
+
+'I'd scorn to fawn on any one, Howel,' says Netta indignantly; 'I never
+did in my life. I always gave Miss Rice Rice as big a stare as she gave
+me.'
+
+'You will be able to give her a bigger now,' laughs Howel. As they
+journeyed on, Howel pointed out all the different objects that were
+likely to interest his mother and Netta. Every one, or nearly every one,
+knows what an exciting event is a first journey to London, it matters
+not whether performed at eighteen or sixty-five. And if the first
+journey to London be also the first journey by rail, the wonder and
+excitement are doubled.
+
+When Howel had finished all his instructions concerning the future, he
+thoroughly entered into the present, and enchanted his companions by his
+general knowledge of the passing scenes, and the amusing stories he had
+to tell. Netta was more in love with him than ever before they reached
+town, and wondered that such a grand and clever gentleman could have
+kept constant to a little country cousin like herself. She had seen
+nothing of Howel during the most stirring years of his life, and could
+not have supposed what a change the mere commerce with the world could
+effect. She considered him far more agreeable than her brother Rowland,
+handsomer and more polished than Sir Hugh Pryse, and much more
+fashionable than Mr Rice Rice.
+
+At Swindon he treated them liberally, and loaded Netta with sweets to
+take with her to the carriage after she had swallowed her cold chicken
+and wine. As to his mother, knowing her peculiar tastes, he gave her a
+glass of brandy and water, upon plea of illness, which she took with
+evident pleasure; but fearing to attract the attention of the smart
+people around her, sipped so daintly, that it was not half finished when
+the signal to return to the carriages sounded, and Howel hurried her
+off.
+
+'Just let me put this piece of chicken and ham into my bag, Howel, and
+finish this drop,' she whispered.
+
+'Quick, mother, not a minute,' was all the answer she received,
+accompanied by a pull of the sleeve so imperative, that she was obliged
+to leave her half filled glass behind her.
+
+At the Oxford Station, Netta began to wonder what Rowland would think of
+her conduct.
+
+'Think!' said Howel, with a scowling brow, 'the prig! what right has he
+to think? He will know that three or four thousand a-year are somewhat
+better than a London curacy--ha! ha! and wish himself in my place, I
+fancy,'
+
+As they neared London, Netta was haunted by visions of her brother, the
+only person she really feared.
+
+'Suppose he should meet them! should find her out! Suppose the clergyman
+who married them should guess, from her name, she was his sister, and go
+and tell him?'
+
+Howel laughed heartily at this, told her to look out of the window at
+London as they entered it, and see whether she thought one parson would
+be likely to be met by chance by another.
+
+'This London!' exclaims Netta, 'I see nothing but the roofs of a lot of
+ugly black houses!'
+
+'Carmarthen is as fine, and Swansea finer!' says Mrs Jenkins, her face
+expressive of great disappointment.
+
+'Draw down your veils, and stand there whilst I get a cab,' says Howel,
+after they have descended upon the platform.
+
+Netta trembles all over, and fancies every tall man in black must be
+Rowland.
+
+'Name o' goodness what are all the people about?' says Mrs Jenkins. 'My
+deet, there do be a lot of carriages! And look you, Netta, at all the
+gentlemen's servants in blue and silver! Here's a place! big enough to
+hold our town. Look you at the glass--like a large hot-house. Seure all
+London isn't covered up like this!'
+
+'Here you are! all right--come along quick!' says Howel, taking them to
+a cab, and putting them in.
+
+'Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,' and off they go, as fast as the poor
+cab-horse can take them.
+
+'Now, what do you think of it, Netta?' asks Howel, as they drive through
+the magnificent streets and squares of the West End of London, where
+every house looks a palace.
+
+Netta was so bewildered that she could not answer; but Mrs Jenkins
+talked for both.
+
+'Look you! well to be seure! that's grander than I ever see. There's a
+church! Trees too! Who'd be thinking of trees in London? Well, name o'
+goodness, where are all they people going? That church 'ont hold 'em
+all! There's beauty! Is that St Paul's, Howel, bach! or the Monument? My
+Griffey was talking of them! There's houses! Seure that's Prince
+Albert's coach! There again! Where was all those carriages going? Ach a
+fi! that man was just driving into our horse. Howel, name o' goodness
+tell the coachman to tak' care. He'll be upsetting us. Yes, indeet,
+Netta, there's shops! One after another. Did you be buying Netta's
+wedding clothes there, Howel! Is that a play-house? No! not a
+gentleman's house? I 'ould like to see a play for wanst, if nobody 'ould
+tell our minister.'
+
+'If you are not too tired, I'll take you to-night, mother,' here broke
+in Howel. 'We may go, perhaps, after you have had some tea. What do you
+say, Netta?'
+
+'Anywhere you like, Howel,' said Netta, 'I am no more ready than if I
+was just starting.'
+
+'Pic what, Howel, was you calling this?' asked Jenkins.
+
+'Piccadilly, mother. One of the best parts of London.'
+
+'Deet, and I should think so. 'Tis like a 'lumination lights. There's no
+night here. Daylight all the year round. Trees again, like Glanyravon
+Park, and lights along by. There pretty--what a many carriages! Was they
+all going to the play? Soldiers, too, I am thinking! And more o' them
+gentlemen's servants in blue and white. Do all the servants in London be
+wearing the same livery, Howel?'
+
+'Those are the police, mother,' said Howel, laughing.
+
+'The pleece! Well, I do be calling them handsome men. When will the
+noise stop, Howel? I can't hear myself speak, much less you and Netta.
+'Tis more noise than Hollantide fair! But maybe 'tis fairday here
+to-day, only I wasn't seeing no cattle. There for you! that man 'll
+upset us, seure he will.'
+
+'Here we are, mother,' interrupted Howel, as the cab stopped in Half
+Moon Street. 'Now, you must remember that the landlady is not to be in
+all our secrets.'
+
+'Seure, and this isn't half as grand as Pic--what's that long name,
+Howel?'
+
+'Will you walk upstairs, ma'am,' said a well-dressed woman who stood in
+the passage of the house at which they stopped.
+
+'Thank you, ma'am,' said Mrs Jenkins, making her very best curtsey to
+the landlady.
+
+'Is tea ready, Mrs Thompson?' asked Howel, hastening into the passage.
+
+'Yes, sir!' replied Mrs Thompson, trying to catch a glimpse of Netta's
+face.
+
+'This way, mother,' said Howel, striding upstairs. 'You can send the
+traps into the bedrooms, Mrs Thompson. William, take them up.'
+
+This to a smart tiger, emblazoned in green and gold, belonging to
+Howel's private menagerie.
+
+'What a lovely room! what a beautiful fire!' cried Netta, as she
+followed Howel into a handsome first-floor drawing-room.
+
+'Treue for you there!' said Mrs Jenkins, surveying herself in the glass.
+
+Tea was ready, and a substantial repast besides, of which they all soon
+began to partake, and to which they did justice.
+
+'I do wish I had that drop of brandy I left in those grand rooms, I am
+feeling a pain,' began Mrs Jenkins.
+
+Howel drew a flask from his pocket, and poured a little brandy into his
+mother's tea.
+
+'This must be the first and last time mother,' he said, as he did so.
+
+When they had finished tea, Howel told them that their room was within
+the folding-doors, and that Netta would find a dress there for the play,
+and must make haste, if she meant to go. His mother, being in her very
+best black, wanted nothing but the widow's cap to complete her attire as
+chaperon. Howel lighted his cigar, and finished the brandy in the flask
+whilst the women were dressing. They soon returned, Netta looking really
+beautiful, in a new and fashionable white dress, elaborately trimmed
+with ribbons and lace.
+
+Howel went up to her and kissed her with infinite satisfaction.
+
+'Won't we create a sensation at the Olympic,' he said. 'There will not
+be such bright eyes and lilies and roses to be seen there as yours,
+cousin Netta!'
+
+'Mother don't approve of plays, Howel!'
+
+'You must think of me, not mother now,' said Howel, ringing the bell and
+ordering a cab, which as soon as it arrived received our trio, and was
+driven to the Olympic, where they arrived in due time, and where we will
+leave them for the present.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE MILLIONAIRE'S WIFE.
+
+
+'Don't you be taking on so, Netta, fach! if you do be crying this way,
+your eyes 'll be as red as carrots, and Howel 'ont like it.'
+
+'Oh! Aunt 'Lisbeth, I can't help thinking of mother, and how she is
+vexing about me.'
+
+'Look you at yourself in the glass, Netta, fach! and you 'ont be vexing
+any more. I never was seeing such a glass as that before. Look you! you
+can see yourself from the beauty-flowers in the white bonnet--dear!
+there is a bonnet! and you was looking so well in it--down to them
+lovely white shoes on your foots, I never was thinking before you had
+such little foots.'
+
+This conversation takes place whilst Mrs Jenkins is engaged in dressing
+Netta for her wedding, and in endeavouring at the same time to soothe
+various ebullitions of grief that burst out ever and anon, between the
+different acts of the attiring. The girl cannot quite forget the friends
+she left behind her, when she so suddenly ran away from home. The appeal
+to her personal appearance is not, however, in vain. She looks in the
+cheval-glass which draws forth Mrs Jenkins' admiration, and thinks she
+has seldom seen anything so pretty as the reflection of her own person
+in her bridal dress. She hastily dries her eyes, and turns round and
+round several times to assure herself that all is right.
+
+'Ah! Howel is knowing everything!' says Mrs Jenkins. 'Silks and laces,
+and flowers, and worked-handkerchiefs, and all as white as a lily! And
+your cheeks a deal redder than any I do see here along! My deet! but you
+do be looking genteel.'
+
+'Do I look as if I had been crying, aunt?' asks Netta, wetting her eyes
+with lavender water. 'I'm afraid of Howel and those grand people. I wish
+he hadn't asked them.'
+
+'Oh, for sham! Netta. There they are, I shouldn't wonder! Yes indeet!
+says Mrs Jenkins, 'I hear them talking on the stairs.'
+
+A knock at the bedroom door is followed by the entrance of two ladies,
+apparently mother and daughter; the former a portly and roseate dame,
+clad in the richest of brocades and white lace shawls--the latter a thin
+and somewhat yellow damsel, a tired in white and pink bonnet and mantle
+to match, evidently in bridesmaid's gear.
+
+'Ah I how charming! how beautiful! what a country-flower in London
+leaves!' exclaim the ladies, rushing up to Netta and kissing her. 'Good
+morning, Mrs Jenkins, your son has chosen a bewitching young person
+indeed!'
+
+'Treue for your ladyship,' says Mrs Jenkins, making her very best
+curtsey, as the ladies alternately shake hands with her.
+
+'Your ladyship' is no less a person than Lady Simpson, the wife of Sir
+John Simpson, a gentleman who acquired that title on an occasion when
+William the Fourth, of blessed memory, was fêted in the city. Sir John,
+having made a considerable fortune in trade, and being blessed with a
+helpmate of an aspiring mind, has removed from his old neighbourhood to
+that of Hyde Park, where he is spending the money he earned on the
+general advancement of his family. This family consists of a son and
+daughter, who have been highly educated according to the general
+acceptation of the term. With the son Howel is very intimate, and
+through him he has long been known to the rest of the family; but it is
+only since his vast accession of wealth that he has had the
+distinguished honour of claiming Sir John and Lady Simpson as his
+particular friends. To them he confided his intended marriage with a
+beautiful cousin, who, for family reasons, was coming to London, he
+said, under his mother's protection, to be united to him. They had
+called on Mrs Jenkins and Netta the previous day, and were invited to
+the wedding in the various capacities of father, bridesman, and
+bridesmaid. Previously to their making his mother's acquaintance, Howel
+informed them that being Welsh, she naturally spoke the language of her
+country, and was so patriotic that she disliked any other; and said that
+they must not be surprised at her peculiar English, which was simply a
+translation of the Welsh idioms into what, to her, was a foreign tongue.
+He also gave his mother an hour's lecture upon her dress and deportment;
+and Netta a few hints as to her general behaviour, which, whilst it
+enchanted the elder, frightened the younger lady. Thus 'forewarned,' if
+not 'fore-armed' the forces of Simpson and Jenkins were thrown together.
+
+Lady Simpson is an average specimen of a vulgar woman aping gentility;
+her daughter of a would-be fine lady.
+
+After they have sufficiently admired Netta's dress, and put the
+finishing touches to it, Miss Simpson informs Netta of her duty as bride
+elect.
+
+'Of course, my dear, papa will take you to the hymeneal altar, and our
+friend Captain Dancy will take me.'
+
+'Oh! I hope there is no other stranger,' gasps Netta.
+
+'Only a particular friend of my brother's and of Mr Jenkins'. Do not be
+alarmed, you shy little dove.'
+
+'Netta, fach!' whispers Mrs Jenkins, 'the ladies was knowing what is
+right'
+
+'Then my brother must take up Mrs Jenkins, and Mr Jenkins, mamma. I
+declare we shall be a charming party; and remember to take off your
+glove, dear, and give it to me.'
+
+'We had better go downstairs now,' said Lady Simpson. 'Bridegrooms are
+very impatient at these times.'
+
+Lady Simpson took the blushing, frightened Netta by the hand, and led
+her into the drawing-room. Truly the poor child did look like a lovely
+country rose, as Miss Simpson had not inaptly called her. Howel led her,
+proud of her beauty, to the portly Sir John, who patted her kindly on
+the cheeks, and reminded Netta so strongly of her father that the tears
+sprung into her eyes. Howel's frown soon checked them, and a thundering
+knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Mr Simpson, junior, and
+his friend, Captain Dancy, turned her attention from the father to the
+son. The look of decided admiration that the new comers cast upon her,
+quite revived her drooping spirits, and she smiled, curtseyed, and
+blushed as becomingly and naively as Howel could have wished.
+
+Mr Horatio Simpson was a young man very much adorned with chains, rings,
+studs, and black curls. He had, moreover, a very fine waistcoat, and was
+altogether well fitted by his tailor. His face was not unlike that of an
+otter. He used grand words when he spoke, but did not tire his
+companions by quite as voluble a tongue as did his mother. He was one of
+those fine gentlemen who would, or could neither plod nor dash at his
+studies, and who was quite willing to take all his knowledge second hand
+from any one who would kindly impart it.
+
+Captain Dancy was so entirely his devoted friend, that he gladly gave
+him the advantage of his superior parts, in return for various favours
+which Miss Simpson also aided in conferring.
+
+Captain Dancy is a tall, fashionable-looking man, with what Miss Simpson
+and her mamma consider a splendid figure. 'And such a lovely moustache!'
+Miss Simpson usually adds with a sigh. The moustache and hair are,
+however, inclined to red, and the face within them is not unlike that of
+a fox. Perhaps some of his friends might be surprised if they found him
+in the present company; but he would do anything to oblige Simpson and
+Jenkins, who are, in turn, always at his service, in more ways than one.
+
+After a little preliminary conversation, Mr Simpson offers Netta his
+arm; and followed by the rest of the bridal party, leads the way
+downstairs. A smart little liveried page is at the door, and two fine
+carriages are in the street, each with its horses and coachman
+ornamented with bridal favours.
+
+'We cannot make all our arrangements' as I could wish, whispers Howel
+to Miss Simpson, 'owing to circumstances; or I should have met you at
+the church from another house.'
+
+Netta, Mr Simpson, and the two ladies are in the first carriage, which
+soon arrives at St James's Church, followed by the other. How the
+bouquet in Netta's hand trembles, as she takes Mr Simpson's arm, and
+walks with him up the steps, and finally through the centre aisle to the
+altar! She has never been in a London church before, and the varied
+colours of that magnificent painted window strike her with wonder even
+now.
+
+Netta turns very pale as she stands by the altar, and waits until Howel
+comes up. Sir John whispers some kindly words, which so forcibly remind
+her of her father, that she can scarcely repress her tears. She glances
+at Howel, as he stands opposite, gazing at her, and sees that his
+handsome face is calm and determined. He smiles as she looks at him,
+which reassures her. A prettier bride could never stand before an altar;
+Howel feels this and is satisfied. And Netta has loved her cousin all
+her life, and thinks him perfect. She can truly say that she leaves
+father, mother, all for him.
+
+And these are the feelings with which they receive the first words of
+the earnest-spoken grey-haired priest, who tells them that they are
+assembled in the sight of God, to be joined indissolubly together.
+
+Netta once read through the marriage service years ago. She had
+forgotten it, and would have read it again, but she did not take away
+either her Bible or prayer book when she fled from her home, and did not
+like to ask Howel to buy her one. Now, as the clergyman continues his
+exhortation, the words sound to her as some solemn and wonderful address
+spoken for her alone. She listens in spite of a multitude of feelings
+that are struggling within her, and is struck with fear when she is
+adjured to confess, if there is any impediment to her being lawfully
+wedded. She knows that her father's anger and her mother's sorrow are
+broad impediments in her road to happiness.
+
+Her hand trembles, as he who holds the office that offended father ought
+to hold, takes it and places it in that of the clergyman It trembles
+still more as she hears the question put to her concerning her future
+conduct to him, so soon to be her husband, and to think she must audibly
+respond. Howel has already answered firmly and boldly, and she strives
+to say the final, 'I will,' firmly too, but her voice falters; she is
+too much absorbed in her own emotions to notice how carelessly and
+thoughtlessly Howel repeats his solemn promise to her after the
+clergyman, but she feels him press her hand and is reassured.
+Tremblingly, but in all earnestness of purpose, she makes her vow to
+'love, cherish, and obey' him whom she has resolutely chosen for her
+husband; and, as if touched by her manner, and by the searching glance
+of the clergyman, Howel becomes more serious as he places the ring on
+her finger and repeats the last words in those great and awful names,
+which it is sin to utter but with humility and prayer.
+
+Truly, as they kneel before the altar to receive the final blessing of
+the clergyman, they are a sight for much joy or much grief. Who shall
+say what the end will be? Two human beings joined in one to all
+eternity!
+
+As that prayer and blessing are being spoken, a bright flash of
+lightning darts through the church, followed by a heavy peal of thunder;
+suddenly a great gloom fills the sacred edifice, and a storm of hail and
+rain dashes against the windows.
+
+Poor Netta is superstitious and as easily frightened as a child; she
+starts and gives an involuntary little cry as the lightning flashes
+before her eyes, and the thunder seems to shake her as she kneels. She
+turns paler and paler as the storm continues, and can scarcely hear the
+concluding psalms, prayers, and exhortation, for her fear of the
+lightning which fitfully and at intervals slants through the painted
+windows.
+
+Stronger nerves than Netta's have been shaken by a thunderstorm on a
+wedding-day. Even Howel involuntarily quails at this evil omen, and Mrs
+Jenkins clasps her hands and mutters a Welsh proverb. She and Netta had
+been congratulating each other on the sunshine of the morning, and such
+a storm was bad indeed.
+
+However, the service proceeds, and then he who addresses the
+newly-married pair in God's name, makes himself heard in spite of the
+pattering hail. He seems the more impressive as he cannot but remark
+Howel's frowning brow and Netta's agitation.
+
+It is a relief to all the wedding-party when the last words are spoken
+and Howel leads his bride into the vestry. By this time tears are
+running fast down her pale cheeks, and Howel's efforts at encouragement,
+and the warm kiss he gives her, fail to dry them; Sir John Simpson's
+fatherly embrace rather serves to increase than diminish the emotion,
+and poor Netta is conscious that Howel must be very displeased.
+
+She mutters something about her great fear of lightning and thunder;
+signs her name even more stragglingly than usual, and is at last led by
+Howel through the church to the carriage.
+
+'I don't wonder she is frightened and nervous,' says Miss Simpson? 'I am
+sure I should have fainted if such a storm had come on at my marriage.
+It is--'
+
+'Nonsense!' exclaims Howel, somewhat rudely, as they drive quickly
+through Jermyn Street, up St James's Street, down Piccadilly, and into
+Half Moon Street, without much farther conversation, whilst the storm
+rolls on. Netta hurries upstairs and gives way to a burst of sobs and
+tears; Howel follows, and knowing the best way to console her, takes her
+in his arms, and having told her that she is his own little wife now,
+begs her to remember all the grand things they are going to do.
+
+'You are a great lady now, Netta. We must astonish the little people
+down in Wales. Think of Paris, and that Lady Nugent and Miss Rice Rice,
+and all your old rivals will hear of your being there, and soon see you
+return smarter and richer than any one,'
+
+'But the storm, cousin Howel! All those solemn words! I am frightened to
+death!'
+
+'Silly little Netta! what has the storm to do with you and me? All our
+prosperity and happiness are beginning.'
+
+'But they say, "Blessed is the bride the sun shines on," and that
+thunder and lightning are such a bad omen.'
+
+'Don't be'--a fool, Howel was going to say, but he modified it into
+'Don't be such a silly little puss, but dry your eyes, and come and make
+yourself agreeable to our first visitors. _Ours,_ Netta dear.'
+
+Netta did as she was bid, and in a short time was at the head of the
+table, on which a wedding-breakfast had been duly placed, according to
+the general rules laid down for such occasions. Howel had given _carte
+blanche_ to a fashionable confectioner, and everything was as it should
+be for the quiet and private marriage of a man of large fortune. The
+cake was splendidly ornamented, the champagne iced, and the other viands
+and wines in keeping with them; the hired waiters vied with Sir John's
+servants in propriety of demeanour, and Howel's page was as pompous as
+pages generally are.
+
+All Netta's pride and ambition returned when she saw herself mistress at
+a table more luxuriously spread than that of Mr Gwynne, and she soon
+began to enjoy her new dignity very much.
+
+'I am to have a French maid when I get to Paris,' she said to Miss
+Simpson. 'Howel does not like to take one with us, and we shall form our
+establishment when we return.'
+
+Howel laughed in his sleeve when he heard this: he managed to hear every
+word that Netta uttered, and gave her an approving glance; he also saw
+that his friends, Captain Dancy and Mr Horatio Simpson, greatly admired
+his beautiful young wife, and little cousin Netta rose in his,
+estimation.
+
+'We shall soon meet in Paris, I hope,' said Captain Dancy. 'Simpson and
+I are going to run over next week. I should like to assist in showing
+you some of the lions, Mrs Howel Jenkins,'
+
+'Lions! name o' goodness don't tak' her to see them!' exclaims Mrs
+Jenkins, now put off her guard by fear.
+
+'Ah! you have not that Welsh figure; it means--' began Miss Simpson, but
+she was interrupted by Mr Simpson proposing the health of the bride and
+bridegroom.
+
+The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too
+often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating
+beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on
+the subject of 'my son Howels,' when that gentleman gave her a look that
+silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at
+Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.
+
+The ladies went to their retiring-room, whilst the gentlemen drank more
+champagne, and arranged various Parisian amusements.
+
+It was understood that, as Howel had no friends to leave behind him for
+the final settlement of lodgings and the like, his guests were to depart
+before he and his bride left. They accordingly took their leave as soon
+as Netta reappeared in fashionable travelling costume. No sooner were
+they fairly gone than Howel set to work to pay and arrange; this done,
+he called Netta to look at their wedding cards. There were a great
+number directed to different friends, some to acquaintances in their old
+neighbourhood, and one to David Prothero, Esq., Glanyravon.
+
+Netta quailed but said nothing.
+
+'Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the _Welshman,_ and every
+one will see it:--"On the 16th instant, at St James's Church,
+Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to
+Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon. Sir John
+Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was
+attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends."'
+
+'Father will see that,' said Netta; 'he will be in such a passion.'
+
+'Serve him right,' replied Howel, and called the page and sent the
+letters to the post.
+
+The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in. Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of
+champagne, together with a few other confections' in a stray hamper.
+
+'Make haste, mother,' cried Howel.
+
+'Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute. We must be wishing you joy at home;
+and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand
+cake.'
+
+At last Mrs Jenkins and her hamper were ready, and the trio started for
+the Paddington Station.
+
+When they arrived there Howel took a second-class ticket for his mother
+as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-class from that place
+home. She was to sleep with some friends at Swansea.
+
+'We mustn't waste money, mother.'
+
+'Treue for you, Howel.'
+
+'Tell everybody at home of the grand wedding.'
+
+'Don't be afraid of that.'
+
+When Howel had seen his mother off, he and Netta drove to their station,
+and, per first-class carriage, with page in second, steamed off to
+Folkestone, which was to be the first stage of their life-journey.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE SERVANT.
+
+
+We must now leave Netta and her husband for a time, and return to the
+morning when Netta left her home to go forth in search of a new one.
+
+The breakfast-table was spread at the farm, and all were assembled
+except Netta.
+
+'Owen, go and call Netta,' said Mr Prothero, seating himself before some
+smoking rashers of bacon; 'she's always late, I'll say that for her.'
+
+Owen did his father's bidding, but returned exclaiming,--
+
+'She is up and out of her room. There must be something wonderful to
+make her go out before breakfast.'
+
+'Such a lovely morning,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I daresay she is in the
+garden.'
+
+'Well, let her find her way in,' said the farmer; 'she knows the hour,
+and we'll fall to. Say grace, mother, if you please.'
+
+Mrs Prothero said grace, and the trio sat down to breakfast.
+
+'I expect brother Jo and Mrs Jonathan to-day,' said Mr Prothero; 'they
+are going to a clerical meeting, and are coming here on their way back.'
+
+'Dear me!' said Mrs Prothero. 'What can we have for dinner?'
+
+'Eggs and bacon. What better?' said the farmer. 'But you needn't be
+afraid, they 'ont come till tea. Owen, I wish you'd just look out and
+see after that idle slut Netta.'
+
+Off started Owen with a piece of bread and butter in his hand.
+
+'Mother, why don't you make that girl more regular?' asked Mr Prothero.
+
+'Oh, David! you know she doesn't mind me.'
+
+'Then you should make her.'
+
+Mrs Prothero could have said, 'You should have helped me to make her all
+her life,' but she refrained.
+
+'Can't find her,' cried Owen, returning.
+
+'Perhaps she is ill upstairs,' suggested Mrs Prothero, rising, and
+running up to her room.
+
+The room was empty, as we know, and Mrs Prothero was about to leave it
+again, when she went to the open window to see if she could espy Netta
+from it. She passed the dressing-table as she did so, and perceiving a
+letter, glanced at the direction. She was surprised to find it addressed
+to herself, and on a nearer examination saw that it was in Netta's
+handwriting. It was with a trembling hand and foreboding heart that she
+took it up and broke the seal After she had done this, she was some time
+before she could summon courage to open it. When she did so, her brain
+swam as she read the following words, written with trembling fingers:--
+
+     'DEAR MOTHER,--I am going to marry cousin Howel. Father won't
+     consent, so we are going to London to be married. I hope you will
+     forgive me for not telling you, but I knew it was no good, as
+     father is so much against it. I am sure I shall be very happy, only
+     I should like to have been married properly at home; but it is not
+     my fault that father would not hear of it, and that Howel would not
+     wait. We are going to France and a great many other countries, and
+     it grieves me to think how long it will be before I shall see you
+     again. I hope you and father will forgive me? as Howel is a
+     gentleman with plenty of money, and we have loved one another all
+     our lives. I don't see why we were not allowed to marry like
+     anybody else, instead of being obliged to go so far away; I am sure
+     it would have been better if father had let us. Dear mother, you
+     were always very good to me, and I am sorry if I ever offended you;
+     but father called me bad names, and was very cross; he will be
+     vexed, perhaps, when he sees how grand and happy I am.
+
+     'Good-bye for a little time, my dear mother. Don't be very angry
+     with your dutiful, affectionate daughter, JANETTA.'
+
+The word 'dutiful' was scratched through and affectionate added.
+
+When Mrs Prothero had read this letter, she turned very pale, and stood
+like one in a dream; she could not realise the contents. That Netta was
+wilful and obstinate she knew, but she had never known her guilty of
+resolute disobedience; she felt very faint, and sat down on a chair
+opposite the open door--she tried to rise to go downstairs to her
+husband, but found that her head was too giddy, and she could not move;
+she put her hand before her eyes, and became unconscious.
+
+At this moment Gladys passed down the passage, and seeing Mrs Prothero
+in this strange attitude, went into the room and asked if anything was
+the matter. Receiving no answer, she put her hand tenderly on Mrs
+Prothero's, and removing it from before her face, saw that she was pale,
+and appeared to have fainted. She ran hastily downstairs, and finding
+Owen alone, told him that his mother was ill. He followed her upstairs,
+and soon perceived that Mrs Prothero was really in a kind of swoon.
+Whilst he supported her, Gladys brought water and such restoratives as
+she could procure; she begged him to go for his father, and whilst he
+was gone, succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero. At the sight of the open
+letter, however, she sank again into a fainting fit.
+
+Mr Prothero and Owen appeared.
+
+'Mother, what is the matter? Name o' goodness what is the matter?' said
+Mr Prothero in great alarm.
+
+Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his
+father took his wife into his arms.
+
+Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero
+to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a
+letter.
+
+'How can you read now, you unnatural son?' he said sternly.
+
+'Oh, father! father, Netta!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Never mind her; think of your mother, ten thousand times as precious.'
+
+At last Gladys succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero to consciousness and
+when she found herself in her husband's arms, with Owen bending over
+her, she burst into a flood of hysterical tears, which partially
+relieved her.
+
+'Oh, Netta! Netta!' was all she could say, when they asked her what was
+the matter.
+
+'Never mind her, mother, but get better,' said Mr Prothero, his usually
+rosy face almost as pale as his wife's.
+
+'If you please, sir, we will lay her on the bed,' said Gladys.
+
+'Not here--not here,' gasped Mrs Prothero.
+
+They took her to her own room, and Gladys said,--'Perhaps, sir, if you
+would leave her to me a little I could get her into bed, I am used to
+illness.'
+
+Mr Prothero looked at the girl, and saw her eyes full of tears, but her
+face was calm and pale, and seemed to indicate a self-possession that no
+one else present had.
+
+'I will come back again soon, mother,' he said as he left the room,
+followed by Owen.
+
+When they were gone, Mrs Prothero gave way to an uncontrollable grief,
+and threw herself upon the neck of the girl Gladys.
+
+'What will he say? what will he do when he knows it all?' she sobbed.
+
+'If you only hope and pray, ma'am, perhaps all will be right that
+troubles you now,' faltered Gladys.
+
+'My only girl! to be so wilful, so disobedient!'
+
+'May I ask what has happened to Miss Netta?'
+
+'She has run away with her cousin, and her father will never forgive
+her--never!'
+
+'Ah! that was what my poor mother did; but she was happy with my father;
+and Mr Jenkins is rich and kind. Take comfort, ma'am, it may not be so
+very bad.'
+
+Gladys managed to get Mrs Prothero into bed, who, happily, did not see
+the effect produced by Netta's letter on her husband. Whilst she was
+shedding quiet tears on her pillow, he was raging with furious passion
+to his son. Over and over again did he comment on every word of the
+letter, sometimes with keen irony, sometimes with a burst of rage, until
+Owen endeavoured to suggest pursuit.
+
+'Go after her! the ungrateful, disobedient, good-for-nothing hussey! No,
+not if she were stopping a mile off instead of whirling away in her
+grand coach and four nobody knows where. Let her go, the impertinent
+baggage! "Father 'ont consent! father was very cross! father had better
+let us marry! he will be sorry when he sees how grand and happy I am!
+father called me bad names!" I wish I had called her worse! she deserves
+every name that was ever written!'
+
+'But, perhaps,' suggests Owen, 'she will be happy, and Howel will be
+steady.'
+
+'Steady! hold your tongue and don't be a fool! Make a drunkard steady!
+make a bad son steady! make a gambler steady! make a horse-racer steady!
+make--make--make--hold your tongue, sir: don't say a word for the
+ungrateful girl--never mention her name to me again--I never wish to see
+her face more as long as I live--I--I--I--'
+
+Mr Prothero's passion choked his words. Could Netta have suddenly
+returned and seen her father shaking with suppressed grief, his face
+crimson with rage, and his hands and teeth clenched, and her mother
+pale and weeping on her bed, she would, I think, have paused longer
+before she caused them this great grief.
+
+Mr Prothero returned to his wife before his passion was calmed. He found
+her sitting up in bed wringing her hands, and crying as if her heart
+would break.
+
+'Now, mother, there's no good in this,' began the farmer. 'That girl
+don't deserve tears and lamentations, and I 'ont have 'em. We 'ont have
+the house turned upside down because a bad, obstinate, ungrateful
+daughter has run away with a miser's son, and a good-for-nothing
+spendthrift. Let 'em go, I say! I 'ouldn't stir a step to bring 'em
+back--'
+
+'Oh, David! dear, dear husband! if only you will find out that they are
+married; if only you would send some one to see that Howel marries her!
+This is all--all--all! I will never name her again! I will try to forget
+her--I will do all you wish! but for my sake, for yours, for all, for
+God's sake, see to this, or I shall die.'
+
+Mr Prothero was cowed at once by this passionate burst of grief. He had
+never seen his submissive, patient little wife excited in this way
+before, for never before had she felt so deep a pain. Her only daughter!
+
+'God help me! God help me!' she sobbed, when she had controlled her
+great emotion. 'I know I have indulged her--spoilt her perhaps. I know
+she is proud and wilful, and obstinate; but oh! to disobey us all--to go
+off, she doesn't know where--with Howel, too, who has no religion,
+nothing to keep him pure and honest--this is too much! too hard! No,
+David, bach! it is no good to be angry now--if you won't go after her I
+must.'
+
+'Stop you, mother, stop you! we'll see the slut married anyhow; that is
+to say, Howel shall marry her--who ever doubted that? but I'll never set
+eyes on her again as long as I live, I 'ont.'
+
+Whilst Mr Prothero was speaking, Gladys, who had been waiting upon Mrs
+Prothero until that moment, slipped out of the room, and ran in search
+of Owen. She found him amongst servants making inquiries.
+
+'Mr Owen, may I speak with you if you please.'
+
+Owen followed her into the hall.
+
+'Oh! sir, if you would go after Miss Netta, now that the master is
+willing, at once; may be you will save your mother's life. If she goes
+on this way, she will surely be very ill.'
+
+'What use would it be for me to go after her? The cow-boy saw her pass
+at about five this morning, and she is at Swansea by this time. My
+father ought to have let 'em marry, and get on together like other young
+couples.'
+
+'But, Mr Owen, the mistress is afraid--she wants to be sure--she would
+be happier, sir, if some one could see them married!'
+
+'Oh! that's the way the wind blows! You may tell mother that I'll try to
+track them--but it won't be of any use. At any rate it will calm her to
+think we are making the attempt. You write to my brother Rowland,
+Gladys, and tell him of this affair; but the truth is, we must make the
+best of it. They are off to London to be married, and 'tis no good to
+try to look for 'em there.'
+
+Here Shanno entered.
+
+'Mr Owen, Mr Jones, Tenewydd, did tell Mr Thomas, Trefortyn, who did
+tell John, blacksmith, who did tell Betto, that he saw Miss Netta and
+Mrs Jenkins, tallow-chandler, this morning about six o'clock, and they
+did get into a carriage by there.'
+
+'Go and tell mother that Aunt Jenkins was with Netta, Gladys, and I'll
+go and see whether Mr Jones really saw her or not.'
+
+Gladys returned to her mistress, who had become more quiet, and was
+trying to persuade Mr Prothero to go after the fugitives.
+
+'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'and Mr Jones, of Tynewydd, saw
+Miss Netta this morning with Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and they got into a
+carriage together.'
+
+'Thank God that 'Lizbeth was with her,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'The deceitful, pompous old vagabond,' thundered Mr Prothero. 'She to
+connive and contrive! fit mother for such a son. They 'ont come to no
+good end. No, mother, I can't, nor I 'ont go after 'em; Netta has made
+her own bed, and she must lie on it.'
+
+'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' whispered Gladys. 'Try to take comfort; there
+is One who can make all our rough ways straight, and will bring poor
+Miss Netta home again, if we pray for it.'
+
+'What's the girl preaching about?' said Mr Prothero, glancing sternly at
+Gladys, who was silenced at once. 'Now, mother, we mustn't let that
+undutiful girl upset us. I must go to the wheat-field--you must--' he
+looked at his wife, and changed what he was going to say to, 'lie in
+bed.'
+
+'No, Davy, I can't lie in bed, I must go and look for Netta.'
+
+'Now, wife, I 'ont have none of this nonsense. You must either lie in
+bed or go about your work. The whole house sha'n't be turned
+topsey-turvey for a baggage like that.'
+
+Mr Prothero left the room, and his wife insisted upon getting up.
+
+'If you could pray for her, ma'am, you would be happier, and perhaps
+poor Miss Netta might be helped in a way we cannot see.'
+
+'Pray for me, Gladys, I cannot think or pray for myself, I am so
+bewildered.'
+
+The two earnest-minded women knelt down by the bedside, and Gladys
+offered up a simple prayer in her clear, strong language, for the 'poor
+lamb who had strayed from the fold;' in which the mother joined in the
+midst of her sobs and tears. When they arose from their knees, Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys, and said she would go downstairs, and try to
+work, and seek to keep her heart in prayer.
+
+And the day wore through, until the evening brought Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero. For the first time, Mrs Jonathan comforted her sister-in-law.
+
+'Now, really, I do not see why you should be so very much distressed,'
+she said. 'Howel is a fine, clever young man, with plenty of money. He
+is sure to make his way into good society, and to place Netta in a
+superior position. Of course, it was very wrong of her to elope, very;
+but your husband is so obstinate that they knew he would never consent,
+and what else were they to do? I confess I should have done the very
+same thing. As to his not marrying her after all, that is absurd. He is
+devotedly attached to her, and he knows that with her beauty and spirit,
+she will soon be fit for good society.'
+
+Mr Jonathan was not so successful with his brother. After saying that he
+had seen a carriage and pair pass at about six that morning, he
+proceeded to offer consolation.
+
+'It is according to nature, brother. Since the creation, the man has
+cleaved to the woman and the woman to the man. You married according to
+your fancy, so did I; so have men and women ever since the world began.
+It may turn out better than you imagine.'
+
+'Brother Jo!' thundered the farmer, 'hold your tongue. I know Howel
+better than you do, or anybody else, except Rowland. I 'ont hear any
+more about 'em, and the less you say the better. She's no daughter o'
+mine any more.'
+
+With this Mr Prothero walked away, leaving his brother very much
+perplexed and distressed, but comforting himself with hoping that time
+would soften even his choleric relative.
+
+Owen returned about ten o'clock. He had ridden to the inn where Howel
+had changed horses, and learnt the name of the house whence the fly
+came; had left his own horse and taken another, and gone on to Swansea,
+where he found from the drivers that the trio had gone direct to London.
+Thinking it useless to try to track them farther, he returned, fully
+impressed with the wisdom of Howel in running off with what he couldn't
+get by fair means.
+
+'Such a row as father makes,' he soliloquised. 'Why, I should do the
+very same thing to-morrow. And Howel's a decent chap too; will be, at
+least, when he's sown a few more wild oats. But if Netta doesn't lead
+him a dance I'm mistaken. She's father all over. There's a difference
+between her and that Irish girl! My wig! if she isn't a quiet one. But I
+never saw such eyes as hers in all my life, or such a sweet temper. I
+wonder what father would say if I ran off with her, and took her a
+voyage or two to give her a little more colour. That's all she wants to
+make her a downright angel'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE COLONEL.
+
+
+The next day it was evident to every one that Mrs Prothero was very ill.
+She had never had any very extraordinary misfortunes or troubles, and
+the elopement of an only daughter was an event to her so dreadful and
+unexpected that it seemed as bad, or worse, than her death. As nothing
+more was to be gleaned concerning Netta, and further inquiries were
+literally useless--indeed, Mr Prothero would not hear of their being
+made--Mrs Prothero gave way to her grief, and her husband's most
+passionate demonstrations of displeasure failed to frighten her into her
+usual calm submission to him and his humours.
+
+Owen paid a visit to Mrs Jenkins' abode, and heard from the servant left
+in charge that she was not expected home for some time. Owen bribed the
+woman to let him know when her mistress returned, and comforted his
+mother by assuring her that he would find out all about Netta from Aunt
+'Lizbeth, whose tongue was too well oiled to stop going.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jonathan offered to remain at the farm, but as they rather
+irritated Mr Prothero by their evident inclination to take up the
+defence of the offenders, Owen told his aunt that she had better write
+to Lady Payne Perry about Netta, as there was always a chance of great
+people hearing the news. Owen was very well aware that his aunt could
+not possibly write to her aristocratic cousin with the pens, ink, and
+paper in general use at the farm, and that she would be obliged to go
+to her davenport at the vicarage, where he already saw her, in
+imagination, with the finest satin letter paper before her, mending her
+pen into the most delicate of points.
+
+Accordingly they took their leave, with a promise to return on Monday,
+and were soon succeeded by Miss Gwynne, who, having heard of the
+elopement, came to see Mrs Prothero.
+
+'If you could prevail on the mistress to go to bed, ma'am,' said Gladys
+when she opened the door to her, 'I would be for ever thankful to you;
+she is much too ill to be about, and she has done nothing but mope and
+fret all day.'
+
+Miss Gwynne went straight into the dairy, where Mrs Prothero was making
+butter.
+
+'So Netta has taken the law into her own hands, Mrs Prothero. So much
+the better; I shouldn't grieve about it if I were you. It is a grand
+thing for her.'
+
+'Not to disobey us and run away, Miss Gwynne? she would be better doing
+her father's bidding than marrying a lord, much less Howel.'
+
+'But you are not going to make yourself ill and miserable about it.
+Since it is done, you may as well make the best of it; but you must go
+to bed and keep quiet, to-day at least. You are not fit to see all the
+people who are already on their way to condole or congratulate. You will
+have half the parish here before night; I passed old Nancy, Cwmriddle,
+hobbling down the lane, and she will be here shortly.'
+
+'Oh, I couldn't see them, Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Then you must go to bed to avoid it. Do be advised, you look so ill.'
+
+'When Miss Gwynne so far forgot herself as to be persuasive instead of
+commanding, she was irresistible. She put her hand so gently on Mrs
+Prothero's shoulder, and looked so kindly into her tearful eyes, that
+the poor woman began to cry afresh. The sound of a stick knocking at the
+back door completed the victory, and Mrs Prothero went sobbing upstairs,
+whilst Gladys opened the door to admit Nancy, Cwmriddle, and another
+gossip who had overtaken her. Mr Prothero came into the yard at the same
+time.
+
+'Well, sir, to be sure; only to think of Miss Netta,' began the old
+woman in Welsh.
+
+'If you're come here to talk about her, I'll thank you to go away again,
+and tell everybody you meet that they may have their nine days' wonder
+about us anywhere but here,' roared Mr Prothero into Nancy's ear, who
+was very deaf.
+
+The old crones, knowing Mr. Prothero well, turned away quicker than
+they came, and soon began to do his bidding, perceiving that he was in
+an 'awful way.'
+
+'Mr Prothero, do you know I have sent Mrs Prothero to bed,' began Miss
+Gwynne, advancing towards him; 'she looks so very ill and unlike herself
+that I am sure you must be careful of her for a time.'
+
+'All that ungrateful, good-for-nothing daughter of ours, Miss Gwynne.
+What would she care if she were to kill her mother? I know you are a
+true lady and a kind friend, miss, and have more sense than all the rest
+of the country put together, so I don't mind telling you what I think.
+Those that disobey their parents'll be seure to come to a bad end.'
+
+'We will hope the best, Mr Prothero; and you must remember that you have
+your sons to comfort you.'
+
+'Fine comfort to be seure. There's Owen as wild as an untrained colt,
+and Rowland such a grand man up in London that he 'ont know his own
+father by-and-by. Dining with bishops and rectors, and as fine as my
+lord. I always told my wife that all Mrs Jonathan's eddication was too
+much for us, and so it is turning out. We shall be left in our old age
+to shift for ourselves; one son at sea, without a shirt to his back;
+another preaching upon a hundred a-year--gentleman Rowland I call him;
+and the third in a workhouse, maybe. And all this because brother Jo
+must needs bring a fine lady amongst us, and with her nothing but
+grammar-schools, boarding-schools, and colleges. My wife always spoilt
+that girl.'
+
+'Perhaps you helped a little bit, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Gwynne,
+smiling, to stop the farmer's flow of words. 'But one couldn't help
+spoiling poor--'
+
+'There, don't you go for to take her part, miss. Name o' goodness, let
+alone the girl. Beg pardon for being so rude.'
+
+Here Gladys appeared, who had followed her mistress upstairs.
+
+'Sir, the mistress is very ill. I think she would like to see you.
+Perhaps you had better have a doctor.'
+
+'Never had a doctor in my house since Netta was born, that's the trouble
+she brought with her; I'd as soon have an undertaker. Send you for a
+doctor, and everybody in the house is seure to be ill. He's infectious.
+Excuse me, Miss Gwynne, whilst I go and see what's the matter.'
+
+Miss Gwynne waited until she heard Mr Prothero come down from his wife's
+room, calling busily for Owen, who was in the wheat-field, and telling
+him to go and fetch Dr Richards. She then called Gladys, and said she
+should have whatever her mistress could fancy from the Park, and that
+she would come again in the afternoon and see how she was.
+
+This done, Miss Gwynne went her own erratic way, which led her over
+stiles, and through fields, and into various cottages, where she
+alternately scolded, lectured, and condoled, accordingly as she thought
+their inmates deserved the one or the other. She rarely left them,
+however, without giving some substantial proof of the interest she felt
+in their wants and trials, either by promises of food or clothing, or by
+money given then and there. She finally anchored in a pretty
+school-house that she had lately prevailed on her father to build, close
+by the Park, where she found Miss Hall patiently superintending the
+needlework of the girls. She gave two or three quick nods to the
+children, and they curtseyed and bowed on her entrance, and then told
+Miss Hall it was twelve o'clock, and she had had quite enough teaching
+for one morning.
+
+'I don't see what use it is having a school, if half the children are to
+stay away,' she said to the mistress.
+
+'It is the harvest, ma'am; they stay at home to take care of the younger
+children; that is why we have so few.'
+
+'Yes, and half go to the Dissenting schools; I see them creeping out.
+Now, children,' turning to the terrified urchins, who were just about to
+leave the room, if I see any of you going to any other school but this,
+or going away from church to the meeting-houses, you shall neither have
+new frocks, hats, nor shawls, nor shall you come to the tea-party I am
+going to give you soon; do you hear?'
+
+'Yes, ma'am--yes, ma'am,' muttered the children as they curtseyed and
+bowed and slipped away.
+
+As Freda and Miss Hall walked through the park to the house, the former
+grew very excited in her manner.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Nita,' she said, 'Lady Nugent is doing
+everything in her power to win papa, and as soon as Miss Nugent marries,
+or rather as soon as somebody marries her fortune, she will get papa to
+marry her, I am sure of it. She must propose for him herself, for he
+will never have the courage to do so; I see through her, and I am sure
+you must do the same. He is flattered by the constant attentions, and
+little notes, and insinuating manners of a very handsome, fashionable,
+agreeable woman; and she thinks Glanyravon Park and a man of fortune
+that she will be able to turn round her fingers, better than the
+jointure she will have to live upon when her daughter leaves her. I was
+actually disgusted with her yesterday; it was what I call a dead set; if
+he marries her I shall hang myself, for live with her I never will; I
+positively detest her.'
+
+'Oh! Freda; those are the old expressions of years gone by. But you are
+jumping at a conclusion.'
+
+'Not at all; papa always stands up for Lady Nugent and her insipid
+daughter. You know he is a thorough gentleman himself and does not
+understand such a maneuvering woman. I told him so the other day, and he
+was quite angry; and I am sure she sets him against me. Why will you not
+try to marry papa, if he must marry again? and you are the only person I
+could tolerate for a step-mother.'
+
+'My dear Freda,' said Miss Hall, laughing, 'your papa would as soon
+think of Miss Rice Rice as of me.'
+
+'You are quite mistaken, he has always admired you very much, only you
+are so dreadfully reserved with him. You won't see that he wants some
+one who can talk to and for him, to save him the trouble. This Lady
+Nugent does with the most contemptible tact; and does it so cleverly
+that nobody sees through her. If you will only try, and just propose at
+the right moment, I am convinced papa would have you. If he marries her,
+I say good-bye to Glanyravon for ever.'
+
+'You are so impetuous, Freda; I am sure your papa has never thought of
+it.'
+
+'Not exactly in a downright way, nor will he till Lady Nugent makes the
+proposal; then he will be rather frightened at first, and finally think
+that she will head his table more gracefully than I shall, and be less
+dictatorial--and I shall go into a convent.'
+
+'Better marry yourself, my dear.'
+
+'Marry who? The only person who would really care to have me, whether I
+had a fortune or not, is Sir Hugh Pryse, and I could no more marry him
+than--than--Mr Rice Rice, or Major Madox, who thinks only of the heiress
+of Glanyravon.'
+
+'But you have refused half-a-dozen more, and have not even taken the
+trouble to try to like any one of them!'
+
+'They were all in love with the Park, not with me; and I certainly never
+mean to try to like any one. It must be true love with me, or none at
+all. I shall die an old maid, and unless you will, just for my sake, try
+to cut out Lady Nugent, I daresay you and I will nurse the black cat
+together.'
+
+Freda's conversation was checked by the sound of horses' hoofs behind;
+she turned sound and saw a gentleman riding slowly up the drive. He soon
+overtook them, and raising his hat, said,--
+
+'Miss Gwynne! I am sure it must be Miss Gwynne; am I right?'
+
+Freda bowed.
+
+'You do not remember me! twelve years make a great difference! and you
+were a child when I left.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan! Oh! I am so glad to see you!' claimed Freda. 'And
+papa will be charmed; we heard you were in England, but did not know you
+were in this county.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan dismounted, and shook hands with Freda, evidently with
+all his heart, then glancing at Miss Hall, started, and said,--
+
+'Yes--no--I beg your pardon, surely not Miss Hall.'
+
+'Yes,' said Miss Hall, colouring slightly, and holding out her hand, I
+am very glad to welcome you home again, but can well imagine you did not
+expect to see me here.'
+
+By this time they were at the house, and Freda was planning introducing
+Colonel Vaughan to her father as a stranger, and seeing whether he would
+recognise him or not.
+
+She accordingly preceded him to the study, and said to Mr Gwynne, 'A
+gentleman wishes to see you, papa.'
+
+Mr Gwynne rose and made his bow, and motioned to a seat in his usually
+nervous manner.
+
+'How do you do, Mr Gwynne? Don't you know me?' said the colonel,
+standing up before him.
+
+'I beg your pardon--no--I do not think I have ever--impossible! It
+cannot be my godson, Gwynne Vaughan?'
+
+'The very same!' said the colonel. 'I only came down last night, and
+this is the first place I have visited.'
+
+'I am very glad to see you, my dear fellow,' said Mr Gwynne, absolutely
+rising from his chair.
+
+'And this was what the bells were ringing for last night?' said Freda,
+looking flushed and handsome.
+
+'In spite of my poverty they did me that honour,' said the colonel. 'I
+heard the old place was likely to be let again, and so ran down to have
+a look at it first, and beat up my old friends. It was years ago that I
+went, a youth of nineteen, into the army, and twelve since I have been
+here, and I have been all the world over since then; but I come back and
+find everything much as I left it.'
+
+'But surely you will not go away again?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'I am not rich enough to keep up the old place as it ought to be kept,
+and the debts are not half wiped off yet, so I don't mean to settle down
+at present.'
+
+'But a little economy and that sort of thing would soon clear the
+property. You had better settle down.'
+
+'I don't think I should like it; besides, I hear there are negotiations
+going on between my attorneys and some other persons for a fresh
+tenant.'
+
+The luncheon-bell rang, and the party went into the dining-room; and
+whilst they are eating and talking we will examine the new comer.
+
+He is decidedly a handsome man. The most fastidious judge of masculine
+beauty could scarcely deny this fact. Tall, well made, of commanding
+figure and aristocratic appearance, black hair, a high rather than a
+broad forehead, well marked eyebrows, and black lashes so long that they
+half conceal the grey eyes beneath; an aquiline nose, and a well-defined
+mouth, with an expression slightly sarcastic; a chin so deeply indented
+with a dimple that, if the old saw be true, he must be a flirt or a
+deceiver; and withal, a manner so perfectly easy and self-possessed that
+you say at once court, camp, or cottage must be equally accessible to
+that man.
+
+There is a certain power in him that even a reader of character would
+scarcely understand for some time. Is it intellect? There is decidedly
+intelligence in the face, yet it is not highly intellectual; there are
+no disfiguring lines and cross lines, the furrows of study or thought.
+Is it mere health and animal spirits? He is neither particularly rosy
+nor overpoweringly cheerful. Does he read your mind at a glance? His
+eyes are penetrating, but not uncomfortably so. It is, we are inclined
+to think, that general and instinctive knowledge of the characters and
+tendencies of those with whom he converses, which commerce with the
+world, and a keen observation of men and manners, alone can give. He is,
+in short, a man of the world.
+
+When he first entered the army his father and an elder brother were
+alive. They, dying about three years after, left him in possession of a
+large but greatly encumbered property. It was estimated that it would
+take twenty years at least to clear the estate, and that only by letting
+it and never drawing upon the proceeds.
+
+The young heir was wise enough to retain his post as officer in Her
+Majesty's service, though not to sequester all his income for the
+payment of his father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's debts or
+mortgages. He spent about a fourth of it annually, and consequently the
+property was still greatly encumbered and he knew that to reside on it
+and clear it he would be obliged to live in a very humdrum style, or
+else add to the burden of debt already incurred. He preferred, remaining
+in the army, and being a general favourite in society, and having no
+near relations in Wales, it never occurred to him to spend his furloughs
+in his native county. He had always some distant land to visit, and
+either with his regiment or on leave had travelled nearly all over the
+world.
+
+His return was therefore an event of considerable interest to the
+neighbourhood in which his place and property lay; and, doubtless, Mr
+Gwynne was not the only person who wished Colonel Vaughan to settle at
+Plas Abertewey.
+
+When he was last at Glanyravon Park Mrs Gwynne was alive, Freda was a
+child of eight, and Miss Hall a very elegant and pretty young woman. Mr
+Gwynne Vaughan was then one of her numerous admirers; but there was
+apparently no remnant of his early passion left, if you can judge of the
+heart of a man, or his character at least, by his face or manner. Miss
+Hall was much more confused when she suddenly met him than he was when
+he first recognised her.
+
+Freda had always had a pleasant recollection of him. He had been very
+kind to her when she was a child, and an occasional letter to her
+father, or the intelligence, through the papers, of his distinguishing
+himself in India, or his gradual rise in the army, had kept alive a
+certain amount of interest in her mind for this old friend.
+
+She showed it at once, and delighted Colonel Vaughan by the perfectly
+natural manner with which she welcomed him, and the frank heartiness of
+her expressed wish that he should remain in the country now he had
+returned to it.
+
+'We have never had any one we cared for at Abertewey,' she said.
+'Sometimes it was an English family who came to ruin themselves in
+mining speculations; sometimes a sporting man who came for the hunting,
+shooting, and fishing; and now, if you don't stay, I daresay it will be
+a Manchester mill owner or some such person.'
+
+'Much nearer home, I fancy; but I believe it is a kind of secret, only I
+am so much like a woman that I cannot keep a secret. To my utter
+astonishment I find it is to be a son of old Jenkins, the miser! I
+remember the father, but the son was some years my junior. You need not
+mention this, however, as it may fall to the ground. He wanted to buy
+the place, but I am too patriotic still to wish to sell.'
+
+'Howel Jenkins! little Netta! at Abertewey!' exclaimed the trio in
+concert.
+
+'True it is that mountains fall and mushrooms rise,' said the colonel
+laughing. 'But he has money, and as far as negotiations have gone, seems
+willing to pay, so I am content.'
+
+'And I am not,' said Freda. 'It will be odious, and I shall be so sorry
+for poor Mrs Prothero. You must settle there yourself, Colonel Vaughan.'
+
+'A poor lonely bachelor with no money!'
+
+'Hem--hem, you might find a wife, I should think,' suggested Mr Gwynne.
+'There is a beautiful girl in this neighbourhood with thirty thousand
+pounds at her disposal.'
+
+'Oh, papa!' said Freda frowning perceptibly, 'such an empty-headed,
+insipid idiot would be dear at a hundred thousand.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan looked at Freda to see whether she was jealous, but
+could not quite understand the frown.
+
+Soon after luncheon he took his leave, with promises to make Glanyravon
+his head-quarters if he remained any time in the country.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE NURSE.
+
+
+Mrs Prothero continued very ill, and the doctor said there was no chance
+of her amendment until her mind was more at ease. Four days had passed,
+and no intelligence of Netta. Each day found her worse than the
+preceding, and brain fever was apprehended. Gladys nursed her day and
+night. Mr Prothero stormed and lamented by turns. Owen did what he could
+to assist and comfort all, and Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall sent every kind
+of nourishing food from the Park.
+
+On the fifth morning, Owen rode into the town in the vague hope that he
+should hear something of his sister, either through Mrs Jenkins's
+servant or the post. Mrs Jenkins had not returned, but there was a neat,
+smooth letter for his father, directed by Howel, with which he rode off
+homewards at full gallop. He longed to open it, but he dared not. He was
+fearful that his father would put it into the fire unread, so he formed
+twenty plans for securing it, which he knew he could not carry out;
+however, when he returned home and sought his father in the harvest
+field, he said,--
+
+'Father, I have a letter directed by Howel. Will you let me open it for
+mother's sake?'
+
+'If it is yours, do what you will with it? if it is mine, burn it
+unread.'
+
+'But, father, surely you would do something to save mother's life. Any
+news of Netta--'
+
+'Don't name that girl to me, sir, or I'll horsewhip you!'
+
+'May I open the letter, father?'
+
+'Do as you will, but don't let me see it. The deceitful up-start! the
+pompous fool! the--the--'
+
+Owen waited for no more epithets but ran into the house, and stumbling
+upon Gladys in the passage, told her to come and see what the letter
+contained. When he opened the outer envelope and took out the beautiful
+little glossy note with its silver border and white seal, stamped with
+a small crest of an eagle, he burst out laughing.
+
+'Cards, by jingo!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen, just let me cut round the neat little seal. I am sure your
+mother would like to see it,' said Gladys, joining involuntarily in the
+laugh, and taking a pair of scissors out of her pocket.
+
+The seal was cut, and two cards were taken out, silver-lettered and
+silver-bordered, showing that Netta was now Mrs Howel Jenkins.
+
+Gladys ran off with them without asking any questions, followed by Owen.
+They found Mrs Prothero crying, as she usually was when left alone.
+
+'I hope we have good news, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'All right, mother. Cheer up! Netta is married at any rate,' cried Owen.
+
+'Thank God!' said Mrs Prothero, taking the cards and pressing them to
+her lips. 'But not a line--not a word from Netta!'
+
+'She would not dare to write, ma'am,' suggested Gladys.
+
+'I suppose not? but why did she go away? Why did she leave me never to
+see me again?'
+
+The following day brought the _Welshman_, Mr Prothero's weekly treat,
+which it generally took him the week thoroughly to read and enjoy.
+
+Owen chanced to open it first, and, as is usually the case, stumbled at
+once upon the marriage of his sister. When his father came in he was in
+uncontrollable fits of laughter.
+
+'Don't be angry, father, but I can't help it. Ha, ha, ha! D. Prothero,
+Esq. of Glanyravon! Oh, I shall die of it! Now, really, father, you
+ought to be proud.'
+
+'What are you making such a row about?' said Mr Prothero looking over
+Owen's shoulder.
+
+His eye caught the words, 'Howel Jenkins, Esq., and Miss Prothero,
+Glanyravon, and Sir John Simpson. This was quite enough. He seized the
+paper with an oath, crumpled it up, and thrust it into the fire, and
+gave Owen such a violent blow on the back with his fist, that the young
+man's first impulse was to start up and clench his in return; however,
+his flush of passion cooled in a moment, and he said,--
+
+'Come, father! remember it isn't I that ran away. Time enough to give me
+a licking when I do. I'm much obliged to you for letting me know what a
+strong father I've got.'
+
+'Once for all, Owen, take you care how you laugh upon that subject or
+name it to me. I can give and take a joke as well as most people, but
+not about that, sir, and from you. Name o' goodness, what d'ye think I'm
+made of!'
+
+The farmer walked out of the hall, and left Owen heartily sorry for
+having hurt his father's feelings, but chuckling over the fashionable
+marriage.
+
+The following morning he managed to procure another paper, and read his
+mother and Gladys the announcement, knowing full well that maternal
+pride must rejoice in the exaltation, whilst it wept over the
+disobedience of an only daughter.
+
+To the astonishment of every one, the following morning brought Mrs
+Griffith Jenkins to Glanyravon, attended by her maid-servant. Gladys
+answered the door to the thundering double-knock that resounded through
+the house, and was quite taken aback when she saw who the visitor was.
+
+'Is Mrs Prothero at home, young 'ooman?' asked Mrs Jenkins in a grand
+tone of voice.
+
+'My mistress is very ill, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'Ill! Since when?'
+
+'Ever since Miss Netta left, ma'am.'
+
+'Do Mr Prothero be in the house, or Mr Owen?'
+
+'They are out harvesting, ma'am.'
+
+'Tell you Mrs Prothero that I do bring message from Mrs Howel Jenkins
+for her, and that I was promising to give it myself.'
+
+Gladys did not know what to do. She felt sure that Mr Prothero would not
+admit Mrs Jenkins under his roof, and that her mistress would be afraid
+to do so; however, she ventured to ask her to come in and wait a little
+time whilst she sent for Mr Owen. Fortunately, Owen was not far from the
+house, and Mr Prothero was riding to some distant part of his farm, so
+Gladys left Mrs Jenkins to Owen, and went upstairs to tell Mrs Prothero
+that she was in the house. Mrs Prothero was greatly agitated, but
+declared that she would see her at all risks, and tell her husband that
+she had done so. She begged Gladys to remain in the room during the
+visit, and to prevent a meeting between Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero.
+
+Gladys went downstairs again, and found Owen telling Mrs Jenkins what he
+thought of Howel's and her own conduct.
+
+'My mistress would like to see you, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'I'm thinking I 'ont go near her now, you, Owen, have been so reude.'
+
+'Oh, for that much, you may do as you please, Aunt 'Lizbeth. I shall
+have the pleasure of going with you to my mother. You've pretty nearly
+killed her amongst you, and I don't mean to let her be quite put an end
+to.'
+
+'Will you be showing the way, young 'ooman,' said Mrs Jenkins, rising
+majestically and smoothing down a very handsome silk dress, which she
+had carefully taken up before she sat down.
+
+Owen's wrath was turned to amusement
+
+'Did you think we hadn't a duster in the house, aunt? I can tell you
+you've pretty well dirtied that white petticoat.'
+
+Gladys led the way to Mrs Prothero's room, and Mrs Jenkins and Owen
+followed.
+
+'I'm sorry to see you so poorly, cousin,' said Mrs Jenkins, approaching
+the bed on which Mrs Prothero lay, looking flushed and excited.
+
+'What did you expect, 'Lizabeth Jenkins? when you have carried off my
+daughter--my child--my Netta! And caused misery in our house never to be
+mended.'
+
+'Well, seure! One 'ould think we'd murdered Netta, 'stead of making her
+as grand as a queen, with a lord and a lady to be giving her away, and a
+captain to be at the wedding, and a gentleman in a waistcoat and chains
+and rings that do be worth a hundred pounds at least, and a young lady
+for bridesmaid in a shoall of lace, handsomer than your Miss Gwynne of
+the Park, and a wedding-cake covered with sugar, and silver, and little
+angels, and all sorts of things which I was bringing with me for you;
+and a clergy like a bishop to marry her, and a coach and horses to be
+taking her back and fore, and she looking as beauty and happy as ever I
+was seeing! And my Howel's as rich and fine as anybody in London, Prince
+Albert nothing to him, and might be marrying Miss Simpson, my ladyship's
+doter, if he wasn't so fullish as to be marrying your Netta!'
+
+'Now, aunt, it is our turn, if you please,' said Owen, as soon as Mrs
+Jenkins gave him time to speak. 'Will you tell my mother Netta's
+message?'
+
+'I am taking it very unkind that you should all turn upon me. David
+Prothero I 'spected 'ould be in a passion, but, stim odds! Netta said,
+cousin, that I wos to tell you she was sorry to be leaving you in a
+hurry, but that she had everything she could be wishing, gowns, and
+white shoes, and lace veils--seure you never wos seeing such a
+beauty--and a _stafell_--_trosy_ they do call it in London--good enough
+for my Lady Nugent, and a goold watch and chains, and rings and
+bracelets, ach un wry! there's grand!'
+
+'But what did Netta say to me, cousin 'Lizbeth? I don't care if she was
+all gold from head to foot. I would rather have her here in rags,' said
+Mrs Prothero, bursting afresh into tears.
+
+'She's more likely to be here in satins and velvets, cousin,' said Mrs
+Jenkins, rising from her seat, and walking up and down, apparently in
+great wrath. 'What you think of my Howels and your Netta at Abertewey:
+And you to be all toalking as if we wos ail dirt. And they in France,
+over the sea, where I 'ould be going with them only I am so 'fraid of
+the water.'
+
+'There's a loss it would be, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if anything had happened to
+you! Suppose a shark had swallowed you up! gold watch, mourning ring,
+silk gown, brooch, and all? Those creatures aren't particular. But we
+haven't had all Netta's message yet.'
+
+'She was sending her kind love and duty to you, cousin, and was saying
+she was sorry to be leaving you, but my Howels was so kind as you, and
+she was as happy as could be.'
+
+'Did she cry, cousin? did she shed one tear?' asked Mrs Prothero,
+sitting up in bed, and looking at Mrs Jenkins with a quick, wild eye,
+quite unlike her usual quiet glance.
+
+'You needn't be looking at me so fierce, cousin, I didn't be killing
+Netta. Is seure--she did cry enough, if that's a pleasure to you. She
+was crying when she was meeting my Howels; she was crying when she was
+putting on her wedding gown; she was crying when the parson was
+preaching that sermon, and when the thunder and lightning did frighten
+her, seure, and no wonder--'
+
+'Did it thunder and lighten when they were married? 'asked Mrs Prothero,
+through her sobs.
+
+'Yes, indeet! I thoate I should be struck myself; but she was soon
+forgetting it at breakfast; they do call it breakfast, you see, but I
+never was seeing a grander dinner. Chickens, and tongue, and ham, and
+meats, and cakes, and jellies, and fruit, and wines, all froathing up
+like new milk, some sort of _pain_ they was calling it; but I never did
+be seeing such good _pain_ or tasting it before, he! he!'
+
+'I don't care about the dress or the dinner, or the grand people,
+cousin,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I pray God to forgive Howel for making our
+only girl run away from us like a thief in the night; and I would rather
+hear she cried for us whom she treated so badly, than that she was
+dressed in velvet and jewels. All those fine people and fine things
+won't make her happy, and her father will never forgive her, never. Oh
+dear! oh dear!'
+
+'What will I tell her, Mrs Prothero, when I do write to my son Howels?'
+
+'Tell her--tell her that my heart is breaking; but I forgive her. Beg
+her not to forget her parents, and, above all, not to forget her God.
+Poor child! poor silly, thoughtless child, she will never be happy
+again.'
+
+'Indeet to goodness, this is fullish! I shall go, Mrs Prothero. Good
+morning.'
+
+Just as Mrs Jenkins was making a kind of curtsey by the bedside Gladys
+said that she saw Mr Prothero riding up to the house.
+
+'Perhaps you had better make haste, Aunt 'Lizbeth,' said Owen, 'it would
+not very well do for you and my father to meet.'
+
+'I 'ont be running away from any man's house, Mr Owen. I do hope I'm as
+good as your father any day.'
+
+'Oh, pray make haste,' said Mrs Prothero, very much frightened.
+'Good-bye, cousin. Forgive me if I have been rude? I beg your pardon.'
+
+'This way, ma'am, if you please,' said Gladys, opening the door; but Mrs
+Jenkins was smoothing down her silk dress, and arranging her bonnet in
+the looking glass.
+
+'Quite ready for another husband, aunt; but you had better make haste,
+you don't know what you may come in for if you meet my father.'
+
+'I am not caring neither,' said the little woman, sweeping across the
+room and out at the door. At the top of the stair she met Mr Prothero,
+face to face. The effect of her appearance upon that worthy man is not
+to be described. She made a kind of curtsey and began to speak, but no
+sooner did she see his face than she held her tongue. Neither did words
+appear to come at the farmer's bidding, but very decided deeds did. He
+took the alarmed Mrs Jenkins by the two shoulders, literally lifted her
+from the ground, carried her downstairs a great deal faster than she
+came up, helped her along the passage much in the same way, and with
+something very nearly approaching a kick and an oath, turned her out of
+doors, and shut the door behind her with so violent a bang that it
+echoed through the house.
+
+Owen ran down stairs to receive the first brunt of his passion, and to
+prevent his going up to his mother. He allowed the words that came at
+last to have way, and then took all the fault on himself; said that he
+had admitted Mrs Jenkins to try to soothe his mother, and that she had
+done so, he thought.
+
+'Take you care, sir, how you let that 'ooman darken my doors again, or
+any one belonging to her. It'll be worse for you than for them,' said Mr
+Prothero, with a brow like a thunder cloud.
+
+His wrath was interrupted by the sound of wheels, and to Owen's great
+relief, he saw the head of his uncle's well known grey mare through the
+window. He ran out to admit him and his aunt.
+
+'We have just seen Mrs Jenkins, Owen,' began his aunt.
+
+'Not a word to father, aunt.'
+
+'Very well. But she stopped us and began telling us that she had been
+turned out of these doors, and would have the law on your father. She
+was furious; talked of Netta and Howel, and your mother, and Paris, and
+the wedding, all in the same breath, and would not let us go on until we
+had heard all. Neither of us spoke to her, but she stood at the horse's
+head and frightened me to death.'
+
+When they all went into the hall, they found that Mr Prothero was not
+there. Gladys came in and said he was with her mistress, but had not
+mentioned Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'I am afraid she has made my mistress worse, sir,' she said to Owen.
+'She has been very faint ever since she left,'
+
+In truth she had made her worse, and when Dr Richards came to see her
+that afternoon, she was quite delirious. He shook his head, and declared
+that she had brain fever, and that the utmost quiet and freedom from all
+excitement were necessary for her. Poor Mr Prothero was beside himself,
+and the whole household was in great consternation. Serious illness had
+never visited either the farm or the vicarage before, and none of the
+Prothero family knew what it was. Not so Gladys, however. She did not
+wait to be directed or ordered, but took her post as nurse by her dear
+mistress's bedside. To her the doctor gave his directions, to her Mr
+Prothero turned for information, to her Owen came for comfort; and even
+Mrs Jonathan, who had scarcely ever spoken to her before, looked to her
+as the only hope in this time of uncertainty.
+
+'I have seen all kind of fevers,' she would say to one and another as
+they questioned her, 'worse than this, and with God's grace the dear
+mistress will recover. I am not afraid to sit up alone with her, oh, no!
+It is better not to have too many in the room at once. Do not be uneasy,
+master, the delirium is not very bad. Yes, Mr Owen, you can do better
+than any one else, because you are calmer. No, ma'am, it is not an
+infectious fever--you need not be afraid,' and so from one to another at
+intervals she went, giving hope and comfort.
+
+During all that night and several successive ones, Gladys sat up with
+her beloved mistress. It was she who listened to her disturbed,
+delirious talk about Netta, and tried to console her; she who read the
+Bible to her, and prayed with and for her during the intervals of
+reason, and she who gave her all her medicines and nourishment.
+
+Poor Mr Prothero could do nothing but wander from the fields to the
+house, and the house back again to the fields, followed by his brother
+like his shadow, who strove to comfort him in vain. Mrs Jonathan made
+jellies, and did her best. Owen was gentle and tender as a girl, and
+helped to nurse his mother with a love and care that Gladys could
+scarcely understand in the lighthearted, wild sailor.
+
+Before the end of the week, they wrote to summon Rowland, for Mrs
+Prothero's life was despaired of, and great was the anxiety and terror
+of all, lest he should come too late.
+
+'Pray for her, Mr Owen, pray for her. There is nothing else of any avail
+at such a time as this,' would Gladys say in answer to the young man's
+entreating glance.
+
+'If I were as good as you I could, Gladys. Oh, God! spare my beloved
+mother!' he would reply.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE CURATE.
+
+
+Although it was a bright autumn morning, the stillness of death hovered
+over Glanyravon Farm. There was scarcely a sound to be heard within or
+without. The men in the yard moved about like spectres, and work was
+suspended in the harvest fields; whispers circulated from bedroom to
+kitchen, and from kitchen to outhouse, that the good and kind mistress
+whom every body loved, was on her deathbed; and how should they labour?
+All the talk of the farm-servants was upon subjects ominous of death.
+One said that he had heard Lion, the big watch-dog, howl long and loud
+before daylight; another that he had seen a corpse candle as he went
+homewards the previous evening; a third that she had seen her mistress
+all in white at her bedside, looking beautiful; a fourth that she had
+heard a raven croak; in short, if sighs and wonders could kill poor Mrs
+Prothero, there was little chance for her life. Where every one was
+usually so busy, so full of energy and spirit, there was more than a
+Sabbath calm. They were expecting some one, too, for Tom and Bill were
+looking down the road about every five minutes, whilst Shanno appeared
+now and again at the back door, and whispered 'Is he coming?' to which a
+shake of the head was a constant reply.
+
+The doctor had just gone into the house, and knots of men and women
+stood about with sorrowful faces; kind neighbours who came one after
+another to hear the last report as soon as he should again reappear. Mrs
+Prothero was greatly beloved, and no one could afford to lose her.
+
+'She was so bad last night that she was not expected to see the
+morning,' whispered one.
+
+'Couldn't take a drop of anything,' said another.
+
+'Is talking of Miss Netta for ever,' said a third.
+
+'There'll be a loss to every one. Mr Jonathan prayed for her in church
+last Sunday; if prayers'll save her she 'ont die, no seure.'
+
+'She gave me a jug of milk only Friday week.'
+
+'And was coming to see my John in the measles Wednesday before Miss
+Netta ran away.'
+
+'She's the death of her mother I always say.'
+
+'Poor master is nearly mad.'
+
+'And Mr Owen crying like a baby.'
+
+'And they do say that the Irish girl is better than a daughter to 'em
+all.'
+
+'Hush! I do hear wheels. Oh! if he do come, perhaps he may rouse her up
+a bit.'
+
+The gates were open, and before the last whisper was over Mr Gwynne's
+carriage was driving down to the farm. The bystanders drew back as it
+rolled through a part of the yard and stopped at the door. Rowland got
+out, and was in the house almost before any one could see him. He went
+into the hall, and there he saw Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, and Dr Richards.
+Miss Gwynne held out her hand, and said at once,--'Your mother is still
+alive.'
+
+'Thank God I!' exclaimed Rowland, giving a sort of convulsive gasp, and
+wringing the hand that pressed his.
+
+'Is there any hope?' he asked of Dr Richards.
+
+'The crisis is at hand, and she is insensible; it is impossible to
+say--if we could rouse her?'
+
+'I may go upstairs?'
+
+'Yes, but you had better let your father know you are come; he is in the
+outer room.'
+
+Rowland went at once to what had been his own bedroom in former times;
+he opened the door gently, and there alone on his knees by the bedside,
+groaning audibly, was his poor stricken father. He went up softly to him
+and whispered, 'Father, it is I, Rowland!' and Mr Prothero rose, and in
+a few seconds went with him into the room where the beloved wife and
+mother lay.
+
+Rowland went up to the bedside, and took the place which Gladys silently
+vacated for him. He gazed upon what appeared to him to be death, but was
+really the prostration and insensibility that followed the delirium and
+fever of the past week. He bent down and kissed the cold forehead of his
+mother, then turned away, covered his face with his hands, and wept
+silently. Gladys whispered to him that there was still hope, and resumed
+her occupation of bathing the temples with vinegar, wetting the lips
+with wine, and administering tea spoonfuls of wine, which still
+continued to find a passage down the throat. Mrs Jonathan Prothero
+crept softly up to Rowland, and put her hand in his--Owen came to
+him--his uncle--all were there.
+
+But as soon as he had recovered from his temporary emotion, he went to
+his father's side, who had seated himself on a chair behind the curtain
+of the bed, and tried to comfort him. The presence of his second son was
+in itself a consolation to poor Mr Prothero; but he could not listen to
+his words.
+
+'Pray for your mother, Rowland,' was all he could say.
+
+Rowland knelt down with all those present, except Gladys, who joined in
+spirit and prayed. Never before had he known what it was to use the
+prayers of his church for one so dear to him; never before had he felt
+the great difficulty of reading them when his emotion nearly choked his
+utterance. But as priest and son he prayed fervently for his mother.
+
+Mr Prothero seemed calmer after he rose from his knees, and ventured to
+lean over his wife to assure himself that she still breathed. There was
+an occasional slight pulsation scarcely to be called breath.
+
+The doctor came in and felt her pulse. It was not quite gone, and whilst
+there was life there was hope.
+
+They stood round her bed watching the calm, pale face with a love and
+anxiety so intense that they could neither speak nor breathe. Gladys
+looked almost as pale as her mistress, and as the light fell upon her
+when she was leaning over her, she might have been the angel of death
+herself.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero drew Rowland from the room and insisted upon his
+taking some refreshment. He had travelled all night, and Mr Gwynne, at
+his daughter's request, had sent his carriage to meet him.
+
+Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall were still waiting downstairs. They asked Mrs
+Jonathan if they could be of any use in taking Gladys's place whilst the
+poor girl got some rest; Mrs Jonathan said it was useless to urge her to
+leave her mistress for a moment.
+
+Rowland thanked Miss Gwynne for her kindness, and she said she would do
+anything in the world for Mrs Prothero.
+
+She and Miss Hall went away in the carriage that brought Rowland,
+promising to return again in the afternoon.
+
+When Rowland had swallowed some coffee, he went back to his mother's
+room. As he walked from the door to the foot of the bed, she opened her
+eyes, and seemed for a moment to look at him; a thrill of hope shot
+through him. He went round and took her hand, and whispered, 'Mother!'
+Did she smile? He thought she did.
+
+Shortly afterwards her lips moved, and Gladys heard the name ever on
+them, 'Netta.' This was better, far better, than that death-like trance.
+
+'Mother, dear mother,' again whispered Rowland, and once more her eyes
+opened and fixed on him, with something like consciousness.
+
+At last an opiate which the doctor had given took effect, and she slept;
+her pulse was so weak, and her breathing so faint, that at first the
+watchers thought she was passing away into that sleep from which there
+is no awakening; but it was not so. It was a weak troubled sleep; still
+it was a sleep.
+
+By degrees all left the room but Rowland and Gladys. Mrs Prothero's hand
+seemed to be clasping that of her son, as if it would not let go; and
+Gladys never moved from the bedside.
+
+She saw that there must be hope if real sleep came. As she sat down in a
+kind of easy chair that Owen had placed for her by the bedside, she
+thanked God for this amount of hope,
+
+'Sleep, Gladys, I will watch,' whispered Rowland.
+
+And truly the poor girl had need of rest. Scarce had she closed her eyes
+during that anxious week, and she knew well how necessary rest was to
+her. But she felt as if she could not sleep whilst this uncertainty
+lasted. All the anxious faces of the household flitted before her when
+she tried to compose herself. Her poor master, his brother, Mrs
+Jonathan, Rowland, but mostly Owen. He who had said the least, had shown
+the greatest self-command and done the most. His large kind eyes seemed
+to be looking at his mother or at her, and trying to anticipate their
+wants. His hands so brown and sinewy, yet so very gentle, seemed to be
+touching hers, as they had done when moving his mother or otherwise
+helping in the sick-room. His cheery voice seemed to be telling her not
+to weary herself so much, or to be thanking her for the care she
+bestowed upon his dear parent. In vain she tried to put aside this kind
+of haunting vision. Her mistress and Owen were painted on the
+over-strained retina, and she could not efface the picture. She prayed
+for them, for all. Then, as the afternoon sunlight faded away, and a
+twilight hue crept over the room, with just a flickering streak of light
+playing on the wall opposite to her, the death-beds of her father,
+mother, sister, and brothers rose up before her with a vivid reality
+that made her tremble, and forced tears from her weary eyes. The tears
+seemed a relief, and as they flowed quietly down her cheeks, and the
+coming shadows dispersed the visions of the living, dying, and dead
+faded away, a mist fell on her eyes and she slept.
+
+Rowland, meanwhile, watched his mother. During the twelve months that he
+had been a curate in a parish in one of the worst parts of London, he
+had seen much of the sick and the dying. He had seen poverty,
+wretchedness, and sin in their most dreadful aspects, and the peace and
+comfort of his mother's present condition were a great contrast to the
+riot and squalor of many a death room into which he had sought to carry
+the gospel message of mercy. Truly he felt thankful in his inmost soul
+that she, over whom he was watching with filial love, was ready at any
+moment to appear before the great Tribunal, because she 'believed and
+knew in whom she believed.' It was for Netta, his beloved and wayward
+sister, the cause of this first great family trouble, that he grieved
+the most, because he feared that she had entered upon that downward path
+that would lead her far astray from the one in which her mother had so
+long and happily trod. But he, too, knew where to apply in all his times
+of doubt and misgiving, and thither he went for comfort as the shadows
+fell around and night crept on.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a
+shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the
+watchers downstairs. Her step, light as it was, awoke Gladys. She
+started up, and looking on her mistress, clasped her hands, and
+fervently thanked God.
+
+'She is sleeping as calmly as a child,' she said. 'I am sure the worst
+is past.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan went out to tell the good news, and to beg the brothers to
+go to bed, which they did, after some demur. Gladys and Rowland watched
+on for about an hour longer, when Mrs Prothero opened her eyes and fixed
+them upon Rowland. She smiled as if she knew him, and when he bent over
+her and kissed her, murmured some faint words which he could not
+understand.
+
+Gladys gave her some jelly which she swallowed, and soon afterwards she
+slept again.
+
+'The crisis is over, she will recover, I hope, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys.
+'You can go to bed, sir--you had better. The mistress will want you
+to-morrow, and you can be of no use to-night.'
+
+Rowland felt the force of this, and again kissing his mother's forehead,
+and shaking Gladys by the hand, he went downstairs to Owen, who he found
+asleep on the sofa in the parlour. Supper was awaiting him, and Owen and
+he were soon seated over the fire, discussing their mother's illness and
+Netta's conduct.
+
+They had not met for three or four years, and there was much to say. Few
+brothers loved one another more tenderly than they did, despite the
+dissimilarity of habits, tastes, and occupations, and when they were
+together, all the secrets of their hearts were usually unfolded.
+Although Owen's wild roving nature had caused Rowland much anxiety,
+still he had perfect confidence in his honest, open character. Owing to
+early education Owen was not deficient in general acquirements. He knew
+a little Latin and Greek, and could read, write, and cypher well. Added
+to this, his knowledge of foreign lands was great, and of men and
+manners greater. Under a careless exterior, he had a considerable
+portion of talent and information, and Rowland was delighted to find in
+his sea-faring, roystering brother, a much more cultivated and sensible
+mind than he had expected. Rowland was beginning to be conscious of
+wishing to see all his family superior to what they were. Placed by his
+own profession amongst gentle-folks, and feeling in himself all the
+refinement of the class so called, he was often annoyed and pained to be
+differently situated from those who were nearest and dearest to him. He
+knew that in London he was received as an equal by men and women of rank
+and position, as well as by those of talent and learning; whereas, in
+the country, even Miss Gwynne, at whose house he visited, considered it
+a condescension to speak to him, whilst she looked upon those who
+belonged to him as people of another sphere. In spite of all his prayers
+for humility, and his striving after pure Christianity, Rowland was, and
+knew that he was a proud man, and all the prouder because his original
+station was beneath his present one. He felt that he must be humbled
+before he could be the pastor and disciple of One whose whole life was a
+lesson of humility. But the world knew nothing of this. He walked before
+it, and through it as a bright example of a young clergyman devoted to
+his work. Neither was he less devoted to his mother, dutiful to his
+father, or loving to his brother, because they were good, honest, plain
+farmers, and he a clergyman; or which was, perhaps, more to the point,
+because Miss Gwynne could not, or would not separate him from his
+family.
+
+When he and his brother and sister were children, they were constantly
+at the vicarage with their uncle and aunt, and Miss Gwynne was their
+playmate there, and had not known their inferiority. Now that he really
+was a man of education and a gentleman, in spite of all her kindness to
+his mother, she knew it full well. Why did he never consider what any
+one else in his own neighbourhood thought of him or his family? It was
+only Miss Gwynne--always Miss Gwynne.
+
+Early the following morning that young lady came to inquire for Mrs
+Prothero, accompanied by Miss Hall. It was Rowland who gave them the
+joyful intelligence that his mother had had a good night, and was much
+more quiet. The real pleasure that shone from Miss Gwynne's intelligent
+and intelligible eyes, showed Rowland how fond she was of his mother.
+
+'And now,' she said, 'Miss Hall and I are come, resolutely bent on
+remaining with your mother, whilst your aunt and Gladys go to bed. We
+are quite determined, and you know I always have my way.'
+
+Rowland bowed, smiled, and called his aunt, who, after some hesitation
+consented, and went upstairs to request Gladys to do the same, but
+Gladys was inexorable until Mr Prothero came in, and in his most decided
+manner insisted on her taking some rest. Mrs Prothero also murmured a
+'Go, Gladys fach!' and she kissed the dear cheek and went at once.
+
+Mr Prothero took her place. He was alone with his wife, and the rough,
+loud man became gentle as one of his own lambs, as he bent over her and
+thanked God that she was better. A big tear fell from his eyes on her
+face, and he made an inward vow, that if her life were spared, he would
+never again say a cross word to her as long as he lived.
+
+She felt the tear, heard the kind words, and seemed to understand the
+vow, for she looked at him tenderly, and said in her low, weak voice,
+'God bless you, David!'
+
+From that moment he went out to his work with a lightened heart; the
+labourers read the good news that their mistress was better in his face,
+and heard it in his voice. Even Netta's disobedience was forgotten, if
+not forgiven, in the joy of feeling that the partner of more than half
+his life was likely to recover. And by degrees she did recover. That is
+to say, before Rowland was obliged again to leave her, she was able to
+go down into the parlour and sit at her work, 'quite like a lady,' as
+she expressed it. And even out of the evil of such an illness good had
+sprung. It had aroused all the sympathy and kind feeling of relatives,
+friends, and neighbours; but especially had it been beneficial in
+bringing out the womanly kindness that lay hid under the stiffness of
+pride in Mrs Jonathan Prothero, and in opening the hearts of the
+sisters-in-law towards each other. Mrs Jonathan forgot her cousin, Sir
+Philip Payne Perry, and helped to nurse, and learned to love her humbler
+connection, whilst the ever-ready tenderness of the simple farmer's
+wife, sprung up to respond to it like a stream leaping in the sunlight.
+Gladys, too, reaped the reward of her devotion, in the increased
+kindness of Mr Prothero, who began to forget the Irish beggar in the
+gentle girl whose care, under God, had saved his wife's life; and so, as
+is usually the case, affliction had not come from the ground, but had
+fallen like a softening dew upon the irritated feelings of the
+afflicted, and bound heart still nearer to heart.
+
+Perhaps in the younger and more impetuous natures it had done almost too
+much. Thoughtless of consequences, they had all worked to save a life,
+valuable to so many. Rowland, Owen, Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Gladys, had
+been thrown together at a time when the formalities of the world and the
+distinctions of rank are forgotten, and the tear of sympathy, the word
+of friendly comfort, or the pressure of the hand of kindly feeling are
+given and taken, without a thought of giver or receiver. But they are
+remembered, and dwelt upon in after years as passages in life's history
+never to be obliterated--never to be forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE HEIRESS.
+
+
+Glanyravon Park lay, as we have said, in the parish of which Mr Jonathan
+Prothero was vicar, but as the parish and park were large, the house was
+three or four miles from the church; and it was on account of this
+distance of Glanyravon and its dependencies from church and school, that
+Miss Gwynne had induced her father to build the school-house, of which
+mention has been already made, since there was a large school in the
+village for such children as were within its reach. She would have had
+him build a small church also, and endow it, to remove all excuse, as
+she said, from the chapel-goers; but this was an undertaking too mighty
+for him. However, the school flourished wonderfully, both on week days
+and Sundays, and Miss Gwynne always filled every corner of an omnibus in
+which the servants went to church with such of the children as could not
+walk so far. Miss Hall was an admirable assistant to the school-mistress
+during the week; and Gladys, with Mrs Prothero's permission, undertook
+the Sunday duty for the mistress, in order that she might have a holiday
+on that day. Miss Gwynne also attended, but she was too impatient and
+imperious to be a good teacher, much as she wished to be one.
+
+Miss Gwynne had great ideas of doing good; grand schemes that she tried
+to carry out, but in which she often failed. Nevertheless, she did a
+great deal of good in her own peculiar way.
+
+She had been reading of the 'harvest homes' that they were endeavouring
+to revive in England, and had induced her father to have one in the
+park. Happily, the day fixed for this general rejoicing was during Mrs
+Prothero's convalescence, and before Rowland's return to London, so that
+most of the members of the Prothero family could be present. They also
+yielded to Miss Gwynne's ready assistance in such preparations as she
+made, and were the instruments in surprising her and her father by some
+tasteful decorations in their honour, unknown to them. Owen and Gladys
+worked very hard at floral and evergreen mottoes for the tent, whilst
+Rowland gave his advice as he sat with his mother, and tried to amuse
+her during the tedium of her recovery.
+
+A few hours before the general gathering, a messenger arrived at the
+Park in great haste, bearing a note to Miss Gwynne, containing the
+information that the vicar had sprained his ankle just as he was going
+to set out for Glanyravon, and was unable to move. There was another
+note for Rowland, which was to be carried on to the farm, requesting him
+to supply his uncle's place.
+
+Miss Gwynne was greatly annoyed; wished that the vicar would not go
+wandering about after old stones, as she was sure he had done; knew that
+Rowland would never be able to manage and was very sorry she had
+attempted the treat at all.
+
+Whilst she was still grumbling, and Miss Hall laughing and consoling,
+Rowland arrived. This was his first visit to the Park since he had been
+in the country, and Mr Gwynne was delighted to see him. He perceived at
+once that Miss Gwynne's equanimity was disturbed; and said that he was
+very sorry to come as a substitute for his uncle, but that he would do
+his best. His manner was so quiet and composed, and he seemed so little
+alarmed by the honours thrust upon him, that Miss Gwynne gradually
+became reassured.
+
+In less than half-an-hour she told Miss Hall that he was worth a hundred
+of the vicar, and that after all the sprained ankle was rather a
+fortunate accident.
+
+At about two o'clock the guests began to assemble at the school-house,
+over the door of which was the motto in dahlias on a ground of
+evergreens, 'Welcome for all,' which had been arranged by Miss Hall. The
+school-room was very tastefully decorated by the mistress, Gladys, and
+the children; and the motto, 'Long Live Miss Gwynne,' was very apparent
+in scarlet letters amongst a crown of laurels.
+
+All the children and their teachers were assembled here, and a great
+many of their relations, also most of the farmers and their families. In
+addition, there were Mr and Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Lady Mary and Miss
+Nugent, Colonel Vaughan, who was staying at the Park, Sir Hugh Pryse,
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero, who left her husband at his particular request,
+and Rowland. No one out of the precincts of the Park had been invited,
+and as it was, there was a goodly number.
+
+As there was no church near enough for them to go to, Rowland read the
+evening service in the school-room; after this he gave out one of the
+hymns for harvest, and led the youthful band in singing it. His fine
+clear voice seemed to give the children courage, especially when a
+beautiful full treble joined, to which they were evidently accustomed.
+It was impossible not to try to discover from whom those sweet notes
+proceeded, and one by one everybody looked at Gladys, who had a
+magnificent voice; she, however, was unconscious of observation, for her
+eyes were fixed on her hymn-book that she was sharing with a small
+child.
+
+It must be acknowledged that she not unfrequently distracted the
+attention of many a young man from his hymn-book on Sunday, when at
+church; and on the present occasion, what with the face and the voice,
+more than one pair of eyes were fixed on her. Owen, I am sorry to say,
+looked more attentively at her than at his book; and, as to Colonel
+Vaughan, he never took his eyes off her face, and was heard to whisper
+the question of 'Who is that girl?' to Lady Mary Nugent.
+
+When the hymn was sung, Rowland stood behind the high desk of the
+mistress, and gave a short lecture on the words, 'Thou crownest the year
+with thy goodness.' Rowland was not ungifted with the talent for
+extempore preaching, common to so many of his countrymen, and therewith
+possessed, in general, much self-possession; on the present occasion, it
+must be confessed that he felt unusually nervous, still he commanded
+himself and his feelings, and by degrees, forgetting them and his
+hearers, in his subject, warmed into a natural flow of eloquence that
+somewhat astonished his congregation, and entirely gained their
+attention.
+
+Beneath a quiet exterior Rowland hid a romantic and poetic mind, which
+few, if any of his friends knew anything about; for he had never shown
+his poetry to them, and never attempted to publish it. But it sometimes
+appeared, in spite of his efforts to repress it, in his sermons; and now
+it made a desperate effort to burst forth, and conquered.
+
+There was so much to excite the enthusiasm of a young preacher in that
+harvest-home gathering--in the mows of golden corn heaped up against the
+future--in the splendid autumn weather they were then enjoying--in the
+bright sunshine and many-hued leaves of the changing trees--and the
+goodness of God crowning the whole!
+
+I am not going through his sermon, for I should only mar what his
+feelings made powerful. Suffice it to say that some of his friends had
+tears in their eyes as he preached; others, according to the custom of
+their country, uttered occasional exclamations of approval as he went
+on, and some were glad to own him as their near and dear relation.
+
+Perhaps the proudest moment of the farmer's life was when Mr Gwynne went
+up to him after that short discourse, and shook him by the hand, with
+the words--emphatic words for him--
+
+'Well, Prothero, I congratulate you upon your son. You have reason to be
+proud of him. He managed his sermon well at a short notice, clear,
+poetical, etc., and all that sort of thing.'
+
+The abrupt termination to the speech was occasioned by the approach of
+Lady Mary Nugent, who also congratulated Mr Prothero.
+
+'Thank you, sir; thank your ladyship; glad you approve,' was all the
+proud father could say, with the tears in his eyes all the while.
+
+As to Rowland, he was undergoing an ovation of hand-shakings and praises
+from everybody present, which he was fain to put an end to, by beginning
+to organise the procession to the tent. One simple sentence, however,
+rang in his ears for the remainder of that day.
+
+'Thank you, Mr Rowland, for your sermon. I hope you have done us all
+good,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+She began to think more highly of him than she had ever thought before,
+and owned to Miss Hall that he had words at command, and that at a short
+notice.
+
+The procession was very pretty. The school-children walked two and two,
+and looked like so many large scarlet poppies, as they wended their way
+through the avenue. Miss Gwynne gave them all their outer garments, and
+it was her picturesque and pleasing fancy to keep to the national
+costume; so they had high-crowned black beaver hats, scarlet cloaks with
+hoods, striped linsey frocks, and woollen aprons. They carried a due
+amount of little flags with appropriate mottoes, and some few of the
+Glanyravon musicians formed a band for the occasion, and played
+cheerily, 'The March of the Men of Harlech.'
+
+Mr Prothero and his son Owen headed the tenantry, and carried between
+them a magnificent banner, fashioned at the farm, bearing as motto,
+'Prosperity to Glanyravon.' Others followed with appropriate Welsh
+mottoes. And one was conspicuous as containing the sentiment, 'Long live
+our Vicar and his Lady.'
+
+A large tent was erected in front of the house, ornamented with flowers,
+wreaths of evergreens, devices, and mottoes. The most conspicuous of
+these was in Welsh, and above Mr Gwynne's seat at the head of the long
+table. It was composed of wheat-ears and oak-leaves, and contained the
+words, 'May God bless Gwynne of Glanyravon and his daughter.' Mr Gwynne
+felt almost uncomfortable in seating himself beneath such a sentence,
+but having consented for the first time in his life, and, he earnestly
+hoped, for the last, to become a hero, he knew he must go through with
+it. Accordingly, with Colonel Vaughan on his left, and Lady Mary Nugent
+on his right hand he prepared to do the honours of a most substantial
+feast to his tenantry, their wives and children. When every one was
+seated Rowland said grace, and they began the feast _con amore_. They
+were as merry and happy a party as could be assembled on a fine autumn
+day. Every one was in good humour, and thoroughly enjoyed the treat. As
+soon as they had feasted enough, they proceeded to give toasts, which
+were enthusiastically drunk in good Welsh ale.
+
+Mr Gwynne proposed the health of the Queen and royal family. Sir Hugh
+proposed Mr Gwynne and his daughter, the kind and liberal donors of the
+feast, in a hearty speech, which all understood. Mr Gwynne did his best
+to return thanks, but found that he could not get much beyond,--'I feel
+most grateful for the honour you have done me, but--my
+feelings--been--and--and--all that sort of thing,' at which point the
+cheers grew so deafening that he sat down quite overwhelmed, and wished
+himself in his library.
+
+'So very exciting, so complimentary, so touching,' whispered Lady Mary
+Nugent to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Rowland was again called upon to exert his eloquence in responding for
+the Church, which he did in a short, apt speech, duly applauded.
+
+He, in return, proposed the army, coupled with Colonel Vaughan,
+who--and, he said, he knew he was expressing the thoughts of all
+present--was heartily welcomed home, and earnestly entreated to remain
+in his native country.
+
+Colonel Vaughan delighted every one by a most eloquent response. 'Such a
+grand gentleman, but so humble,' was the general opinion of him. As for
+the ladies, they were all in love with him. Lady Mary Nugent, Freda,
+Miss Nugent--they had never seen so charming a man. And he was so
+universally gallant that he might have been in love with them all in
+return. He gave the 'Welsh Yeomanry,' for whom Mr Prothero returned
+thanks, and right well he did it; giving the colonel to understand in
+something more than a hint, that if he wished the farmers and farming to
+improve, he, and other absent landlords, must come and live on their
+property as Mr Gwynne did, and then there would be more wealth and
+prosperity, and more 'harvest homes.'
+
+And so, with various other toasts, including the vicar and his lady, for
+whom Owen had to return thanks, the afternoon wore on. The children were
+playing at games in the Park, and by degrees the elders joined them.
+
+Here Gladys was foremost. It was wonderful to see how she had gained the
+affections of the young. One and all were round her, and when the
+gentlemen and ladies came to look on, and join in the revels, the first
+thing that attracted them was the flushed face and graceful figure of
+this really beautiful girl, as she led the boisterous youngsters in a
+game of 'French and English.'
+
+In a moment Colonel Vaughan was in the ring heading the boys; but Gladys
+immediately retired, abashed, as he stood opposite to her, as captain on
+the French side. But Owen came to the rescue, and the gallant officer
+and equally gallant sailor headed the ranks, as commanders of the bands
+of French and English. They had a hard fight on both sides, but at last
+the English conquered, and Owen and his party won the day amidst great
+cheering.
+
+Sir Hugh and Rowland joined in the succeeding games; and sixpences,
+sweetmeats, apples, and every available prize was given to the boys and
+girls for racing, jumping, singing, and the like, until the shades of
+evening fell over the scene.
+
+Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter were the first to wish good-night; as
+they were to walk home, Colonel Vaughan proposed accompanying them.
+
+'You will return at once?' asked Freda, rather peremptorily, for she
+disliked that the Nugents should carry off the all-fascinating colonel.
+
+He bowed and said 'yes,' and Rowland, who was near, saw Freda's cheek
+flush as he looked at her.
+
+It chanced that Rowland and Miss Gwynne were left together at a distance
+from the revel. They stood awhile, looking on, and talking over the day.
+Rowland said it had been most successful. Indeed he felt that all had
+been pleased; none more than himself, for had not everyone congratulated
+him, and above all, had not Miss Gwynne been even kinder and more
+friendly, than when by his mother's bed side she had seemed to him as a
+sister?
+
+'If it has been successful, Mr Rowland, it is in a great measure due to
+you,' said Miss Gwynne, looking up into his face with a smile of real
+satisfaction. 'I should never have managed the children so well, and I
+must say, much as I like your uncle, I don't think he would have managed
+the services so well as you have done.'
+
+Reader! were you ever praised by a very handsome woman, whom you have
+loved all your life, when standing with her alone under a wide-spreading
+oak, in a noble park, with mountains bathed in the red and yellow of the
+sunset before you, and a broad harvest-moon rising above your heads? If
+so, you will not wonder at the end of this chapter.
+
+Rowland suddenly fixed his fine, dark eyes upon Freda's face, and looked
+into it, as if he would read her soul. For a moment she was abashed at
+the gaze, and coloured deeply, whilst her eye-lids drooped over the eyes
+he sought. Was there ever a woman who was not flattered and excited by
+such a look?
+
+'Miss Gwynne,' at last said Rowland tremulously, 'if in any way I can
+have served and pleased you I am happy. For this, in part, I have
+laboured, and still would labour. You do not, you cannot know how I have
+loved you all my life.'
+
+Poor Rowland almost whispered these few words, and as he did so, wished
+he could recall them, but now the deed was done, and she knew the secret
+of his childhood, boyhood, and manhood. He said no more, but stood
+looking down upon her with his heart beating as it had never beaten
+before.
+
+Higher and higher rose the colour on her cheek. What were the feelings
+that deepened it so? Alas! poor Rowland! Pride, only pride. For a moment
+she stood as if hesitating what to say, then, suddenly drawing herself
+up to her full height, she looked haughtily at him, and said words that
+he never forgot to his dying day.
+
+'Mr Rowland Prothero, have you quite forgotten who I am, and who you
+are?'
+
+With these words she made a stately bow, and turned towards the house.
+Proudly and hastily she walked up the avenue; once she had turned round,
+and seeing Rowland standing exactly where she had left him, hurried on
+until she found herself in her own room, indulging in a very decided
+flood of indignant tears.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE BROTHERS.
+
+
+During this short conversation between Rowland and Miss Gwynne, Gladys
+was still playing with the children at no great distance from them. With
+all a woman's penetration, she had guessed Rowland's secret during his
+mother's illness, and had perceived no symptoms of attachment on the
+part of Miss Gwynne; and now, with all a woman's pity, she was watching
+him from afar. She had seen them standing together, had marked the hasty
+bow and retreat of the lady, and the immoveable attitude of the
+gentleman; she saw that he continued to stand where Miss Gwynne had left
+him, as if he were a statue; she guessed something must have passed
+between them.
+
+As twilight was fairly come on, she told the schoolmistress that she
+must go home, and begged her to see that the children dispersed when she
+thought best. Owen, who was in the midst of a game of cricket with the
+boys, was as well aware of all Gladys's movements as if he had been by
+her side. He saw that she was shaking hands with the mistress, and that
+the children were imploring her to stay a little longer. He went to her
+and asked her to remain until he had finished his game, in order that he
+might see her home.
+
+She thanked him, but said, rather abruptly for her, that she must go at
+once, and, heedless of what he or others might think, went hastily
+across the park to Rowland.
+
+'That's the way the wind blows, is it?' said Owen to himself, whilst a
+frown gathered on his open forehead.
+
+Rowland was unconscious of the approach of Gladys, and was startled from
+his trance by the words,--
+
+'Mr Rowland, sir, I think the mistress will be expecting you home.'
+
+He looked at her half unconsciously for a moment, and then rousing
+himself, said,--
+
+'Oh! Gladys, is it you? Yes, I will go directly. Where? Home? Of course
+it is time. I will walk with you.'
+
+These were the only words spoken between the pair. Rapidly he strode
+down the avenue, inwardly resolving never to enter it again; as rapidly
+along the road that led to the farm, until he reached the house, with
+Gladys breathless by his side.
+
+'I am afraid I have walked too quickly, Gladys, I am very sorry. I was
+anxious to get home, I do not feel very well.'
+
+With these words he hurried through the passage, and was going to his
+room, when his father met him and called him into the parlour. He felt
+so bewildered that he scarcely knew what his mother said, when she told
+him how proud and happy he had made her by his conduct that day.
+
+'All, my dear son, church-people and dissenters were pleased with your
+sermon, and the way you managed everything. Your aunt repeated it word
+for word to me, and it was just what I like. This is the first comfort I
+have felt since--'
+
+Mrs Prothero pressed her son's hand, and her eyes filled with tears.
+
+'Thank you, mother, I am glad,' was all Rowland could say.
+
+'Mind you, Row, my boy, you must write a good sermon for Sunday. You've
+got a character to lose now,' said Mr Prothero, giving him a slap on the
+back.
+
+'Yes, father. I will go and write it.'
+
+'Not to-night, Rowland,' said Mrs Prothero, anxiously; 'you look pale
+and tired. What is the matter?'
+
+'Nothing, mother; but I must think of this sermon, I have only one clear
+day. We will talk to-morrow. Good-night, dear mother.'
+
+Rowland stooped to kiss his mother, and she felt that his face was very
+cold, and that his hand trembled.
+
+'You are ill, Rowland?'
+
+'No, only tired. I will come and see you again by-and-by.'
+
+Rowland went to his room and bolted himself in. He threw himself on a
+chair, covered his face with his hands, and wept like a child. He was
+seated by a little writing-table near the window, through which the moon
+looked down pitifully upon him in his great anguish. Yes, great. Perhaps
+the greatest anguish of a life. His arms on the table, his head on his
+arms, he thought, in the misery of that moment, that he must die, and he
+wished to die. The illusion of a life was destroyed, and how? So rudely,
+so cruelly, so heartlessly broken! He could have borne it if there had
+been one kind word, only a look of interest or pity; but that pride and
+haughtiness were like the stabs of a dagger in his heart.
+
+'Womanly weakness! unmanly folly!' you say, some one who has never felt
+keenly and suddenly the pangs of such a passion unrequited. Perhaps so.
+But out of our great weakness sometimes grows our strength; out of our
+bitterest disappointments our sternest resolution. By-and-by such
+weakness will strengthen; such folly will breed wisdom.
+
+Thus Rowland remained for some time, with unkind and unholy thoughts and
+feelings rushing through his mind, like the howling winds through the
+air in a great storm. Afterwards, he prayed humbly to be forgiven those
+devilish feelings of anger, pride, hatred of life and mistrust of God's
+goodness that assailed him in that hour of misery. But for the time,
+they were darting to and fro, and casting out every good thought, and
+hopeful purpose from his soul, like demons as they were.
+
+But strength came at last, and like one arising out of a horrid dream,
+Rowland got up from his anguish, and looked out into the night. The moon
+was too tender and beautiful for his mood at that time; he roughly drew
+down the blind, took a box of matches from the table, and lighted a
+candle. Then he paced up and down the room, and suddenly thought of
+Howel and Netta. He knew not how the transition took place, but he
+immediately accused himself of having been hard to them. Does any one
+ever fully sympathise with another, until he has felt as he does? No, we
+should not judge our weak fellow mortals so harshly, if we knew all
+their temptations and trials.
+
+Then, again, Miss Gwynne returned to him, with her pride and coldness.
+How could he love such a woman? he, whose beau ideal of feminine
+perfection was a creature of gentleness, love, and pity? but he would
+think of her no more. She, at least, should discover that he was as
+proud as herself.
+
+Yes, he was proud, he knew it, and now, he would glory in his pride
+instead of trample it down, as he had been of late trying to do, as an
+arch tempter; he should be justified in showing pride for her pride.
+
+Again a gentler and better mood came. Was he not vain, ambitious,
+ridiculous in her eyes, for venturing to speak to her as he had done?
+Doubtless he had been wrong, but she needed not to spurn him as she had
+done; she might have told him so as a friend. Friend! she thought him
+beneath her friendship.
+
+But we will not pursue these musings further; every kind and degree of
+feeling alternated for nearly two hours, when, as if by some sudden
+impulse or resolution, Rowland sat down and determined to write his
+sermon. It should be upon pride, and should touch her as well as
+himself. He found pleasure in thinking of all the texts in which the
+word occurs, in looking for them, and considering which was the most
+biting.
+
+A hasty knock at his door interrupted this study. It was Owen, who
+insisted upon coming in, and would take no excuse.
+
+Owen, too, had been ruminating upon the nature of woman, and was not in
+a very good humour; he, however, had been cheerfully talking to his
+mother of the events of the day, and duly lauding their own particular
+hero, Rowland.
+
+When he entered, he looked surprised at seeing Rowland with his Bible in
+his hand; he took a chair, and, turning his seat towards him, sat down
+astride upon it, leaning his chin upon the back and facing Rowland.
+
+'Now, Rowland, I'm going to ask you a very plain question. There ought
+to be no secrets between brothers: I've told you all mine, nearly? you
+must tell me yours. Are you in love?'
+
+Poor Rowland coloured to the temples, but did not answer.
+
+'You won't tell me? There was a time, Rowland, when you and I knew one
+another's hearts as well as if they were two open books, in which we
+could read when we like, but I suppose London and fine people--'
+
+'Stop, Owen, do not disgrace yourself or me by going on. Why do you wish
+to probe me in a wounded place, where every stab is death?'
+
+Owen looked at his brother, and saw the conflict that was going on in
+his mind in the working of his features.
+
+'Rowland, I only want your confidence; by Jove you shall have mine, even
+though you are my successful rival; and I love you so well that I would
+give her up to you, if it cost me--let me see--a voyage to the North
+Pole.'
+
+'Owen, this is no jesting matter. I have been a fool, I am ashamed of
+myself, I am trying to conquer my feelings; leave me until I have
+succeeded, and then--'
+
+'But, Rowland, if she loves you, I don't see why you should try to
+overcome your feelings. It would not be quite the right match,
+certainly; but she would make a better parson's wife than a sailor's
+wife after all; and my father might consent in time, and--'
+
+'Owen, is it kind of you to make a jest of me?' asked Rowland, rising
+from his chair, and resuming his walk up and down his room. 'If you had
+ever really loved either of the many girls you have fancied you adored,
+you would understand me better; but I deserve it all for my
+presumption--my folly.'
+
+'For that much, Rowland, perhaps I love her a trifle better than you do
+at this very moment; still I am not selfish enough to come between you,
+and would rather try absence and the northern latitudes; only just be
+honest. I'm not quite such a piece of blubber as not to be capable of
+constancy, though I may have been a rover until now; but when I see a
+girl walk right away from me, and refuse to wait for me to go home with
+her, and go straight off to another man, never mind if he was my father,
+instead of my brother, I don't mean to break my heart about her.
+Besides, I'm disappointed in her, and that's the truth. I thought she
+was as modest as the moon; but I never saw the moon walk out of her
+straight path to go after another planet, and no girl that I have
+anything to say to, shall go after another man. So you're welcome to
+her, though I'll say this, that I never saw the woman yet I loved so
+well, and believe she's as good as gold, as pure as that same moon, but
+as cold as ice itself; at least, so I've found her, perhaps you've a
+warmer experience.'
+
+As soon as Owen paused in his rapid speech, Rowland paused in his walk,
+and putting his hand on Owen's shoulder, said,--
+
+'This is a misapprehension, my dear Owen; you and I are thinking of a
+different person.'
+
+'I am thinking of Gladys,' said Owen bluntly, 'and repeat that I love
+you both too well to come between you and happiness.'
+
+'I am sure of that, Owen, you have no selfishness about you; but I do
+not love Gladys. I never thought of her except as a beautiful and
+superior girl, thrown by Providence amongst us, and to be treated with
+kindness and consideration. I only hope my manner to her has never
+indicated anything else.'
+
+'Do you mean what you say?' said Owen, jumping up from his chair, and
+cutting a caper, 'then shake hands, and tell me you forgive me for being
+so hasty.'
+
+They shook hands heartily, and Rowland said,--
+
+'Thank you, Owen, you have done me good; now go away, and I will write
+my sermon.'
+
+'Not before I know what is the matter with you, and why Gladys went
+across on purpose to walk home with you.'
+
+After much hesitation, and some pressing on the part of Owen, Rowland
+told his brother what had passed between him and Miss Gwynne. When he
+had made a clean breast of it, he felt as if relieved of half his
+load--especially when Owen assured him that women were all alike, and
+that when you asked them the first time, they were as proud as Lucifer.
+
+'It is first and last with me, Owen. I have forgotten my position, my
+profession, my own dignity in giving way to a passion that I had no
+right to suppose could be returned. I will crush it, and nobody but you
+shall ever know of its existence. This struggle over, and I shall hope
+henceforth to have but one Master and to serve Him.'
+
+'Well, I never should have thought you would have fancied Miss Gwynne;
+not but that she is handsome and clever and very agreeable and kind,
+too, when she pleases; but so proud, so domineering, and then--'
+
+'Neither should I have supposed Gladys to be your choice, Owen; and I am
+sorry it should be so. What would my father say? so soon upon Netta,
+too; and you must confess that her uncertain history, her present
+condition, the way she came to us, would be utter barriers to anything
+serious.'
+
+'Bravo, Rowland; now I must put the application to your lecture. I
+suppose everything is by comparison in this world--the squire and the
+squire's daughter look down upon the farmer and the farmer's son, and
+beg to decline the honour of an alliance. The farmer and the farmer's
+son look down upon the corporal and corporal's daughter, and beg to do
+the same, especially as she is their servant. Tom, the carpenter, thinks
+his daughter too good for Joseph the labourer, and Matthew the shoeblack
+wouldn't let his son marry Sal the crossing-sweeper for all the world.
+Oh, Rowland!, is this what you have learnt from your profession, and
+the book before you? Why, I've found a better philosophy on board ship,
+with no teachers but the moon and stars.'
+
+'Owen, I am ashamed of myself. My pride deserves to be thus pulled
+down.'
+
+'I don't want to seem unkind, Rowland, but my notion is, that an honest
+gentleman, such as you, educated, and a clergyman is good enough for any
+lady; and that a good, religious girl, who has saved my mother's life,
+is a great deal too good for a ne'er-do-well fellow like me. But I won't
+fall before I'm pushed, since I'm pretty sure she thinks so too. So,
+now, cheer up, old boy! and show the heiress what a sermon you can
+preach; and let her see you don't care a fig for her; and then, by
+jingo, she'll be over head and ears in love with you, and propose
+herself next leap-year.'
+
+Rowland laughed, in spite of himself, at this notion.
+
+'I will go and wish my mother good night,' he said, 'and then set to
+work.'
+
+The brothers went together to their mother, who was in bed, and together
+received her 'God bless you, my children!' Then they separated for the
+night, and Rowland returned to his room a wiser, if still a sadder, man,
+than when Owen visited it. Owen's plain common sense had often got the
+better of Rowland's romance; and although he could not approve his
+roving and seemingly useless life, he always acknowledged that he
+gathered some wisdom by his experience.
+
+Again Rowland sat down, but this time he drew up the blind, and let the
+moonlight in upon his chamber like a silver flood. He took himself to
+task for his pride, ambition, and conceit, in a way that did him good,
+doubtless, but was not palatable; still he made many excuses for
+himself, and none for Miss Gwynne. He was not to recover the effects of
+that disappointment in a few hours! Days and even years were necessary
+for that. But he asked for strength where it is never asked in vain, and
+then resolutely wrote a sermon on the words, 'Blessed are the poor in
+spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'
+
+He wrote as he felt, and under the influence of those strong,
+half-curbed feelings, wrote so easily, that he was astonished to find
+how quickly he composed, and how soon a sufficient number of sheets were
+written, to occupy his customary half-hour when preached. He did not
+read them over, but promised to do so on the morrow, which was Saturday.
+He was already far into the small hours, and knew that he ought to be in
+bed.
+
+When he was there he could not sleep. That love of his was too
+deeply-rooted to be torn up by a few proud words that haunted him all
+the night, and to which he was constantly adding 'Yes, you are the
+heiress of Glanyravon, and I am only a farmer's son and a poor curate.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE GOVERNESS.
+
+
+'Only a curate!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, as she and Miss Hall were
+discussing Rowland's presumption the following morning.
+
+'Still, a gentleman,' replied Miss Hall quietly.
+
+'The son of one of my father's tenants; a farmer's son!'
+
+'Still, a gentleman!'
+
+'The ninety-ninth attempt on Glanyravon, and, happily, an unsuccessful
+one.'
+
+'Perhaps the first sincere attempt to gain the heiress's heart, without
+any thought of her park and its broad acres.'
+
+'I declare, Serena, _vous m'impatientez_. I verily believe you are in
+his interest and confidence, and trying to plead his cause.'
+
+This was said with great excitement; the answer, however, was calm.
+
+'Scarcely possible, if probable, because I was never alone with him in
+my life, and have rarely seen him except in your presence.'
+
+'Then, why do you take up his defence? You would not have me marry him,
+would you?'
+
+'Certainly not, for many reasons. In the first place, you do not love
+him; in the second, your father would not approve of such a match; in
+the third, you are not suited to him.'
+
+'I understand. Not good enough. But why do you defend him? Do you think
+it was right of him to say what he did to me?'
+
+'Well, perhaps not. But I think he has been nursing these feelings for
+you so long, that he began to forget whether they were right or wrong,
+sensible or foolish; and last night, carried away by the excitement of
+the day and his own success, and finding himself alone with you--you,
+probably, more friendly than usual--he forgot his customary prudence,
+and overstepped the bounds of conventionality.'
+
+'Very well said, Nita. Then it was wrong of me to be friendly, and right
+of him to make a dunce of himself.'
+
+'Perhaps if you had ever felt as he does, Freda, you might make some
+excuse for him.'
+
+'I am sure you must have been in love a hundred times, you are so
+sentimental, and would like to see him run away with me.'
+
+'Quite wrong again.'
+
+'Then what would you like, for I am sure you don't approve of my
+conduct?'
+
+'Simply, that you should have treated a clergyman and a gentleman as
+such, and at least felt grateful that a good and honest heart was
+offered to you, even though you would not accept it.'
+
+'But I don't believe in the heart, you see, Serena. There is not a more
+mercenary race under the sun than the clergy. They all marry for money.
+I can mention quite a dozen; his own uncle at the head of them. Now, you
+cannot suppose that he married Mrs Jonathan Prothero for anything but
+her fortune and her family.'
+
+'I think he is too simple-minded a man to have considered either the one
+or the other.'
+
+'Then why didn't he marry some simple-minded girl, his equal? No, you
+are quite out of your depth now, Serena. Depend upon it, that Rowland
+Prothero will soon find some English lady just as rich as _I am to
+be_--always provided that Lady Mary Nugent doesn't carry off papa, and
+get him to leave her the property. These men don't seem to know that it
+is not entailed; and that, after all, I may be cut off with a shilling.
+I think I may venture to affirm that were such the case, there is not
+one of my ninety-nine adorers who would have me, except, perhaps poor
+Sir Hugh.'
+
+'Perhaps, Freda, I may have been imprudent, situated as I am here, in
+even saying what I have in favour of Rowland Prothero. The fact is, that
+not only do I particularly like what I know of him, but there is a
+little passage in my early history that makes me have a great pity for
+young men who venture to fall in love with young ladies who consider
+themselves their superiors.'
+
+'If you will tell me your story, Nita, I will forgive you all the rest,
+and finish this sketch of Abertewey for Colonel Vaughan, meanwhile.'
+
+Freda drew well in water-colours, and had before her, as she sat in the
+embrasure of one of the windows of that charming morning-room, a
+half-finished sketch of Colonel Vaughan's place, which he had begged her
+to take for him. Hitherto it had been untouched; now she began to work
+at it with pretended vigour, whilst Miss Hall took up the little frock
+she was making for a poor child, which had been laid down during the
+discussion, and also made believe to stitch and sew industriously.
+
+But there was a flush on her cheek, and a tremor in her voice, as she
+began to tell Freda the little passage in her life to which she had
+alluded. Freda was conscious of this, and accordingly devoted herself
+more energetically to her drawing.
+
+'It was when I was just eighteen, Freda, and during my _beaux jours_,
+before my father had lost his fortune, or been obliged to retire from
+the army on half-pay on account of that dreadful paralytic
+stroke--before my sister's imprudent marriage, and consequent emigration
+to Australia--before my dear mother's death. We were a happy and gay
+family, and I had then more pride and higher spirits than you would
+probably give me credit for now.
+
+'I was visiting a friend who had married the head-master of one of our
+principal grammar schools. Amongst his tutors there was a young man of
+whom he was very fond, and who used to be a good deal with his family
+after the duties of the day were over. It is just possible that he was a
+countryman of yours, for his name was Jones.'
+
+'Oh, Serena! you don't mean to say that you fell in love with a Jones in
+England, and then came into Wales to be in the midst of that very
+ancient and numerous family.'
+
+'I have not come to the love part yet, Freda. He was a very quiet and
+unobtrusive person, but, my friends said, very amiable and sufficiently
+clever. I know that I used to take an unkind delight in teasing him, and
+that he was rather clever in repartee, and never spared me in return. I
+liked him as an amusing companion, and had no objection to his getting
+me books or flowers, or whatever lay within his reach that might be
+agreeable to me. Moreover, I pitied him, because I was told that both
+his parents were dead, and that he was working hard to pay for his own
+course at college, whither he intended to go as soon as he could get the
+means.
+
+'As my father was with his regiment abroad at this time, and my mother
+and sister were making a round of visits amongst our Scotch friends, I
+stayed a long time with the Merryweathers. They were very pleasant
+people, and had an agreeable circle of acquaintance.
+
+'But that has nothing to do with my story. The evening before I left
+them to return home, my friend, Mr Jones, managed to be alone with me;
+how, I never found out, for he ought to have been with the boys--and
+committed a similar misdemeanour to that of poor Rowland Prothero. He
+had unfortunately lost his heart to me--so he said, and was constrained
+to tell me so. Would I think of him, if, in the course of time, he could
+enter the church and marry me?
+
+'Now I had the world before me, a happy home, a prospect of a certain
+independence, and, I suppose, a sufficient share of personal
+attractions. I had never considered whether I could like this young man
+or not; but I had well considered that when I married, I must have
+talent, position, personal beauty, and a hundred other visionary
+attributes in my husband. I was of a most imaginative, and at the same
+time, ambitious temperament; and on the one hand, thought a great poet
+or warrior would fall to my lot, and on the other, that a prince of the
+blood royal was not too good for me.
+
+'Your pride, my dear Freda, is too matter-of-fact, as is your general
+character, thoroughly to understand me. At that time I was touched and
+flattered by the devotion of this young man, and felt, that had he been
+differently placed, and had he more of the attributes either of station
+or romance about him, I might have taken him under my august
+consideration; but as I had never even looked upon him in the light of a
+lover, or supposed it possible that he could be one, I at once, and
+decidedly refused him.
+
+'I shall never forget the pained and melancholy expression of his
+features when I did so, or the few words he uttered. He said that he had
+not ventured to hope for a different answer, though he had dared to
+speak, and that his one slight prospect of happiness had vanished. He
+had now nothing but a life of labour before him, without a gleam of hope
+to cheer his way, but that he should think of me always, and of the
+happy hours we had passed together. I felt so sorry for him that I could
+really say nothing, either to cheer or discourage him. He simply asked
+me to allow him to remain my friend, and to forgive his presumption; and
+so we shook hands and parted. He did not join the family that evening,
+and the next day I left the Merryweathers.
+
+'I do not know how it was, but when I returned home, I thought more of
+this young man than of any one else. Although my sister and myself were
+surrounded by men of a very different, and I may say, superior class,
+still he haunted me very much, for a time at least.
+
+'Then came my sister's marriage, which proved, as you know, unfortunate
+in a pecuniary point of view, and her and her husband's emigration to
+Australia in search of fortune. Then followed our own ruin, and my
+father's paralytic seizure. To help my parents and support myself, I
+came to you as governess. You know, dearest Freda, how happy your dear
+mother made me as long as she lived, and how ardently I desired to
+fulfil her dying wish that I should finish your education. Most thankful
+I am that I was permitted to do so.
+
+'I need not tell you, over and over again, the sad story of my mother's
+death, and my return home to live with my father, and become a daily
+instead of a resident governess. All the happiness I have known--at
+least the greatest--since our troubles, has been in this house.
+
+'But this has nothing to do with Mr Jones. I heard, casually from my
+friend, Mrs Merryweather, that he had left them and gone to college;
+what college, she did not say. For some years I had quite enough of
+painful duty to perform to make me forget the weeks passed in his
+society, and their termination; or to think of a person of whom I had
+quite lost sight. About six or seven years ago, however, I heard of him,
+strange to say, through my sister. I had, of course, told her of his
+proposal and my refusal.
+
+'She and her husband were among the early settlers at Melbourne, and in
+the course of time became tolerably prosperous. He, you know, was
+obliged to leave his regiment for drunkenness, and contrary to the usual
+course of things, became steadier, though not steady, in Australia. My
+sister lost two children in one week from fever, and during her great
+sorrow, was constantly visited by the clergyman of her parish, who
+turned out to be my early friend, Mr Jones. I do not think he knew she
+was my sister for some time; but she described his untiring kindness and
+gentleness as her greatest comfort during her troubles. He was also of
+great benefit to her husband, by taking advantage of the opportunity
+offered by the loss of his children, to press upon him the necessity of
+a reformation in his own course of life, which, I am thankful to say,
+has been gradually effected. They became very intimate, and, I suppose
+by mutually comparing notes concerning Old England, found one another
+out, so to say. But he seldom spoke of me. If my sister tried to draw
+him into the subject of his acquaintance with me, he changed it as soon
+as possible, as if it were disagreeable to him. And no wonder.
+
+'However, my sister looks upon this man as her greatest benefactor--him,
+whom I, in my pride and ignorance, considered beneath me in every
+respect; and when he left Melbourne a year or two ago, she said they had
+lost their best and dearest earthly friend, and that the children cried
+when he wished them good-bye, as if they were parting from a father.'
+
+Whilst Miss Hall was telling this simple narrative, Freda was very
+attentive. As it drew to a close, she rose from her drawing, and
+kneeling, as she sometimes would do, by Miss Hall's side, put her arm
+affectionately round her. There was something in the action at that
+moment which drew tears from Miss Hall's eyes.
+
+'But he is not married, Serena, I know he is not married,' she
+exclaimed. 'Who knows!'
+
+'My dear child,' said Miss Hall, smiling, and stroking Freda's shining
+hair, 'I have long given up all thoughts of matrimony. But the
+recollection of old times always affects me, and your love affects me
+still more. I have not told you this because I regret not being married
+to Mr Jones--it was mercifully ordained that I should not marry any one.
+What would my dear father have done if I had? but simply to show you how
+the very people we think the least of frequently become our best
+friends; the "weak things of the earth confounding those that are
+mighty," in scripture phrase.'
+
+'Oh, Serena! do you hear?' interrupted Freda, 'there is Miss Nugent in
+the hall. Of all the bores! we never can be free from those people. Yes
+it is; I hear her _lithp_;' and Miss Nugent was announced.
+
+She had walked over, she said, to ask how they all were after the
+delightful Harvest Home, and to bring an invitation from her mamma to
+dinner the following Tuesday.
+
+'I do hope you will come, Freda, and you, Mith Hall, and bring that
+charming Colonel Vaughan with you. He ith tho nithe. Don't you think
+tho.'
+
+'Very,' said Freda, drily.
+
+'But, do you know, I don't admire him half ath much ath Mr Rowland
+Prothero. Mamma thaith he ith tho gentlemanlike and that the meanth to
+athk him Tuethday.'
+
+'Really!' again said Freda, not daring to look at Miss Hall.
+
+'We are going to Llanfach to-morrow to hear him preach. Hith thermon
+wath beautiful in the school-room. Don't you think he ith like the
+picture at the beginning of "Evangeline." Dear me, who wath he, Freda?'
+
+'Longfellow, you mean, I suppose.'
+
+'Of courth. And hith language ith tho poetical. Mamma thaith the
+thouldn't wonder if he turned out a great author by-and-by. Thould you,
+Mith Hall?'
+
+'It takes so much to make a great author, dear; but it is just
+possible.'
+
+'But not probable,' whispered Freda.
+
+'Oh, Freda! don't you like him? I am thure you ought; he managed
+everything tho nithely for you yethterday. Mamma thaith--Ah! there is
+Colonel Vaughan coming up the drive.'
+
+Miss Hall looked across at Freda, and remarked that she began to draw
+most industriously, and did not glance out of the window as Miss Nugent
+did.
+
+'Mamma thaith,' began that young lady, 'that the colonel ith the motht
+accomplithed and agreeable man in Waleth.'
+
+'How can she tell that?' asked Freda, with feigned surprise. 'There are
+so many clever men in Wales. I assure you we are a talented race.'
+
+'I am thure of that, Freda; but I think the Englith are more thinthere;
+mamma thaith tho.'
+
+'Ah, she must be a good judge,' said Freda, somewhat ironically.
+
+'Yeth; mamma ath theen a great deal of the world,' replied the
+unsuspecting Miss Nugent.
+
+Here Colonel Vaughan made his appearance, and that young lady gave him
+her mamma's invitation, which he said he should be delighted to accept,
+if his friends did; so Freda said her papa was out, but she would send
+Lady Mary Nugent an answer when he came in.
+
+'Ah! this _is_ a sketch, Freda,' said Colonel Vaughan, who had somehow
+returned to the old familiarity of earlier days. 'How can I thank you
+sufficiently? who could think that the child I left twelve years ago
+would be such a good artist when I returned? But that was the cleverest
+bit of life-like drawing I ever saw, that sketch of your old pony. By
+the way, do you know who this is?'
+
+The colonel opened a sketch-book that he had in his hand, and put it
+into Freda's.
+
+'Why, this is Gladys, Mrs Prothero's Gladys. How could you prevail on
+her to stand for her picture? Look, Serena, how well Colonel Vaughan has
+hit off her expression and general effect in those few touches!'
+
+'I went to see Prothero, who used to be a good friend of mine in old
+times, and whilst I was waiting for him and looking out of the window, I
+saw this Gladys in the garden, and made the attempt you are pleased to
+praise. Certainly she is about the loveliest specimen of country beauty
+I ever saw in my life.'
+
+'Do you admire her, Colonel Vaughan? I think the ith tho very pale and
+thupid.'
+
+'I never contradict a young lady, and suppose you must be right; but in
+the present company, one cannot think of other belles. It would be a
+case of looking for stars in the presence of the sun.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan glanced from one to the other of the ladies. Freda bent
+more closely over her sketch, but coloured perceptibly. Miss Nugent
+simpered and looked very handsome withal.
+
+Miss Hall was struck with her beauty as she then appeared; a perfect
+profile, perfect complexion, perfect features, beneath a most becoming
+straw hat and feathers. Such a colour and complexion, but no expression,
+not even the sarcastic turn of the lip of the mother.
+
+'Perfectly child-like, amiable, and silly,' thought Miss Hall, 'and yet
+Colonel Vaughan admires that statue more than the noble face and grand
+expression of my Freda.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE PREACHER.
+
+
+As Mr Jonathan Prothero's sprain proved to be a very bad one, Rowland
+was obliged to undertake his weekly as well as his Sunday duty, and
+being summoned to the vicarage early on Saturday morning for a wedding,
+and finding other clerical duty in the afternoon, he had no time to
+revise his sermon until the morning on which he was to preach it. His
+mind was still in a state of so much excitement, that he found, on
+reading it over, that he had no power to amend what he had written
+hastily, but feeling that it was what he earnestly desired to act up to
+himself, and to bring his own mind down to, he hoped the words would not
+be without effect on his hearers. If Miss Gwynne took them as intended
+personally to touch her, why, he could not help it, and besides, she
+probably would be at Llanfawr church, to avoid seeing him.
+
+But this was not the case. Gwynnes, Nugents, Protheros, and many others
+of Rowland's neighbours, helped to fill the little church that Sunday,
+all anxious to hear him preach; this made him feel nervous in spite of
+himself. In vain he reasoned with himself, prayed to forget himself, and
+those present--he could not get rid of those haunting words of Miss
+Gwynne's, or of the consciousness that she was listening to him.
+However, he read the service clearly and impressively, in the manly
+tone, and simply religious manner of one who knows that he is leading
+the prayers and praises of a congregation who cannot express their wants
+too humbly and naturally, to One who knows what they desire, even before
+they ask. No one in that church prayed more earnestly to be delivered
+from 'all blindness of heart, from pride, vain-glory and hypocrisy; from
+envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness,' than he did. And
+as he proceeded with the litany, his mind grew calmer, and he gradually
+received strength to overcome the great inward struggle that he was
+suffering from.
+
+Before reading the thanksgiving, he gave out in a tremulous voice, that
+a 'member of that congregation was desirous of returning thanks to
+Almighty God for her recovery from dangerous, illness.' When he thanked
+God for all His mercies to all men, 'particularly to her who desires now
+to offer up her praises and thanksgivings for late mercies vouchsafed
+unto her,' every one felt that he was returning thanks for his own
+mother's recovery, and joined him in so doing. His father was seen to
+put his handkerchief to his eyes, as he lifted up his heart in praise.
+
+His earnest manner evidently impressed his congregation, who were
+usually accustomed to the somewhat monotonous reading of his uncle, and
+to his rather learned discourses.
+
+It is generally the case, that words spoken from the overflowings of the
+speaker's own heart and feelings, make the greatest impression on the
+hearts and feelings of his hearers; so it was now. When Rowland, in
+simple and forcible language, told his listeners that the first words of
+our Lord's Sermon on the Mount were to bless the poor in spirit, and to
+promise them the kingdom of heaven; and went on to contrast such poverty
+of spirit with the pride and vain glory inherent in man, and to call up
+the various scriptural examples and texts that bore upon the subject of
+humility; he gained the attention of all. Then he enlarged more
+particularly on the necessity of curbing and bridling and keeping down
+the spirit, until it attained that lowliness to which Our Saviour
+alludes in the very first of the beatitudes; and finally went through
+that Saviour's life, as the great example for all men, of meekness,
+gentleness, and humility--the interest in his words increased.
+
+Rowland preached from the heart to the heart, and so his sermon that day
+was not in vain, albeit not perhaps written in the very best of moods.
+There was no poetry, no overheated enthusiasm no display of eloquence,
+but the plain, straightforward announcement to rich and poor alike, that
+to enter God's kingdom the spirit must become even as that of a little
+child.
+
+Perhaps this is the least understood, and least palatable of all
+subjects, and when brought before a congregation, and well discussed for
+half-an-hour, must make many of its members pause to consider whether,
+on such terms, 'theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was one of those who paused so to consider, and acknowledged
+to herself that she had never looked upon our Lord's Sermon on the
+Mount, as so practically and so particularly addressed to herself
+before. She did not for a moment believe that the sermon was intended
+for her, more than for the rest of the congregation, but she felt, for
+the first time, that she had been proud and overbearing in her conduct
+to the preacher, as well as to many others whom she chose to think her
+inferiors.
+
+She left the church, resolved to make such amends as were in her power,
+for the hasty and haughty way of her rejection of Rowland, and to strive
+to be less proud for the future.
+
+When she was without, her father said to her, that he must go into the
+vicarage to congratulate the vicar on his nephew's preaching, and to ask
+Rowland to dinner. Miss Gwynne endeavoured to dissuade him from doing
+so, but Lady Mary Nugent expressed her intention of performing similar
+civilities; consequently the whole party, Colonel Vaughan and Miss Hall
+inclusive, walked across the churchyard to the vicarage, which lay just
+the other side of it.
+
+The vicarage was a snug little cottage, with a rustic porch, adorned
+with the Virginian creeper, which, together with the massive ivy, also
+nearly covered the house. Red and cheerful looked the tiny dwelling
+beneath the autumn sun; and very pretty was the garden which surrounded
+it, still bright with dahlias, fuchsias, red geraniums, and monthly
+roses. It was here, years ago, that Rowland, Miss Gwynne, and Netta had
+often played together; and it was here that Rowland had passed the
+principal part of his holidays when at home from Rugby or college. It
+was here that Mrs Jonathan had done her utmost to make a gentleman of
+him, and had succeeded to her heart's content. Rowland had been very
+happy with his uncle and aunt, and loved them almost as well as his
+parents.
+
+In the pretty garden were innumerable wonderful stones heaped into all
+sorts of masses, which he had helped his uncle to bring from various
+parts in the neighbourhood, and all of which were curiosities in their
+way; and there, also, was a fernery which he himself had made, and which
+contained all the remarkable ferns of a country rich in those beautiful
+productions of nature. The vicarage and its garden were neatness itself.
+Mrs Jonathan prided herself on them, and took great pains to prove that
+there could be, in a Welsh country village, a clergyman's abode
+something akin to the far-famed dwellings of the English ecclesiastic.
+
+The party from the church quite filled the little drawing-room. Mr
+Jonathan Prothero was in an easy-chair, with his foot on a cushion, and
+looking very much like a caged stork.
+
+Every one began by congratulating him on the success of his nephew in
+the pulpit.
+
+'He must become a popular preacher,' said Lady Mary Nugent.
+
+'I must say I have seldom heard more simple yet forcible language,'
+said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'He touched us all upon our besetting sin of pride,' said Colonel
+Vaughan, glancing at Miss Gwynne, who said nothing.
+
+'And thuch a beautiful voice!' remarked Miss Nugent.
+
+Mrs Jonathan looked delighted.
+
+'But where is he all this time, my dear?' asked the vicar.
+
+We must answer the question by informing the reader that, having watched
+his congregation leave the church, he went into the vestry and sat down
+there, in order to avoid meeting any of the Gwynne party; when a
+messenger from his aunt came to inform him that he was wanted at once.
+He inquired by whom, and on hearing, tried to arm himself for an
+unavoidable encounter with Miss Gwynne.
+
+When he entered the room she was talking to his uncle, and had her back
+turned to the door. He was at once greeted by Mr Gwynne and Lady Mary
+Nugent, so that he did not find it necessary to shake hands with every
+one, and made a kind of general bow, which he addressed to Miss Hall
+particularly, and was therefore unconscious of the half-attempt of Freda
+to rise from her seat as he entered. Miss Hall, alone, saw the flush on
+her cheek, as she relapsed into her position by Mr Jonathan Prothero and
+professed to be listening to the cause of his accident. His adventurous
+search after trinobites in a celebrated quarry, the slipping of a stone,
+and consequent spraining of his right ankle, sounded into one of her
+ears, whilst the following conversation, entered the other:--
+
+'I hope you will give us the pleasure of your company on Tuesday,' said
+Lady Mary Nugent. 'We shall not be a large party.'
+
+'And will come to us on Wednesday,' said Mr Gwynne. 'We must have some
+more chess. I have never met with a fair opponent since--hem--I beg your
+pardon, Lady Mary--Ah--yes--or, on Thursday. You see we did not like to
+ask you whilst your mother was so ill; my daughter thought it would be
+useless.'
+
+Rowland coloured at the allusion to Freda, but did not even glance at
+her.
+
+'Thank you, Lady Mary; thank you, Mr Gwynne, very much indeed, but I
+intend being in London on Tuesday. I have already outstayed my
+prescribed fortnight.'
+
+'My dear Rowland!' exclaimed his aunt, 'you do not mean this?'
+
+'Yes, aunt; my fellow curate has been fortunate enough to get a living
+given to him, and is to read himself in next Sunday, and I have promised
+to take double duty.'
+
+'But one day more or less,' suggested Lady Nugent, who did not imagine
+it possible that Rowland Prothero _could_ refuse an invitation from her,
+which was, in her opinion, quite a royal command. She, so exclusive!
+
+'I am very much obliged to your ladyship, but I have promised to be in
+London on Tuesday; and as my mother is really better, there is no longer
+any necessity for my staying in the country.'
+
+'Your uncleth foot?' suggested Miss Nugent.
+
+'Two good dinners, and more agreeable company than you will meet with in
+your East End parish!' said Colonel Vaughan.
+
+'My uncle will easily find help,' said Rowland, turning to Miss Nugent,
+'although I am sorry not to be able to give him more; and,' to Colonel
+Vaughan, with a smile, 'had you ever tried the far East, you would know
+that there is very good company there, as well as in the West. I should
+be very glad to introduce you to some, if you would come and see me in
+town.'
+
+'That I certainly will,' said the colonel, heartily; 'and I shall be
+able to tell you all about your sister, as I heard yesterday that her
+husband has finally taken my place, and will be down here as soon as it
+is put in first-rate order, furnished, etc.'
+
+'You are not likely to leave us yet I hope, Colonel Vaughan?' said Lady
+Mary Nugent.
+
+'For a time, I must; but having found how pleasant you all are down
+here, I shall hope to come again frequently, if Miss Gwynne will second
+her papa's invitation.'
+
+Freda just turned round, bowed, and smiled, and then resolutely resumed
+her conversation with, or rather act of listening to, the vicar.
+
+'How interested you appear to be,' whispered the colonel, sitting down
+behind her.
+
+Rowland saw this little bit of by-play, and wished himself in London;
+whilst Colonel Vaughan joined in the vicar's archæological description
+of the quarry in which he had met with his accident. Freda heard all
+that Rowland said more distinctly than what passed close at her side.
+
+She heard her father and Lady Mary's repeated entreaties that he would
+remain until the end of the week, and the decided, but polite refusal of
+Rowland. She heard her father prophecy that he would soon have a good
+living, and Rowland's reply, 'that without interest or any particular
+talent for what is called "popular preaching," there was little chance
+of church preferment. 'But,' he added, 'I am well content to be only a
+curate. There is enough to do in my parish to keep one from morning to
+night employed, and that in real, active, heart-stirring work, that will
+not let one flag if one would wish it.'
+
+'I thould like to thee the Eatht End, mamma,' said Miss Nugent. 'People
+in the Wetht theem to think all the inhabitanths barbarians.'
+
+'It is a pity they don't come and try to civilise us, then,' said
+Rowland. 'We should be very glad of their help.'
+
+
+'I will go if mamma will let me,' said Miss Nugent.
+
+Lady Mary smiled somewhat superciliously, and observed that she did not
+think she would be of much use.
+
+'All who have a desire to do good will make a path of usefulness, Lady
+Mary, I think,' said Rowland. 'In these days the enlightened must not
+hide their light under a bushel. We live in stirring, striving times,
+when good and evil seem at terrible issue.'
+
+'And which will conquer?' broke in Colonel Vaughan suddenly. 'I don't
+see that all the meetings and tracts have done much, as yet, towards
+their part in the fight.'
+
+'Good must conquer eventually,' said Rowland, 'and is conquering daily
+and hourly.'
+
+'In your East End parish?'
+
+'We hope so. If our progress is slow we are not without encouragement
+even there, in the very thick of the battle, and where the armies of
+evil are ten to one against good.'
+
+'I know something of fighting, Mr Rowland, and I fear the odds are too
+great. You may as well give up the conflict.'
+
+'Remember, Colonel Vaughan, that in all the great battles of antiquity,
+and not a few of modern times--the Swiss for example--those who fought
+for freedom and right have always found their arms nerved to resist
+multitudes--hundreds have conquered tens of thousands. So is it with our
+warfare. We have strength given us that makes the single champion of the
+cross, powerful against the legion of his adversaries.'
+
+'Very well said, nephew,' broke in the vicar, 'Marathon, Thermopylæ,
+Platea--'
+
+'I am afraid we are keeping you from your dinner, Mrs Prothero,'
+interrupted Mr Gwynne, who had a nervous dread of the vicar's
+antiquities, whether in war or peace. 'Freda, I think we must go.'
+
+Freda rose from her seat, and shook hands very warmly with Mr and Mrs
+Prothero. She had made up her mind to do the same with Rowland; but just
+as she approached the door near which he had been standing, he said he
+would go out and see whether the carriages were ready, and did so
+accordingly. They followed him as soon as the leave-takings were over,
+and found him waiting at the gate. He immediately assisted Lady Mary and
+Miss Nugent into their carriage, leaving Colonel Vaughan to perform the
+same office for Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall. Mr Gwynne stayed to shake
+hands with him, and tell him that he should always be glad to see him;
+and Colonel Vaughan promised to pay him a visit as soon as he went to
+town. The former got into the carriage, the latter upon the box to
+drive. Rowland stood by the door a moment irresolute.
+
+'Good-bye, Mr Rowland,' said Miss Hall, 'I shall hope often to see your
+mother.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss Hall,' said Rowland, pressing the hand she held out to
+him with an iron pressure.
+
+Freda was just going to put out her hand across Miss Hall, when Colonel
+Vaughan touched the horses, and the carriage drove off. Rowland raised
+his hat, and as he glanced at Freda saw that she was looking at him not
+altogether unkindly. After those words of hers, he never could have
+shaken hands with her, unless she made the advance; and so they parted,
+he believing her too proud to acknowledge him after what he had said to
+her; she admiring what she considered his pride and resentment a great
+deal more than she had ever done his humility.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE LOVER.
+
+
+Spring came round again, and Owen and Gladys were still at the farm. The
+following conversation will show how they went on together.
+
+'Let me carry that bucket for you, Gladys,' said Owen, one evening when
+she was proceeding across the farm-yard, to carry a warm mesh to a sick
+cow.
+
+'It is not heavy, sir,' said Gladys, gently.
+
+'It is too heavy for you, _ma'am_, said Owen, emphasising the 'ma'am.'
+
+He took the bucket from her, and carried it to the shed, where Gladys
+dosed and fed her sick cow so very tenderly, that Owen was impelled to
+say,--
+
+'I wish I were that cow.'
+
+'Oh, sir! she is but a poor, sick, witless animal.'
+
+'But she has you to nurse and be kind to her; so I wish I were that
+cow.'
+
+'Sure, sir, I would be glad to nurse you if you were sick,'
+
+'Would you, Gladys? Then I will be sick to-morrow.'
+
+'I hope not, Mr Owen. Come, poor Mally. Drink it up.'
+
+'Never mind, Mally, but attend to me. Will you not be so cold and stiff,
+and respectful to me? I hate a girl who "sir's" me as if I were a lord,
+and makes me curtseys, and never looks at me, and seems as if she hated
+me--'
+
+'Oh, no, indeed no, sir--'
+
+'And lives all day long in the same house, and scarcely speaks to me.
+You will drive me off to sea again, _ma'am_, if you don't take care.
+Look into my face, and say why you hate me so!'
+
+'I hate no one in the world, sir; much less any one of your name.'
+
+Here the girl looked up from the poor cow who was licking her hand, and
+round whose neck her arm was flung, into the face of the young man. Owen
+put his hand on the arm that rested on the cow, and said earnestly,--
+
+'Then treat me as your brother.'
+
+'I have lost my brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and kith
+and kin. I have seen them all die--all that ever loved me. Oh! Mr Owen!
+you are too kind--too kind; but do not talk to me so, or it will break
+my heart.'
+
+Here was even more of Irish feeling than Owen either expected or
+desired. But he took Gladys's hand in his, and, looking kindly from his
+large honest dark eyes into hers, said,--
+
+'Forgive me, Gladys, for making you think of your sorrows. But you know
+my dear sister Netta is as good as lost to me, and I want some one who
+will be like her, or at least, who will not be quite as cold as clay.'
+
+'Gladys withdrew her eyes and her hand. There was even more than
+brotherly warmth in that kind glance and winning manner.
+
+'Thank you, sir, I will try; indeed I will,' said Gladys, as she took up
+the bucket, and turned to leave the shed.
+
+'Thank you, ma'am, you are very obliging, but you are not going to carry
+my bucket.'
+
+'Oh,' sir! if you please do not speak so to a poor servant girl like me.
+I would rather not hear it.'
+
+'You will not see, or hear, or believe what I do, and say and think all
+day long; so now, here, where nobody else can listen, you must hear me.
+You must learn to be happy with us, you must love us, you must--'
+
+'Oh! I do, sir, I do. Let me go, sir, if you please.'
+
+'Not until you hear that you must love me, even me whom you cannot
+bear.'
+
+'Oh! I do, sir--I do. I thank you, I pray for you, I love you all,
+always; indeed, indeed, I do.'
+
+'But better than all the others, as I love you, so as to be my wife
+when--when--'
+
+'Let me go, Mr Owen, if you please. You must not talk to me so, sir; me,
+just now a beggar at your gate.'
+
+'But I must, I will, and you must listen. In spite of myself, and of
+your cold manners and pale face, and all the trouble you take to avoid
+me, I love you, Gladys, and will marry you if you will have me. I will
+give up the sea, and become a steady fellow, and live at home, and make
+you and my parents happy, and--'
+
+'Oh! Mr Owen, if your parents were to hear you talking like this to me,
+what would they say to you? what would they think of me? You should not
+make a joke of my poverty and friendless state, sir. Anything else, but
+not this! oh! not this! and from you.'
+
+'I was never more in earnest in all my life, and ask for only one word
+of encouragement from you to go and tell my and mother directly,'
+
+'Oh! if you please, Mr Owen, do not do this. If are in earnest, sir, and
+I hope you are not, you must forget that you ever said this to me.'
+
+'I do not mean to forget it, Gladys, or to let you forget it. Will you
+say the word? only give me hope and all will be right. Will you marry
+me, and be the daughter of your adopted mother?'
+
+'I can never marry any one, sir; I have nothing to live for in this
+world, but to try to do my duty to you and yours, and to think of those
+I have lost.'
+
+'Gladys, your cold manner maddens me. Say you hate me, and would rather
+marry some one else; say anything that has some heart in it. We sailors
+are made of warmer stuff than such icebergs as you.'
+
+'I cannot say that, sir, because I do not hate you; and I never mean to
+marry, and I would sooner die than cause trouble in your family.'
+
+'Then you won't have me, Gladys? and you mean to send me back to sea
+again, and to make me return to my wild ways, and to make my mother
+miserable?'
+
+'Och hone! what will I do? Why do you say such things to me, Mr Owen,
+who have never done you any harm? I cannot marry--I cannot do what would
+be wicked and ungrateful--I will go away again back to old Ireland, and
+not cause trouble to those who have been so good to me.'
+
+'No, you will not do anything of the kind, unless you wish me to go
+after you. I shall tell my father that I will be off to sea again, and
+then I need not trouble you any more.'
+
+'I will not stay, Mr Owen, to make mischief; so if you will only please
+to stop at home with your parents I will go away.'
+
+'I shall not please to do anything of the kind, for I only stayed so
+long on your account, and this is the reward I get.'
+
+Owen was in a passion, and vainly striving to keep it down. His face was
+flushed, he looked angrily and moodily upon the drooping head of Gladys
+as it bent lower and lower over the poor cow upon which she was leaning.
+He suddenly seized her hand, and exclaimed,--
+
+'I am not used to be refused in this cool sort of way, and I don't
+believe there ever was a woman in the world who doesn't wish to get
+married to some one or other. Now whether you mean to have me or not is
+not the question I am going to ask; but whether you have any other
+lover, or ever had one that you prefer to me?--Tell me this, and I shall
+be satisfied.'
+
+Gladys tried to draw away her hand from the impetuous young man, but he
+held it fast.
+
+'You needn't be afraid; I would not hurt a hair of your head. And if you
+knew what I am feeling now at this moment you will tell me the truth.
+Will you answer me a few questions?'
+
+'Yes, Mr Owen, if I can without doing or saying what is wrong.'
+
+Owen looked Gladys again in the face, as she slightly raised her head to
+answer his question. Why that burning blush? Why those bright,
+expressive eyes, if she did not care for him? For a moment he had hope,
+and pressed the hand he held. Again she bent over the cow that divided
+them, and tried to withdraw her hand.
+
+At any other time Owen would have laughed at the notion of making an
+offer, divided from his beloved by a fine Alderney cow, but now he was
+too much in earnest for laughing.
+
+'Gladys, do you love my brother Rowland?' he asked.
+
+Gladys now looked at him in unfeigned astonishment as she answered,--
+
+'No, Mr Owen; surely I have never given you reason to suppose so. A
+grand gentleman like him!'
+
+'But there is a still grander of whom I am jealous,' continued Owen.
+'Colonel Vaughan, I have often seen him here upon every excuse--and
+always to look at you. I have seen him, and know it well. Do you care
+for this great gentleman?'
+
+'Oh! no sir,' said Gladys, sadly. 'How can you suspect me of such a
+thing? Are my manners so forward, or am I so foolish as to let any one
+suppose I could think of people so far above me? This is not kind, Mr
+Owen.'
+
+'One more, Gladys. Those beneath you, then. You cannot, I feel you
+cannot, think of that gardener or footman at the Park, or of young
+Gwillim, the Half Moon, or--there are so many who admire you, Gladys.'
+
+'Oh! no, sir, I do not think so; no one says so to me, and I care for
+none of them. Now, I had better go, if you please, Mr Owen--my mistress
+will be wanting me.'
+
+'I should think she 'ould, seure enough,' said a stentorian voice, as Mr
+Prothero entered the cow-house, having just heard the last words, and
+seen the clasped hands.
+
+Gladys looked entreatingly at Owen, who at once said, 'It was my fault
+that she stayed here, I kept her against her will.'
+
+Gladys glanced gratefully at Owen, and left him with his father; but
+before she was out of hearing, the farmer's loud voice was audible,
+informing Owen that he 'didn't want another 'lopement from his house;
+and that that Irish beggar should leave the place.'
+
+'It was all chance, father, and my fault,' said Owen.
+
+'It's always chance and your fault then. Where Gladys is, you're seure
+to be pretty near. She's a good sort of young 'ooman enough, but you
+have no call to be for ever hunting after her.'
+
+'I don't see why I shouldn't if I like. It doesn't hurt anybody, and is
+only kind to her.'
+
+'But I don't cheuse her to be thinking you're going to make love to her,
+and by-and-by, perhaps, expecting to--there's no knowing what young
+'oomen may expect.'
+
+'She isn't one to expect very much, and I am sure she doesn't take any
+liberties with any one, or go beyond her place.'
+
+'Treue for you there; but that's no fault of yours. You don't take
+notice of any other female that I see, and seure you eused to make love
+to them all in turns.'
+
+'I don't see any girl half as good as Gladys, or worthy to light a
+candle to her, that's why I have given them all up.'
+
+'Name o' goodness what for? If you are going to make a fool of yourself
+about her, I'll soon send her away, and stop that anyhow.'
+
+'You may save yourself the trouble, father, for I am going away myself.
+I can't be a land-lubber any longer, and I won't, so I shall look out
+for a ship, pretty soon.'
+
+'All because that girl came here to bother us. Deet to goodness, them
+Irishers have been the plagues of my life ever since I married.'
+
+'But she's Welsh, father, and you said so yourself.'
+
+'She's a mongrel, and no good ever came out of them.'
+
+'She saved mother's life, anyhow.'
+
+This reflection posed the worthy farmer. He softened somewhat in his
+reply.
+
+'Treue for you again there. But that's no reason for your going to sea,
+just when you're getting euseful here.'
+
+'Well, father, thank you for saying for once in my life that I'm useful.
+You never said that before.'
+
+'And it don't seem out of any great favour to us that you are euseful
+now; but only to please an Irish beggar.'
+
+'I tell you what, father, if you were anybody else, you shouldn't call
+her an Irish beggar.'
+
+As Gladys went on her way, she heard the voices, ever louder and louder;
+she hurried into the house, and then to her own little bedroom, where
+she still seemed to hear the words, 'Irish beggar,' and a little spark
+of the pride of poor human nature kindled in her heart.
+
+'They shall not quarrel about me--they shall not throw my misery after
+me--they shall not think I want to marry him--I will go away,' were her
+muttered expressions. 'Why have I lived--why have I been kindly treated?
+if I am to be the sport and the by-word of my friends? A poor
+outcast--an Irish beggar--a lone girl, friendless, homeless,
+heartless, wretched, miserable! Och hone! what will I do? what will I
+do?'
+
+She threw herself on her bed and sobbed.
+
+'And I only want to do my duty--to show my gratitude--to die for the
+mistress, if needs be, and they will think me forward and vain. Why was
+I born to cause trouble and to bear such misery? Oh! mother, mother, if
+you were here to comfort your poor child! If I could but go after you!
+if I could but go away to my mother and all the lost ones!'
+
+This thought of her mother and the lost ones seemed to overpower her for
+a few seconds, and then to calm her. She rose from her bed, and fell
+upon her knees and prayed.
+
+'I can go to them, if they cannot come to me. I can fill my place of
+sorrow, as is best for me. I need not bring trouble on this blessed
+home! I will not. I need not send away that kind Mr Owen from his
+family. I will not. Why does he think of a poor, wretched being like me?
+Why has he been so good to me; so tender to me--as if he were my
+brother? If I go away, he will think of some one else, and make them all
+happy here, and live with them, and be good and steady. And I shall be
+only one sufferer instead of many. May God bless them all! I will go
+away, but never to see him more!--never, never!' Thus thought Gladys.
+For half-an-hour, whilst she was striving to calm herself, such thoughts
+and thousands of others flitted through her mind; but she did not murmur
+again at the sad lot which had been assigned to her by Providence; she
+had gathered strength in that prayer which she had offered up out of her
+trouble of heart. Still she felt aggrieved by her master's hard words,
+knowing as she did that she did not deserve them; but she struggled hard
+to conquer that pride which she knew ill became one in her dependent and
+friendless state.
+
+When she had sufficiently recovered herself, she went down to prepare
+the supper, according to her custom. She found the hall empty, and
+wondered what had become of her master and mistress. She glanced into
+the garden, and saw them walking up and down engaged in earnest
+conversation, although the hour was late and it was getting dark and
+chill. She felt that they were talking about her. She would not listen,
+and returned to spread the table for their evening meal; whilst doing
+so, Owen made his appearance.
+
+'Gladys,' he said, 'shake hands with me, and forgive me for causing you
+pain. I hope it will be the first and last time.'
+
+Gladys held out her hand, saying 'Oh, Mr Owen, I have nothing to
+forgive, I am only very sorry''
+
+As Owen held her hand, in stalked Mr Prothero, followed by his wife. He
+was not looking very well pleased when he entered, but finding them
+together, his dark frowning brow became still darker.
+
+'Good-night, mother,' said Owen, 'I don't want any supper. Good-night,
+father,' he added with a strong effort, but receiving no response, he
+left the room.
+
+Gladys longed to follow his example, but feared it would not be right.
+
+'Gladys, I fear you are not well,' said Mrs Prothero gravely, but
+kindly, 'perhaps you would like to go to bed.'
+
+'Thank you, ma'am,' said Gladys, glancing furtively at her mistress,
+whose gentle face looked perplexed and anxious.
+
+'Good-night, then,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+Gladys could not speak, for there was something constrained in the
+manners of her dear mistress, that she could not bear to see. She did
+not venture to speak to Mr Prothero, but dropping him a silent curtsey,
+as she left the room, went to bed, but not to sleep.
+
+That night, Mrs Prothero went to her son, Owen's room, and heard the
+history of the evening. He told her that he loved Gladys, but that she
+did not care for him; and that his father would not believe him when he
+said so. Mrs Prothero gave him a maternal lecture on his conduct, and
+the impossibility of his marrying Gladys, particularly whilst his father
+was so irritated against his sister. She rallied him, in a quiet way, on
+his various previous loves, and said that she had no doubt he would
+forget his present one in the same manner.
+
+She was struck with the unusually grave tone of his reply, as he simply
+said, that if Gladys were like his other loves, he might forget her in
+the same way; but as she was quite different from any one he had ever
+liked before, so he should remember her as he had never before
+remembered any one. She was also struck with his manner of wishing her
+good night, and of recommending Gladys to her care, entreating her not
+to be less kind to her than she had always been, because he had the
+misfortune to love her.
+
+Mrs Prothero promised all he desired, scarcely believing, as she did so,
+in the depth of his affection.
+
+'And, mother, fach,' he said, 'you must not be vexed if I run away again
+to cure myself. There is nothing like sea air for my disease; and if I
+do, I promise to write regularly, and to come home at the end of my
+voyage. Only be kind to Gladys, and don't let her go away.'
+
+Owen had a presentiment, that if he did not leave Glanyravon, Gladys
+would.
+
+'And you must try to bring father round by degrees. I don't want to
+annoy him; and I know you are as fond of Gladys as if she were your own
+daughter, and father likes her, too. Will you try, mother?'
+
+'Anything to keep you at home, and steady, my son,' said Mrs Prothero
+with tears in her eyes, 'but you must not go away again, we cannot do
+without you.'
+
+'Only this once, for change of air; I assure you it is best'
+
+'Well, we will talk of this again, Owen; good night, and God bless you.'
+
+'Just tell father not to be angry with me or Gladys, and that I can't
+run away with her, because she won't have me. Good night, mother dear.'
+
+Again Owen kissed his mother, more lovingly than usual, and so they
+parted for the night.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE FUGITIVE.
+
+
+Gladys did not go to bed all that night. If her mistress could have
+watched her occupations, seen her tears, and listened to her prayers,
+she would, at least, have known that she was grateful. The first thing
+she did was to finish a cap that she had been making for her, the next
+to complete a large piece of ornamental netting, that had been long in
+secret progress, and had been intended as a present for that dear
+mistress's birthday on the morrow. The third, last and most difficult,
+was to write a letter. Gladys usually wrote easily and well. She had
+been accustomed to assist her father at an early age, and had been
+carefully taught by her mother, but on the present occasion she
+considered every sentence with a too painful thoughtfulness, and
+literally blotted her writing with her tears.
+
+Morning was beginning to dawn before she had finished these tasks, and
+then she washed her face and hands, took off the pretty cotton gown she
+had on, and put on the one Netta gave her when first she came to
+Glanyravon. An old straw hat that she had been in the habit of wearing
+in the fields, and a tidy, but plain shawl, completed her attire. She
+had a few shillings which Mr Prothero had given her, and these she put
+into her pocket, together with a pincushion, and a curious foreign
+shell, gifts of Owen.
+
+She thought of Netta, and of her very different flight from the same
+house; she fancied that if she had been in her place, no lover, however
+dear, could have prevailed upon her to leave so good a mother; but she
+was different. An orphan and a beggar, she had no right to remain to
+cause dissension between father and son.
+
+And so she fell upon her knees, and prayed for blessings on every member
+of that family; she forgot no one, not even poor Owen, whose suit she
+had rejected. Most especially she prayed that he might be a comfort to
+his parents, and turn from his wild, wandering ways, to those of rest
+and sobriety; she particularly used that latter word, which would have
+sounded formal in less earnest lips.
+
+With tearful eyes, and throbbing heart, but with a resigned spirit, she
+rose from her knees, took her little bundle in her hand, and went
+quickly out into the passage. She did not trust herself to pass the
+doors of her slumbering friends, but went by the back-staircase into the
+kitchen, and thence into the yard. There was a thick mist over the face
+of nature, falling like a heavy veil on the rising sun, and making the
+early day but a lengthened night; not a sound was heard, not an animal
+had yet been aroused from sleep, save Lion, the large watch-dog, whose
+duty it was to wake when others slept, and he bounded towards Gladys,
+and her suppressed, 'Down, Lion, down,' failed to quiet him. As she
+hurried up the road, he ran after her, and it was not until she reached
+the gate, that she had courage to command him with heightened voice, and
+threatening manner, to go home. The dog crouched, and then licked the
+hand, upraised to send him back. Poor Gladys fell upon his neck, and
+burst into tears. He licked off the tears with a wistful, canine
+earnestness and love, and again prepared to follow her.
+
+'Back, good dog! Home, Lion!' said Gladys.
+
+The dog turned away with his tail between his legs, and walked half-way
+down the road. Gladys hurried through the gate, and along the public
+road, shutting the gate behind her upon Lion. No sooner was she out of
+sight than the tail was again in motion, the head turned, and Lion was
+peering over the hedge after her. As she swiftly pursued her way,
+turning neither to the right nor to the left, she did not perceive the
+faithful friend that was literally dogging her steps; but still Lion
+followed; and thoughtless of master and mistress at home, kept in view
+the poor beggar-girl who had managed to win his love, together with that
+of all the animal kind around and about Glanyravon.
+
+Thus pursuing her unknown way, and thus pursued by Lion, we must leave
+Gladys and return to the farm.
+
+At the usual hour, Mrs Prothero came down to breakfast; no Gladys was
+visible, and no neat table was laid for the early meal. Mrs Prothero
+asked the servants if they had seen Gladys, and they said she had not
+yet come down; not altogether ill-pleased to find the favourite, for
+once, in fault. Mrs Prothero thought that the events of the past night
+had probably made her ill; and relenting from her somewhat severe
+feelings towards her, she went upstairs to see what was the matter.
+Receiving no answer to her tap at the door, and call of 'Gladys,' she
+went into her little room. She saw all neat as usual, and the bed
+unruffled. Her heart misgave her, and she painfully remembered the
+morning of Netta's flight. As if by instinct she went to the small
+dressing-table, and at once had her fears confirmed. Very sadly she took
+up the pretty cap that was left there, and looked at the large piece of
+netting to which was appended a paper. She unpinned the paper, and read
+the following words:--'For my dear mistress, with respectful wishes, and
+best prayers for many happy returns of the day.'
+
+Mrs Prothero unfolded the work slowly, and saw two handsome, long,
+netted window curtains, with a fancy border, that must have taken hours
+from the donor's sleep to accomplish. As she unfolded them, a letter
+fell upon the floor.
+
+Poor, nervous Mrs Prothero, rubbed her hands over one another several
+times before she had the courage to pick it up, and then she scarcely
+dared to open it. As she made the attempt, however, a cry of 'Mother!
+mother! why isn't my breakfast ready?' was heard from the foot of the
+stairs, proceeding from Mr Prothero's lusty voice, who was too proud and
+too angry to call for Gladys.
+
+Mrs Prothero ran downstairs with the letter in her hand.
+
+'My dear David, I am afraid Gladys is gone,' she said tremblingly.
+
+'Well, let her go,' said the farmer. 'A good riddance. But what do you
+mean?'
+
+Mrs Prothero told of the empty room, unused bed, cap, curtains, and
+letter.
+
+'This house is bewitched!' said Mr Prothero. 'What's in the letter?'
+
+'Indeed, I don't know, Davy bach!' said the wife, giving him the
+document.
+
+Mr Prothero took out his glasses, wiped them deliberately, and put them
+on, whilst his wife stood before him rubbing her poor little hands as
+usual.
+
+'What a good hand the girl writes,' said Mr Prothero, as he carefully
+unfolded the letter, and then began to read aloud as follows:--
+
+
+     'DEAR AND HONOURED MISTRESS,--Before leaving for ever your blessed
+     home, I beg you will allow me to write you a few lines, and I hope
+     you will not think me too bold in so doing. I am going away,
+     because I would not cause trouble to you, or my good, kind master.
+     May it please God to bless you both for ever and ever! As long as I
+     live I shall pray for you and love you! If I am too bold, forgive
+     me, but my heart is full. I can only thank you for all you have
+     done for me, by my prayers! Farewell! my dear, kind, honoured
+     mistress and master. You will be rewarded in this world for your
+     care of the poor orphan, who prays to meet you in the
+     next.--GLADYS.'
+
+
+It was evident that the writer had been obliged to conclude hastily,
+because her paper was so wet with tears that she could write no more.
+
+When Mr Prothero finished reading, he hemmed two or three times and
+cleared his throat, and took off his spectacles and wiped them; then
+perceiving that his wife was crying like a child, he said,--
+
+'Don't be so fullish!' Suddenly recollecting himself, he exclaimed,
+'Where's Owen? Go you, mother, and see if we haven't had another
+'lopement,'
+
+'No fear of that,' said Mrs Prothero, leaving the room to do her
+husband's bidding.
+
+She stayed so long that Mr Prothero, out of patience, bustled after her.
+He found her standing before an open, half-empty chest of drawers. The
+room was very untidy, and here, also, the bed had not been slept in the
+past night.
+
+Mrs Prothero was rubbing her hands and crying pitifully; more from fear
+of her husband's wrath than from sorrow for Owen, because she had
+anticipated a sudden flight.
+
+Mr Prothero began to stamp with rage. It was a long time before he could
+speak, and his wife had a certain fear that he would choke. At last
+words found vent.
+
+'The impudent, lying, hypocritical, young baggage! The ungrateful,
+disobedient, good-for-nothing brute! Ach a fi! upon 'em both. That's
+what you get by harbouring Irish beggars!--that's the return they make!
+A pale-faced, deceitful hussy!'
+
+'Davy, bach! they are not gone together,' said Mrs Prothero,
+half-believing at the same time that they were.
+
+'Shall I lay breakfast, ma'am?' interrupted Shanno, putting her head in
+at the door and grinning suspiciously.
+
+'Go your way, and mind your own business,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+Shanno disappeared.
+
+'I'll go out and see whether either of the horses is gone. Go you and
+make breakfast--the good-for-nothing--'
+
+'Just let me tell you first what Owen said to me last night,' said Mrs
+Prothero. 'I don't think he ever deceived us, Davy; and if he did wrong,
+he was never the one to hide it.'
+
+'Treue for you! Well, what did the young scamp say? I don't blame him
+half as much as that meek, pale-faced, still-water thing, who's as deep
+as the north star, I'll be bound.'
+
+'But Owen told me, seriously, that she refused to have anything to say
+to him, and begged me to be kind to her when he was gone away, for his
+sake.'
+
+'Nothing but a trap to take you in--the deceitful young
+puppies--the--the--'
+
+'Go and look about the horses and I'll make breakfast.'
+
+He went accordingly. All the horses were safe. Nothing was missing
+anywhere but Lion.
+
+'I 'ouldn't take twenty pounds for that dog,' said Mr Prothero when he
+returned to the house, and sat down to breakfast.
+
+'Hadn't we better send to look for them?' asked Mrs Prothero timidly.
+
+'I'll see 'em hanged first. What! go and make another hullabaloo all
+through the country, as if one wasn't enough in one house. No, not I.
+Let 'em go to sea, or where they will; but don't tell anybody anything
+about 'em. Let people think what they will; I only wish I was at the
+world's end. But it's all your fault. Do you remember that morning when
+you bothered me into letting the girl stay? Fine things have come of it,
+seure enough.'
+
+'But we don't know that they're together.'
+
+'But we do, I say, Mrs Prothero; or why should they go off together?
+Fine things, indeed, for the gossips! Two 'lopements from one house. The
+young hussy.'
+
+Mrs Prothero could not help crying. To lose them both at once--a son and
+one who had been better than a daughter to her--it was too sad--and to
+feel so uncertain as to what would become of them!
+
+Mr Prothero was resolved to take no notice of her tears, but hastily
+swallowed his breakfast and went out. The servants did not need to be
+asked about the fugitives. They were all sure that they had run away
+together. Gladys, good and quiet as she seemed, was deep enough; and
+they had managed so well that nobody had seen them! Not like Miss Netta,
+who was so open! Many had seen her when she ran away!
+
+Mrs Prothero sent one of the men off in a search for Lion, feeling sure
+that if he were found, Gladys would be discovered.
+
+At about eleven o'clock, to Mrs Prothero's great delight, Miss Gwynne
+and Miss Hall called to see if the report about Owen and Gladys were
+true, and to hear what Mrs Prothero thought of it. Miss Gwynne was
+highly indignant.
+
+'You cannot believe it, Mrs Prothero. That girl Gladys would no more run
+away with any man living than I would. If Mr Prothero won't send after
+her I will. Where is he?'
+
+'Shall I send and tell him you want to speak to him?'
+
+'By all means--directly.'
+
+Mr Prothero was soon in the house again, at Miss Gwynne's bidding. He
+looked more than usually red and excited.
+
+'Mr Prothero, I would stake my life upon it, that girl has not gone off
+with your son. I don't like the Irish, or their beggars more than you
+do; but I am very fond of Gladys, and she shall not lose her character,
+or die of starvation whilst I have a horse to send after her, or a
+shilling to help her.'
+
+'That's very well for you, Miss Gwynne, but Owen is no relation of
+yours; and I don't cheuse him to marry an Irish beggar. This house is
+bewitched, and my children are bewitched, all except Rowland.'
+
+Miss Gwynne wondered what Mr Prothero would think of _him_ if he knew
+all.
+
+'Well, Mr Prothero, will you send after Gladys, or shall I? You needn't
+have her back here. There is a situation of schoolmistress or lady's
+maid for her at once. I will take her in either capacity.'
+
+'Indeed, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Hall, 'I think you may trust Gladys;
+that letter is sincere if ever anything was.'
+
+'Who is to search, for there is no time to lose?' asked Miss Gwynne.
+
+She was the only person in Wales who would have moved Mr Prothero, but
+he never could refuse her anything.
+
+'What you say, Miss, is seure to have sense in it. I never knew you take
+to any one yet who wasn't worth something, so I'll just ride myself and
+look after 'em both. I shouldn't like people to fancy we were in a fuss
+and fright. But remember, Miss Gwynne, it is to oblige you; and if I
+find that she has run away with my son--'
+
+'You may do what you like, Mr Prothero, for then I will have nothing to
+say to her. But go at once, and thank you very much.'
+
+'I'll go Swansea way, for I am sure they'll take to the sea. Ach a fi!
+what's gone to the young people.'
+
+In less than a quarter of a hour Mr Prothero had mounted his best mare,
+and muttering a great many Welsh oaths, was soon riding in search of the
+fugitives. When he got out of his own immediate neighbourhood, he began
+to ask whether 'a tall, dark, young man, and a tall, pale, young 'ooman'
+had been seen.
+
+'Is it a couple of gipsies, Mr Prothero?' asked a farmer, who lived
+about seven miles from Glanyravon. 'I did see a dark man, and a sallow
+'ooman go up the lane by now.'
+
+'Was the man like my son Owen?'
+
+'Well, I didn't be seeing his face, but I shouldn't wonder.'
+
+Up the lane Mr Prothero went for a good half mile, and at last reached a
+gipsy encampment, where there were plenty of dark men, and sallow women,
+but not Owen and Gladys.
+
+A shrewd old gipsy, seeing him evidently on the search for some one,
+assured him before he had asked any questions, that she had seen those
+whom he was looking for.
+
+'Where?' asked the farmer.
+
+'Cross my hand with a silver coin, and I'll tell ye,' she said.
+
+He gave her a shilling.
+
+'Young couple, my lord?' asked the woman.
+
+Mr Prothero nodded assent.
+
+'Dark and fair, yer honour?'
+
+Another nod.
+
+'I never tell secrets under a half-a-crown, but I have seen them, sir.
+Young man something like you, and handsome.'
+
+'Make haste and tell, you cheat and vagabond,' said Mr Prothero,
+throwing her eighteenpence.
+
+'Up the first turning to the right, off the road, over the hill,' said
+the woman.
+
+'When?'
+
+'An hour ago.'
+
+Mr Prothero rode quickly down the lane, along the turnpike, up the first
+turning to the right, and then up a long and tedious hill.
+
+It will be unnecessary to describe how Mr Prothero wandered over this
+hill for hours, without finding those he sought. As the said hill was a
+short cut to the road to Swansea, whither he was persuaded they were
+gone, it is not much to be wondered at that he was taken in, and that he
+went on as fast as his good horse would go for many a long mile; but he
+found neither Owen nor Gladys, and all his inquiries after them were
+fruitless.
+
+Towards evening he returned home, tired and very cross, and found his
+good wife looking anxious and unhappy, and ready to say at any moment,
+'Dear, dear, how I do miss Gladys.'
+
+A messenger from the Park was awaiting him, with a note from Miss
+Gwynne, inquiring whether he had found the poor girl or not. He was
+obliged to write a few respectful lines in reply, to inform her of the
+failure of his search.
+
+'I wish we had never set eyes on the girl,' he muttered, as he was
+writing the note with much pains and some difficulty. 'To take off Owen,
+too, just as he was getting euseful, and he such a good writer and
+accountant.'
+
+Still more heartily did he repeat that wish several times during the
+night. Mrs Prothero could not sleep, and what with her anxiety about
+Gladys, sorrow for the departure of Owen, and longing to see her own
+daughter, her mind was excited beyond its wont. As is often the case
+under such circumstances, she fancied she heard all kinds of noises in
+the house; once she was sure some one was coming upstairs, and another
+time that there was a tapping at the front door. She crept softly out of
+bed, and half fancying she should find Gladys without, went downstairs,
+and opened it. Nothing was visible but the flickering moonbeams amongst
+the trees, or audible save the tinkling of the brook through the
+farm-yard.
+
+'Name o' goodness, what's the matter now?' ejaculated the farmer, as
+the creaking of the bedroom door awoke him.
+
+'Don't be angry, Davy, bach, but I can't sleep for thinking of that poor
+girl; maybe she's without a roof to cover her.'
+
+'Owen'll see to that. 'Tis a hard case a man mayn't sleep in his bed
+because of a good-for-nothing wench like her.'
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, when Mrs Prothero was urging him once
+more to look for Gladys, and he was vehemently refusing, Miss Gwynne and
+Miss Hall again made their appearance.
+
+Mr Prothero had to swallow a very broad expression of disgust, as well
+as to listen politely to that young lady, who persisted in saying she
+would continue the search for Gladys if he would not.
+
+'I am sorry to annoy you, Mr Prothero,' she said, 'but it is due to
+Gladys to clear her character; there are plenty of jealous people about
+us, quite ready to take it away. I do not wish you to have any more
+trouble in this matter, but I cannot let it rest until I find the poor
+girl. She shall come to me direct, and need not be an eyesore to you. I
+will send off in every direction until I find her.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne. If she is to be found, I must do it. I
+'ont have a talk made about our turning her out of doors, and such like.
+As she isn't gone Glamorganshire way, I suppose she must be gone towards
+Ireland, and I had best follow that scent. I'll give her one more turn,
+and then have done with her. Mother, if I don't come home to-night,
+don't be frightened, as she may have gone a good step.'
+
+Mr Prothero was leaving the room, when Miss Hall stopped him, saying,--
+
+'I thought, Mr Prothero, that you might not have seen this notice of a
+meeting in your son's parish, and as he is mentioned, I brought over the
+paper for you.'
+
+Mr Prothero thanked Miss Hall, and took out his spectacles. Whilst he
+was wiping them, however, Miss Hall read from the _Times_ the report of
+a meeting for forming a ragged school in Rowland's parish, in which was
+the following paragraph:--'The Reverend Rowland Prothero, curate of the
+parish, made a very clear and able speech upon the subject, and brought
+forward a well-digested plan for the school, which will probably be
+adopted. The thanks of the meeting were offered to him.'
+
+'There is always a pleasure with every pain,' said Mrs Prothero, wiping
+her eyes. 'Thank you, Miss Hall.'
+
+'And the Bishop of London was in the chair. So, mother, if he isn't a
+bishop himself, you see he's been very near one,' said Mr Prothero,
+looking very much gratified. 'Well, I'll go now, Miss Gwynne, and look
+after that confounded--I beg your pardon, Miss--after that Irish jade,'
+and he went accordingly, leaving the ladies to talk it over with his
+wife.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE FRIEND.
+
+
+Mr Prothero started as soon as his horse was ready, and, it must be
+confessed, in a very bad temper. As soon as he got out of the precincts
+of Glanyravon, he began to make inquiries of every one he met, and at
+every cottage he passed, concerning Gladys. It was evident, from the
+replies that he received, that if she had gone that road, it was so
+early in the morning that no one had seen her.
+
+At last he fell in with a farmer's wife whom he knew, who was jogging
+along on horseback, with a little boy behind her. After the usual
+greetings, he said,--
+
+'You never come to Glanyravon now, Mrs Davies. I daresay you haven't
+seen any of our folk for a year?'
+
+'Well, not exactly. But I almost fancied I saw that pretty young 'ooman
+that lives with you yesterday morning. She was too shabby, or I should
+have been seure of the face. Only when she saw me she turned away and
+went on.'
+
+'Which way?'
+
+'Oh, down the Carmarthen road, seure.'
+
+'You'll excuse my hurrying on, Mrs Davies; I want to call at Lewis,
+Dryslwyn.'
+
+'To be seure. Good morning, Mr Prothero.'
+
+The worthy farmer rode off at a gallop, till he was more than out of
+sight of Mrs Davies. He stopped at a tidy cottage to speak to an old
+woman who was washing at the door.
+
+'Did you chance to see a strange young 'ooman go by here yesterday,
+early?' he asked.
+
+'What young 'ooman?' was the rejoinder.
+
+'Rather shabbily dressed, with blue eyes, and a very pale face?'
+
+'Had she a big black dog along, sir?' asked a boy who came from within
+the house.
+
+'I think she had.'
+
+'Then granny gave her a cup of tea when she asked for some water, and I
+gave the dog a piece of my bread and cheese,' said the boy.
+
+'There's sixpence for you, my lad,' said Mr Prothero. 'Was there a
+young man with the girl?'
+
+'Nobody was along, sir.'
+
+'Which way did she go?'
+
+'By there, to Dryslwyn, sir.'
+
+Mr Prothero rode on to the picturesque village bearing this name. The
+old ruined castle looked down upon him from its curiously formed,
+tumulus-looking elevation, as he stopped before a neat farm-house.
+
+'Good morning, Mrs Lewis.'
+
+'Walk in, Mr Prothero. We were talking of you by now. There was a young
+'ooman by here yesterday, and John Lewis said he was seure she had your
+dog with her. She went away so fast, that I hadn't time to ask about the
+dog.'
+
+'Which way did she go?'
+
+'Down the Carmarthen road.'
+
+'Good morning, Mrs Lewis, thank you. I must look after my dog.'
+
+Mr Prothero found it easiest to ask for the girl with a large black dog,
+and traced them to within a mile of Carmarthen.
+
+He stopped at a small roadside inn to have a glass of _cwrw
+da_.[Footnote: Good ale] Here he asked the landlady of Gladys.
+
+'See her and the dog! Is seure. They come here in the evening, and she
+asked for a slice of bread and a drink of water, and took out sixpence
+to pay for it. She gave all the bread to the dog, and my master, who is
+fond of dogs, told me to give 'em both a good supper. Poor dear! she
+couldn't help crying; and my master, who is tender-hearted when he sees
+a girl do be crying, tell me to give her and the dog a good supper and a
+bed in the barn, which I did, is seure.'
+
+Mr Prothero paid handsomely for his ale, and having learnt that Gladys
+and Lion went straight to Carmarthen, went thither also. He made some
+few inquiries at the small inns that he passed, but gained no
+information. He accordingly rode through the town, and took the direct
+route to Hob's Point, whence, he knew, she would probably sail for
+Ireland.
+
+The afternoon was far advanced, still he rode on. He began to feel as
+anxious as he was angry and annoyed, and declared to himself that he
+wouldn't turn back until he had found her. He soon began to track her
+again. All the little boys on the way had noticed the big dog, and could
+point out the route he and Gladys had pursued.
+
+He stopped at one cottage where the mistress told him that she had made
+the girl sit down in the porch, because she looked so tired; and at
+another where she had asked how far it was to Pembrokeshire.
+
+He had ridden about thirty miles, and twilight was creeping on. He began
+to think of the necessity of finding a night's lodging, and once more
+consigned Gladys and the Irish generally to any distant region where he
+should never see them again.
+
+'If she hadn't nursed mother so tenderly,' he muttered to himself, 'I'd
+turn back now; but as she does seem to be running away from Owen, and
+not with him, it 'ould be creuel.'
+
+The moon, the young May moon, arose in the heavens, and the farmer
+quickened his pace, for he knew the road, and that he was a good way
+from an inn, or, indeed, from any habitation where he could ask a
+night's lodging. Lights peeped out, one by one, from the cottages as he
+passed, and when he glanced into them, and saw the cheerful little
+fires, he thought more compassionately of Gladys, and wondered whether
+she had found food and lodging for the night.
+
+He was within a mile of a small village that he knew very well, when it
+was about ten o'clock. The wind blew rather keenly, and he buttoned up
+his great-coat, and began to whistle, by way of keeping himself warm.
+
+'Come, old girl! we shall soon have something to eat! come along,' he
+said to his mare, as he gave her a slight touch with his whip.
+
+He was passing by a very lonely quarry in a field by the road-side,
+about which he had heard some ugly stories of robbers and ghosts years
+ago. Although he was a courageous, he was a superstitious man, and gave
+his mare another stroke as he encouraged her to proceed. She started,
+however, suddenly, and made a kind of halt. The moon was shining so
+brightly that Mr Prothero could see into the quarry across the hedge,
+and he fancied he perceived somebody moving about. He urged his horse on
+by whip and voice, but as he did so, some one jumped over the gate that
+led into the quarry, and made towards him. He was so much alarmed that
+he spurred the mare vigorously. He was sure it was a robber. He turned
+his whip, and held the heavy handle ready for a blow, which fell, in
+effect on the robber or ghost, or whatever it was, that leapt upon his
+leg, and seemed, to his imagination, to lay hold of it.
+
+A loud howl, and then a sharp, joyous bark, however, soon told him who
+the intruder was, and gave him courage to encounter the jumpings and
+gambols of his own good dog, Lion.
+
+The mare kicked, and Mr Prothero exclaimed, 'Lion! Lion! down, good
+dog, down! Don't upset me, Lion, bach. Let me get off, Lion! Name o'
+goodness, be quiet, dog! There; now you may jump as you will. Where is
+she? Where's Gladys?'
+
+Mr Prothero was off his horse, and Lion was over the hedge in a moment.
+The former climbed the gate somewhat less speedily--and both were, in a
+few seconds, in the quarry, where, either dead or asleep, lay Gladys,
+beneath and upon the hard stones.
+
+As the rays of the moon fell upon her pale face, Mr Prothero almost
+thought it was death and not sleep; but when Lion began to bark
+joyously, and to lick the cold hands and cheek, and when Mr Prothero
+ventured to stoop down and whisper, 'Gladys! Gladys!' and to take one of
+the damp, clammy hands in his, the white eyelids unclosed, and with a
+little scream of terror, the poor girl started up.
+
+There, beneath the moonlight, she recognised her master, and falling
+down on her knees before him, clasped her hands, but uttered no word.
+
+Where was Mr Prothero's ready-prepared lecture on ingratitude? Where
+were the questions about Owen? Where was the passion of the previous
+day? He could not tell. He only knew that he raised the poor kneeling
+girl kindly, almost tenderly. She threw her arms round him, and for the
+first time kissed him as if he were her father. Then, suddenly,
+recollecting herself, she exclaimed,--'Oh! Master! Oh, sir! forgive me.'
+
+Her master did not speak, but lifted her in his strong arms, and carried
+her to the gate; lifted her over, lifted her on his horse, and, amidst
+the joyous caperings of Lion, mounted himself.
+
+'Put you your arms round me, and hold fast,' he said to Gladys.
+
+'Come you, Lion, good dog! we'll have a supper by now!' And so they all
+went, as fast as they could, to the neighbouring village.
+
+Mr Prothero, with no small noise and bluster, knocked up the inmates of
+the little inn of that little place, and succeeded in getting Gladys
+ensconced by a cheerful fire in the kitchen. The poor girl was benumbed
+with cold and overpowered with fatigue. The landlady rubbed her feet and
+hands, administered hot brandy and water, and finally got her to bed.
+
+Mr Prothero kept out of her way lest he should say something that he
+might afterwards repent of in the warmth of his delight at finding her
+again. After she was in bed, and he had heard from the landlady that she
+seemed better and more comfortable, he and Lion had a good supper--a
+meal the dog appeared thoroughly to enjoy, and which he ate with a
+ravenous appetite.
+
+Mr Prothero told the landlady to leave Gladys in bed the next morning
+until nine o'clock, by which hour he supposed she would be sufficiently
+refreshed, and then retired himself, feeling thankful to Miss Gwynne for
+having made him do a good action, but still believing that Owen must
+have been in the secret of Gladys' sudden flight.
+
+Gladys slept soundly until the landlady took her a good breakfast at
+nine o'clock. She then awoke, refreshed but frightened, and uncertain as
+to her present state or future proceedings. She was told that Mr
+Prothero wished to see her as soon as she was dressed, and accordingly
+when she had eaten her breakfast, she got up. She felt very stiff and
+weak, and her hands trembled so much that she could scarcely dress
+herself.
+
+Lion found her out, however, and gained admittance into her bedroom. He
+was in such very boisterous spirits that he quite cheered her, as pale
+and frightened she tried to gain courage to meet her master. Before she
+left the bedroom, she sought for guidance where she was always in the
+habit of going for help and comfort, and found strength 'according to
+her day.'
+
+Mr Prothero was waiting for her in the little parlour of the inn. During
+the morning, having nothing to do, he had employed himself by getting up
+his temper, and persuading himself that he ought to be very angry with
+Gladys. He had quite slept off his softer feelings, and whilst at his
+lonely breakfast had gone through an imaginary quarrel with Owen, and a
+dispute with his wife, which had so raised his choler, that when Gladys
+entered he was as red as he usually was when in a passion at home.
+
+Gladys saw that he was angry and trembled very much; but she knew that
+she had done no wrong, and tried to reassure herself.
+
+Mr Prothero began at once. It must be remarked, however, that he had
+previously learnt from the landlady that Gladys was pretty well, and had
+eaten a good breakfast.
+
+'Name o' goodness, young 'ooman, what did you run away from our house
+for in such a sly, underhand way, and give us all this trouble and
+bother? Don't suppose I 'ould a run after you, if it wasn't for Miss
+Gwynne and your mistress.'
+
+'Oh, sir, I am very thankful to ye and to them. I know I don't deserve
+such kindness.'
+
+'Treue for you there. I should have thought you'd have known that one
+'lopement was quite enough from one house. Pray, what have you done with
+my son Owen?'
+
+'I, sir? Nothing, sir!' said Gladys, trembling at this abrupt question.
+
+Lion licked her hand as if to reassure her.
+
+'You needn't tell no lies about it, because I shall be seure to find
+out. Where is he gone?'
+
+'Indeed--indeed, I don't know, sir. I thought he was at home at
+Glanyravon.'
+
+'But he isn't at home. He went off with you.'
+
+'Oh, not with me, sir--not with me, I assure you. I went away that he
+might stay, and that I might not cause anger between you. I am speaking
+the truth, sir, indeed I am.'
+
+Mr Prothero looked at the agitated girl, and felt inclined to believe
+her.
+
+'Tell me why you went away at all, then?'
+
+'Because Mr Owen said to me words that I knew he would be sorry for, and
+because I saw that you, sir, were displeased at what he said about me.'
+
+'What did he say to you? Tell me the truth.'
+
+'He said, sir--oh! I cannot tell. Perhaps you would be more angry with
+him if you knew.'
+
+Gladys' head drooped low, and a burning blush overspread her pale face.
+
+'I can't be much more angry with him than I am, but tell you the treuth.
+Did he want to marry you?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'And you--what did you say?'
+
+'That I couldn't marry any one in this world, sir.'
+
+'What do you mean to wait for, then?'
+
+'Nothing, sir, nobody.'
+
+'And what did Owen say to that?'
+
+'I don't think anything more particular passed between us. He was very
+kind, sir.'
+
+'I daresay. But what made him go away?'
+
+'I think it must have been because he thought you would send me away.'
+
+'And you don't want to marry my son Owen?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+Gladys' voice wavered slightly as she said this.
+
+'Ha, ha! He's a fine young man, however.'
+
+'Yes, sir, and very kind.'
+
+'I daresay. Will you promise never to marry him?'
+
+As Mr Prothero asked this question, he looked Gladys full in the face.
+
+She blushed again, but returned his gaze with a quiet, grave look that
+seemed to wonder at the question. She did not reply at once, and Mr
+Prothero repeated it, louder than before, with the additional one of 'Do
+you hear, girl?'
+
+'Sir, I don't like to make promises,' said Gladys; 'suppose the
+temptation to break it ever came, and proved too strong for me. I might
+perjure myself.'
+
+'Then you mean to marry my son Owen?'
+
+'No, sir, I don't think I shall ever marry him. As far as I can see now,
+I am sure I never shall.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, what does the girl mean? You don't mean to marry him,
+and yet you 'ont promise--what do you mean?'
+
+'I scarcely know myself, sir. But I cannot tell what God may appoint for
+me in the future, and so I cannot make a solemn promise.'
+
+'Then I 'spose you're going to run off like Netta?'
+
+'No, sir, never.'
+
+'Why, "no, sir," if you 'ont promise?'
+
+'Because I could never do what you and my mistress would dislike.'
+
+'Then you can promise, perhaps, never to marry my son Owen without my
+consent.'
+
+'Yes, sir, I can--do--that--'
+
+Gladys said these words very slowly, and turned very pale as she said
+them. She clasped her hands firmly together with a visible effort.
+
+'Well, you're an odd girl; you 'ont promise one thing, and yet you as
+good as promise it in another way. What's the difference?'
+
+Again the colour came and went.
+
+'It would be wrong, sir, in me to make a son disobey a father, and I
+wouldn't like to do it; so I can promise that; and maybe you may
+change.'
+
+'Then you love the boy? Tell me the treuth.'
+
+Gladys began to cry, and was a few moments before she could say,
+somewhat more resolutely than usual,--
+
+'Sir, my feelings are my own. Mr Owen has been like a brother to me, and
+the mistress like a mother--and you--oh, sir! should I not love his
+mother's son?'
+
+Mr Prothero was touched; he could ask no more questions.
+
+'There, there--go you and get ready directly. I promised Miss Gwynne to
+bring you back to Glanyravon, where she means to make you schoolmistress
+and lady's maid, and all the rest. I suppose you don't want to go to
+Ireland?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'Have you any relations there?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'You don't want to leave Glanyravon parish?'
+
+'No, sir. I would rather live and die there than anywhere else in the
+world.'
+
+'Then go you and get ready; and, mind you, have some ale before you
+start. I must keep my promise to Miss Gwynne; mind you yours to me. You
+'ont encourage my son Owen without my consent'
+
+'No, sir--never. And I do not wish or mean ever to marry any one, if you
+will only believe me.'
+
+'I don't believe any young 'ooman who says that. You may as well go into
+a nunnery. But I believe the rest till I find you out to the contrary.
+Now, go you and get ready.'
+
+'Thank you, sir--thank you.'
+
+Soon after this conversation the farmer had mounted his good mare, who
+was as much refreshed as her master by a night's rest, and with Gladys,
+_en croupe_, and Lion running by his side, he jogged back to his home.
+
+'We shall have a fine long journey, and a tiresome one enough,' he
+muttered. 'Thirty mile and carrying double is too much for my
+mare.--take the 'oomen! they'll be the death 'o me, one way and another.
+There's mother, and Netta, and Miss Gwynne, and now this Gladys! This is
+the last time I'll put myself out for any of 'em, or my name isn't David
+Prothero.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE MISSIONARY.
+
+
+It was about half-past ten o'clock when Mr Prothero and Gladys started
+on their homeward journey. When they had gone about half way, they
+stopped for an hour to bait the mare, which brought them to nearly two
+o'clock, and reduced Mr Prothero to a state of great ill humour. Poor
+Gladys had to bear many reproachful speeches, which reached her between
+a very animated conversation which he kept up with the mare and Lion
+alternately. He did not talk much to her, but contented himself with
+making her eat and drink a great deal more than was pleasant for her,
+because, as he phrased it, 'People shouldn't think she was starved at
+Glanyravon.'
+
+In truth, there was a great contrast between the farmer's rosy, broad,
+good-humoured countenance, which not even his present angry feelings
+could make morose, and Gladys' pale, wearied face, rendered more palid
+than usual by her late fatigue and anxiety. It was with some difficulty
+that she could keep her seat behind Mr. Prothero, as the mare trotted on
+at an equal but somewhat rough pace, and made her long for rest.
+
+However, all things come to an end, and within about five miles of
+Glanyravon, Mr Prothero muttered,--'Confound the 'ooman! Shall we ever
+get home; 'tis enough to kill the mare. Come along, old girl! Good dog!
+Lion, old boy!'--which sentences were interrupted by the address of a
+stranger on horseback, who asked if he were right for Glanyravon Park.
+
+'Quite right, sir,' said Mr Prothero, pleased at any break in a ride
+that had been peculiarly devoid of adventure. 'I am going half a mile
+beyond the Park myself, and shall be proud to show you the way if you
+aren't in a hurry.'
+
+'By no means. I am too tired to ride very fast myself, for I have been a
+great traveller of late. I came down from London to Glamorganshire two
+days ago, and have come across country in coaches and dogcarts to the
+"Coach and Horses." I daresay you know the inn?'
+
+'Oh yes, sir. That's the "Coach and Horses" mare you're upon now?'
+
+'Yes; I borrowed her to come to Glanyravon, and have promised to ride
+her back to-night, but I am sure I shall not be able. How far are we
+from Glanyravon?'
+
+'About four mile and a half.'
+
+'You live in the village?'
+
+'There is no village, sir. I live at Glanyravon Farm.'
+
+'Is there any inn nearer than the "Coach and Horses" where I might get a
+night's lodging, and a man to ride the mare back?'
+
+'No, sir; but I shall be glad to offer a bed to any friend of Mr
+Gwynne's, though I am sure you'll find one at the Park.'
+
+'Thank you kindly. I am not known to Mr Gwynne; but I am going to see
+Miss Hall, who, I believe, resides with him.'
+
+'To be seure she does; and a better lady never lived. If you're a friend
+of Miss Hall's, you're as welcome to our house as if you were born and
+bred at Glanyravon.'
+
+'You are very kind. It does one good to meet with true Welsh hospitality
+once more.'
+
+'You're not Welsh, sir, I should say?'
+
+'I was Welsh originally; but it would be difficult to make out my
+parish, as I have been wandering about for many years.'
+
+'A clergyman, sir?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+The gentleman smiled, and thought the question savoured of American
+curiosity.
+
+'I have a son a clergyman. Perhaps you may have fallen in with him. They
+tell me he's a very promising young man.'
+
+'What is his name?'
+
+'Prothero, sir--Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'I do not know him personally, but I know him by reputation; he is
+curate of an old friend of mine, Mr Stephenson.'
+
+'To be seure--Rowly's rector! Allow me to shake hands with you, sir.
+You'll sleep at Glanyravon.'
+
+'Certainly, if I shall not inconvenience you and your family. Your
+daughter looks very ill and tired; perhaps it may--'
+
+'Not a bit, sir. She's not my daughter; she always looks as pale as
+moonlight, 'scept when she blushes up; she'll see to a bed for a strange
+gentleman, and so'll my missus. To think of your knowing Mr Stephenson!'
+
+'Yes, I saw him during my short stay in town, and he told me he had a
+capital curate, a countryman of mine. A regular hard-working, useful
+parish priest, he called him; a good preacher besides!'
+
+'Well, mother will be pleased, won't she, Gladys?'
+
+This was said in the old good-humoured way, and Gladys brightened up as
+she answered,--
+
+'Yes, sir, very.'
+
+'Are you ill?' said the stranger, looking at Gladys with sudden
+interest.
+
+'No, sir, thank you; I am only rather tired,' was the reply.
+
+'Tired! I should think so! Why, she's walked more than thirty miles, and
+ridden thirty in the last two days,' said the farmer gruffly.
+
+The stranger glanced again compassionately at Gladys, but merely said,--
+
+'She looks so pale that I fancied she was suddenly faint. How long has
+Miss Hall been at Glanyravon?'
+
+'Somewhere about two or three years now, I should say; but when she was
+teaching Miss Gwynne she was there a great many years.'
+
+'Is she in good health? How does she look? Is she happy?'
+
+'If she was ill, sir, I don't think any one 'ould know it, she's so
+quiet and patient; but I think she's pretty well, and she can't help
+being happy, for she's just the same as if she was at home with her
+father and sister. Now she is a nice lady! If all 'oomen were like her
+there 'ouldn't be half the plague with 'em there is. She's quite content
+without having a lot of lovers after her, and running away, and making
+everybody in a fever. Deet to goodness, my opinion is that the world
+'ould go on a sight better without 'em. What do you think, sir? You must
+have plenty of experience as a clergyman, for all the ladies are pretty
+sharp after the cloth.'
+
+The stranger laughed, and said he thought the world would be very
+disagreeable without the fair sex, and that he had no doubt Mr Prothero
+would find it so if they became suddenly extinct.
+
+The farmer was so pleased with his new acquaintance that when they
+reached the Park gate, he said very heartily,--
+
+'Now, mind you, sir, there's a warm welcome, and a well-aired bed, and
+fine, white, home-spun linen at the farm. The squire may give you a
+better dinner, may be, but not a hotter, I'll answer for it; Gladys'll
+see to that; she's capital for that. And mother 'ould be so glad to hear
+what the rector said about our Rowly.'
+
+'You may depend upon my coming,' said the stranger. 'What time does Mr
+Gwynne dine? I suppose I shall escape his dinner hour? It is now about
+five o'clock.'
+
+'Oh! they don't dine till Christian folks are going to bed--seven or
+eight o'clock, or some such heathen hour. You'll be able to see them all
+before dinner; but I don't believe Mr Gwynne'll let you come away.'
+
+'I shall not see him probably. Good day for the present.'
+
+The stranger rode slowly up the drive from the lodge to the house, and
+Mr Prothero quickened his pace homeward. The mare, nothing loath,
+trotted off hard and fast, and Gladys looked paler than ever.
+
+When they reached the farm gate they were greeted by a loud shout from
+the 'boys,' Tom and Bill, who were right glad to see pretty Gladys back
+again. They both ran as fast as they could to the house, to tell their
+mistress the good news, and Lion after them. Mrs Prothero was at the
+door to receive the travellers, and as Gladys slipped off the mare, took
+her round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss.
+
+'My dear David, I am so thankful! so much obliged!' she said, as her
+more portly husband dismounted. 'Come in quick; Miss Gwynne and Miss
+Hall are here. They were just going, but they will be relieved of all
+their anxiety when they see Gladys. Come in, Gladys, fach! don't be
+afraid; they must see you.'
+
+Poor Gladys was crying with all her heart--good, comfortable, refreshing
+tears of joy at her mistress's kind welcome.
+
+Miss Gwynne appeared at the parlour door.
+
+'Well, Gladys! you have had your long walk for nothing. What a foolish
+girl you were to go away. Mr Prothero, how do you do? I am so glad you
+have brought us back Gladys. We couldn't do without her in these parts.'
+
+'Do you still stand to your text, Miss Gwynne?' said Mr Prothero. 'We
+may as well settle the matter at once. It will be a great thing for the
+girl.'
+
+'Oh, certainly; only she looks too tired to settle anything. Gladys, I
+will give you a day or two to consider whether you will come and live
+with me, as my maid, or be Miss Hall's pattern school-mistress.'
+
+Gladys looked from Miss Gwynne to Miss Hall, and then from her master to
+her mistress, through the tears that were gathering faster and faster.
+She answered in a voice half choked by them,--
+
+'Thank you, ma'am, thank you over and over and over again. If I must go
+away--if I must--whichever--you--like--I--' Here she finally gave way,
+and, sitting down on a chair, sobbed aloud. Mrs Prothero went to her,
+and put her arm round her neck. Miss Gwynne looked on compassionately,
+and Miss Hall turned to Mr Prothero.
+
+'She does not like to leave you, Mr Prothero,' she said gently.
+
+'I don't want to turn the girl out of the house. But if Miss Gwynne
+wants her, I think it is better for all parties for her to go.'
+
+'If you please--certainly,' said Gladys, recovering herself with an
+effort. 'I would much rather go to Miss Gwynne in any capacity, and if I
+can be of use--it is best, my dear mistress.'
+
+'Then go you, Gladys, and stop crying,' said Mr Prothero. 'Why, your
+eyes'll be as red as ferrets when the gentleman comes, and he'll think
+we've been giving you an appetite by making you cry. I was near
+forgetting, Miss Hall, that we left a strange gentleman at the Park
+gate, who said he was going to call on you; he's going to take a bed
+here, because there's no inn nearer than the "Coach and Horses."'
+
+'Who can that be?' said Miss Hall.
+
+'We had better make haste home, or we shall miss him,' said Freda.
+
+'Good-bye, Mrs Prothero; I will come again and settle about Gladys.'
+
+It was nearly dusk when the ladies left the farm, and they walked very
+fast. They had not gone far when they saw some one on horseback coming
+towards them.
+
+'I daresay this is your friend, and that stupid Morgan hasn't let him
+in,' said Freda.
+
+'It cannot be; I do not know this gentleman at all,' said Miss Hall, as
+the stranger advanced.
+
+He looked at them, and they looked at him; but as there was no symptom
+of recognition on either side, they passed without speaking.
+
+'I hope we shall have a good night's rest, now that Gladys is found,'
+said Miss Gwynne. 'What is there in the girl that interests one so much?
+Even Mr Prothero, in spite of his son, was glad to find her, and to
+have her at the farm again. Colonel Vaughan admires her very much.'
+
+'I hope not too much,' said Miss Hall quietly.
+
+'What an absurd idea!' said Miss Gwynne, colouring from beneath her
+broad hat. 'He is a man that admires beauty and talent, wherever it is
+to be found. I do like that sort of person; free from vulgar prejudice.'
+
+'Not quite, I think, my dearest Freda. He is not so easily read,
+perhaps, as you in your straightforward nature fancy.'
+
+'If he isn't prejudiced, you are, at any rate,' said Freda.
+
+When they reached the house, Freda went into the drawing-room first, and
+Miss Hall heard her exclaiming, as she rushed out of it with a card in
+her hand,--
+
+'Serena! Nita! only think! Mr Jones, Melbourne, South Australia! Hurrah!
+I never thought I should be so glad to see a card bearing that name.
+Morgan! why didn't you ask the gentleman who called on Miss Hall to come
+in and wait?'
+
+'I did not know, ma'am,' said the man who was at the door. 'My master
+does not always like strangers, and I did not know the gentleman.'
+
+Miss Hall had vanished upstairs during this little interlude with
+Morgan, so Freda did not see the agitation of her manner when she took
+the card and read the name. Freda went straight into the library, where
+she found her father half asleep over a letter.
+
+'Papa! papa! Do you know an old friend of Miss Hall's has called, that
+she has not seen for twenty years, and Morgan let him go away?'
+
+'Wasn't she glad, my dear? It is so exciting to see people whose very
+faces you have forgotten.'
+
+'Glad, papa? Of course not. He must just have come from Australia, where
+her sister is living, and I daresay has brought letters. By the way,
+there was a packet near the card.'
+
+'I don't understand people going so far away from their own country.'
+
+'But, papa, Mr Jones--this gentleman--has gone to sleep at Mr
+Prothero's, and I daresay they are not prepared for him.'
+
+'Really--well, my dear?'
+
+'Don't you think you had better write and ask him here to dinner, and I
+will order a bed to be prepared?'
+
+'Me! My dear!--a perfect stranger!--a bore! Some one full of tiresome
+adventures and travellers' stories, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'He is a clergyman, papa, and a Welshman, I believe. It would only be
+hospitable. We must not belie our country. Do write, papa. Think how
+anxious Miss Hall must be to hear of her sister.'
+
+'But you say she has a packet of letters.'
+
+'There is nothing like seeing a friend who has seen one's sister, I
+should think. Just one line of invitation! We will amuse him. He is very
+quiet, Miss Hall says. Here is the paper and a new pen. There's a good
+pappy, and--yes, "Presents his compliments"--yes--don't forget the bed.
+That's right! Now, just add, "that if he prefers not coming to-night,
+you hope he will make a point of spending the day here to-morrow."'
+
+'But I don't hope it, my dear.'
+
+'We will amuse him. Drive him out--anything. And perhaps he won't come.'
+
+'Very well. Remember that I am not expected to--to--'
+
+'Nothing, but just to drive with him. Thanks! you are a capital _pater_,
+and I will send this off immediately. Just direct it, "---- Jones, Esq.,
+Glanyravon Farm." I wonder whether his name is David? I hope not. I
+don't like David.'
+
+'Freda carried the note to the butler herself, and told him to get it
+sent immediately, and to tell the messenger to wait for an answer; then
+she went with the parcel of letters to Miss Hall.
+
+The note found Mr Jones, Mr Prothero, and Gladys comfortably established
+near a snug fire in the hall, at a well-spread tea-table. Mr Jones asked
+for tea in preference to _cwrw da_, and he and Gladys were enjoying it,
+whilst Mr Prothero chose the good home-brewed. Eggs and bacon, cold
+meat, and most tempting butter were upon the table, and Mrs Prothero was
+acting waitress and hostess at the same time.
+
+Shanno appeared with the note, delicately held by the corner between her
+finger and thumb.
+
+'From the Park, missus, for the gentleman.'
+
+'Promise you me, before you open it, not to go there to-night,' said Mr
+Prothero, taking the note.
+
+'That I can safely do,' said Mr Jones.
+
+When he had read the note he looked pleased, and his manner was rather
+flurried, as he said,--
+
+'Perhaps I can manage to stay over to-morrow, but I will not go
+to-night. Will you oblige me with a pen and ink?'
+
+Gladys was off in a moment, and returned with writing materials.
+
+Mr Jones wrote a polite note, declining the invitation for that evening
+upon plea of the lateness of the hour and fatigue, but promising to call
+on the morrow early, and to remain the day, if he possibly could.
+
+After he had despatched his note he seemed more thoughtful than he was
+before, and, for a short time, absent when spoken to; but rousing
+himself he made good return for the kindness and hospitality of his host
+and hostess by his agreeable and instructive conversation.
+
+He told them that he had been a missionary ever since his ordination,
+and had travelled over the principal parts of the continent of
+Australia. Gladys forgot her fatigue in her great interest in his
+subject; and when he saw her deep attention, he frequently addressed her
+and drew forth questions from her which surprised Mr Prothero quite as
+much, or more than it did Mr Jones. Mrs Prothero knew the girl's turn of
+mind too well to be astonished at the amount of missionary and
+geographical knowledge that she possessed. Gladys was naturally very
+timid and modest, but when subjects of interest were introduced she
+forgot her timidity in a desire for information.
+
+Owen had discovered her bent, and in their frequent meetings, accidental
+or designed, had often chained her to him by descriptions of the
+countries he had visited and the wonders he had seen. He, too, had found
+out that there was a deep vein of romance running beneath the stratum of
+reserve that, at first, had formed the outward feature of her character,
+but which was wearing away as she became accustomed to her new friends,
+and had been treated as a friend by them.
+
+It was evident that Mr Jones was greatly interested in Gladys. He
+addressed her, looked at her, called her 'my dear,' somewhat to the
+scandal of Mr Prothero, who thought him too young a man for such a
+familiar address. But Gladys only turned on him two beautiful eyes
+beaming with a kind of wondering gratitude, and thought the white and
+grey hairs that were mingled with the brown, and the deep lines in his
+forehead, quite passport enough for the two kind words.
+
+In addition to a great deal of missionary adventure, Mr Jones told his
+new friends that he had come home partly in search of health and rest,
+and partly to stir up friends at home in the cause of religion abroad.
+He said that he might or might not return himself to Australia,--it
+would depend on circumstances; but that he could not be idle in England,
+and was likely to become either a fellow-curate of Rowland's, or a
+neighbouring one. He liked a city curacy, because, having taught the
+heathen in another land for many years, he thought he might do some good
+amongst them at home. He told them, also, that it was during a year's
+residence in Melbourne that he had known Miss Hall's sister. He had been
+obliged to undertake clerical duty there, because his health was failing
+in his attempts to convert the aborigines.
+
+Mr Jones was a man of grave and quiet manner, one who seemed to think
+much and deeply. He habitually led the conversation, without pedantry,
+to religious or instructive subjects, and when lighter matter was
+introduced, was given rather to withdraw his mind from it to his own
+thoughts.
+
+He had been little in society for many years, during which his time had
+been passed in the highest, weightiest, gravest, grandest of all
+labours,--that of studying to turn the human soul from darkness to
+light. Now that he found himself in his own country again, he felt far
+behind most men in worldly conversation though very far beyond them, not
+only in religious, but in practical, useful, and general knowledge; such
+knowledge, I mean, as would be suited to the improvement, not merely of
+savages, but of the wild, lawless bushmen, gold diggers, and convicts of
+the Australian world. His manners were gentlemanlike but slightly
+old-fashioned, and, doubtless, many a young Englander would have found
+matter for ridicule in some of his doings and sayings. Not so, however,
+the good and cultivated Englishman of the nineteenth century. He would
+have found abundance to love and respect in the man who left the luxury,
+science, learning and refinement of England, in that most wonderful of
+all ages, to labour amongst the refuse of her people in the largest of
+her colonies. For Mr Jones had seen but little, during his twenty years
+of Australian life, of the better portion of Australian settlers, or the
+grandeur of her cities. He had devoted himself to those who had no means
+of gaining religious teaching elsewhere and he thanked God that the
+years of his ministry had not been without abundance of those fruits in
+which the heart of the laborious worker in Christ's vineyard rejoices.
+
+When Mr Jones left the farm the following morning, it was with a promise
+to pay it another visit at no very distant period. He took away with him
+a letter to Rowland, which was to introduce the brother, clergymen to
+each other. As he shook Mr Prothero by the hand, he thanked him warmly
+for his hospitality, and then abruptly added, 'Take care of that young
+girl Gladys. She will surely prove a blessing to you, and repay you for
+any kindness you may bestow upon her,'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE LADY'S MAID.
+
+
+Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has
+before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had
+ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began
+to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in
+remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected
+appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she
+had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also
+that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was
+smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she
+forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting
+between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circumstances
+so many years ago.
+
+When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.
+
+'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'
+
+Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.
+
+'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as
+she looked at him.
+
+Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda
+thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her,
+and Mr Jones bowed.
+
+'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down
+into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.
+
+'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.
+
+Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of
+children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's
+unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by
+saying that he would be at home at luncheon.
+
+By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss
+Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very
+like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'
+
+'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.
+
+'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than
+she gave him credit for.
+
+'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.
+
+'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I passed her in the
+twilight, uncertain who she was.'
+
+A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the
+luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make
+another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without
+him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.
+
+Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss
+Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say
+was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to
+various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a
+real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a
+rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the
+magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and
+boundary of distant mountains.
+
+Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,--
+
+'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with
+her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that
+matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will
+join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of
+an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'
+
+'Certainly,' was the reply.
+
+'But had we not better all go?' asked Miss Hall, casting an entreating
+glance upon Freda, who, however, would not see it.
+
+'I think not. Mrs Prothero is so nervous that we should frighten her to
+death. It will take me five minutes to run down the hill, five minutes
+to say my say, and five to get to the waterfall. But you need not hurry
+away, as I can wait for you; or, if you are not there, I will find you.
+Come, Frisk, come with me.'
+
+Frisk was a fine, little Scotch terrier, his mistress's especial
+favourite, and he bounded after her with great satisfaction. The pair
+were soon half-way down the hill, near the bottom of which Glanyravon
+Farm lay.
+
+'I think I managed that capitally,' said Freda to Frisk? 'didn't I,
+Frisk? Now, if he doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, he is very
+foolish. Don't you think so, Frisk?'
+
+Frisk jumped, and barked, and twirled about in a very affirmative way.
+
+'I should like to make up a match, it would be such fun. And I think he
+is a very worthy, gentlemanly sort of man, though I shouldn't like him
+for myself, and he is not quite the sort of person that I could have
+supposed would have made such an impression on Serena. But she would be
+such a capital clergyman's wife, and he would be so fond of her! But
+what should I do without her? Get married myself? The only man that I
+ever saw that I could marry won't marry; and then he doesn't care for
+me. Heigho! this is an odd world. All of us at cross-purposes. But I
+don't mean to break my heart,--do I, Frisk?'
+
+The 'do I, Frisk?' brought Freda and her dog to the gate that led into
+the road, and the road soon led them to the farm, where Frisk began at
+once to run after all the poultry, to the no small annoyance of Shanno.
+But Freda succeeded in catching him, and carrying him off with her into
+the parlour, whither she went, and whither Mrs Prothero followed her.
+
+'I have just come to ask what you have settled about Gladys,' said Miss
+Gwynne. 'I cannot stay long, and am anxious to know.'
+
+'My husband thinks it better that she should go to you, as you kindly
+wish to take her,' replied Mrs Prothero, with tears in her eyes. 'He
+says that he has no ill-will to the poor girl; on the contrary, he is
+very fond of her; but he don't think her a good match for our eldest
+son, Owen, who might marry very well. For my own part, I think he would
+never meet with such another as Gladys; but that is in the hands of
+Providence, and if it is to be it will be. He says that he is sure Owen
+will never come home as long as she is with us, for fear of sending her
+away; but that when he knows that she is so well off with you, he will
+perhaps come back again. And, indeed, we want him sadly, Miss Gwynne. It
+is a great trial to us, to have three children, and neither of them at
+home to help us. My husband is much altered since Netta married, though
+he don't show it; and Netta won't write, or do anything to prove she's
+sorry, and though he don't say so, I think this makes him more angry.'
+
+'Then you really wish Gladys to come to me?'
+
+'I do indeed, Miss Gwynne. I am quite sure it will be for her good; and
+you cannot help liking her. But she will not make any choice between the
+two situations you offer, but says you must do with her whatever you
+think best.'
+
+'Is she very unhappy at the idea of coming to us?'
+
+'Not at all. She is very sad to leave us, but she says she would rather
+do so, and would rather serve you than any other lady in the world.'
+
+'Well, perhaps it may be best for all parties. I think she is too young
+and too pretty to live alone at the school-house, and besides, I don't
+particularly want to change mistresses: so I mean to have her as my
+maid, and then I can take care of her myself. You know I have not had a
+regular maid since that disagreeable affair of Evans; one of the
+housemaids has waited on me, and I don't like maids, they are so in
+one's way. But I shall like Gladys. And she can help Miss Hall in the
+school, and go and see you every evening if she likes, when we are at
+dinner. In short, I am sure it is a capital plan for us all, and will
+make matters easy for you.'
+
+'You are so very kind, Miss Gwynne, I do not know what we should have
+done without you. Gladys would have begged her way back to Ireland, and
+died there.'
+
+'I mustn't stay any longer; I have outstayed my five minutes over and
+over again. You can send Gladys when you like. I have heaps of dresses,
+and clothes, of all kinds for her, so don't you think of giving her
+anything new. I will give her the same wages that I gave Evans, so she
+will feel quite independent; and I will put her under the particular
+charge of the housekeeper, until she gets into the ways of the house.
+Now I must go; what will Miss Hall say?'
+
+Well might Freda ask, 'What will Miss Hall say?' She walked as quickly
+as possible to the waterfall, she was not there; up the hill again, not
+there; home through the wood, not there; into the house, not there. She
+waited a little while with her hat on, but as no Mr Jones or Miss Hall
+arrived, she took off her walking things, and went about her usual
+avocations, saying to herself, with a smile on her lips the while,--
+
+'I never thought I was a manoeuvrer before. It is evident they don't
+want me, or they would have waited for me, and I have no doubt they are
+much happier without me. I must go and look, after my father.'
+
+Freda found Mr Gwynne in his library.
+
+'Where is your guest, Freda? What is he like? Is he a bore?' were his
+queries.
+
+'He is walking with Miss Hall, and my impression is they are very good
+company. He is very quiet, very grave, has no wonderful travellers'
+stories, and none of the ologies, and can play chess, for I asked him. I
+don't think him a bore, and I am sure Miss Hall doesn't.'
+
+'Very well, then I will go into the drawing-room against he comes in.'
+
+'Thanks; and I will whisper a little secret into your ear; he is an old
+lover of Serena's, and I cannot help hoping he is come to propose for
+her.'
+
+Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the
+alert people are when they hear of a love affair.
+
+'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him,
+for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is
+he like Rowland Prothero?'
+
+Freda coloured at this sudden question.
+
+'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'
+
+'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be--I don't know--nearly forty
+I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging
+and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'
+
+'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it
+any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now,
+papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'
+
+Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of
+Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap
+at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.
+
+'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began
+maliciously.
+
+For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked
+up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and
+something very like tears in her eyes.
+
+Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,--
+
+'I know, Nita dear! It is all signed, sealed, and settled _n'est-ce
+pas_?'
+
+And so it proved; during that long walk the old love had become new, and
+two people as deserving of happiness as most of the poor sinful mortals
+who are for ever seeking her, were made perfectly happy for that day at
+least.
+
+Freda's reflections, whilst she sat alone, listlessly brushing her hair
+and dressing herself, were as follows:--
+
+'How happy she seems; she looks twenty years younger; and he, an
+elderly, iron-grey clergyman; it would be ridiculous, only it is all so
+true and good. I suppose, after all, there is something grand, as the
+poet says, in constancy, and love, and the like; and I ought to pity
+Rowland Prothero, if he really cares for me. And yet I don't; on the
+contrary, I could be over head and ears in love with another man
+to-morrow if he would only ask me; and he is gone away without telling
+me that he cares for me, if he does, as I cannot help hoping. But
+nothing shall induce me to give my heart to any one, unless I am asked
+for it, of that I am resolved; no, not if I were to die in the struggle
+to keep it.'
+
+With this prudent and womanly resolution, Freda got up from her seat,
+hastily put on her dress, and went to Miss Hall, to insist on dressing
+her on that particular day.
+
+'You must put on the pink and white muslin that you look so well in. I
+insist on it, and will have my way to-night,' she said, and had her way
+accordingly, and the satisfaction of hearing her father remark
+afterwards, that he had 'not seen Miss Hall look so well for years. She
+really was a very pretty ladylike person, and Mr Jones ought to think
+himself very fortunate, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+To judge from Mr Jones' manner and countenance, he did think himself
+very happy and fortunate; and his happiness and good fortune had the
+effect of making him so very agreeable, that Mr Gwynne was quite pleased
+with him, and strongly urged his remaining some days at Glanyravon. But
+this could not be, as he was engaged to be present at a meeting of the
+Society for the Propagation of the Gospel the next day but one. To
+Freda's indignation, her father engaged him in a game of chess, which
+lasted the greater part of the evening; but as he seemed quite patient
+under the infliction, and Miss Hall glad that he should be agreeable to
+her kind friend, Mr Gwynne, Freda was obliged to give up her plan of
+leaving them alone for the remainder of the evening, and to be content
+with resolving that they should at least have the following morning to
+themselves. This she effected, and was rewarded by a lusty squeeze of
+the hand from the gentleman, when he took his leave, which she
+afterwards declared to Miss Hall, would have made an Australian native
+scream. Mr Gwynne sent Mr Jones to meet the train in his carriage, and
+invited him to return as soon as he possibly could.
+
+It may, perhaps, be as well to anticipate some of the events of this
+story, and to say that in the course of three or four months, Mr Jones
+and Miss Hall were married.
+
+Soon after his return to London, Mr Jones was appointed brother curate
+to Rowland Prothero, recommended by his friend, the rector. He undertook
+this as temporary duty, because he was in expectation either of
+obtaining a living or of returning to Australia; Miss Hall was quite
+ready for either kind of work, feeling that, whether as the wife of a
+clergyman at home or abroad, she would be most thankful to be permitted
+to devote herself to her woman's part of missionary labour. Mr Jones had
+a small income as secretary to one of the London and Colonial religious
+societies, and was also engaged in work for the S.P.G., which, together
+with his curacy, and the small savings of twenty years abroad, enabled
+him to take and furnish a home for his wife, and gave them the prospect
+of comfort, if not of ease and riches. Their desires were very moderate,
+and their hopes fixed on objects beyond the general scope of vision; so
+that they were content to 'live by the day,' and trust for the rest. The
+world called them romantic and foolish for people of their ages; they
+'knew in whom they believed,' and, 'having food and raiment, were
+therewith content.'
+
+Gladys had been installed in her offices of parcel lady's-maid, parcel
+school-mistress at the Park, nearly three months, when the wedding took
+place. She had largely contributed towards making Miss Hall's simple
+wardrobe and wedding gear, and was rewarded by being allowed to marshal
+the school children on the happy-day, as they lined the drive at the
+Park gates, on the going forth and return of the bridal party. She was,
+moreover, the one selected by the children to present Miss Hall with a
+handsome Bible in Welsh and English, in token of their gratitude and
+love for her. Mr Jones had been too much engaged in London to allow of
+his visiting Wales until two or three days before his marriage, during
+which time he had occasionally met, and spoken kindly to Gladys, and
+given her a book on Missionary subjects, which he had brought purposely
+for her, expecting to find her at the farm. He had also carried pleasant
+news of Rowland to Mrs Prothero, and frequently spoken of him to Mr
+Gwynne and Freda--of his earnestness in his profession, and of the love
+and esteem in which he was held by his rector and his flock.
+
+Freda felt very lonely when her dear Serena was gone. She had no one
+amongst her immediate neighbours for whom she cared much. The general
+round of country dinner-parties she had always found very dull, and the
+annual hunt week and assize balls she had never liked; so she found
+herself again thrown quite upon her own resources. As long as Colonel
+Vaughan had been in the country, she had taken an interest in
+everything; when he left, her ordinary pursuits--her riding, painting,
+music, garden--in all of which he had aided her, suddenly lost their
+charm. Her friend's marriage came about just when she wanted an object
+of interest, and when that was over she was thrown back upon herself.
+
+By degrees, however, a healthier tone returned to her mind, and she
+forgot the fascinating Colonel Vaughan, and recovered her interest in
+her house, school, dogs, birds, garden, and the thousand and one small
+objects that serve to make time pass cheerfully and happily in a country
+home. Above all, she became more and more interested in Gladys, and
+anxious to shelter her from the many dangers and temptations which she
+saw her peculiar beauty and position subjected her to. She soon found
+out that all the men-servants paid their devotions to her shrine, and
+that even the ancient and portly butler was not indifferent to her
+charms; but the simplicity and modesty of Gladys kept them all at a
+respectful distance, and the housekeeper told Miss Gwynne, that 'Reelly,
+she was quite a pattern in the servants' 'all, and it was a treat to see
+a young 'oman who knew how to keep the men off--not but the girls were
+as jealous of her as could be; but that wasn't to be wondered at, for
+none of 'em was made anything of when Gladys was near.' Even Mr Gwynne
+roused himself to make inquiries concerning Freda's pretty maid, which
+was quite the crowning feather in Gladys' cap.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+Plas Abertewey was a fine old country seat, that had been in Colonel
+Vaughan's family for generations. Miss Gwynne was not the only scion of
+the good old county gentry who was disgusted at seeing it in the
+possession of a son of old Griffey Jenkins, the miser. But so it was to
+be. Howel took the place, nominally for a term, but with the avowed
+intention of purchasing it, or the first place of any note that should
+be for sale in the county.
+
+He made liberal proposals to Colonel Vaughan's agents as regarded
+improvements and repairs, the house having been much neglected for some
+years; and in the course of a few months after his marriage with Netta,
+workmen of all kinds were employed in adorning Plas Abertewey for his
+expected arrival with his bride.
+
+This did not take place, however, until the following spring, by which
+time the house and grounds were in as fine order as money could make
+them. Howel sent down a person from London to superintend the work, and
+remained with Netta in Paris until it was nearly completed; then he
+brought her over to England, left her in London with his friends the
+Simpsons, and ran down into Wales, accompanied by Captain Dancy, who had
+been his companion during a great portion of his Paris trip.
+
+They remained only a few days, and then returned to town to superintend
+the purchase of furniture, plate, and the various appurtenances of a
+country establishment, which were duly despatched to the _chargé
+d'affaires_ in the country, and vigilantly guarded by Mrs Griffith
+Jenkins, who took up her abode at Abertewey for the time being.
+
+As bell-ringers do not pause to consider the cause and effect of the
+events they are ordered to commemorate, but rather think of the amount
+of money and liquid they are likely to receive for their labour, the
+chime of Llanfawr rang a merry peal when the future master and mistress
+of Plas Abertewey drove through the town. There was, moreover, a small
+show of fireworks on the occasion. Blue balls, crackers, rockets and the
+like blazed and hissed about to the no small danger of the thatched
+roofs of some of the houses. Mrs Griffith Jenkins undrew her purse
+strings on that day, and the cheering and shouting were great as the
+bride and bridegroom appeared. Howel bowed and smiled as all great men
+do on such occasions, and Netta laughed, and was proud. One of the blue
+balls made the fine pair of horses that drew Howel's new carriage take
+fright, but the London coachman showed the superiority of his driving by
+pulling them in' and the crowd shouted amain.
+
+Captain Dancy and Miss Simpson, who accompanied the pair, were duly
+impressed with the loyalty of Howel's subjects, and were not
+particularly shown the little shop to which he owed their sudden
+devotion. 'Jenkins, the miser,' was quite swallowed up in 'Howel
+Jenkins, Esq.,' and 'Netta Prothero, Glanyravon,' was engulphed in his
+wife. So goes the world. Shout on, little boys, for so will it be when
+you are in your turn big men, and 'adore the rising, rather than the
+setting sun,' as the French proverb hath it.
+
+Fortunately, Abertewey was in the parish of Llanfawr, and some seven or
+eight miles from Glanyravon, therefore Mr and Mrs Prothero knew nothing
+of the demonstrations in honour of their children.
+
+Mrs Griffith Jenkins received them, dressed in a new _moiré antique_,
+quite in baronial style, under the portico of their dwelling, and the
+proper complement of retainers was in the background. More shouts were
+heard from some of the immediate neighbours, who had gathered round the
+door to see the arrival; and as Netta alighted from her carriage,
+attired like a Paris doll, she felt that she was now a grand lady, and
+could conscientiously look down on Miss Rice Rice, and be on an equality
+with Miss Nugent.
+
+Howel gave some orders in a very commanding tone to the various
+lords-in-waiting, and then the door closed upon their majesties, and the
+admiring crowds saw them no more.
+
+It is no wonder that the world without Plas Abertewey was much engaged
+in talking of, and speculating on, the world within. Howel's horses,
+Netta's dress, Miss Simpson's father's baronetcy, Captain Dancy's
+regiment, Plas Abertewey's appointments, the footmen's liveries, the
+reputed wealth of the miser, even Mrs Griffith Jenkins' _moiré antique_,
+mourning ornaments and gold watch were variously remarked upon, and
+doubtless with great good nature and deserving approbation. We all know
+how we rejoice when our neighbours rise to wealth or eminence. There was
+not one breakfast-table within twenty miles of Abertewey, from that of
+my lord and my lady to Jim Davies and his wife, shoemakers, over which
+the arrival of Howel Jenkins, the miser, as he was called, according to
+his father before him, was not pulled to pieces, from the first sound of
+the bells to the last shout at his hall door.
+
+'Shall we call?' were the words on the lips of all heads of families,
+generally settled by the said 'heads' driving in their very best
+equipages and gayest clothes, to pay the wedding visit to the reputed
+millionnaire and his pretty, elegantly attired wife.
+
+Money, as I have somewhat commonplacedly remarked elsewhere, is the
+master-key to most hearts, and Howel found that nearly all the hearts in
+his native county were opened by his wealth. The exceptions were
+principally those of his wife's family, and even in some of these he
+managed to turn the key.
+
+It was shortly after the arrival at Plas Abertewey that Owen and Gladys
+simultaneously left the farm, and we find the former on that same
+morning, standing at a little distance from this residence of his sister
+and Howel, surveying it, and ruminating on the family fortunes.
+
+'Well done, Howel,' he said to himself; 'if money hasn't done something
+for you, I don't know for whom it has done anything. I declare I will
+try and make some myself, and come back and marry Gladys in spite of the
+world.'
+
+Then he began to ask himself, whether it was kind and brotherly to pass
+by his only sister's door without saying good-bye to her, and whether
+his father had any right to expect all her relations to give her up,
+because he chose to do so? His reflections were suddenly cut short by
+the appearance of Howel and another gentleman, bound, apparently, on a
+fishing expedition.
+
+'Owen, come at last!' cried Howel, hastening up to him with great good
+will. 'Better late than never. I am very glad to see you, so will be
+Netta. Travelled early to hide your carpet bag, or whatever it is?'
+
+'Knapsack,' said Owen, shaking his cousin's offered hand; 'I'm off to
+sea again.'
+
+'A queer road to take; but you come to see us on your way, of course.
+Let me introduce you to Mr Simpson, Sir John Simpson's son. My cousin,
+Mr Simpson, my wife's brother.
+
+Owen nodded, and Mr Simpson bowed.
+
+'We're going out fishing, but you'll find Netta--in bed, I'm afraid, but
+she'll be glad to see you anywhere. Go up the avenue, and let Netta know
+you've come. We shall be home to dinner at seven. Good-bye for the
+present.'
+
+Owen did not stay to consider, but walked past the handsome lodge, and
+up the drive, according to Howel's direction.
+
+'Mighty condescending and very patronising, cousin Howel!' he
+soliloquised; 'but I will go and see how Netta gets on, and how your
+highness treats her.'
+
+He reached the house, and rang stoutly at the bell. A servant answered
+it, who was adjusting his coat just put on, he not having expected such
+early visitors.
+
+'The back entrance is round the corner there, young man,' were his words
+on perceiving Owen, whose pride was greatly roused thereby.
+
+'Tell Mrs Howel Jenkins that her brother, Mr Owen Prothero, is here,'
+said Owen, intending to electrify the man.
+
+But he did not succeed. The servants knew very well that their
+mistress's family was not of 'county rank,' and that its members were
+not upon terms with the Aberteweys, therefore had no very high opinion
+of them. He turned on his heel, and told a female servant to tell
+Lucette, the French maid, to tell her mistress that Mr Owen Prothero was
+at the door.
+
+In a few minutes the man reappeared, and, with a great increase of
+civility, asked Mr Prothero to walk into the breakfast-room, and said
+his mistress would be down as soon as possible. Whilst he was admiring
+the room and its costly furniture, and considering the tea service, a
+smart little French-woman came to him and asked him in French, whether
+he would stay to breakfast; as he knew something of the language he
+replied in the affirmative. Then appeared an equally smart and
+fascinating French valet, who begged to be allowed the honour of
+conducting Monsieur to a bedroom, to arrange his toilet.
+
+Owen laughed heartily and followed the man, who took up his knapsack
+daintily, and led him to a very handsome bedroom, where Owen brushed his
+hair as becomingly as he could, arranged his beard, and made himself as
+smart as his wardrobe would allow of his doing. He was, as we have
+before said, a very handsome young man, and sufficiently well mannered
+to pass muster anywhere.
+
+'What is the next act, I wonder?' said he, as he found his way into the
+breakfast-room. He was quite taken aback as he entered, when he saw a
+pale young lady sitting in one of the windows, reading. He made his bow,
+she curtseyed, and said,--
+
+'Mrs Howel Jenkins' brother, I believe? My name is Simpson.'
+
+Owen bowed again, and not being of a shy turn, and having seen ladies of
+various degrees during his travels, began to make himself agreeable.
+
+In a few minutes, a little French fairy flitted into the room, with her
+hair off her face to display such eyes and complexion as are rare in all
+times; and muslins, laces, and ribbons so blended, as to set off a
+petite figure to the very best advantage. Owen was going to bow again,
+when a little affected laugh, and a 'Ma foi! he doesn't know me, Miss
+Simpson,' proclaimed the fairy to be his sister Netta.
+
+'Owen, you naughty boy, not to know me,' the little thing continued,
+more naturally, running up to her brother, who took her, despite
+muslins, laces, and ribbons, almost up in his big arms, and kissed her.
+
+'How you have rumpled me, Owen? did you ever see such a thing, Miss
+Simpson?' she cried, half laughing, half in tears, as she smoothed down
+the point-lace sleeves and collar.
+
+Just then a tall man entered, and Netta disengaging herself from Owen,
+who was on the point of kissing her again, and asking her what she had
+done to herself, simpered out an introduction between 'Captain Dancy and
+my brother, Captain Prothero.'
+
+'Not quite that yet,' began Owen, anxious to disclaim the captaincy,
+when he was interrupted by the entrance of one or two other men, who
+were, in their turn, named to him as Sir Samuel Spendall and Mr Deep.
+Owen did not like their appearance and looked towards his really lovely
+little sister, to see how she received them. Her manners had a mixture
+of affectation and simplicity that was rather taking than otherwise. And
+Owen wondered how Howel could leave one so young and pretty amongst
+three men of the world, which he soon discovered his new acquaintances
+to be. True, Miss Simpson was with her, and in the middle of breakfast,
+to which, in due time, they sat down, another lady came upon the scene,
+by name Madame Duvet, who turned out to be the English widow of a
+Frenchman. She was young, handsome, but over-bold for the taste of a man
+who was in love with Gladys.
+
+She was at once taken with Owen's handsome face, and talked to him
+incessantly, whilst Captain Dancy seated himself near Netta, and devoted
+himself to her much more closely than Owen liked. However, he was very
+hungry, and managed to make a good breakfast.
+
+He heard Netta telling Captain Dancy that her brother had been at sea
+all his life, and knew nothing of the fashionable world; at which he
+thought the ham he was eating would have choked him, in his effort to
+repress a laugh. He longed very much to knock down one of the
+'Jeames's,' who would stand gazing at him, and did so far betray his
+indignation, as to ask him, when he came behind his chair, whether he
+saw anything remarkable in his appearance, which so amused Madame Duvet,
+that she exclaimed '_Charmant! brava!_ you make me _crêver de rire_.'
+
+Owen was astonished at everything, but at nothing so much as at his
+sister. Netta had always aped the fine lady, and made the most of her
+few accomplishments; but now it was all like a fairy-tale, and the
+heroine was Netta, transformed by some fairy into a princess. By turns
+coquettish, affected, simple, languishing, accordingly as she feared she
+was too like her natural self--the Netta of the Farm was no more, and
+her representative was, to Owen at least, an anomaly. How she could have
+acquired such an amount of small talk, and such a mincing speech in nine
+months, was an enigma to him. London, Paris, the opera, the fashions,
+even the picture galleries, were alternately in her mouth; and she
+poured out tea and coffee, and laughed a silly laugh, much to her own
+satisfaction, and Owen's disgust, whilst all the men were looking at
+her; for assuredly she was very pretty.
+
+'Owen,' she said, during a sudden pause in rather a noisy conversation,
+'I hear Rowland is quite a fashionable preacher. Howel means to ask him
+down here, I believe. Miss Simpson went to hear him--didn't you, Miss
+Simpson?'
+
+This was drawled out, and Owen felt very much disposed to get up and
+shake his sister, as he had often done when she came from school with
+any new airs and graces. But he contented himself with saying,----
+
+'Rowly's a capital fellow, Netta, fach, and doing his best. Whether he's
+a fashionable preacher or not I don't know, but he kept us all awake at
+Llanfach one Sunday for half-an-hour, which is something.'
+
+'Your brother is so amusing! so _naïf_! I die of him!' said Madame
+Duvet.
+
+'Very original!' remarked Miss Simpson; 'I do like originality--'
+
+'Then you must like Netta,' said Owen; 'for there was never any one of
+our family the least like her.'
+
+'Oh yes! you are, about the eyes. _Malin!_' said Madame Duvet.
+
+After breakfast, Owen tried to get Netta a little to himself, but there
+were distant calls to make, and drives and rides to be arranged, which
+caused him to be unsuccessful in his efforts. So he fell to the lot of
+Mr Deep, who took him to see Howel's hunters and dogs, and all the other
+wonders of Abertewey.
+
+'Deep by name, and deep by nature,' was Owen's reflection, after his
+morning with his new acquaintance. 'He has managed to get all my secrets
+out of me, one excepted; but he has not confided any to me in return.
+One thing I suspect, however, that he has a turn for horse-racing and
+betting.'
+
+Howel and Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party,
+with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, assembled at dinner. Howel had
+ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed;
+and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie
+belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave
+him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.
+
+He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening
+costume.
+
+'What do you think of her, Owen?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally
+gazing at her before dinner.
+
+'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta
+Prothero of the Farm.'
+
+'I should imagine not!' said Howel. 'Pray don't let us talk of farms
+here, Owen. I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.'
+
+'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops?' asked
+Owen, maliciously.
+
+Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite
+as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen
+wondered on.
+
+Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child
+in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of
+cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly
+have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago. 'Her own
+mother would not know her!' thought Howel. 'Poor mother, she would
+scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a
+little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and
+see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta.'
+
+The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's
+bewildered imagination. Madame Duvet made such very decided attempts to
+talk to him, however, that he was obliged to cease wondering, and to
+bring his usually versatile genius into play, in the light of all the
+grandeur. He got on so well with the lady, that Howel wondered in his
+turn, and after dinner told Owen that he verily believed if he played
+his cards well, he might make an impression on the pretty widow.
+
+'One can do that, I should say, without any cards at all,' said Owen,
+showing his white teeth from amidst his big black beard.
+
+When the ladies had left the dinner-table, Owen began to gain some
+insight into the characters and pursuits of Howel's guests. He had not
+spent thirteen or fourteen years amongst men of all ranks and all
+nations, without having acquired a shrewd judgment, and a tolerable
+knowledge of mankind.
+
+The conversation turned at once upon hunting, racing, steeple-chasing,
+billiards, bets, and the like. It was evident that Howel, too, was well
+initiated into such matters. Mr Rice Rice asked him when the question of
+the hounds was to be decided, and Howel said that kennels were in
+preparation, and that he hoped to have a first-rate pack by the winter.
+There arose a dispute about a celebrated racer that Howel appeared to
+possess in London, and that was expected daily at Abertewey. Howel
+declared his intention of letting her run at the Carmarthen races.
+Captain Dancy, having heavy stakes on the mare, vowed it might disable
+her for the Derby, and words ran high; but Mr Deep interposed, and
+changed the subject to that of _rouge et noir_.
+
+They sat over the dinner-table till nearly eleven o'clock, by which time
+they were all more or less exhilarated. Howel's wines were good, his
+cellar was well stocked, and he was lavish of everything that might give
+him a reputation amongst the Welsh squires that surrounded him, many of
+whom still worshipped at the shrine of Bacchus.
+
+When they joined the ladies, Owen thought the conversation was rather
+too loud and boisterous. Captain Dancy alone was quite himself, and made
+Netta sing some little French songs to Owen's great amusement. After tea
+and coffee had been carried round, a card table appeared, and
+_vingt-et-un_ was proposed. The stakes were so high that Owen trembled
+for his small stock of wealth? but to his astonishment again, he found
+himself, at the end of the evening, a gainer of nearly five pounds,
+although he had been most moderate in his own stakes. He was struck with
+the eagerness of Madame Duvet and Netta, who entered into the game with
+all the avidity of accomplished gamblers.
+
+It was very late when they finished the game, and nominally retired for
+the night, but not late enough to prevent Howel, Captain Dancy, Mr Deep,
+and Sir Samuel Spendall from sitting down again to whist. Owen left them
+at it, not altogether satisfied with himself or his companions.
+
+The following day, Owen again tried to get some private conversation
+with Howel or Netta, but in vain. The breakfast was even later than the
+previous morning, as Howel did not go out fishing, and afterwards there
+were more distant calls to make, and Netta was engaged in preparing her
+dress with her maid for a dinner-party at Mr Rice Rice's, at which she
+desired to appear particularly grand. The gentlemen were playing
+billiards part of the day, and riding the rest, in neither of which
+amusement Owen joined. Madame Duvet did her best to amuse him, and
+succeeded very well, for Owen was far from insensible to the charms of
+beauty, and, in spite of Gladys, could not resist flirting a little, in
+his own matter-of-fact way, with a pretty woman.
+
+The three ladies, Captain Dancy and Howel, were the dinner guests at Mr
+Rice Rice's, the other gentlemen were invited for the dance in the
+evening. Young Rice Rice had given Owen a lame invitation the previous
+day, which he had declined; never having been in the habit of visiting
+him when at home, he did not choose to do so under Howel's countenance.
+
+Owen's astonishment was brought to a climax that evening when his sister
+appeared dressed for this, her first public appearance on the small
+stage of a country-neighbourhood, or, to speak more respectfully, county
+visiting. It was Howel's pleasure that she should make it in point lace
+and diamonds. Not even to Owen was it whispered that the lace was a
+wonderfully good imitation, or that the diamonds, instead of being of
+the first water, were first-rate paste; and no one suspected the
+deception. The great millionnaire, Howel Jenkins, could well afford to
+give his pretty wife the real jewels and lace, and had the credit of so
+doing; and as no one, save himself and the jeweller, knew that they were
+false, he thought himself a very clever fellow for gaining the
+reputation of unbounded liberality upon very small means. Be it said,
+however, that his own studs, pin and ring, were real.
+
+The French maid had eclipsed herself in Netta's toilet, and Owen felt
+that if she were not his sister, he must have fallen in love with her
+himself. The black roguish eyes sparkled like the brilliants she wore,
+and the complexion was scarcely rivalled by the roses she had in her
+bouquet.
+
+Howel looked really proud of her, and it is not surprising that he felt
+greatly elevated as he took the reins from the coachman and drove off in
+his fine new carriage, drawn by capital horses, and attended by liveried
+servants.
+
+His last whisper to Netta, before they entered Mr Rice Rice's
+drawing-room was, 'Keep up your consequence, and don't say, "Yes,
+indeed!" every minute.'
+
+He was determined to keep up his own consequence, and began at once by
+patronising everybody present. There were some of the county gentry who
+had demurred as to calling on the old miser's son, and who were
+astonished at the kind of tone he assumed. They, who had been gravely
+considering whether they could possibly shake hands with him, found
+themselves on a level with, if not beneath him, at once, by mere
+effrontery. There is some truth in the saying that, 'Accordingly as you
+think of yourself, others will think of you;' and impudence and riches
+combined, together with a certain amount of talent and personal
+appearance, can overcome vast worldly obstacles. Besides did he not
+bring an unmarried baronet with him--one of the very ancient family of
+Spendalls--and the son and daughter of a man of title, and a captain of
+the dragoon guards? to say nothing of that fashionable widow, reputed a
+fortune. And were there not plenty of young ladies, poor if proud, in
+the county, wanting partners, either for dancing or life, or both?
+
+After that evening, people sneered at home perhaps, but they called and
+invited and made much of the master and mistress of Plas Abertewey,
+forgetting or ignoring their origin.
+
+Netta, too, obeyed Howel's last injunction to the best of her ability.
+Her youth and beauty were greatly in her favour, and her affectation
+covered the shyness and awkwardness that she felt in being suddenly
+thrown amongst people upon whom she had formerly looked with awe. The
+Nugents were there, but the Gwynnes were absent, and she had the
+pleasure of feeling that she had as many, if not more, partners than the
+heiress, Miss Nugent, and was much more grandly dressed. As for Miss
+Rice Rice, she fell quite into the shade before her.
+
+Her old friend, Sir Hugh Pryse, was particularly attentive, and talked
+to her of Miss Gwynne; and Captain Dancy was as much devoted to her
+abroad as at home. Her head was quite turned, and nothing but the
+consciousness that Howel was present kept it on her shoulders at all;
+but the fear of a lecture for some mistake in manners kept her so much
+on her guard, that she got through the evening wonderfully, and achieved
+what Mme. Duvet called _un grand succès_.
+
+And Howel danced, and talked, and introduced his friends, and patronised
+everybody, much as if he had been a feudal monarch amongst his barons.
+Here and there might have been seen a suppressed smile, as one of the
+company whispered to another, 'Where is Mrs Griffey Jenkins to-night?
+What would old Griff, the miser, say to those diamonds? I wonder his
+very ghost doesn't appear?' but still money won its usual way. And when
+Howel's chariot came to the door, there were more surprised and admiring
+eyes fixed upon it from the bystanders without, than on that of any
+other of the assembled party. As Mrs Griffey Jenkins said when she heard
+of the evening gaieties,--
+
+'Deet to goodness, and my Howel's was grander than any one. I do answer
+for that. Now his is a beauty carriage and horses, and servants as grand
+as Queen Victoria's or Prince Albert's, for I did be seeing them in
+London myself.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THE PATRON.
+
+
+Tuesday and Wednesday had passed quickly away, and Thursday brought to
+Owen amusements similar to those of the previous days; but no private
+intercourse with his relations. In the evening of his third day at
+Abertewey, there was a concert at the neighbouring town, huge bills of
+which had been posted up on the walls and houses of the said town,
+purporting that the entertainment was under the immediate patronage of
+Howel Jenkins, Esq. of Plas Abertewey, and his friends. Elegant little
+pink and blue programmes were scattered over that patriotic gentleman's
+tables, and he had used his eloquent language, and made great efforts to
+get together a large party for the occasion.
+
+It was principally a Welsh concert, he urged, and he considered it right
+to patronise native talent. There was the celebrated _Eos_, and the last
+representative of the ancient bards, and the best specimen of a Welsh
+harper, besides several respectable English singers, and he, for one,
+should muster as many supporters as he possibly could.
+
+He did so, accordingly, and with that spirit of liberality which
+characterised him when any popularity was to be acquired thereby
+purchased a great number of tickets, and distributed them amongst his
+servants and neighbours with majestic grace. He had managed to enlist a
+large party at Mr Rice Rice's the previous evening, some of whom were to
+dine at Abertewey, and to go thence to the concert; others to meet him
+and his friends there.
+
+Owen felt lost in the grandeur of that evening, and would have been
+quite forgotten but for Mme. Duvet, who was constant in her admiration
+of him. But it was amusement and wonder enough for him to watch Howel
+and Netta, quite _en prince et princesse_, receiving their guests, who,
+if not as yet of the aristocracy of the county, were of high
+respectability and good position in it. If the host and hostess were
+rather desirous of showing how grand they were, their dinner and wines
+were so good as to cover their efforts.
+
+What if their guests remarked, as guests will, gentle reader, when our
+backs are turned, that Howel was insufferably purse-proud and conceited,
+and his wife as affected and provincial as possible; they did not hear
+the friendly notices, and were well content to fill the concert room
+with their party, all in full dress, to the admiration of the townsfolk,
+and of Mrs Griffey Jenkins in particular.
+
+Howel had quite forgotten his mother in his general invitation and did
+not even see her for some time, seated in a prominent position, and
+making one of his own party, to all appearance. She had saved his
+character for filial duty by going where he would little have thought of
+placing her, and awaiting his arrival, as her pride impelled her to do.
+Owen spied her at once, and took Mme. Duvet to the seat next her, on her
+left; whilst on her right sat Mr Deep, and nigh to him, of all people in
+the world, Mrs Rice Rice, that staunch supporter of family dignity.
+
+Owen shook hands with Aunt 'Lizbeth, and introduced her to Madame Duvet
+and Mr Deep, after having asked them first of all whether they had seen
+her previously.
+
+'I never had that honour,' said Madame Duvet, curtseying.
+
+'I didn't be going to Abertewey since you was coming there, ma'am,' said
+Mrs Griffey, rising and curtseying, to the unspeakable diversion of Mrs
+Rice Rice and Mr Deep.
+
+The reader may remember that Mrs Jenkins was at Abertewey when Howel
+made his triumphant entry there, but the following morning he gave her
+to understand, as delicately as he could, that the idiomatic
+translations of the Welsh language which had been so refreshing in
+London, would be better in her native town than at Abertewey, and she
+departed accordingly.
+
+His ire may be imagined, when he suddenly heard the well-known idioms
+lavished upon Madame Duvet and Mr Deep, who were enjoying them a great
+deal more than the concert, which, being principally in the vernacular,
+was not so intelligible and far less amusing. Mrs Jenkins was in her
+glory. Never had Mrs Rice Rice been so condescending before. She and Mr
+Deep made themselves more agreeable than she had supposed it possible
+for such grand people to be, and she frequently glanced at Owen, as much
+as to say, 'And I am the person that your father turned out of doors!'
+
+Owen, on his side, was sorry that he had exposed her to the sarcasm that
+she so little understood, and talked to Madame Duvet to withdraw
+attention from her.
+
+As to Howel, his rising sun was obscured--his blushing honours were
+dimmed--his majesty, patronage, grandeur were lowered by the propinquity
+of his nearest of kin. In the midst of his county friends himself, he
+still felt that his mother was making herself ridiculous near at hand;
+whilst complimented and thanked for his patriotic support of native
+_cos_,[Footnote: Nightingales.] the native idioms rang in his ears, and
+he longed to annihilate them altogether. This on his right hand. On his
+left, Netta, looking literally like 'a rose in June,' and receiving the
+very marked attentions of Captain Dancy, on one side, and of Mr Rice
+Rice, junior, on the other. He scarcely knew which was most irritating,
+'the idioms,' or her affected giggle. Trite but true is the proverb,
+'There is no rose without its thorn;' and Howel was pricked severely by
+the thorns surrounding the rose of his first step into popularity.
+
+Between the acts, and between the songs, Mrs Griffey went on something
+in this sort,--
+
+'Indeet yes, sir! treue for you there. The Welsh is a splendit language.
+My son Howels--there he is to be proving it--do always say so. Ah!
+that's "The rising of the lark," I was singing that myself years ago.
+London! to be seure! Now there was singing I was hearing at the play. My
+son Howels did tak us to the play. I never was hearing or seeing the
+like in my life. Seure, the Queen Victoria or Prince Albert don't be
+dressing half as fine as the gentlemen and ladies I was seeing act. The
+Queen! Oh, Mrs Rice Rice, fach! Ma'am, I was disappointed! Just a bonnet
+no better than my doater-in-law's. What, sir! a crown? Not 'sactly a
+crown; but I was 'specting to see a queen different from other people.
+Hush! I do hear my son Howels cry, "Silence!" and they do be playing "Ap
+Shenkin." Not so bad that for Wales, Mrs Rice Rice. My son Howels do
+sing beautiful himself, and do play--Hush! look you at him. He don't
+like tolking in the music. He, he, he, sir! you do make me laugh. To be
+seure I don't mean to be marrying again, though men are so much for
+money. I am thinking you gentlemen 'ould be marrying your grandmothers
+for the beauty money! Not my son Howels, indeet! He don't be wanting
+money. He marry his cousin for love. Hush you! There's Pengoch beginning
+a Penyll! You don't be hearing anything like that in England. Ach a fi!
+my 'deet, I am sorry. "God save the Queen!" and it don't seem an hour
+since they began!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins stood up with the rest, and beat time emphatically Scarcely
+was the last verse of 'God save the Queen' finished, when Howel came up
+to his mother, and biting his tongue to keep in his ire, said--
+
+'Mother, I will see you safe first!' and without allowing her time to do
+more than make a curtsey to her companions, offered her his arm, and led
+her quickly down the room. He did not venture to speak to her, but
+nodding to one and another as he passed, said, 'I shall be back
+directly. I am just going to send my mother home first,' reached the
+door, and called for his carriage. It was close at hand, the hour for
+ordering the carriages being past; and he speedily put his mother into
+it. 'Drive Mrs Jenkins home, and return immediately,' he exclaimed.
+
+'Which way, ma'am?' asked the servant.
+
+'Go you down the street, then turn to the right, and the first house
+with a railing and steps, and a brass knocker,' said Mrs Jenkins,
+exulting as they drove off in her new dignity and importance. Howel, on
+the contrary, returned to the concert-room, cursing his folly for having
+settled in his native county, and wishing his mother anywhere else.
+
+Nevertheless, he received the thanks of the conductor of the concert
+with bland humility, and expressed his intention of using all his best
+efforts in behalf of his country and countrymen. Finally he assisted in
+cloaking and shawling the ladies, seeing them to their carriages, and
+bidding them condescending good nights.
+
+For himself, however, he had not a good night, being haunted with the
+demons of jealousy and discontent. As soon as Netta and he were alone,
+he addressed her in very different tones from those which he had called
+forth for the ladies of the concert-room.
+
+'Netta, why do you let Dancy pay you such attentions?' he began, with a
+scowling brow and flashing eye.
+
+'Why does Mme. Duvet let you pay her such attention?' was Netta's
+instant reply.
+
+Now Netta was too well pleased with herself, and the effect of her
+beauty on others, to endure being snubbed, and was very angry that Howel
+was not pleased also.
+
+'Don't be a fool, Netta. You know Madame Duvet is doing all she can to
+catch Owen.'
+
+'Oh! jealous are you? Well, there were plenty of other ladies who let
+you pay them attention; why was that I wonder?'
+
+'I tell you what it is, Netta, I won't allow Dancy to devote himself to
+you as he does.'
+
+'Then you had better tell him so, I ain't going to do it; he's your
+friend, and if he admires me, I think you ought to be proud of it.'
+
+'You did nothing but flirt and giggle with him all the evening. What
+with you on one side and my mother on the other, I thought I must have
+left the room.'
+
+'Giggle, indeed; I don't know what you mean, sir; you never eused to say
+I giggled.'
+
+'Can't you say _used_, and not _eused_, you will never cease to be
+provincial,'
+
+'Other folks are provincial, I think, besides me. If you said your own
+mother was provincial, it 'ould be true enough.'
+
+'There again! if you are your own natural self, you leave out all your
+_w's_ directly; I wish you would be careful, Netta.'
+
+'Well, so do the French. I declare I won't speak again to-night, that I
+won't, you cross, unnatural, unfeeling fellow; and all because you're
+jealous of Owen. Madame Duvet says he's the handsomest man she ever saw,
+and that his beard is enough to win any woman's heart.'
+
+'You had better hold your tongue, I think,' said Howel, stifling a laugh
+at the idea of Owen's irresistible beard; 'you never say a word of
+sense.'
+
+'And you never say a kind word,' said Netta, breaking down at that last
+attack, and beginning to cry.
+
+'Now don't blubber, and let all the house hear you.'
+
+'I wonder whether leaving out a _w_ is half as vulgar as to tell one's
+wife not to blubber. But I won't speak to you again. I wish I hadn't
+married you, I do.'
+
+'I wish to heaven you hadn't.'
+
+At this Netta began to sob very much, and Howel softened somewhat, but
+not sufficiently to make any excuse for his conduct; and Netta went to
+bed, proud, indignant, and unhappy, and wishing herself back again at
+Glanyravon.
+
+The next morning, Owen remarked that Netta did not speak to Howel at
+all, and that she was very reserved and strange in her manner to Captain
+Dancy. The captain, however, took no notice of the change, but whilst he
+seemed to converse more than usual with Miss Simpson, anticipated all
+Netta's wants and wishes with most insinuating tact. Netta, with her
+changing colour, and half-pettish, half-shy manner, was still more
+attractive than Netta affected and silly. Owen thought that Howel felt
+this, for he went behind her chair, and put his hand on her shoulder,
+whilst he asked for some more sugar in his tea. Netta's lips pouted, but
+her eyes brightened as she said in a half whisper, 'You're sweeter than
+you were, Howel.'
+
+Howel excused the common-place allusion to the sugar, in consideration
+of the bright face that looked up at him, and so the storm lulled for
+the present.
+
+This was Owen's fourth day at Abertewey, and it was a facsimile of the
+second, with the exception that Mr and Miss Simpson and Mr Deep did not
+go to the dinner-party to which the rest went, at a neighbouring country
+house, so Owen had company at dinner, and was ordered by Netta to do the
+honours.
+
+Miss Simpson refused to play whist, and Owen declined billiards, so
+whilst Mr Deep got as much money as he could out of Mr Simpson, Owen
+devoted himself and his captivating beard to Miss Simpson.
+
+In the course of conversation that young lady informed him that she and
+her brother intended leaving Abertewey the following week, and that she
+supposed the rest of the party would soon follow for the Ascot Races,
+and she hoped Owen would join them; she was sure her papa and mamma
+would be very glad to see him. She also let out that her brother,
+Captain Dancy, and Howel had heavy bets on the different horses that
+were to run, and that she expected there would be great excitement. As
+to Mr Deep, nobody quite knew what he did, he was so very reserved and
+quiet.
+
+Owen stayed on at Abertewey day after day, he scarcely knew why. In the
+first place, he was very well amused, and liked his quarters. In the
+second, his new friends all liked him; the women for his good looks and
+open-hearted civility, the men, because he took his own course and did
+not interfere with them, and was a very amusing fellow besides. In the
+third place, he stayed on because he felt anxious about Howel and Netta
+and their way of beginning life. He had been a man careless of money
+himself all his days, but he had been, as the saying goes, no one's
+enemy but his own--he feared that Howel might turn out, not only his own
+foe but the foe of others, since he perceived that the propensities of
+his unmonied youth were strengthening and maturing in his monied
+manhood. He had no opinion of any man who would fleece another, and he
+saw that Howel and Mr Deep were preying upon the simple, conceited Mr
+Simpson, and the careless, lavish Sir Samuel Spendall. As to Mr Deep, he
+watched his opportunity of outwitting either of the four as it offered.
+
+Saturday came and passed, as usual, in visiting and gambling. A good
+many of the sporting men of the country called to see Howel's famous
+race-horse, Campaigner, in training for the St Leger, and to indulge in
+a little of the sporting gossip of the day, whilst their womankind
+indulged in more general, and equally intellectual, country gossip. Some
+of the young men stayed to dinner, and when Miss Simpson had duly played
+her waltzes, and Netta had gone through her French songs, _vingt-et-un_
+was proposed.
+
+Owen took his customary place by Madame Duvet, and played his usual
+game. But he had not the luck of the previous evening, and soon lost the
+five pounds he then won, and very nearly the little he possessed
+besides. When he knew that he was within a few shillings of bankruptcy
+he said,--
+
+'I am very sorry to leave such agreeable society, but if I play any more
+I shall never get to sea. Look at my purse!' holding it up and shaking
+it, 'it is very nearly empty.'
+
+'Luck will change,' said Madame Duvet. 'You shall go partners with me,'
+pointing to a large heap of money and counters.
+
+'I should be only too happy if I could bring anything to the bank, said
+Owen; 'but I am too proud to be a penniless partner.'
+
+'You need only bring yourself,' said Madame Duvet, lowering her voice,
+and giving such a glance from a pair of fine black eyes as few men could
+have withstood.
+
+Perhaps Owen would have yielded to it, for he was by no means a hero,
+had not a sudden vision of Gladys passed before his mind, followed by
+one of his mother, just as he had seen her when she bade him that last
+solemn good-night only the Tuesday in that very week. How the vision
+came he knew not, nor did he pause to ask; but it gave him strength to
+resist the temptation to begin regular gambling, a vice he had hitherto
+steadily avoided.
+
+'No,' he said, with a merry laugh; 'I cannot afford to run into debt.'
+
+'Mortgage those entailed farms of yours,' said Howel. 'I wouldn't mind
+lending you a trifle on them.'
+
+'And I will lend you five pounds without a mortgage,' said Netta.
+
+'Can't afford to borrow or mortgage,' laughed Owen. 'Besides it is
+nearly Sunday morning, and we must all break up directly,' so he slipped
+away from his seat, looked on for a few minutes, and when the party were
+again absorbed in their game, went to bed.
+
+'Well,' he thought; 'I am not as particular as I ought to be, I know,
+myself; but to play cards into Sunday morning! I could not do this. What
+would my poor mother say of Netta if she knew it? I will have a serious
+conversation with her to-morrow, when I suppose she will have an hour to
+spare, and be off on Monday. I almost wish I had never come. That Madame
+Duvet, too! One cannot help paying her attention, and she is very
+handsome and agreeable; but even if there were no Gladys, she wouldn't
+suit me; and here am I almost making her believe--Pashaw! She don't care
+for me. What a vain fellow I am! But, I suppose, as Netta says, they
+admire my beard. All but Gladys, who won't even look at it, or me. I
+wonder what she would think of me in the midst of all these fine people,
+dressed up in Howel's London attire! At any rate I shouldn't be half as
+worthy of her good opinion as when I carried that unfortunate mash to
+the Alderney, which caused the rumpus with my father. How beautiful the
+girl looked, leaning upon that fortunate animal; and what a fool I made
+of myself on the other side of her! Well, I was never so happy at home
+before; and I know it isn't right to leave my father and mother; and I
+have never done any good all my life; and I, the eldest son, and very
+nearly thirty years of age! Poor uncle and aunt gave me an education, to
+very little purpose I fear; and I shall have to answer for the use I
+have made of it, just as those Sabbath-breakers downstairs will have to
+answer for profaning this holy day. Half of it is the force of example.
+Here is Howel leading Netta to destruction, just as Gladys might lead me
+to--heaven, I verily believe. Rowland used to argue with me about
+individual responsibility, and I suppose he was in the right of it.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THE PATRON'S WIFE.
+
+
+The following morning, Netta was not well, and did not appear at the
+breakfast-table. Howel said she had a bad headache, and did not intend
+going to church.
+
+Breakfast was hurried over to prepare for a six miles' drive to church,
+and the carriage conveyed the two ladies and three of the gentlemen
+thither, resplendent with fashion and emblazoned prayer-books. Mr Deep
+did not go, and Owen determined to remain at home, in order to secure
+the desired conversation with Netta.
+
+Mr Deep, however, seized upon him first of all.
+
+It had not escaped that keen observer, that Howel had hinted the
+previous evening that Owen possessed property in reversion; which,
+indeed, he did, inasmuch as his father was a small landed proprietor,
+and had several farms of his own, descended to him from his father, and
+entailed upon Owen.
+
+Mr Deep was reading some racing calendar, and called Owen's attention to
+his brother-in-law's name in connection with the names of men of note on
+the turf. Also to his horse, Campaigner as being one of those entered
+for the Ascot races.
+
+Then he went very cautiously to work to see whether he could not induce
+Owen to bet; but he, holding up again his nearly empty purse, laughed
+his merry laugh, and said,--
+
+'I am not to be caught, Mr Deep. I hate horse-racing, and never laid a
+wager of any kind in my life. That is the only redeeming point in my
+character. Wild enough I have been, and roving all my life, but I never
+gambled. Excuse me now, as I must go and see my sister.'
+
+He went accordingly to Netta's room, and after knocking at the door,
+and hearing that she was still in bed, entered unceremoniously. He was
+at once struck with the difference between the Netta of the farm, in her
+little muslin night-cap, that he had often fairly pulled off, to get her
+to promise to leave the pretty white-curtained bed, and the lady of
+Abertewey, in lace and fine linen, reclining beneath satin drapery, in a
+room furnished most luxuriously.
+
+'Well, Netta, I have you alone at last; and now, if your head is not
+very bad, we will have a regular old-fashioned gossip,' said Owen,
+stooping to kiss the pretty flushed face of the little sister he dearly
+loved, despite her follies.
+
+'Did you stop at home for me, Owen? How very kind! I don't think any one
+else would,' said Netta.
+
+'Oh, yes, many others would if it were necessary; but I wanted to have
+you all to myself. Now I know you have been longing to ask me a hundred
+questions, but have never got beyond "How are they all at home?" yet.'
+
+Netta blushed, and stammered out, as an apology, that she had never been
+at leisure one minute all the week.
+
+By degrees she began to talk of home and her parents, and Owen was glad
+to find that as she did so she returned to her old, natural self. He
+told her everything that had happened at Glanyravon since she left it,
+save and except what related to Gladys. He never even mentioned her
+name.
+
+Netta had various ebullitions of temper during their conversation and
+declared herself greatly aggrieved by her father's conduct.
+
+'But it is just as well,' she said, 'for our positions are so different
+that we should never have got on comfortably. Howel is determined never
+to make up with father.'
+
+'I am afraid he is not likely to have the option,' said Owen, gravely.
+'But you should write and beg his pardon, Netta; you know you acted
+directly contrary to his wishes.'
+
+'I think I would write, Owen, but Howel won't hear of it; he gets
+furious if I even name Glanyravon, and can't bear any of 'em except
+you.'
+
+'Netta, I think you must use your influence to keep Howel from so much
+horse-racing and betting and card-playing.'
+
+'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a passion when I advise him.'
+
+'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think
+what my mother--'
+
+'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't
+take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'
+
+Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.
+
+'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in
+order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and
+come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'
+
+'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you?
+and they say she has a large fortune in France.'
+
+'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards
+Sundays.'
+
+'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was
+only Saturday night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see
+to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical
+Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'
+
+'She saved your mother's life when there was no one else to nurse her,
+and is an angel, if ever there was one!'
+
+Netta opened her large black eyes very wide, and burst out laughing.
+
+'_Ma foi_! is that the last? Well, indeed! I never should have suspected
+her of making an impression. But she's deep enough for anything. How
+would father like that? Irish beggar against Abertewey! Come, Howel's
+better than that any day.
+
+'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Owen, getting very red. 'And
+Gladys has done well ever since she's been at Glanyravon by every one
+belonging to us, not excepting yourself.'
+
+'Very much obliged to her, I am sure,' said Netta, suddenly sitting up
+in bed, and forgetting her headache. 'She needn't trouble herself about
+me. I fancy we are never likely to cross one another again, unless she
+chances to come a-begging to Abertewey, and then perhaps--'
+
+'And then perhaps you would give her a penny and send her on to starve.
+Oh! Netta, Netta, how were you ever my mother's daughter? But once for
+all, Netta, I will never hear one word spoken against Gladys. _I_ at
+least am thankful that I still have a mother, and I owe it to her.'
+
+'Dear me! you needn't be in such a huff directly, Owen. How was I to
+suppose you were in love with an Irish--I beg your pardon, with Miss
+Gladys O'Grady, County Kilkenny, Ireland? A very pretty name, to be
+sure! But if you don't go away I shall never be dressed by the time they
+come from church. There, go like a good boy. I 'ont offend you any
+more.'
+
+'I will go as soon as you have told me what you and Howel did in Paris.
+I seem to know nothing of your proceedings for ages past.'
+
+'It was dreadfully dull there at first, and I thought I should have
+died of it. I quite longed to be at home again. Howel was a great deal
+out, and I was alone; but then he gave me a singing master, and a French
+and dancing mistress, and made me work as hard as if I was at school
+again. In about a month Captain Dancy and Mr Simpson came over, and it
+was much more pleasant. We used to go to the opera and the play nearly
+every night, and Captain Dancy introduced me to Madame Duvet, and she
+introduced me to a great many other ladies, English and French, and we
+had a good deal of fun. I went to balls and parties, and picture
+galleries, and the Champs Elysées, and all the fashionable places.'
+
+'But where did Howel meet with Mr Deep?' interrupted Owen.
+
+'Oh! he used to be with him from the first. They are very old friends,
+Howel says, and have known one another for years; he is a very
+fashionable man, an attorney by profession. Simpson says that the races
+couldn't go on without him.'
+
+'I should think not,' said Owen, smiling; 'at all events, Mr Simpson's
+races would be at a stand still without him. Did you, did Howel play
+much abroad?'
+
+'Yes, I learned from Madame Duvet? and I think Howel and Mr Deep and the
+other gentlemen used to play all day. You know they have nothing else to
+do in Paris. It would be very dull there without cards.'
+
+'Poor Netta! is that what you learned with your little bit of French?'
+
+'I assure you, Owen, Monsieur Letellier and a dozen other Frenchmen said
+I had a beautiful accent, and that they would have thought I was born in
+Paris.'
+
+Owen laughed heartily, and Netta was offended, and told him to go away.
+Just as he was in the act of obeying, Howel appeared.
+
+'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you.
+Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand!
+How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the
+charmer is!'
+
+'Let me see the direction,' said Netta, trying to get the letter from
+her brother.
+
+'No, no,' said Owen. 'I must keep my secret for the present when it is
+all settled you shall know.'
+
+'It makes you blush, however,' laughed Howel.
+
+'Is it Mary Jones, or Anne Jenkins, or Amelia Lewis, or Miss Richards,
+doctor, or Jemima Thomas--or--or--perhaps it is Gladys. Ha, ha! do you
+know, Howel, Owen's last is mother's Irish girl, Gladys?'
+
+'Really?' sneered Howel. 'My mother tells me that she ran away from
+Glanyravon, and report says with somebody we know of. But report was
+false as usual; and she turns up again as Miss Gwynne's lady's maid.
+Miss Gwynne is about as eccentric as the rest of the clique, and I wish
+her joy of her bargain. The girl is a beauty, certainly, but--'
+
+'Hush, Howel!' cried Netta; 'Owen was nearly boxing my ears about her
+just now.'
+
+'Not exactly, Netta,' said Owen, smothering rising anger, and looking
+very red; 'but I won't hear a word said against her either by man or
+woman. I am going to read my letter now, and you are going to get up, so
+I won't stop here any longer,' and Owen left the room.
+
+He went at once to his own bedroom, where he hastily broke open the
+letter Howel had given him, and read as follows:--
+
+     'GLANYRAVON PARK, _May_----.
+
+     'SIR,--I hope you will excuse my boldness in writing to you; but
+     having heard that you are at Abertewey, I take the liberty of doing
+     so, to tell you that your leaving home has made us all very
+     unhappy. Oh! Mr Owen, if you would only go back and see your dear
+     mother and honoured father, and learn how lonely they are without
+     you, I think you would give up the sea, or at least remain with
+     them for some time. If you would write to the master, or say a few
+     gentle words to him, he would overlook your going to see your
+     sister, I am almost sure; and, indeed, it breaks my heart to know
+     that I was the cause of your going away so suddenly, after you had
+     been so long at home, and so good to your parents.
+
+     'Then, dear Mr Owen, you, who have been always so kind to me, a
+     poor orphan wanderer, and beggar at your father's gate, do, I pray
+     you, add this one favour more to the many you have done me, and
+     return to your parents, to take leave of them at least before you
+     go away. Hoping you will forgive my writing to you on this subject,
+     believe me to remain, Mr Owen, your obedient and grateful servant,
+     GLADYS O'GRADY.'
+
+When Owen had read this letter twice, he devoutly kissed it, and
+exclaimed,--
+
+'This favour, Gladys! ay, and a thousand more, if you will only write to
+me, and let one little "_dear_" slip in unawares every time you ask one.
+I suppose I had better write to father to-day, and follow my letter
+to-morrow.'
+
+Owen sat down at once, and wrote the following brief epistle:--
+
+     'MY DEAR FATHER,--If I have offended you in any way, I am very
+     sorry. I didn't mean to do so, and shall return to-morrow to ask
+     pardon in person; but, remember, I am just as much in love with
+     Gladys as ever, and don't mean to curry favour about her. With best
+     love to mother, I am, your affectionate son, OWEN.'
+
+That day at luncheon Owen announced his intention of leaving Abertewey
+the following morning.
+
+'To see the fair lady who wrote that neat note?' said Howel.
+
+'Probably so,' replied Owen.
+
+'Where are you going? We shall miss you dreadfully,' said Madame Duvet,
+with an entreating glance.
+
+'I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,' said Miss Simpson:
+'at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet. I
+have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension
+of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.'
+
+'We may as well all go together, then,' said Captain Dancy, 'as I must
+be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday. When are you coming,
+Jenkins?'
+
+'Only in time for Ascot. I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and
+shall probably only remain the race week. Mrs Jenkins is not going up,
+and I shall not like to leave her long alone. Owen, you must come over
+and see her when I am away.'
+
+'I think you had better stay at home, Howel. You will run less risk in
+taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.'
+
+'Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence. But although I am going
+home, I don't know how long I may stay there. Perhaps shall be off to
+sea in a few days.'
+
+'I will use your own words,' said Madame Duvet, 'and say better stay at
+home, and take care of--let me see--yourself, I suppose. You will run
+less risk than at sea.'
+
+Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel's words, as he was
+not sure that he knew his own business best. But he did not add that he
+should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.
+
+Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen's
+opinion of its inmates. French novels and betting-books were their
+sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from
+the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after
+luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any
+amount of frivolity. Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how
+soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel assured her he
+should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in
+June, it cleared again.
+
+Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning. Netta whispered
+'Give my love to mother,' and had a very large tear in her black eye, as
+he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after
+days. Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied
+him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.
+
+When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him
+with joyful love. His father came in soon after his return, and greeted
+him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore
+patiently, and to which he replied as follows:--
+
+'Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I
+don't think I deserve it. As I am of age, and a few years past that
+period, you must let me have a will of my own.'
+
+'I think you have always had one,' roared the farmer.
+
+'Yes, but not at home, father. I was obliged to run away to get it. But
+now I mean to stay at home if you will let me. Gladys is gone away, so I
+don't stay on her account.'
+
+'I'm not seure of that. You never stayed on ours.'
+
+'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough
+of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at
+present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I
+suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got
+them you won't object, I suppose?'
+
+'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements
+made here.'
+
+'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and
+the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I
+do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I
+really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought
+to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past
+as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the
+humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot,
+and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You
+know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If
+you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.'
+
+Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech,
+in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The
+honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh
+passion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were;
+but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so--now, don't be a
+fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises
+to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your
+tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He
+'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.'
+
+'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll
+be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.'
+
+Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future
+chapters will show whether Owen kept his word.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE MAN OF THE WORLD.
+
+
+Two or three months passed, and no particular event happened either at
+the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now
+established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had
+seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had
+scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable
+meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his
+endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless.
+
+Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant
+spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,--Miss Nugent in
+particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations
+were making to celebrate the event.
+
+On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent
+is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go
+away, but is too polite to do so.
+
+'You know, Freda,' she says, 'I have been longing to be of age for
+yearth. Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never
+dared to thpeak to a gentleman. Now I can do ath I like.'
+
+'And what will you have to say?' asked Freda, bluntly. 'I never hear you
+venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.'
+
+'Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.'
+
+'Just tell me one or two.'
+
+'Let me thee. Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London,
+and--and--muthic--'
+
+'Is that all?'
+
+'You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but
+one cannot think of them all at onthe. Every one ithent tho clever ath
+you. Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.
+Gentlemen didn't like ladieth who talked too much.'
+
+'Indeed! Where was your mamma when he said that?'
+
+'Oh! the didn't hear him. Do you know I think the liketh Colonel
+Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me. He thaid he would come down when I came
+of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.'
+
+'To your mamma, or you?'
+
+'To me quite alone. But you needn't look tho croth and fierthe, Freda. I
+couldn't help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.'
+
+'What compliments?'
+
+'Oh! I can't tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure
+he made me bluth.'
+
+'Did you believe him?'
+
+'Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.'
+
+'Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and
+yourself?'
+
+'Well, yeth, of courth.'
+
+'Then why don't you sometimes talk of some one else? Do you like Colonel
+Vaughan, for instance?'
+
+'Oh! I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland
+Prothero. He ith younger. Mamma thaith--'
+
+'There again, Wilhelmina!'
+
+'I forgot--you are tho quick, Freda. Don't you like Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+'Pretty well sometimes.'
+
+'What a colour you have, Freda. You thouldn't draw tho much. I with I
+had a tathte for drawing. Colonel Vaughan drawth tho well!'
+
+'What can his drawing well have to do with your drawing?'
+
+'He would look over my drawing then ath he doth yourth, Freda. He thaith
+you are very clever. But you mutht be nearly five-and-twenty, Freda; and
+he thaith no woman ought ever to be more than twenty-one,'
+
+'When did he favour you with that remark? I think I once heard him say
+twenty-five was the most charming age of all.'
+
+At this part of the conversation the subject of it entered the room, and
+whilst Freda's colour rose higher and higher, and she stooped more
+closely over her drawing, Miss Nugent got up and greeted him with great
+delight. Freda made up her mind not to speak, that she might listen to
+the conversation that ensued.
+
+'Are all the preparations progressing, Miss Nugent? What are we to do to
+celebrate the great event?' asked the colonel.
+
+'There ith to be an oxth roathed for the poor people, and tea on the
+lawn, and a ball in the evening, you know, colonel.'
+
+'Oh, yes, I am looking forwards to that, and to the first dance.
+Remember you promised me.'
+
+'Oh, yeth, I am thure of plenty of partnerth.'
+
+'I should imagine so. We men must have very bad taste if we let you sit
+down. Did you walk here this morning?'
+
+'No, I rode. The hortheth are taken round. I have been here a long time
+with Freda. It ith thuch a nice morning, ithn't it, Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+'Delightful! What do you mean to do when you are your own mistress? I
+quite fancy how grand you will feel when you have struck the magic
+hour.'
+
+'I darethay I thall be jutht the thame, unleth I get married.'
+
+Freda glances up, and perceives a smile of amusement on Colonel
+Vaughan's lips, and the usual calm inanity on Miss Nugent's handsome
+features.
+
+'That will depend on yourself, I am sure,' said the colonel.
+
+Freda looks again, and sees the colonel's magnificent eyes fixed on the
+young lady, who returns his glance, and simpers out,--
+
+'I darethay it will.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan turns suddenly, and encounters Freda's glance.
+
+'How does the drawing get on Freda? Capitally! What a sky! quite
+artistic.'
+
+This is said whilst looking over Freda's shoulder, but she does not
+respond to the remark.
+
+'I wath jutht thaying I with I could draw. It mutht be thuth a nithe
+amuthement.'
+
+'Very. How is Lady Mary, to-day? I am ashamed to say I forgot to ask for
+her.'
+
+'Very well, thank you. The thaid you promithed to come over and help to
+arrange the decorationth. I hope you will.'
+
+'Thank you, yes. Perhaps Miss Gwynne will ride over with me to-morrow;
+will you, Freda?'
+
+'I am engaged to-morrow,' said Freda shortly.
+
+'You will come at any rate, if Freda won't?' said Miss Nugent; 'the
+alwayth thayth the ith engaged when we athk her. Now, don't be engaged
+on Thurthday. I muth go now; will you be tho kind ath to ring for the
+hortheth, Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+The horses were ordered, and the colonel assisted the young heiress to
+mount. She looked remarkably well on horseback, and even Freda was
+obliged to allow that she and her grey mare would have made a fine
+equestrian statue. She saw Colonel Vaughan look at her, and even watch
+her down the drive. When he returned to the drawing-room, he said,--
+
+'What is the matter, Miss Freda? Have the domestic deities been adverse
+this morning? I am afraid you are very--cross,'
+
+'Thank you, Colonel Vaughan. I am not at all--cross.'
+
+'Have I had the misfortune to offend you?'
+
+'You? by no means. But I do not wish to assist in any of the Nugent
+decorations. I am not so fond of the family as you may imagine; Lady
+Mary and Miss Nugent are less than indifferent to me. Lady Mary is a
+mere manoeuvrer, that no straightforward person could like; and Miss
+Nugent is a mere handsome wax figure, with such clever machinery inside,
+that she can literally say the words, "mamma thaith." I have heard of a
+doll who could say "mamma," but she is still cleverer.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan bit his lips, knit his forehead, but smiled. 'You are
+severe upon your neighbours, Freda.'
+
+'Do you admire them, then? do you think Miss Nugent altogether charming?
+or will she be perfect in your eyes the day after to-morrow?'
+
+'If perfection consists in being a beauty and an heiress, I need not go
+away from Glanyravon to seek one, Freda.'
+
+'Do you stereotype your compliments? I hear that you pay them wherever
+you go, and I hate compliments, particularly from people whose good
+opinion I value. Besides, I am neither a beauty nor an heiress, and to
+be complimented in almost the same words as Miss Nugent is too
+contemptible.'
+
+'You do not suppose that I class you together, Freda?'
+
+'I am thankful to say that you cannot do that, Colonel Vaughan, at least
+if I know myself at all; but, after all, I may be infinitely her
+inferior.'
+
+Freda got up from her drawing with a very flushed face. She knew that
+she had said more than she meant to say, and that Colonel Vaughan was
+scrutinising her with his calm, collected mind and penetrating eyes.
+
+'I am going out now, and you promised to ride with papa, I think,' she
+said abruptly.
+
+'But you must not go until you have told me how I have displeased you,'
+said Colonel Vaughan, rising and detaining her. He had such a power over
+her that he always wormed her thoughts out of her.
+
+'I did not like to hear you saying what you did not mean, to Miss
+Nugent,' said Freda, as if she were obliged to make a confession; 'and I
+think it beneath a man like you to pay frivolous compliments to a girl
+you must despise.'
+
+'Oh, is that all! I make a point of complimenting handsome girls, _pour
+passer le temps_; it is the only way of getting on with half of them.
+You must forgive me this once.'
+
+Freda looked at him, and even he, clever as he was, could not tell
+whether her glance expressed pity, contempt, or love. She turned away,
+and left the room without speaking; he made another movement to detain
+her, but she was gone; his thoughts were as follows:--
+
+'Charming girl! yes, she is charming: of a truthful, noble, trusting
+nature; still too _prononcée_ for a woman. I scarcely think I love, much
+as I must admire that sort of girl; and as a wife, I should be afraid of
+her. Yet she provokes me, interests me. She is jealous of those Nugents,
+and if she doesn't take care, they will cut her out, mother and
+daughter, with their manoeuvres and wax; and she will be heiress of
+Glanyravon no longer. Better the waxen heiress, Miss Nugent, with thirty
+thousand pounds in possession in some thirty-six hours, than the iron
+heiress, Miss Gwynne, with Glanyravon _in futuro_.
+
+'Moreover, the one may be moulded into any shape one pleases--the other
+must have her own opinion, and her own way, unless a man beat her into
+subjection. Certainly, few people were ever more fortunately, or
+perplexingly placed, than I am just now.
+
+'Between two young women, handsome, rich, of good family; if I mistake
+not, in love with me, and to be had for the asking. But if I married
+Freda, Mr Gwynne would marry Lady Nugent directly; and then one could
+tell what would become of the property. If, on the other hand, I were to
+marry Miss Nugent, I should incur the utmost contempt of which Miss
+Gwynne is capable, and should not wholly esteem myself. But why am I
+thinking of marrying at all? Because I am forty years old, and found a
+grey hair in my whiskers yesterday; because I am tired of an unsettled
+life, and should like to clear off the old place, and end my days there;
+and because, after all, a married man has a better position than a
+single one. If that girl Gladys were in the place of either heiress, I
+would not hesitate a moment. I declare she would grace a coronet; no
+wonder all the young men round are in love with her. And yet, meet her
+when I will, I can scarcely get more than 'yes,' and 'no,' out of her.
+
+'It is utterly impossible she can be what she seems, or is supposed to
+be. I never saw more thoroughly aristocratic beauty in our most
+aristocratic circles. Miss Nugent is as handsome as a woman can well be,
+in form and feature; but her eyes are like two frozen pools, whereas
+this Gladys, are literally two deep blue lakes with stars shining into
+them, or out of them, or something or other that a poet would describe
+better than I do. Well, what a fool I am! "A dream of fair women," in my
+fortieth year, just as I dreamt of them in my sixteenth. The Fates must
+decide for me, only I wish they would clear up the mystery that hangs
+over that girl, and give her Miss Nugent's thirty thousand pounds.'
+
+Such were the thoughts that rushed through Colonel Vaughan's mind, as he
+sat, apparently looking at Freda's drawing in the place that she had
+vacated. We have unveiled a portion of his mind, because he is too good
+a tactician to unveil it himself. It is needless to say that this
+fascinating man, who has that nameless power which some men possess of
+making all women love him, has himself no heart to bestow on any one.
+Beyond the gratification of the moment, he is totally indifferent to all
+the consequences of his powers. He is not a bad man, he would not do
+anything that the world--his world, at least--would consider
+dishonourable; but as to reflecting upon the cruelty of inflicting
+wounds, never to be healed, upon the hearts of young ladies--why, he
+would as soon reflect upon the wounds he gave an enemy in the
+battle-field. He considers Cupid as fair game as Mars, and thinks that
+if women will be weak, and if he is irresistible, it is no fault of his,
+but rather their and his misfortune.
+
+Young ladies! the vulgar saying that a woman should never give her heart
+to a man until she is asked for it, is, like many vulgar sayings, a good
+one. Colonel Vaughan is the type of a class amongst which all are liable
+to be thrown; and although men of his talent, knowledge of the world,
+and apparent sincerity are rare, you may each of you meet with one such.
+If you do, beware of falling in love with him until he plainly tells you
+that he is in love with you, and asks if you are willing to marry him.
+
+Colonel Vaughan leaves the drawing-room in search of Mr Gwynne, humming
+a little Scotch air, the _refrain_ of which is 'and troth I'll wed ye
+a,' a thing he has often wished he could actually do.
+
+He finds Mr Gwynne in his library, and reminds him of the promised ride.
+The horses are ordered, and they are soon trotting down the drive. As if
+by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary
+Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully
+situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and
+river.
+
+The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals
+with great glee. As Lady Mary is not at all certain that Colonel
+Vaughan's attentions are not exclusively meant for her, she divides her
+civilities with a charming tact between the two gentlemen, and looks so
+captivating whilst she does so, that the colonel wishes that her
+statue-like daughter had a little of her animation.
+
+Everything that art and taste can devise is collected to adorn the
+ladies and their abode, and if nature is lacking within doors, she is
+profuse in her gifts without.
+
+There is nothing worth recording in the conversation; if Colonel Vaughan
+had thought it over afterwards, he would probably have laughed at the
+platitudes he had uttered, and wondered why people paid morning visits.
+The coming of age was a grand topic, and the colonel promised to go
+again the following day, and 'help in the decorations.'
+
+When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr Gwynne proposed a ride through
+his plantations, which he was improving and enlarging. They went
+accordingly. On their way they stopped at a small farm to inquire for
+one of Mr Gwynne's tenants, who was dangerously ill. Mr Gwynne
+dismounted, and as he entered the house, Gladys came out; she curtseyed
+as she passed Colonel Vaughan, who said,--
+
+'How is the invalid, Gladys? I take it for granted you have been to see
+him.'
+
+'Yes, sir, Miss Gwynne sent me with some jelly. He is better, I hope?'
+
+'And are you going home now?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'Stay one moment; will you give the poor man this half-crown when you
+see him again?'
+
+Gladys approached, and took the half-crown, but with it there was
+half-a-sovereign.
+
+'The rest is for yourself, to do what you like with,' added the colonel,
+in a low voice.
+
+'Thank you, sir, but I never take money,' said Gladys, leaving the gold
+in his hand, 'I do not need it.'
+
+'Give it to the poor, then,' said the colonel, letting it drop, and
+looking annoyed.
+
+'Certainly, sir, if you wish it; I will tell Miss Gwynne, and she will
+know to whom to give it.'
+
+'By no means--I mean it for you.'
+
+'Sir, you will excuse me, I would rather not,' said Gladys, curtseying
+again, and hastening on.
+
+Colonel Vaughan called to a boy who was near, and told him to pick up
+the money and give it to him.
+
+'How often does that young lady come here?' he asked.
+
+'Almost every day, sir,' was the reply.
+
+'At what time?'
+
+'In the afternoon, sir, from three to five, or thereabouts.'
+
+'Goes back in time to help Miss Gwynne dress for dinner,' thought the
+colonel; 'what a lovely face it is! And what grace of movement.'
+
+He watched Gladys cross the farm-yard, and disappear in the plantations,
+through which there was a private path to the house.
+
+Mr Gwynne and he passed her again as they rode on, and she curtseyed
+once more, Mr Gwynne nodding to her kindly as she looked at him.
+
+'Who _is_ that girl, Mr Gwynne?'
+
+'Oh! my daughter's maid, I believe. A very pretty, modest young woman,
+and all that sort of thing. Freda is very fond of her.'
+
+They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys
+that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in
+the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and
+particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre. He
+punished her by playing chess with her father nearly all the evening,
+and leaving her to a variety of reflections that were anything but
+satisfactory to her.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE TEMPTER.
+
+
+'I particularly wish you to go, Gladys, and there will be plenty of
+time. He was worse when I saw him yesterday, and I promised to send you
+to-day to read to him, and take him some wine. I shall not want you till
+five, and my dress is quite ready. They dine at half-past six, and the
+evening party are invited for nine, I believe.'
+
+This was said by Miss Gwynne to Gladys, at about half-past two o'clock,
+on the day of Miss Nugent's festivities.
+
+'Very well, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'I will make as much haste as
+possible.'
+
+'Do you know where Colonel Vaughan is, Gladys?' asked Miss Gwynne.
+
+'I heard some one say, ma'am, that he and Mr Gwynne had walked to
+Pentre, to see the dinner on the lawn.'
+
+'Oh! By the way, would you have liked to have gone to see these said
+diversions? If so, I can send some one else with the wine.'
+
+'Oh no, thank you, ma'am. I would much rather walk to see poor Lloyd.'
+
+'Then you had better make haste.'
+
+Gladys was soon on her way, through the wood, to the farm mentioned in
+the last chapter. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk on that lovely July
+day, and thought she had never heard the birds sing so sweetly before.
+
+In truth, Gladys had not been so happy since her sorrows as she was now.
+She felt independent, and placed in a position where she knew her exact
+duties. She devoted herself and her time wholly to Miss Gwynne, and was
+repaid, not only by regular wages, but by kindness, and even affection
+from her mistress.
+
+There was increased colour on her cheek, brightness in her eyes, mirth
+in her smile, elasticity in her step, and life in her whole being as she
+entered the cottage whither she was sent.
+
+She found her patient better, and having given him some wine, read to
+him, and helped his wife to make his bed. She was preparing to leave the
+farm, when Owen made his appearance. He came, ostensibly to see the sick
+man, but prefaced his visit to him by shaking hands with Gladys, and
+talking to her.
+
+When she left the house, he followed her into the yard.
+
+'I have caught you at last, Gladys. You always run away from me as if I
+were a monster.'
+
+'No, Mr Owen, you are mistaken.'
+
+'Then why don't you come and see us oftener?'
+
+'Because I have a great deal to do, sir; and I do not think Mr Prothero
+wishes to see me.'
+
+'You thrive upon your absence, Gladys. I never saw any one look so much
+better.'
+
+'How is the dear mistress, Mr Owen? and your father? and Lion? and the
+cows? and--and--'
+
+'Not so fast, Gladys. Come and see. They are all quite well. And the
+Alderney is my particular charge.'
+
+Gladys blushed and smiled.
+
+'You see I came home because you told me, and am as steady as old Time.
+Don't I look so? I am going to shave off my beard--do you approve?'
+
+'No,' said Gladys, laughing. She scarcely knew why she felt more at ease
+with Owen in her present than in her past position.
+
+'Then I won't do it. Did you hear that I was going to be married to Miss
+Richards, Dr Richards' daughter?'
+
+'Yes, sir. I was told so.'
+
+Why did Gladys blush so very much more than before, and say the 'sir' so
+stiffly?
+
+'Then you may deny it, for it is not true. I have not changed, Gladys,
+since--do you remember the Alderney?'
+
+Gladys' smile said that she did.
+
+'But I am on parole, both to you and my father. I am quite ready to
+break it with your leave.'
+
+'I must go, Mr Owen--Miss Gwynne will be waiting for me. Will you give
+my duty to the dear mistress?'
+
+'I will take your love to her, Gladys, and keep half of it. May I walk
+with you?'
+
+'If you please not, Mr Owen. I would rather not.'
+
+'Are you happy? just tell me this.'
+
+'Very--very. Miss Gwynne is so good. I can only be happy. Good-bye, Mr
+Owen.'
+
+'Good-bye, dear Gladys,' said Owen, pressing her trembling hand that she
+held out to him, and opening the farm-yard gate for her to go out.
+
+As Gladys hurried on with a light heart and light step, she little
+thought that those kind eyes which had looked so lovingly at her were
+clouded with the mists of jealousy in less than five minutes after she
+had left the farm. She could not guess that the boy who had picked up
+the half sovereign for Colonel Vaughan would give Owen the history of
+the same, and would tell him that Gladys had dropped it, but that he was
+pretty sure she had more money in her hand.
+
+Unconscious of anything but sunshine above and within, she hastened on,
+thinking of Owen, in spite of her resolution not to think of him--a
+resolution she was making and breaking from morning till night. Her
+thoughts were turned into another channel, however, by the appearance of
+Colonel Vaughan, who suddenly came upon her from one of the many
+cross-paths in the wood.
+
+She curtseyed slightly, and was about to pass him, but he turned and
+walked with her.
+
+'Gladys,' he began, 'I wish to know why you refused the money I offered
+you yesterday.'
+
+'Because, sir, I did not think it right to take it,' answered Gladys,
+promptly.
+
+'Why! what harm could there have been?'
+
+Gladys quickened her steps, but did not answer.
+
+'Not so fast, Gladys. I have you at last, in spite of yourself. You have
+avoided me hitherto, both when you were at Prothero's and here, and
+purposely misunderstood me--now you must walk through the wood with me,
+and at my pace, for I must speak to you.'
+
+'Sir, Miss Gwynne expects me early,' said Gladys, with wonderful dignity
+of manner, which was not lost upon the colonel--'_she_ is my mistress,
+and I must obey her. I shall be obliged by your letting me go on.'
+
+'We will both go on, but leisurely and together. I have much to say to
+you, and I may not have another opportunity.'
+
+Gladys tried to pass on, but finding that Colonel Vaughan's hand was on
+her arm, and that he was resolved to detain her, she endeavoured to
+summon up all her resolution and sense, and to answer his questions,
+whatever they might be, according to what she might think right.
+
+'You will be so good as to account to my mistress for this delay, sir,'
+she said. 'I am no longer a free agent.'
+
+'I shall do no such thing; neither will you, I hope?'
+
+'I most certainly shall, if necessary.'
+
+'Never mind; I must know, at all risks, who and what you are.'
+
+'I am Irish on my father's side, and Welsh on my mother's; my name is
+O'Grady.'
+
+'But you were not born in the position you now occupy?'
+
+'My father was a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers; I was brought up to
+work for my bread.'
+
+'And your mother?'
+
+'Was the daughter, I believe, of a clergyman.'
+
+'I was sure of that--and she educated you?'
+
+'She taught me what she herself knew.'
+
+'What brought you into Wales?'
+
+'Starvation.'
+
+'How did you get to Mr Prothero's?'
+
+'I was a beggar and they took me in out of charity.'
+
+'Why did you leave them and come here?'
+
+'Because they wished it.'
+
+'Say because Owen Prothero was in love with you.'
+
+No answer.
+
+'Do you love that rough sailor?'
+
+No answer.
+
+'I must know all, Gladys. I must and will.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan, I shall only answer such questions as you, as a
+gentleman, may _think_ you have a right to ask a friendless girl, whom
+you forcibly detain. You _know_ you have no right to ask this.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan looked at the usually shy girl, and saw a spirit and
+resolution in her bearing that he had not believed were in her.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Gladys, I was wrong. Can you endure the state of
+dependence you are now in?'
+
+'I consider myself independent I work for my bread, and am paid for it.'
+
+'But you might be independent without working.'
+
+'Impossible, unless beggary is independence.'
+
+'Quite possible; I am sure you must feel your dependence on such an
+imperious mistress as you now have.'
+
+'My present mistress, sir, Miss Gwynne, is far too noble to let any one
+feel dependent, even those who are, like myself, wholly her servants.'
+
+'You like Miss Gwynne?'
+
+'I respect and love her. Perhaps you will now let me go to her.'
+
+'Not yet. This independence. I could make you independent.'
+
+'You! How? Impossible!'
+
+'I love you, Gladys.'
+
+'Me! This to me! Is it to insult me that you have detained me? Let me
+go, sir--I insist--and my mistress! You, Colonel Vaughan, who have been
+paying her such attentions as no man has a right to pay a lady unless he
+loves her, to dare to say this to me, and I a servant in her house. You,
+sharing her father's hospitality, to deceive her, and insult me. What
+have I done to encourage you to speak thus to me?'
+
+Gladys stood still amidst the lights and shadows of the sun-crowned
+trees, and looked the colonel steadily in the face. That look, voice,
+manner, completed the conquest that had been maturing for weeks and
+months. The flushed cheek, the sparkling eyes, the tall, slight, erect
+figure, the voice, deportment--all were those of a lady in mind as well
+as person.
+
+'Gladys, hear me calmly. I do not wish to insult you; I have never meant
+anything by my attentions to Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Then you are a--'
+
+Gladys checked herself.
+
+'A villain, you would say. Not at all. I merely pay Miss Gwynne the
+civilities due to her. I am not obliged to fall in love with every young
+lady in whose father's house I am visiting. But I admired you the first
+moment I saw you; and now, at this moment, I vow that I love you as I
+never loved in my life before.'
+
+They stood face to face, looking at each other. Gladys' eyes drooped
+before the gaze of the colonel.
+
+'This to me!' she exclaimed, 'and yet you say you do not insult me! Let
+me go, sir, I insist!'
+
+She tried to hasten on, but the strong hand was again on her arm.
+
+'I do not insult you, Gladys, I honour and respect you. If you will
+only say you love me, I will--yes, I will--I think, at least--I will
+marry you privately, and take you abroad at once. I vow this is more
+than I ever said to any woman in my life before.'
+
+'And you will repent having said it to me before the night is out,
+Colonel Vaughan, and you do not mean it. Think of who I am; think of
+Miss Gwynne; think of yourself. Oh! this is cruel, cruel jesting to
+all!'
+
+'I was never more serious in my life.'
+
+As Colonel Vaughan said this, he saw nothing, thought of nothing, but
+the peculiar beauty of the creature who stood, flushed and agitated, at
+his side. He forgot himself and his purposes, in his temporary blind
+admiration.
+
+'Now, Gladys, I await your answer,' he said, not doubting what that
+answer would be.
+
+'I have no answer to give, sir, because I know that, even if you now
+think yourself in earnest, you will be no longer so to-night.'
+
+'Before we leave this wood, girl, I will and must have an answer, and
+beware how you irritate me.'
+
+He seized her hand as he spoke, and held it tight.
+
+'You will release me before I answer you, sir; I have gone through too
+many dangers and temptations to be frightened into speech.'
+
+He released her hand, but kept his eyes fixed on her face. She did not
+quail, though she felt her heart beat violently.
+
+'If you are serious, sir, I ought, I suppose, to be grateful for so
+strange an honour; but I do not believe you are so, and my answer is,
+that a servant such as I, can have nothing to say to a gentleman such as
+you.'
+
+'A servant! You will be no longer a servant. You are not one at this
+moment.'
+
+Again he seized her hand. She was frightened, but did not loose her
+self-command.
+
+'Sir, you had now better let me return home. Miss Gwynne will wonder
+what has become of me. It is time that she should be ready--that you,
+sir, should be ready. What will she think and say?'
+
+'I care not; nothing shall turn me from my purpose. You shall not leave
+this wood until you promise.'
+
+'Then I shall never leave it, sir; and if you persist in detaining me, I
+will make known to every one, how a gentleman can demean himself to a
+poor, unprotected girl, who has no friend near her but her God. To Him I
+appeal for help in this hour, when you, sir, a gentleman and a
+Christian, so far forget yourself as to insult and persecute me.'
+
+As Gladys spoke, she lifted her eyes solemnly to heaven--both her hands
+were held by Colonel Vaughan.
+
+As he gazed at her, he suddenly relaxed his hold, saying, 'You are a
+wonderful girl! I do not persecute you, but I will not give you up.'
+
+No sooner did Gladys feel the grasp loosen, than she made a sudden
+bound, almost a leap, onwards, and ran with incredible swiftness through
+the path.
+
+Colonel Vaughan pursued her, but soon found that she ran more swiftly
+than he did. However, he would not give up the chase, and in spite of
+the hot sun, ran on, in somewhat undignified haste and anger.
+
+Every one knows that winding paths in plantations are not always
+perfectly smooth. So found our gallant colonel to his cost.
+
+With his eyes fixed on the quickly vanishing form of Gladys, how was he
+to see the gnarled root of an oak, that sprung up through the ground,
+directly in his path? His foot caught in it, and he fell with
+considerable violence upon his face. He got up again as quickly as he
+could, cursing his carelessness and folly.
+
+He felt that he had knocked his somewhat prominent nose rather severely,
+and to his great dismay, found that it was bleeding copiously.
+
+All further pursuit was out of the question. He must staunch the blood
+of the much-offending member, and being rather giddy for the moment, sat
+down to do so.
+
+It is said that any sudden and violent blow sobers a drunkard; so did
+this unforeseen fall sober the mental intoxication of the colonel. As
+his nose bled, so did his intellect clear. Bleeding, on the old system,
+was never more successful.
+
+This was truly a descent, if not from the sublime, at least from the
+heroic, to the ridiculous. Panting with heat, bleeding, apostrophising,
+the lover came to his senses.
+
+Partly aloud, at intervals, partly muttered between his teeth, he gave
+forth the following sentences; and when he became calm he thought the
+subsequent thoughts, which, although he did not rail them forth against
+the rooks and smaller birds, we will venture to repeat, for the further
+elucidating the mystery of his mind.
+
+'Fool to let go her arm! No; fool to take it at all! What a girl! I
+never saw such--pho! How it bleeds! Will it never stop! They'll think
+there's been a murder here. What could possess me to run after her? A
+rustic coquette! Rustic! No; a most courtly one. She had me fairly in
+her power. But she has too much sense to tell. 'Pon my word, I never
+loved any one so much before. Disgusting! All over my cravat. If I were
+to meet any one? If Freda were to see me, what would she think or say?
+And I actually talked of marriage. Let me see; what did I say? But
+nobody could believe her. Pshaw! what a fool I have been. Suppose she
+had taken me at my word, and accepted me, I wonder how I could have got
+out of it! There is such a power in her eyes, that as long as I am
+looking at them she could make me do anything. I wish she was the
+heiress, and not Miss Nugent. Yes; and I shall be too late for dinner.
+What will they think? I vow, I am so giddy I can scarcely walk; and this
+horrible bleeding won't stop. I must stuff this bunch of keys down my
+back, and see what that will do. Well! if that isn't enough to cool any
+one's courage, together with this disgusting--I must go on, and get into
+my room as quickly as possible. I vow, it is just six o'clock. If she
+tells Freda! But she won't do that--no woman ever does. She'll think it
+over, and manage to let me see her again--and then--and then--I shall
+not be able to resist her eyes, and she shall not be able to resist
+mine. The witch! A mere servant to do what no woman ever has done, or
+ever would do--positively refuse me. But she knows her power, I daresay.
+There it is bleeding again, and I thought I had stopped it. I am just at
+home though, and if I go round by the stables no one can make any
+remarks. Confound this--here's the coachman in full hue and cry after
+me. Yes, I will dress directly. Thomas! tell your master not to wait.
+The heat has made my nose bleed, and detained me. If he and Miss Gwynne
+will go on, you can drive back for me, and I shall be in time for the
+ball. Beg them to make my excuses to Lady Mary Nugent, and explain how
+it is. You are quite right. It has bled tremendously; but I shall stop
+it as soon as I get to my room.'
+
+It need not be said that the concluding portion of Colonel Vaughan's
+speech was addressed to a servant, who came in search of him with the
+intelligence that the carriage was waiting, and his master ready. He
+managed to get to his room, however, unperceived, where we will leave
+him to dress and recover himself at his leisure.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE RIVALS.
+
+
+We will now return to Miss Gwynne, who pursued her usual avocations
+until about five o'clock, and then began to wonder what detained
+Gladys. However, as she was quite independent of maids in her toilette,
+she went to her room and began to dress herself at the usual hour. She
+found all her attire already spread upon the bed, as if Gladys
+anticipated being late; nothing was wanting, and she had nothing to do
+but to dress.
+
+As it happened, however, she was particularly anxious to look her best
+that evening; why, she would not even ask herself; but she, who was
+usually careless of what she wore, provided she were properly attired,
+began to fidget over wreaths and ornaments as if she were going to her
+first ball.
+
+'Miss Nugent will be all jewels,' she said, taking up a set of pearls
+that was on the dressing-table. 'At any rate, I will not be like her.
+And, of course, she will wear white, so I shall change my mind and won't
+wear white. Where is Gladys? The only evening I ever really wanted her,
+she is out of the way.'
+
+Miss Gwynne rang her bell violently, and the housemaid answered it.
+
+'Send Gladys. Surely she is come back.'
+
+'No, ma'am. I can't think where she is. I went a little way to look for
+her, but she is not in sight. Can I do anything, ma'am?'
+
+'No, thank you; but send Gladys as soon as she comes. Provoking,'
+continued Miss Gwynne, turning out two or three shelves of a large
+wardrobe. 'Where are the trimmings of that blue dress? He said I looked
+best in blue, and so, I think, I do. That wreath of blue forget-me-nots
+and lilies of the valley, where in the world is it? But forget-me-nots
+are so ridiculously sentimental; and the turquoise ornaments? I suppose
+I must wear the bracelets and locket. Oh! here they are; and here are
+the flowers and trimmings in a box, in the neatest possible order.'
+
+Miss Gwynne began to arrange her hair.
+
+'I declare I have forgotten how to do anything since Gladys has been
+with me. I cannot put up this braid neatly. I must wait, and it is
+nearly six o'clock, and dinner at half-past. What does it matter how I
+look? I daresay Miss Nugent will look twenty times as well, and her
+mother will dress her up to perfection. But he _cannot_ care for such a
+girl as that. It is impossible; and he always looks at me with such
+interest, and has such a kind manner, and says things that convey so
+much. But if he really cares for me, why does he not say so? He knows
+papa would consent, and--but he does not know that; I never--Ah! here
+she is at last! Come in! Where have you been, Gladys? It really is too
+provoking that you should have stayed so long, when you knew that I
+particularly wanted you to-day.' Gladys enters the room pale and
+breathless, just as Miss Gwynne is endeavouring to fasten in the wreath
+of forget-me-nots and lilies. She does not turn round, and is at the
+moment too much engrossed with her own appearance to think of Gladys.
+
+'Come quickly and finish my hair, and put in this wreath. We ought to be
+starting now.'
+
+Gladys obeys without speaking, and steadying her nerves and fingers as
+best she may, begins to arrange a most elegant and becoming wreath round
+her young mistress's head. Whilst she does this, and afterwards dresses
+her and fastens on the turquoise ornaments, she endeavours to collect
+her thoughts, and to summon courage for what she has resolved to do and
+say.
+
+Gladys has long known Miss Gwynne's secret; as she discovered that she
+did not care for Rowland, so she has found out that she cares over much
+for Colonel Vaughan. She now knows that he is not worthy of her, and
+that if he should ever ask her to marry him, it would be that he might
+gain possession of Clanyravon, and not of the warm, sincere heart of its
+mistress. Gladys feels sure that a man who could say such words as
+Colonel Vaughan said to her, whether meant seriously or not, could not
+be worthy of Miss Gwynne; and she determines to open that young lady's
+eyes to the real state of his mind, even if she loses her favour for
+ever by so doing.
+
+'I shall save her,' thinks Gladys, 'if I ruin my own happiness.'
+
+When the dressing is completed, Freda stands before a cheval glass to
+see that all is right. Gladys has never before seen her examine every
+portion of her attire so minutely, or look so satisfied with the survey.
+In truth she never before saw her look so handsome, or so perfectly well
+dressed. The full, light, many-skirted blue dress, with its bouquets of
+forget-me-nots and lilies, its fringes and ribbons, suits so well the
+fine complexion of the very distinguished-looking girl who wears
+it--whilst the wreath slightly crowns the well-shaped head, and falls
+gracefully down the neck and back in becoming simplicity and elegance.
+
+Poor Freda! She has more colour than usual, more animation in her eyes,
+and more anxiety at her heart. Were she to analyse her feelings, she
+would thoroughly despise herself for the envy, vanity, and distrust she
+would find in them, and think herself unworthy of the name of woman for
+allowing herself to study to gain the attentions of any man who might
+feel disposed to give them to another. But her pride is for a time
+swamped in her weakness; and the hitherto haughty and unsuspectible Miss
+Gwynne is no better than the most sentimental of school girls.
+
+Whilst Gladys is putting the last pin into the dress, and Freda is still
+watching her own shadow, there is a knock at the door.
+
+'Make haste, Gladys. The carriage, I suppose. Come in,' says Freda.
+
+'Mr Gwynne wishes to know, ma'am, whether you have seen Colonel Vaughan,
+or whether he intends dressing at Pentre?' asks the servant who opens
+the door.
+
+'I have not seen him since the morning, and do not know what he means to
+do,' is the reply. 'Did you see anything of him when you were out,
+Gladys?' continues Miss Gwynne, after the servant has left the room.
+
+As she makes the inquiry, she, for the first time catches the reflection
+of Gladys' face in the glass, and is struck with its unusual pallor. She
+turns quickly and looks at the girl.
+
+'What is the matter, Gladys? Something must have happened? It must have
+something to do with Colonel Vaughan. Did you see him? Speak.'
+
+'Yes, ma'am, I saw him in the wood.'
+
+'And is that the reason you are looking so frightened? What has happened
+to him? Speak, I say, or I must ring the bell and send some one in
+search of him.'
+
+With her usual impetuosity, Freda's hand was on the bell. Gladys
+exclaimed quickly,--
+
+'Do not ring, Miss Gwynne. I can tell you all I know. Nothing has
+happened to injure Colonel Vaughan, bodily at least'
+
+'What do you mean, girl?' said Miss Gwynne, turning round again and
+facing Gladys.
+
+Gladys stood before her mistress with clasped hands, heaving breast,
+quivering lips, and downcast eyes. She tried to summon courage and
+words, but neither would come. How could she crush the love and hopes of
+one so dear to her? her benefactress, her all? But it must be done.
+
+With one great effort she began, and in as few words as possible,
+without comment or gloss, related what had passed between her and
+Colonel Vaughan. She told all, as nearly as she could remember, in his
+own words, merely omitting what he said about Miss Gwynne.
+
+As she spoke, she felt like a culprit before a judge, who, though
+conscious of his innocence, has not courage to meet the glance of him on
+whom his fate depends. But not on her own account had she that throbbing
+fear at her heart; she felt for her mistress alone.
+
+That mistress stood erect, towering above the drooping girl, like a
+queen above a slave or suppliant. Red and pale by turns, with compressed
+lips and flashing eyes, she listened to the tale.
+
+When it was finished, she, too, strove for words, but none came; so she
+laughed a short, sarcastic laugh, and moved back a few paces. At last,--
+
+'Why do you tell me this ridiculous tale? Have you no better confidante
+for such absurd imaginations? You have dreamt it, Gladys. I do not
+believe you. Go!'
+
+Gladys gave one penetrating, truthful look at her mistress, before which
+the defiant glance fell: but the rigid features alarmed her, and she
+would fain have remained, had not another. 'Go! I do not want you any
+longer!' sent her at once from the room.
+
+When Gladys was gone, Miss Gwynne sat down upon the nearest chair, and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+Another knock at the door.
+
+'Come in! What do you want?' she exclaimed in a suppressed voice.
+
+'My master says the carriage is ready, and he thinks you had better go,
+ma'am. Colonel Vaughan has just come in. The heat has made his nose
+bleed so violently that he cannot be ready for dinner, but will be at
+Pentre for the ball, ma'am, my master says.'
+
+'Very well; I shall be ready in a few moments.'
+
+Freda rose from her chair, and went to her dressing-table. There was a
+bottle of eau-de-cologne on it. She poured out nearly half a
+wine-glassful, added water, and drank the dose. Then she dashed a
+quantity over her forehead; wetted her handkerchief with more, and
+having nearly exhausted the bottle, prepared to leave the room. Suddenly
+she stopped, exclaiming,--
+
+'I cannot go! I feel as if I must faint; yet I must see the farce played
+out.'
+
+A bitter smile, almost ghastly, passed over her face, as she muttered
+these words. She took up a splendid bouquet of greenhouse flowers that
+had been prepared for her, and were placed on the table, almost
+mechanically, and looking like one in a dream, left the room.
+
+'It is half-past six, Freda,' said Mr Gwynne in the loudest tone of
+which his voice was capable, as he descended the stairs.
+
+The servants remarked to one another how very ill Miss Gwynne was
+looking, but her father did not perceive it. He was talking of Colonel
+Vaughan.
+
+'So provoking of Vaughan, to go and tire himself in the heat, and make
+his nose bleed, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+Freda did not answer. Her thoughts were running wild--here, there, and
+everywhere. One moment, she believed that Gladys had been romancing for
+some purpose of her own; the next, that all she said was true. Then she
+felt sure that Colonel Vaughan must really love Gladys, and must mean
+all that he said; and a cold shudder crept over her, as she became aware
+how much she loved him. Again, she knew that a man of his position could
+only be trifling with a girl in her's, and was ready to hate and despise
+one who could be so vile. As she thought and thought, she grew paler and
+paler--colder and colder; and when she entered Lady Mary Nugent's
+drawing-room, that lady said,--
+
+'My dear Freda, what is the matter? You look so ill, and feel so cold.'
+
+'Nothing but the heat. It always has this enervating effect on me,' was
+the answer.
+
+The absence of Colonel Vaughan set the shrewd Lady Mary guessing as to
+the real cause of the sudden indisposition; she felt sure that something
+must have passed between him and Freda more exciting than usual to
+occasion such paleness.
+
+At dinner, Freda was fortunate in being placed next Sir Hugh Pryse, who
+knew her too well, and was far too fond of her, to make any personal
+remarks.
+
+Miss Nugent's uncle, Lord Nugent, was the master of the ceremonies for
+the evening. He had come, as Miss Nugent's guardian, to resign his
+office, and to be present at her attaining her majority. Freda had once
+met him before, and liked him. He was now particularly friendly in his
+manner to her, but when he spoke to her across one intermediate person,
+she could only answer him in monosyllables. Every one silently remarked
+her absence of mind and unusual frigidity.
+
+When the dinner was over, of which Freda only remembered that she had
+had certain viands placed before her, and when the ladies were leaving
+the dining-room, Colonel Vaughan's voice was heard in the hall. Lady
+Mary told a servant to show him into the dining-room; and as Freda was
+crossing the hall, she saw him at the opposite end of it. She hurried
+into the drawing-room, but was keenly alive to what passed in the hall
+after she had done so. She heard him, with his usual courtly manner,
+apologise to Lady Mary Nugent for his non-appearance at the
+dinner-table, and attribute his accident to his having stood so long on
+her lawn, in the heat, watching the poor people at their dinner. He
+added that he was glad to have arrived in time to drink Miss Nugent's
+health, and proceeded to the dining-room.
+
+Freda did her best to talk to the few, and very select, ladies, who had
+been honoured by an invitation to dinner; and felt intense relief when,
+one after another, all the evening-party arrived.
+
+Dancing soon began, and Freda saw Colonel Vaughan and Miss Nugent
+together in a quadrille. Sir Hugh had asked her to dance with him, but
+she begged him to let her sit down that first dance, and promised him
+the next.
+
+Of course she watched the pair in whom she was most interested. She was
+obliged to confess that Miss Nugent was the handsomest, most elegant,
+and best dressed girl in the room; as she talked to Colonel Vaughan, she
+looked almost animated; and he, on his part, seemed as gay and perfectly
+at his ease, as if there had never been a Gladys in the world. They
+were, unquestionably a fine, aristocratic couple; danced well, walked
+well, and to all appearance were well pleased with one another. Lady
+Mary Nugent watched them quite as narrowly as Freda.
+
+Sick at heart, Freda danced the next dance with Sir Hugh, and managed to
+avoid coming in contact with Colonel Vaughan, who had secured Lady Mary
+as his partner. Once or twice, however, Freda caught his keen, searching
+glance fixed upon her, and knew that he was trying to read her mind, as
+he had often done before.
+
+It was useless for her to try to avoid him, as he came direct to her to
+ask her for the next dance. She longed to say that she would never dance
+with him again, but even she had tact enough to know that it would not
+do to refuse, for the sake of the effect such a refusal might have both
+on him and the world. All she could do, however, was to bow her consent,
+take his arm, and walk, pale, silent, and stately, to the top of a
+quadrille. They had met Sir Hugh and Miss Nugent, and Colonel Vaughan
+had secured them as _vis-à-vis_; for once his tact had failed him, he
+could not have managed worse.
+
+Freda tried to answer his questions, but in vain; she could not be
+hypocrite enough to treat him as she was accustomed to do. In him there
+was no perceptible change; she once fancied she perceived an uneasy
+expression in his face, as he looked at her, but his manner was
+friendly, lively, fascinating as ever; he even asked her what was the
+matter, and said she looked ill. Her answer was contained in the few
+sarcastic words,--
+
+'The heat. I hear you have suffered from it also.'
+
+Although Freda could not, herself, enter into the conversation she could
+observe the by-play between the colonel and Miss Nugent; the bashful,
+simpering smiles of the young lady, the flattering glances of the
+gentleman. She would not have believed, when she awoke that morning,
+that it was possible to endure so much real suffering as she was
+enduring, in the short space of one quadrille.
+
+It was over at last, and Colonel Vaughan led her to a seat amongst some
+ladies. She said she would go to her father, when she saw that he was
+going to sit down by her side. He offered her his arm again, and took
+her to the drawing-room; here she found her father, somewhat apart from
+the rest of the company, talking to Lady Mary, or more properly being
+talked to by her. She sat down on a sofa near her father, and bowing
+statelily to Colonel Vaughan, said,--
+
+'I will not detain you. I shall remain here for the present.'
+
+He made some passing observation to Mr Gwynne, and returned to the
+drawing-room, followed shortly after by Lady Mary.
+
+Sir Hugh came up and began talking to Freda; he was so kind and so
+natural even in his loudness, that Freda felt as if she would rather
+trust him with every secret of her heart, than the polished worldling
+who had just left her.
+
+'And yet, perhaps,' she thought, 'Gladys has really deceived me, and he
+is innocent; still, better Gladys than that statue-like Miss Nugent.'
+
+Freda thought the night would never end; she exerted herself to talk and
+dance, because every one came to ask what was the matter with her, and
+by the time they went to supper, she was as flushed as she had
+previously been pale. Lord Nugent was particularly attentive to her, and
+evidently admired her very much; bitterly she thought that she could
+gain, unsought, the civilities of one man, whilst she was but too
+conscious that the one she cared the most for in the world, was devoting
+himself almost exclusively to the Nugents. But he was unworthy of the
+heart of any right-minded woman, so she would tear him from hers, and
+again make her father her first care.
+
+But those despicable Nugents had got possession of him also. He was
+seated next to Lady Mary at supper, her profile and diamonds were
+directed at him, and she looked almost as young, and quite as handsome
+as her daughter. Alas! and again alas! poor Freda!
+
+However, all things come to an end, and an heiress's twenty-first
+birthday amongst them. Miss Nugent's did not finish till three o'clock
+in the morning, at which hour, Mr and Miss Gwynne and Colonel Vaughan
+were driving home from the festivities at Pentre. The gentlemen were
+keeping up a rather lively conversation on the events of the evening,
+and the lady was sustaining a very strong conflict with her own pride.
+
+As the carriage rolled past a certain large oak tree in the Park, Freda
+suddenly remembered Rowland Prothero. About a twelvemonth ago she had
+left him beneath that oak, humbled and deeply pained, doubtless, by her
+haughty words. Now she was similarly pained and humbled, and she was,
+for the first time, aware of the shock her proud refusal of his love
+must have been to him. Had she not been weak enough to yield her heart
+unasked, and was it not almost thrown back into her own bosom? She, who
+had believed herself above the silly romance of her sex, to have sunk
+below even Miss Nugent. But she would rouse herself from such a mania,
+and show Colonel Vaughan how thoroughly she despised him.
+
+She did rouse herself, and the first words she heard were,--
+
+'Yes, certainly, very handsome, mother and daughter,' from Colonel
+Vaughan's lips.
+
+'And which is to be the happy object of your notice, Colonel Vaughan?'
+she asked, suddenly joining in the conversation. 'I heard grand
+discussions on the subject on all sides.'
+
+'Really,' replied the colonel, somewhat surprised by the sudden
+question, 'I did not know I was of so much importance.'
+
+'What! you, about whom every one is speculating.'
+
+'Freda, my dear, I am so glad you are able to speak. I thought you
+so--ill, dull, unlike yourself, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'Thanks, papa, I was thoroughly overpowered by the heat; but this
+delightful breeze has refreshed me. I hope, Colonel Vaughan, you also
+have got over your weakness. I wonder you ever returned alive from
+India, if such a day as this was sufficient to upset you.'
+
+Further sarcasm was cut short by their reaching the house, for which
+Freda was very thankful, at a later period, feeling that she lowered her
+dignity by allowing herself to allude, however covertly, to Gladys or
+Miss Nugent. But she was scarcely herself when she did so.
+
+Colonel Vaughan was going to help her out of the carriage, but she
+passed quickly up the steps without touching his arm.
+
+He had felt her lash, and now fully understood that she knew of his
+meeting with Gladys, and guessed that he had designs upon Miss Nugent or
+her fortune. For once in his life he felt somewhat abashed as he met the
+eye of the pale, haughty girl, whom he really admired twenty times as
+much as Miss Nugent, or any other young lady of his then devotees. And
+he admired her still more, as she kissed her father's cheek, nodded a
+haughty 'good-night' to himself, and went upstairs to her room in the
+haste of strong excitement.
+
+As soon as she was gone, Colonel Vaughan told Mr Gwynne that he had
+promised Sir Hugh Pryse to go and spend a week with him, and that he
+should leave Glanyravon for that purpose on the morrow.
+
+'You will come back again, of course?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Oh yes, certainly! but I have only ten days more leave, and then I must
+bid you all good-bye again.'
+
+'I am so sorry, and so will be Freda when she hears it. What could have
+been the matter with Freda to-night, I never saw her so odd? But I
+suppose it was the heat, and all that sort of thing; good-night. I am
+tired to death, though it was a charming party, certainly a charming
+party.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE LADY IN HER OWN RIGHT.
+
+
+When Freda reached her room, Gladys was awaiting her there.
+
+'Why did you not go to bed, Gladys? you know I dislike your sitting up
+so late.'
+
+'I could not go to bed, ma'am, feeling that I have offended you, without
+begging your pardon for having done so.'
+
+'Then all you said was an invention.'
+
+'I said nothing but the truth, ma'am, but perhaps offended you in saying
+it to you, merely to excuse myself. I am very sorry.'
+
+There were traces of tears on Gladys' face and she looked pale and
+agitated.
+
+'Gladys, you can go to bed, I have nothing to forgive. If you tell me
+the truth, I am very sorry for it, and that such words should have been
+said to you. Of course you did not believe them?'
+
+'No, ma'am, I certainly did not.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was fidgeting with her dress, and Gladys went to assist her,
+uncalled for. When it was unfastened, Miss Gwynne again said, 'Thank
+you, that will do; I wish you to go to bed; good-night,' and Gladys
+again obeyed in sorrow.
+
+Miss Gwynne had little sleep that night, and the next morning she felt
+very ill. Much as she longed to lie in bed, however, and to avoid
+meeting Colonel Vaughan again, she got up when Gladys called her, and
+was, as usual, first downstairs. Much to her satisfaction, her father
+appeared next, and the colonel soon afterwards. She exerted herself to
+talk and laugh as usual, and the only difference in her manner to
+Colonel Vaughan was, that instead of shaking hands with him, as was her
+custom every morning, she busied herself with the cups and saucers when
+he approached, and simply said good morning. Her father remarked that
+she was looking ill, and she said she had one of her old headaches.
+
+When breakfast was over, she expressed her intention of visiting the
+school, and said that, as Colonel Vaughan was going to Sir Hugh's, she
+probably should not see him again before he left. She wished him good
+morning and a pleasant visit, stiffly, but courteously; felt compelled
+to shake hands with him, and went her way with a proud but aching heart.
+He also went his, wondering in his very selfish heart whether Freda
+really cared for him after all, and scheming to see Gladys, whose utter
+carelessness of him had roused his vanity.
+
+When he had left Glanyravon, with a promise to Mr Gwynne of returning,
+Freda no longer strove to appear what she was not, and went to bed
+really ill. She was subject to occasional severe nervous headaches, and
+was obliged to be very quiet when so attacked, in order to prevent
+congestion of the brain, which the doctors had once threatened her with.
+Her father, therefore, insisted on her keeping her room until she was
+quite well, which she was only too thankful to do, and so great were her
+actual sufferings from her head, that they distracted her mind from
+brooding over her real or imaginary miseries.
+
+Gladys waited on her quietly and patiently for about a week, at the end
+of which time she began to feel better. Her gratitude to Gladys for the
+perfectly unobtrusive nature of her attention was so great that she felt
+as if she could never do enough for her, and she frequently assured her
+that she knew she had been unjust towards her in accusing her of
+falsehood. She never, however, again mentioned Colonel Vaughan's name to
+her.
+
+Mr Gwynne paid daily visits to his daughter's sick-room. In spite of her
+head, she could not help noticing something peculiar in his manner. He
+did not talk, because conversation was forbidden during these attacks,
+but there was an increased briskness in his eyes and step as he
+approached her, and, she fancied, more of anxious care in his tone when
+he spoke. She was sure he had something to communicate.
+
+'Gladys, what makes you so calm and patient?' she suddenly asked, when
+she was getting better, and trying to reason herself out of her fancy
+for Colonel Vaughan.
+
+'Perhaps, ma'am, trouble has made me calm, and I pray to be made
+patient; but I have a rebellious heart,' was the reply.
+
+'Have you? I am very glad to hear it. Then there is hope for me. Now I
+am going to get up.'
+
+Freda had made some good resolutions during the intervals of her pain,
+the principal of which were, entirely to forget Colonel Vaughan, or to
+feel only intense contempt for him; to be more gentle with her father,
+and more considerate of his nerves and peculiarities; more patient with
+the servants, school children, and poor people generally; to do more
+good, and to be more useful to others; but she had not made these
+resolutions in Gladys' spirit. They were not made with prayer for help,
+but in her own strength.
+
+In the same way, she threw off the remains of her headache, and went
+downstairs again with a prouder step and a prouder heart than when she
+went up last.
+
+In the library she found her father writing a letter and looking quite
+animated. He was so sprucely dressed that she asked him if he were going
+out.
+
+'Not at present,' he said. 'I am so glad you are come down again. There
+is so much to tell you; I have scarcely been able to keep myself from
+letting you hear the news. Do you know it is all settled, and Gwynne
+Vaughan is actually engaged to Miss Nugent! Isn't he a lucky fellow?'
+
+Freda felt suddenly very sick; she sat down in an arm-chair near her
+father, but did not speak. He looked at her, and said,--
+
+'My dear, you are very pale still. Coming downstairs has been too much,
+and dressing, and--and--all that sort of thing. Let me ring for Gladys.'
+
+'No, I shall be better directly. Only the exertion--yes, you were
+telling me--'
+
+Strange that Mr Gwynne never supposed that Freda could be in love with
+any one. She had refused so many, and was so different from other girls,
+that the thought never entered his mind, and he had left her alone with
+Colonel Vaughan, and would have done so with Cupid himself, quite
+thoughtless of results. Moreover, his own natural inactivity and love of
+ease, led him to allow her to take her own course, as long as she left
+him alone to take his.
+
+'Yes; I was saying that it is now quite settled. I believe he proposed
+the very ball-night to Miss Nugent, at least, and the next day went in
+form, and after certain preliminaries, was duly accepted by all parties.
+Of course, he is quite unexceptionable, and she can do as she likes now
+she is of age. Lady Mary expected a title, and I don't think she is
+quite satisfied. She told me--at least--they say--at least--of course,
+there are always objections, and--and--all that sort of thing, you
+know.'
+
+Freda was too hard at work, trying to overcome a very strong desire to
+burst into tears, to observe that her father had not once used his
+favourite phrase, or lost the thread of his words, until he came to
+'Lady Mary told me,' so when he stopped, she simply said, 'Really! Yes!'
+and he went on again.
+
+'I must confess, Freda, I am rather disappointed. I thought Gwynne liked
+you, and, indeed, I think so still. But--ah! my dear--you are so proud,
+or cold, or--or--that you refuse every one. It has been suggested to me
+by--ah! I have remarked, I mean, that you must have a secret liking for
+some one, not quite what one considers--ah!--eligible--and that--but, I
+am sure, Freda, I would make any sacrifice for your happiness, and
+should wish to see you married.'
+
+'What do you mean, papa?' said Freda, effectually roused.
+
+'Well, my dear, it is thought--I mean, I have fancied--I mean
+Lady--I--I--the fact is, are you attached to Rowland Prothero? Now, I am
+not angry, Freda; he is one of the nicest young men, and the best--but I
+should have preferred Gwynne, or Sir Hugh, or--or--in fact, many others,
+in a worldly point of view. A tenant's son, and only a curate!--and all
+that sort of thing. But then as Lady--as--as I--as your father, my dear,
+I should like to make you happy. You see, that day at the vicarage,
+we--that is to say, I--thought there was something peculiar in his
+manner and yours; and to be sure, he may be a bishop, he is so good and
+clever. A great favourite of mine. And if he lives in London, it doesn't
+so much matter; and--and--in short--Freda--'
+
+'Papa, I understand,' said Freda, rising from her seat with majestic
+pride, 'Lady Mary has been kind enough to suggest, doubtless for her own
+ends, what never could have entered your mind. I am very much obliged to
+you for forgetting, on my account, what I cannot forget on my own, that
+I am a Gwynne of Glanyravon! and I daresay you meant it kindly. But you
+may make my compliments to Lady Mary Nugent, and tell her, that if there
+was anything peculiar in Rowland Prothero's manner on that particular
+Sunday, it was because he had been bold enough to propose for me, and I
+had rejected him. You may tell her also that if he had asked her
+daughter instead, she would have given him herself and her fortune quite
+as willingly, and, I believe, more willingly, than to Colonel Vaughan.
+With her it is a case of "first come first served."'
+
+When Freda had given her message to Lady Mary Nugent, she walked out of
+the room. But scarcely had she crossed the hall when she turned again
+and re-entered it.
+
+'Papa, I must beg you _not_ to tell Lady Mary Nugent that Rowland
+Prothero proposed for me. He is at least a gentleman, and a man of
+honour, and deserves to be treated as such with all due courtesy. The
+more I see of men, the more I begin to think him one of the few true
+gentlemen one meets with. I should not even have told you this had it
+not escaped me in reply to what you said, because I thought it would
+annoy you, and perhaps make you feel unkindly towards the Prothero
+family. But you may tell her, if you like, that were Rowland Prothero
+not the gentleman I begin to perceive he is, Miss Nugent and her money
+might be his.'
+
+'But, Freda--after all--if you do like him. You see, his uncle married a
+Perry, one of the oldest families in Herefordshire, niece of the
+baronet, daughter of the dean, cousin of the present baronet.'
+
+'My dear father! I know all the Perrys by heart. Mrs Jonathan is not
+likely to have left me ignorant of their antiquity. But, pray, do you
+want to get rid of me, that you force me upon poor Rowland, or him upon
+me, whichever it may be?'
+
+'Of course not, my dear. Only I am naturally anxious to see you settled.
+And if you really like him--'
+
+'But I am settled, and I do not like him; that is to say, I like him
+well enough, fifty times better than I used to like him, but I have not
+the most remote intention of marrying him. And now, I should like to
+know what particular reason Lady Mary Nugent had for putting this absurd
+notion into your head. There must be something, my dear papa, under all
+this sudden anxiety to get me married. You used rather to rejoice when I
+declined settling Glanyravon on a suitor.'
+
+'Yes, my dear--but--you see--it is not quite certain that Glanyravon--I
+mean that you--I mean that I--in short--the fact is--you are so
+impetuous, Freda.'
+
+'What can my impetuosity have to do with it?'
+
+Freda saw that her father was more than usually nervous and fidgety, and
+became alarmed lest there should be some sudden money difficulty, as any
+threat, however slight, of debt or involvement always made him ill. She
+sat down beside him, and putting her hand in his, as it rested on a
+table nervously fidgeting with a pen, she said gently,--
+
+'Now, pappy, I hope we are not all going to jail?'
+
+'By no means; the tenants are most prosperous. I could raise any sum if
+necessary, and give you a marriage portion suitable in every way.'
+
+What was there in this marriage scheme? Freda grew impatient and
+indignant again.
+
+'Now, really, papa, this is too absurd; If you have anything on your
+mind, will you say it?'
+
+'Well--the fact is, Freda, that you--I mean that I, have made up my
+mind--you see you may marry, and leave me alone, and I should want a
+companion, and--and all that sort of thing, you know--so I have
+considered--for your--for our--for my, perhaps--happiness, that it might
+be well for me to--to--to--in short, my dear--to marry again; in fact,
+Freda, I have resolved to do so.'
+
+'Lady Mary Nugent!' screamed Freda; 'not her! not her! not settled! oh
+papa!'
+
+Mr Gwynne had called Freda impetuous, but he was not prepared for the
+sudden burst of uncontrollable grief that followed his announcement.
+Often as Freda had jested over the proposal Lady Mary was to make her
+father, she had never believed that he would marry her. It came upon her
+like the news of an unexpected death, or great family misfortune. She
+covered her face with her hands, and sobbed till her father thought she
+must burst some blood vessel then and there before him. He got up, sat
+down; went to the bell, touched the rope, let it go; opened the window,
+put his hand on Freda's bowed head, called her by name, and, in return,
+was greeted by--
+
+'Not Lady Mary! think of my mother! think of me! oh father! father!
+cruel! this is too much! Say it is not true; only a jest. What have I
+done? I will be better, kinder, gentler--I will nurse you, tend
+you--never marry. I would rather not--I never shall. Nobody loves you as
+well as I. Your only child. My mother's only child. Say it is not
+true--oh, say it is not true?'
+
+This was impossible, for Mr Gwynne knew full well that he was pledged
+beyond recall. But now, as he looked on his daughter, heard her words,
+thought of her mother, he began to repent of what he had done. He, who
+hated scenes, dreaded tears, would not annoy Freda for the world, to
+have raised such emotion! He did not understand it. Lady Mary had
+assured him Freda would be so glad to be allowed to marry Rowland. And
+she was so discerning and clever! But he could not bear those sobs.
+
+'Freda! my dear, don't, I beg, I entreat! You will make me so nervous.
+You know I cannot bear--in short, I feel quite ill. The fact is, you
+will make yourself ill, and after all, it need make no difference to
+you. You will be just the same. Freda, I must beg you to desist. I must
+insist--I will ring for the housekeeper.'
+
+'No, no, papa. Do not let us expose ourselves!' cried Freda, rising
+suddenly; 'I will go upstairs. Neither you nor I will ever be happy
+again!'
+
+Freda was about to leave the room, when Mr Gwynne suddenly went up to
+her, and putting his arm round her neck, whispered, whilst the tears
+sprang into his eyes,--
+
+'Freda, Freda! my child, forgive me! I didn't think it would vex you so.
+I scarcely know how it has all happened.'
+
+Poor Freda threw both her arms around her father, and sobbed again. As
+she leaned on his shoulder, his white hairs touched the brown glossy
+braids of her head, and his lips kissed them. At that moment he knew
+that he did not love Lady Mary Nugent as well as he loved his child,
+and that child was conscious for the first time how very dear her father
+was to her.
+
+Again she roused herself, and as if ashamed of her emotion, hastened out
+of the room. She went upstairs, and locking herself in her room, threw
+herself on her bed. Here she gave way to feelings that were as new as
+strange to her, unaccustomed as she was to what some one calls 'the
+luxury of tears.' She scarcely knew whether sorrow or anger
+predominated, but she was wretched and indignant. Tumultuous thoughts
+rushed through her mind of the past, present, and probable future!
+thoughts too numerous and changeable to be transcribed, but which may
+well be imagined.
+
+At last her pride, that one grand feature of her character, got the
+better of her grief and anger. She rose from her bed, dried her eyes,
+arranged her hair, and with a carriage as erect as her soul was haughty,
+once more entered her father's library. The momentary emotion and pathos
+of their last embrace had been overpowered in both by stronger
+sensations; in him by the remembrance of Lady Mary Nugent's
+fascinations, in her by the sense of that lady's tact and duplicity.
+
+Freda sat quietly down opposite her father, and said abruptly,--
+
+'Papa, this odious subject must be begun and ended between us this day.
+If you will be good enough to answer me a few questions and to listen to
+me, I will never mention it again. Are you really engaged to Lady Mary
+Nugent, or is it a horrible dream?'
+
+'I--yes--I certainly am, my dear--engaged to be married to her
+ladyship.'
+
+'And you mean to marry her? Impossible!'
+
+'Do you consider me a man of honour? or am I one likely to break my word
+when pledged?'
+
+'Oh! papa, when a woman proposes and makes love, and waits till the very
+moment when it suits her own convenience to marry, do you think she
+deserves consideration? You know that Lady Mary Nugent has done it all
+herself, and that you would never have taken the trouble, or had the
+courage to propose for any woman under the sun, if she had not asked you
+first. You know you do not want to marry. I would give the world to know
+how she managed to bring you to the point.'
+
+'Really, Freda, this is too--too--personal, and rude, I may call
+it--and--'
+
+'Forgive me, papa. Of course you are your own master, and are at liberty
+to be chosen by any woman, but she will not choose me, nor I her. I hate
+Lady Mary Nugent, despise her most intensely, and shall leave this house
+before she comes into it; never--'
+
+It seemed as if an invisible hand checked the end of Freda's
+determination, for she stopped short at the 'never.'
+
+'But what I came particularly to say, papa, is, that I believe I have
+some little private fortune of my own, my dear mother's, in short, and I
+suppose I can have that when I like.'
+
+'Certainly--certainly--but--'
+
+'Then I wish both you and Lady Mary Nugent to understand that I shall
+not live here. Not on your account, but on hers. I ask, as a particular
+favour, that I may not be informed of the day of your marriage; and I
+shall make it a point of going away in a month or so, so as to leave you
+free to act. I shall hope to hear from you, and to write to you. I am
+only sorry for you, because she cannot understand your tastes; but that
+is nothing. I don't think either she or her daughter ever read any book
+but a fashionable novel in their lives. But what is the difference!
+Money and tact against the world! I cannot help speaking my mind for
+this first and last time. Forgive me. You will not have me long to speak
+it, and my successor never spoke her's in her life, so she will not bore
+you by abruptness and sincerity, as I perhaps have done.'
+
+Freda had spoken so fast that she paused to take breath, and during that
+necessary process her father wiped his face, as if he, too, were
+exhausted by her volubility. Freda could scarcely help smiling.
+
+'I am very sorry for everything I have ever done to displease you,' she
+began again; 'and I only hope you will not be so unhappy, as I am afraid
+you will be.'
+
+'This is too exhausting!' muttered Mr Gwynne, sinking back in his chair.
+'Freda, you really do talk too much. Will you ring for Perkins? I must
+take a dose of that cordial.'
+
+When the cordial was mentioned, Freda knew that all conversation was at
+an end. She rang the bell, and when Perkins came, left the room.
+
+She went at once to her writing desk, and wrote the following note:--
+
+    'MY DEAREST SERENA,--What you and I have sometimes feared is about
+    to come to pass. My father is going to marry Lady Mary Nugent. Of
+    course I can no longer live here; will you and Mr Jones give me
+    shelter for a time whilst I arrange my thoughts and plans? I will
+    give as little trouble as I can, but I know you will bear with
+    me.--Your loving friend,
+
+    'WINIFRED GWYNNE.'
+
+Freda sealed and directed her letter, and then went to the open window,
+and stood there for some time. A slight shower of rain was falling and
+a few light clouds were struggling with the afternoon sunbeams. Strong
+shadows fell from the trees in the Park, equally strong lights were on
+the distant hills. The river looked hot and hazy, and the cattle had
+congregated under the arch of the bridge--the only cool spot--as if for
+shelter from the sun. A shrill, blithe, distant whistle sounded, and the
+bells of Llanfawr church pealed in the far-away town, just sending their
+faint echoes across the river.
+
+'What are those bells ringing for?' said Freda, as she wiped away some
+large tears that were gathering in her eyes. 'They ring for everything;
+soon it will be for these odious marriages. Why was I ever born? Why,
+above all, was I born in such a place as this? And to leave it! Yes,
+Frisk' (to her terrier, that was barking and jumping outside the
+window), 'you and I must go away. No more quarrels with Jerry; no more
+fights with Gelert?; no more hunts in the brook. Will you come with me
+to smoky London? Yes, and hate it as much as I shall. Sleep away your
+life by a city fire, and grow fat and old, instead of racing after me
+and Prince. But we shall not live long in a town, Frisk. We shall soon
+die of sheer laziness, and so much the better--for who will care for us?
+Lion and Jerry and even Gipsy will forget you; and every one has
+forgotten me already. Why am I so foolish as to cry so? I never knew how
+weak I could be until these last few days. But we must be strong,
+Frisk--we must be strong, and not care for this old place, and the
+beautiful park, and all the--oh, why will those bells ring? and what are
+they ringing for? And there is the dinner-bell, too, harsh as my lot.
+And I must try to be dutiful, and show a bold face and good courage to
+the world, who will pity me, or rejoice over me, and say that I wanted
+something to pull down my pride. And so, perhaps, I do; but this shall
+not be the something. No, no; it shall only make me prouder. Poor papa,
+too; he will be more wretched than I--I am sure he will. I cannot bear
+to think of him. Frisk! Frisk! don't make such a noise. Don't jump so,
+Frisk. There! I will take you in. Good dog! good Frisk! You love me if
+no one else does; you and Gladys.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE FIRST-BORN.
+
+
+Those Llanfawr bells which, as Freda said, certainly did ring for
+everything, were sending forth their chimes to celebrate the birth of a
+daughter at Plas Abertewey. But whilst they were ringing, and Freda was
+abusing them, the mother of the little daughter was, apparently, about
+to depart for that other country where bells shall no longer 'ring out
+the old, and ring in the new,' welcome the babe, or speed the spirit of
+the dead.
+
+Good Dr Richards and the nurse stood, one on either side of Netta's bed,
+pouring brandy and wine down her throat, whilst her infant was on its
+grandmother's, Mrs Jenkins's lap, in the next room. The doctor was in a
+state of intense anxiety. He had sent off one man and horse for another
+surgeon, and a second to Swansea, to telegraph for Howel, who had not
+yet returned from London, where he had been nearly three months. He felt
+the great responsibility of his situation, and that if Netta did not
+rally, she must die.
+
+It was six o'clock in the evening; the baby had been born in the
+morning, and Netta's continual cry had been 'Howel! Howel! When will my
+husband come?' But she had not spoken for some hours, and seemed to be
+sinking out of the world.
+
+As Dr Richards leaned over her, he thought she murmured something.
+Putting his ear close to her, he heard the words, 'Mother! oh, mother!'
+
+'She shall come! you shall see her!' said Dr Richards. He went to a
+writing-table, and wrote as follows:--
+
+'Mrs Howel Jenkins is dying. The only chance to save her is her mother's
+presence. Come, for God's sake.'
+
+He went out of the room, and ordered the carriage and horses to be
+prepared at once, and sent them and the coachman to Glanyravon Farm. The
+man said it was as much as his place was worth to go; but Dr Richards
+insisted, and he went.
+
+In about two hours the carriage returned. Dr Richards heard the distant
+sound of wheels, so did Netta. She opened her eyes, and with a painful,
+eager glance, again said, 'Mother!'
+
+Dr Richards left the room, and, to his great joy, welcomed Mrs Prothero
+in the hall.
+
+'Thank God, you are come! She is yet alive,' said he.
+
+'I did not stop to ask David,' said Mrs Prothero, 'but came straight
+away.'
+
+She followed Dr Richards to Netta's room, and the feelings of the mother
+and the daughter may well be imagined, as they thus met after such a
+separation. Mrs Prothero turned away and wept--then prepared to wait
+upon her child.
+
+As the long absence of Howel, and his non-arrival day after day,
+according to promises almost daily made, had caused Netta's extreme
+prostration of mental as well as physical power; so the presence of her
+mother appeared to revive and cheer her. Again she had some one near her
+who loved her. Her mother, whom she had so grievously offended, had come
+to her in trouble, and she was roused and comforted. The mother-in-law,
+who had been so anxious to take her from her parents, did not fill their
+places.
+
+Whilst Mrs Prothero was tenderly nursing her daughter, and gently
+assuring her of her love and forgiveness, Mrs Griffey Jenkins was
+discussing her arrival with the various domestics and the nurse, who
+went into an adjoining room to have her supper, where Mrs Griffey also
+had hers.
+
+Their conversation was carried on in an under voice, and between sips of
+gin and water, Mrs Griffey said,--
+
+'You do see, Mrs Gwillim, that if Mrs Howel was to die, my Howels 'ould
+be seure to be marrying again. He could have anybody.'
+
+'Of course, ma'am--of course.'
+
+'There don't be a lady anywhere as 'ouldn't be proud to be marrying my
+Howels. Up in London there's my Lady Sinclairs, and a hundred others;
+and down here there's Miss Nugent, or Miss Gwynne. You do see, Mrs
+Gwillim, that though Mrs Howels do be very respectable, she 'ouldn't be
+Mrs Howel Jenkins, Abertewey, only my Howels was too honourable not to
+be marrying her. I 'ould be sorry after her, but if she was to be taken,
+why, she couldn't go at a better time. What was you thinking of her by
+now?'
+
+'Very bad, ma'am, very bad,' said Mrs Gwillim, ominously shaking her
+head.
+
+And 'very bad,' Netta undoubtedly was all that night. Dr Richards did
+not leave the house, and in due course of time the other medical man
+arrived; still, the half-expressed and wholly felt wishes of her
+mother-in-law for her death were not realised. The dawn of morning found
+her sleeping peaceably with her infant in her arms, and her mother
+thanking God that she was better.
+
+At ten o'clock in the morning, carriage wheels were again heard, and Mrs
+Prothero trembled as Howel entered the house, and there was a
+consultation of doctors as to the propriety of his seeing his wife at
+once.
+
+Mrs Griffey anticipated every one else by going direct to Howel.
+
+'How is she, mother?' were his first words.
+
+'Better they do say.'
+
+'Then why on earth did they telegraph for me. It may be the loss of
+thousands.'
+
+'Mrs Prothero is with Netta, Howel, bach.'
+
+'Who dared to bring her into my house?'
+
+'Netta, I 'spose. They was turning _me_ out of Glanyravon.'
+
+'And I'll turn her out of Abertewey, the canting old humbug.'
+
+Here Dr Richards came in.
+
+'She is out of danger, I hope, Mr Jenkins; anxiety about you reduced her
+so low; and I took upon myself to send for her mother, who has roused
+her, and, I believe, saved her life. She knows you are come, and perhaps
+the sight of you for a moment may not injure her, as she is very anxious
+to see you; but we must not excite her.'
+
+Howel looked paler and darker than usual, and Dr Richards attributed it,
+and his silence, to his emotion. They went together upstairs, and Howel
+stood by the bed where lay his young wife and his first-born child. As
+he looked upon the pale face of Netta, and saw her large black eyes
+gleam with joy, and her lips purse themselves up like a double cherry,
+to kiss him, he was touched. He bent over her, and kissed her warmly.
+When she uncovered a small portion of the bed-clothes, and displayed the
+infant that lay in her arms, a smile passed over his countenance, and he
+kissed his wife and child together.
+
+'Dear Howel,' murmured Netta, as the nurse covered up the mother and her
+babe, and the doctor touched Howel, and told him to come away. He caught
+sight of the trembling Mrs Prothero as he was leaving the room, and a
+terrible frown passed over his face. She followed him downstairs, and
+anticipated his abuse of her, by saying at once, gently, but firmly,--
+
+'Howel, I came here at Dr Richards' summons to my dying child. My
+husband did not even know I was coming, but neither he nor you could
+have prevented me at such a time. You cannot turn me from your doors
+whilst she is still in danger. When she is out of danger I will go.'
+
+'You turned my mother from yours.'
+
+'Not I, Howel; and I have never injured you. Leave me till to-morrow,
+and I will go.'
+
+One of the few people in the world for whom Howel had a small amount of
+respect and affection, was Mrs Prothero. The simply good, and
+unaffectedly pious, will sometimes command the regard of the worldly and
+irreligious.
+
+'If you remain in my house, Mrs Prothero, it is because you have been
+consistently kind to me, and received my mother. As to your husband, I
+would--'
+
+'Not to me, Howel, if you please I can hear nothing against him. You
+must remember the provocation, and try to forgive and forget as I do.
+But thank you for letting me stay with Netta. I have so longed and
+prayed to see her again, and it has been brought about for me.'
+
+Mrs Prothero remained one clear day and two nights longer at Abertewey.
+As Netta was quite out of danger before that time had expired, she
+thought it right to go home, both on Howel's account and her own
+husband's, whose anger she would have to allay. During her stay with
+Netta she lost no opportunity to work gently on the mind of her child,
+now opened and softened by her late trials. She found, with grief, what
+she had always feared, that Howel and Netta were not happy together;
+that he was frequently morose and unkind, and that she was passionate
+and revengeful. This eked out in Netta's confessions to her mother, for
+Howel was attentive and affectionate during her illness. Mrs Prothero
+entreated her to be gentle and obedient. Earnestly did she speak to her
+of religion, trying to recall the lessons of her childhood; and with
+tears poor Netta promised everything. Particularly she promised to read
+her Bible. Her mother was shocked that the Book was not to be found in
+her bedroom. She put a little Testament, that she always carried in her
+pocket, under her child's pillow. It was lined, and underlined by her
+own hand, and she fondly hoped she might read it for her sake.
+
+Netta was so loving, gentle, and teachable with her mother--blamed
+herself so severely for having displeased her and her father--sent so
+many messages to him, and seemed so desirous of obtaining his
+forgiveness, that Mrs Prothero hoped everything.
+
+It was a hard struggle to part again with that dear child, and to kiss
+the little grandchild for the last time, perhaps, for years--she would
+not believe for ever; but both she and Netta were obliged to put a brave
+face upon it, in order not to displease Howel, already suspicious of
+their conversations.
+
+'You see Netta has all the grandest lady could desire,' said Howel,
+before Mrs Prothero left.
+
+'Oh yes! I hope you will be happy,' was the reply. Mrs Prothero had
+never given a thought to the grandeur by which she was surrounded.
+
+'Why not? Does Netta complain?' said Howel.
+
+'No, no; she says you are very good, and let her have all she wants;
+but, Howel, riches may not always bring happiness, and we must try to
+look beyond the perishable things of life for it.'
+
+'Pshaw!' said Howel, impatiently; 'you know, aunt, I hate that sort of
+cant.'
+
+Soon after she left Abertewey, Colonel Vaughan called Howel and he had
+a long conversation, the purport of which was, that the colonel wished
+to come himself to reside at Abertewey at the end of Howel's term of two
+years; and Howel was quite ready and willing to give it up to him,
+saying that he meant to purchase a house in town--in Belgravia, of
+course--and to reside there until he could meet with a property that he
+could purchase.
+
+Howel told Netta that he was tired of the neighbourhood already, it was
+so stupid; and that London, and a country house in some English county,
+would be far preferable to living in such a dull part of the world. She
+quite agreed with him, and had her own reasons for being glad to leave
+Wales. In the first place, she was not at home with the people she met
+in society, and liked the notion of living where no one would know that
+she was the daughter of the Protheros of Glanyravon. In the second,
+Howel would be always at home in London, and never again absent for
+three months, she knew not why. Moreover, she longed to be far away from
+the mother-in-law, who was a sort of spy over all she said or did; and
+she thought Howel would be kinder to her when he was at a distance from
+their kith and kin, whose propinquity seemed to irritate him.
+
+Netta did not stop to consider Howel's real reasons for leaving the
+country, or imagine for a moment that a man of his, to her,
+inexhaustible resources, could be induced to do so because he found
+those resources were not inexhaustible. Neither did she remember that in
+London he would be in the midst of the gamblers, horse-racers, and
+spendthrifts who had been helping him to diminish his father's
+ill-gotten gains, before and since, he came into possession of them.
+
+During the remainder of his stay in the county, his house was open to
+sportsmen of every grade. His racers, hunters, hounds, and good dinners
+were points of union to all the sporting men of the county; and Captain
+Dancy, Mr Deep, Sir Samuel Spendall, the Simpsons, Madame Duvet, and
+many others, again adorned Plas Abertewey. Races and race-balls,
+steeple-chases, and steeple-chase balls, hunts, and hunt-balls, took
+Howel, Netta, and his friends from place to place, and he and his horses
+soon became celebrated. The latter ran at all the races. He was a good
+rider, and rode himself in several steeple-chases; in short, he was
+declared to be 'a capital fellow!' and one who, if he would only remain
+in the county, would raise the sporting interest throughout it. As
+'blessings brighten as they take their flight,' so Howel's popularity
+reached its zenith just as he resigned Abertewey to Colonel Vaughan, and
+went, with his wife and child, abroad for a few months.
+
+As Freda foretold, bells rang, bonfires blazed, and cannons fired, when
+the respective owners of Glanyravon and Abertewey brought home their
+respective brides, which took place in due course. If anybody thought of
+Miss Gwynne, it was to comment loudly on her conduct in leaving her
+home, because her father chose to marry again, and lowering herself and
+her position by going to reside with her former governess, the wife of a
+curate in the East End of London. Some few sympathised with her, but the
+greater number laughed at Mr Gwynne, admired Lady Nugent's tact, and
+blamed Freda.
+
+Those, also, who discussed Colonel Vaughan, as everybody did, thought
+him a wise man to marry a woman who could at once clear his estate, and
+enable him to live upon it as his fathers had never lived before him,
+and welcomed him home with great ardour, and a regular volley of dinner
+parties.
+
+Thus Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter, with their various worldly and
+external advantages, and Colonel Vaughan, with his _savoir faire_, had
+done more for themselves than Freda or Gladys, or Owen or Rowland could
+have done, with their honesty of purpose, beauty, and intelligence, in a
+worldly point of view, I would be understood to mean.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE SPENDTHRIFT.
+
+
+We must now run rapidly through the next six years of Howel and Netta's
+career.
+
+After spending nearly a year abroad, where Howel amused himself, in
+addition, to his usual diversions, by speculating in some German mines,
+they came back to England. They went for a time to Spendall Lodge in
+Yorkshire, on a visit to Sir Samuel Spendall, in order to be in the
+vicinity of the Doncaster races. Thence they went to Scarborough, where
+Howel left Netta, her child and maid in a lodging, whilst he attended
+the various races in other parts of the country.
+
+About this time, Sir John Simpson died, and his son came into his
+fortune. Howel immediately bought a handsome house in Belgravia,
+furnished it expensively, and began life as a London fine gentleman.
+
+It is needless to describe how Howel's income and position in society
+gradually dwindled down; or more properly, how his means fluctuated
+according as his horses lost or won, or his various speculations
+succeeded or failed. Long before his father died, he had mortgaged that
+father's very mortgages; and had spent a large portion of his wealth in
+paying off debts of honour, and freeing himself from the Jews, into
+whose hands he had got before he went to live at Abertewey.
+
+During his four years' residence in London, it was evident that his
+means fluctuated in some wonderful way. His house was the rendezvous of
+men of all ranks who were on the turf, and his life was passed in a
+state of perpetual excitement. Netta did not see much of him, except at
+their own table, or that of their acquaintances. When she was alone with
+him, he was either quite silent, or abusive; the career of such a man
+will be better understood by most of my readers, than described by me.
+The resorts of black-legs, and the betting-books of men on the turf, the
+dishonourable payment of so-called debts of honour, the trickery of
+horse-dealers, horse-trainers, and horse-racers, and the wretched
+madness of professed gamblers, are things we have all heard of, but of
+which, happily, comparatively few of us know much, practically.
+
+Howel managed to maintain his reputation as a gentleman and man of large
+fortune, even when he was, from time to time, on the verge of ruin; and
+the purchase of Sir Samuel Spendall's property in Yorkshire, when that
+baronet was obliged to leave the country for debt, confirmed the opinion
+of his wealth. Every one did not know that Sir Samuel, like Mr Simpson,
+owed him an enormous sum of money, for various bets, loans, and even
+mortgages, of which Howel kept quite as usurious an account as his
+father would have done before him, and at which the lawyers of those
+gentlemen shook their heads, although they could not disprove any item
+of it. Howel had learnt enough of law to serve his purposes, and to
+teach him how far he might venture to go, in the matter of interest and
+compound interest, with impunity.
+
+Howel's friend, Mr Deep, was a lawyer by profession. He had duly taken
+out his stamps, and had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and did such business
+as fell in his way amongst his sporting friends.
+
+It was he who had been Howel's attorney in all his dealings with Sir
+Samuel Spendall, Mr Simpson and others, and although his reputation was
+not very good amongst his professional brethren, nothing dishonourable
+had ever been proved against him.
+
+We will now look into the chambers of this worthy in Lincoln's Inn, and
+listen to a conversation that is passing between him and Howel, over
+what appears to be their mid-day potation of brandy and water. Howel's
+manner is excited, and his face at its darkest; Mr Deep is calm, and his
+face smooth as usual.
+
+'You see, we must have money!' says Howel, 'I, at least, must have six
+thousand five hundred pounds before this month is out. I owe that to
+Dancy, who, of all men in the world, I don't choose to make wait. If I
+lose at the Derby, I must have twenty thousand more.'
+
+'But the chances are you will win. Alma is pretty safe, I think.'
+
+'Yes, if we can manage to drug Magnificent. I think I have Little Bill
+in my power; he will do anything for us. But this six thousand five
+hundred is the first thing to think of. I have mortgaged Spendall Lodge
+almost to its value. By the way, are you quite sure that Spendall has
+nothing against us? They say his mother is paying his debts, and that he
+will be able to come back.'
+
+'Positive; besides, he never knows what money he has paid, or what
+receipts he has had, or what the amount of his mortgages was.'
+
+'Simpson, again, I think he is sharper since his father's death. He was
+regularly frightened when he found what a sum he owed me; and if I
+hadn't got into a passion, and threatened to call him out for doubting
+my honour, I believe he would have checked our bill.'
+
+'Can't you get more money on your house in town?'
+
+'No; I have tried Levi and Jacobs, and they won't advance any more
+without better security.'
+
+'Your mother; surely she would help you, if you were to make up a good
+story.'
+
+'No; I ran down to see her the other day, and she had taken offence
+because she chose to think I had neglected her, and was as obstinate as
+an old mule. I believe she is getting stingy, too, and says she will
+keep her money as long as she lives, and then I may do what I like with
+it.'
+
+'What is she worth?'
+
+'Well, I should say by this time, she must have as good as six or seven
+hundred a-year. She hasn't lived up to her income, and what she has
+doled out to me now and then, hasn't touched the principal. She must
+have from fifteen to twenty thousand pounds one way and another.'
+
+'Ask her to come and visit you; take her about and make much of her, and
+then seize upon her in an unwary moment. Borrow the money, and say you
+will pay it back, which you know, you will be able to do, if you have
+any luck.'
+
+'That's a bright idea. The old soul has always been hankering to come to
+London. Give me a pen and ink directly. Let me see; I know how she
+likes me to begin. "Dear and honoured mother." Faugh! shall we go on in
+the ancient style? "I hope this will find you well, as it leaves me at
+present." I only wish it would find her--well--I think that will do. I
+have told her that Netta and I will be delighted to see her, etc., etc.
+And Netta hates her, too.'
+
+'By the way, Jenkins, could not Mrs Howel Jenkins get Dancy to give in
+about that money? She is a prime favourite.'
+
+'Mrs Jenkins knows nothing of my money transactions, and certainly would
+be the last person I should wish to interfere in such a matter. Let us
+go and post this letter, and then I want to go to Tattersalls. Will you
+dine with me at the club at six? and afterwards we will keep our
+appointment with Dancy and Lord Dupe; we may make something of the
+latter, if we can't of the former.'
+
+It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Howel reached his home.
+His little girl was ill in the measles, and Netta, feeling anxious about
+her, had been sitting up with her. When Howel entered the bedroom in
+which the mother and child were, he began to talk in a loud voice.
+
+'Why on earth don't you go to bed, Netta?'
+
+Netta put her finger on her lips, and pointed to the little bed in which
+her child was sleeping, then hurried into the next room, a kind of
+nursery and play-room, and sent the maid, who was sitting there, into
+the bedroom. Howel followed her; Netta saw that he had been drinking,
+and was greatly excited; he never was absolutely intoxicated, but he
+constantly drank too much.
+
+'Why do you sit up I say, Netta?'
+
+'Because Minette is so feverish; I did not like to leave her.'
+
+The child had been called Minette by a French _bonne_, and they had all
+somehow adopted it as a name; her real name was Victoria.
+
+'You didn't sit up for me, of course?'
+
+'Certainly not; you are not so very agreeable when you come home, as to
+make me sit up for you.'
+
+'I say, Netta, do you know I have written to invite my mother to come
+and pay us a visit.'
+
+'Your mother! then you must amuse her, for I certainly won't.'
+
+'I beg to say you will, and will do everything in your power to make her
+visit agreeable. It will be worse for you if you do not. What do you
+mean by always disobeying me?'
+
+'You had better not strike me again, you coward, you! Justine will hear
+you. She can see and hear, if she can't understand.'
+
+'I tell you what, Netta, everything may depend on our reception of my
+mother--your very living, and mine, and Minette's.'
+
+'I don't care about living; I'd rather starve than live the life I do,
+and if I have Aunt 'Lizbeth, too, I shall run away, I am sure I shall.'
+
+'With whom, madam?'
+
+'With anybody or nobody; I don't care what becomes of me since you're so
+unkind. Perhaps you'd like to see my shoulder that you hurt yesterday? I
+haven't had the pleasure of seeing you since. Your shakes, and pinches
+ain't very soft, sir, I assure you.'
+
+Netta threw off a portion of the white dressing-gown she had on, and
+displayed her round white neck and shoulder disfigured by a
+black-and-blue mark.
+
+'I'll do the same to the other if you aggravate me any more,' said
+Howel, clenching his teeth, and moving towards Netta.
+
+'Not to-night, anyhow,' said Netta, running through the door and short
+passage into her child's bedroom. She knew that he was always
+sufficiently master of himself not to expose himself before the
+servants.
+
+'Justine, I shall sleep with Minette to-night--that is to say, I shall
+lie down on this sofa by her side. You can go to bed as usual,' said
+Netta.
+
+And when Minette and Justine were fast asleep in their respective beds,
+poor Netta sat and cried the livelong night, with her feet upon the
+fender, and her eyes fixed upon the almost-extinguished fire.
+
+The following morning, when she was watching her child, Howel came into
+the room. He went up to the bed on which Minette lay, and kissed her,
+and asked her how she did. The little girl looked pleased, and putting
+her arms round her father's neck, whispered,--
+
+'Papa! do you know mamma has not been in bed all night? Will you tell
+her I am quite well, and ask her to go to bed?'
+
+'I will, darling. I have a new picture-book for you downstairs Mamma
+will come and fetch it. Mamma, will you come and fetch a new book for
+Minette?'
+
+Netta looked at Howel for the first time, and seeing that his face was
+tolerably pleasant, followed him out of the room, and down into the
+dining-room, where his breakfast was awaiting him.
+
+'Netta! you must make my breakfast, and have some with me. Minette is
+better, and you needn't starve yourself to death,' said Howel, sitting
+down at the breakfast-table.
+
+'Thank you,' replied Netta sulkily. 'I can't eat anything, I am a great
+deal too tired and wretched.'
+
+'Netta, I am sorry I hurt you; but you do aggravate me so, and I have a
+great deal on my mind.'
+
+Netta's face brightened a little.
+
+'Why don't you tell me what you have on your mind, instead of bullying
+me from morning to night?'
+
+'Because a woman cannot understand such matters. But if I do not get
+some money this month we shall be ruined. I have asked my mother up to
+see whether she will advance it, and that will depend on our treatment
+of her. Will you be kind to her?'
+
+'I suppose you will give me some of the money, if you get it, to pay
+servants' wages, and other bills? I am dunned for money from morning to
+night, and never have a farthing to pay.'
+
+'I shall be able to pay everything next month. I am sure of plenty of
+money.'
+
+'And I suppose you want to get money from your mother to pay bets, or
+something of the sort? Why won't you tell me?'
+
+'Yes; I owe it to _your_ friend Dancy. Perhaps you will help me to pay
+_him_.'
+
+'He is no friend of mine. I don't like him; but he would do more for me
+than you would, and is kinder too. But I don't want to be under any
+obligation to him.'
+
+'If you wish to keep a house over your head, or me out of a prison, you
+must either ask him, as a personal favour, to let me off the debt, or
+you must help me to get the money out of my mother.'
+
+'Howel, I don't like underhand ways. I don't mind trying to be civil to
+Aunt 'Lizbeth, provided you tell her exactly how you are situated, and
+promise me never to bet with Captain Dancy, or borrow money of him
+again.'
+
+'I promise most faithfully.'
+
+'And if you can't afford to live in this grand house, Howel, why don't
+you give it up, and take to the law, or anything to get your living?
+Perhaps, if you did, we should be happy again. I would rather work like
+a slave, and not keep a servant, and live in a small lodging, or
+anything, than see you so altered.'
+
+Here Netta began to cry.
+
+'If I get this money from mother, and what I expect from other sources,
+we shall be all right again, and then--'
+
+'And then, Howel, you will give up horse-racing and betting and gambling
+and bad company, and think more of Minette and me--your poor unhappy
+Netta--your wife--your little cousin that you used to say you
+loved!--oh, Howel! Howel! that you hate so now, and treat so unkindly.'
+
+Netta had been standing by the fire-place hitherto, but at this juncture
+she went towards Howel timidly, and kneeling down by his side as he sat
+at the table, put her hands on his arm, and fixed her tearful eyes on
+his face.
+
+Howel was touched. We know that there are moments in the lives of the
+worst of men when better feelings overcome the evil ones; and Howel was
+not utterly bad; and now his guardian angel seemed to be making a great
+effort to reclaim him from his sins. He really loved Netta as much as he
+could love anything. Was she not the only creature in the world who had
+really loved him?
+
+'Then you do not quite hate me, Netta?' he said, putting his arm round
+her neck, 'I thought all the old love was gone.'
+
+'No, no, Howel! Dear, dear Howel! I love you in my heart! but you are so
+changed--so--so--you don't care for my company now. You never come home
+and play and sing as you used to do. You never speak to Minette; you
+never speak to me except--'
+
+Here Netta leant her head on Howel's knees, and began to sob. He put his
+hand on her head, smoothed her hair, and finally raised her from the
+ground, and took her in his arms to his weak, wicked heart--a heart not
+wholly depraved, because there was still in it love for his wife.
+
+For a long time she clung to him; her arms round his neck, her cheek to
+his cheek, her beating heart to his bosom, as if she was afraid that the
+spell would be broken if once she let go. Howel kissed her pale cheek,
+wiped those large black eyes, and comforted her as she had never hoped
+to be comforted again. Vague thoughts entered his mind of the
+possibility of beginning life afresh--of being a better husband and
+father--of giving up his wild, sinful courses. 'Shall the Ethiopian
+change his skin, or the leopard his spots.'
+
+'I will do anything, Howel, darling--anything you wish,' suddenly
+murmured Netta, returning his caresses, 'only you will promise never to
+be unkind again. I will beg, starve for you as long as you love me; but
+you know I am hot-tempered, and when you are cross I get angry; and then
+you are violent, and I am hard and sullen and wicked--oh, so wicked! I
+think I must have lived fifty years in the last five years, Howel, I
+feel so old and altered. Don't make me so hard-hearted again, Howel,
+bach, or I shall die, indeed I shall; I feel it now at my heart.'
+
+Netta put her hand on her heart as she leant against Howel. He raised
+her, and saw that she was of a deathly paleness.
+
+'Don't be--frightened--I have--it--often--only--a spasm,' she gasped, as
+frightened he went to the sideboard, and poured out some brandy into one
+of the tea cups, and putting a little water to it, gave it her to drink.
+
+She soon revived, and recovering a little of her old colour again, put
+her arms round Howel, and thanked him for being so kind. Howel was
+aware, for the first time for many years, that conscience is not a myth;
+his smote him.
+
+'Will you stay at home to-day, Howel?' asked Netta. 'I will write myself
+to your mother, if you will.'
+
+'Yes, Netta, dear, I will. Now, shall we carry the picture-book to
+Minette?'
+
+'No; you must have your breakfast now, and I will make it. Oh! I am so
+happy.'
+
+'And you do not care for Dancy, Netta?'
+
+'No; I hate him.'
+
+Howel kept his word, and stayed at home that one day with Netta and her
+child, and she wrote that day down on the tablets of her memory as the
+brightest spot in six years of trouble and distrust.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE FORGER.
+
+
+In a few days Mrs Griffith Jenkins arrived in London, equally surprised
+and delighted by the invitation she had received from her son and
+daughter-in-law. Netta kept her word, and behaved to her with all the
+kindness and consideration she could assume. She took her to various
+places of amusement, and tried to find pleasure herself in scenes that a
+few years before would have given her great delight; but the forebodings
+of coming evil hung heavily over her, and she could not rouse herself
+into her old spirits. Howel was very kind to her when with her; but
+after that one white day he was not much at home. He went out once or
+twice with her and his mother in the evening, and was so very attentive
+to the latter that she began to think herself a person of consideration
+once more.
+
+'There's kind Howels is, Netta, fach!' she would say. 'There's proud you
+ought to be to be having such a kind husband. But he don't be looking
+well, nor you neither. You was looking as pale as those wox figures at
+Mrs Tuss's; and seure won was as like you as could be. Ach a fi! I
+'ouldn't like to be going again into that little room with all the
+murderers. And Howel was looking quite pale. But such beauty music, and
+dresses, and all like life. I thought I should a-screeked out when that
+man turned and looked at me, and wogged his head, and was nodding, is
+seure as if he was alive, and he only wox!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins had been in London about a week, when Howel began
+carelessly the subject nearest his heart.
+
+'I say, mother, fach, how does your money hold out? I daresay you are
+rich as a Jew by this time.'
+
+'Pretty well, Howel. I hope you do be well off now, and don't be living
+so gay as you wos.'
+
+'Well, mother, if I could just get a few thousands for a couple of weeks
+I should be as rich as Croesus, and out of all those difficulties I told
+you of in another month. Do you know of any one likely to have such a
+sum to lend?'
+
+'Thousands, Howel! why hundreds wasn't plenty with us, let alone
+thousands. You do know that there don't be any wan so rich as you in our
+parts.'
+
+'So I am, mother, or rather shall be by-and-by. I have lived beyond my
+income, but I am going to retrench, and if you could only lend me five
+or six thousands pounds, it would set me right, and I could pay you
+again in a month.'
+
+'Five or six thousand! Why, Howel, I 'ouldn't know how to get it; and I
+don't cheuse to be reuining myself, and bringing myself down again for
+nobody.'
+
+'Not even for me, mother? To save me from jail, perhaps! Ha! ha! I'm
+sure you wouldn't like to see me in jail; and 'pon my honour I don't
+know how I shall keep out of it unless you help me.'
+
+'And where's the thousands and hundreds of thousands your father was
+leaving you? Ten years ago come next Jeune he did die, my poor Griffey.'
+
+'Now, mother, don't humbug me about that. You know you were glad enough.
+Only let me have the money, unless you want me to leave the country,
+never to come back.'
+
+'Ach an wyr! How you be talking. You wos frightening me to death. I
+'ouldn't mind lending you a few hundreds, but--'
+
+'Hundreds won't do, mother. I must have five thousand six hundred before
+this week is out, or else--It is impossible you could be cruel enough to
+see your only son in distress, and not help him out of it.'
+
+'I have been helping you all your life, Howel. I could lend you wan
+thousand, and no more, and if you'll promise to be paying me soon.'
+
+'One thousand six hundred, mother, I must have that at least.'
+
+It would be waste of time to write the reasons urged by Howel to induce
+his mother to advance him this money; but after some hours of entreaty,
+and a promise from him that he would repay it shortly, she consented to
+write the necessary cheque for that sum. She insisted upon the business
+being managed through Mr Rice Rice, her attorney at home, and wrote to
+him to empower him to raise it as he best could for her son at once.
+
+As she was a poor scribe, and a still worse orthographer, Howel
+superintended the letter, and when it was written said he would enclose
+and post it. He was most particular in telling her where and how to
+write the figures; and before the ink was dry begged her to go to a
+davenport, which stood at the other end of the room, for a stamp.
+
+No sooner was her back turned towards him, than with the same pen and
+ink he made the straight figure _one_ into a _four_, and in the cheque
+which she had written, as well as in the accompanying letter, four
+thousand six hundred pounds held the place that one thousand six hundred
+had held when Mrs Griffith Jenkins left the table to go to the
+davenport.
+
+If Howel trembled, or if his conscience smote him when he did this
+dreadful deed, he did not let his mother see it.
+
+'Perhaps, after all, you had better direct the letter, mother,' he said,
+as he finished sealing it. 'If I do it it will look as if I thought you
+couldn't write, and you really write just as well as any other lady of
+your age. I am really very much obliged to you.'
+
+When Howel carried the letter out of the room, and went for a few
+moments into another, he said to himself, 'I can pay the whole back
+after the races, and manage so as to prevent her knowing anything about
+it. And if the worst come to the worst, I must tell her what I did. She
+won't expose me; it will be a furious quarrel, and then all will be
+over. We must keep her here for a long time, and I must get hold of her
+letters first and read them to her, and alter them if necessary. Now I
+must look about for another thousand pounds.'
+
+In due course of time the money was procured for Mrs Jenkins, and paid
+into a London bank. Howel took possession of the letter of advice
+concerning it, and told his mother he had opened it because she was out
+when it arrived, and he had not a moment to lose in obtaining the money
+from the bank. He kissed her, and talked to her, and hurried her and
+Netta to dress for a drive in the park with him, until he made her
+forget to obtain possession of the letter, and so far his fraud
+prospered.
+
+A few mornings after he had received the money, he had a note from Mr
+Deep, containing the intelligence of the return from abroad of Sir
+Samuel Spendall, and that his attorneys were investigating his affairs.
+As soon as he received this note, he went by a succession of omnibuses
+to the east of London, and, as it chanced, into his brother-in-law's
+parish. In this parish there was a wretched-looking suburb, inhabited
+principally by Jews, whose houses were, unlike the whited sepulchres
+metaphorically used in scripture to describe the hearts of their race,
+most unclean without, but magnificent within. Into many of these
+dwellings Howel went in the hope of raising money, but without success.
+His credit was at zero.
+
+In a desolate, but somewhat more respectable-looking house of the same
+parish, he hired a couple of rooms, giving his name as Mr Mills, and
+paying a week's rent in advance.
+
+He was walking up this street, looking for a cab, when he was suddenly
+accosted by his brother-in-law, Rowland Prothero.
+
+'You are coming to see me, Howel, I am so glad,' said Rowland, as they
+shook hands.
+
+'Not to-day; I am here on a little business, and in a great hurry.'
+
+Howel walked on, but Rowland accompanied him.
+
+'You were all out when I called yesterday,' said Rowland, 'and I
+particularly wanted to see you, Howel. When will you be at home?'
+
+'It is impossible to say.'
+
+'It is on your own account; it is about Sir Samuel Spendall that I wish
+to speak.'
+
+Howel turned pale, and stood still for a moment, looking round him as he
+did so to see that no one was listening.
+
+'What of him?'
+
+'Sir Philip told me that he had been heard to say he would dispute your
+right to his property, for you had acquired it by unfair means.'
+
+'The scoundrel!' cried Howel, turning pale. 'You have always something
+agreeable to communicate when we do meet. It is well it is so seldom, Mr
+Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'Oh, Howel! hear me whilst it is yet time, and clear yourself from the
+imputations to which I cannot shut my ears. My eyes, alas! have been
+long opened, and I would have helped you, but neither Netta nor you will
+listen.'
+
+'Cab!' shouted Howel, and a cab drew up, and Howel jumped into it, with
+a 'good morning,' leaving Rowland looking mournfully after it.
+
+The next morning Rowland was at Howel's house very early. He found Netta
+alone, and heard from her that Howel had not been at home since the
+previous morning. She had had a line from him telling her that he was
+going with Mr Deep to Greenwich.
+
+Netta looked ill and anxious. Rowland entreated her to tell him freely
+what made her so unhappy. He said he did not wish to interfere between
+her and her husband, only to advise her for her good.
+
+Netta burst into tears, and said that Howel was very kind now, but that
+she feared there was something on his mind. She knew they were in debt,
+but that Howel told her all would soon be right.
+
+Rowland begged her to come to him if she were in any difficulty; assured
+her of his brotherly love and deep interest in her; pointed out her path
+of duty to her, and urged her to be patient with her husband whatever
+might happen, and to endeavour to win him to better courses; then left
+her with a heavy heart and a promise to return on the morrow. He was
+obliged to be at home that evening for a service in the church.
+
+Late at night Howel returned, anxious and pale. Netta and Mrs Griffey
+had been to see Albert Smith's entertainment, and the latter was in a
+great state of descriptive excitement, when Howel interrupted her by
+saying,--
+
+'Mother, I am very sorry to seem so unkind and inhospitable, but I am
+afraid I must ask you to return home to-morrow.'
+
+'To-morrow! I am feeling too tired to be up in time to-morrow, and,
+seure! if you 'on't give your own mother a home for as long as she do
+like to stay, there's my Lady Simpson who is asking me there, and--'
+
+'Impossible, mother, I must see you off for Wales. I am in great trouble
+about money, and I must leave to-morrow myself or shall be in jail.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, Howel, what wos you doing with what I did give you?'
+
+'Never mind; only, if anything is said to you about that money by any
+one, take care what you say in answer. Don't answer at all, indeed, or
+it may ruin you and me. Now you must pack up your things to be ready for
+the first train. Tell the servants--I will--that you are summoned home
+by a telegraphic message.'
+
+Howel impelled his mother upstairs, and then said to Netta, who was
+standing looking very pale, with her hand on her heart,--
+
+'Netta, you must fill your pockets, and every corner of your dress that
+will contain them, with such jewels and plate as are of value. Money, I
+fear, there is none, unless my mother has any. Send the servants to bed,
+and do this when all is quiet. I am liable to be arrested for debt, and
+do not know when it may or may not take place. Have a cab to-morrow
+morning, and send my mother to the station; then take Minette, at your
+usual hour, through the park to Hyde Park Corner. Start about ten. I
+will meet you. I must not stay here to-night; indeed, I must not stay
+longer.'
+
+Netta threw her arms round Howel's neck, and entreated him not to leave
+her.
+
+'Netta, don't be a fool! You don't want to ruin me, do you?'
+
+Netta withdrew her arms, and stood like a statue before Howel.
+
+'You needn't look so frightened? it will be all right in a few weeks.
+To-morrow at ten, remember.'
+
+Howel kissed her, and again left the house.
+
+Poor Netta set about the work that was appointed her mechanically. First
+of all, however, she went into her mother-in-law's room, and assisted
+her to pack. Mrs Griffey was by turns indignant, alarmed, and sorrowful;
+but finding that she must depart, and that some real difficulty existed,
+she made no further resistance. Seeing that Netta had literally no
+money, she gave her a ten-pound note, under a faithful promise that she
+would not transfer it to Howel.
+
+'He do be very good-for-nothing, Netta, and have been spending money
+enough to buy half London. Tak' you care of this, and write you to me.
+You was very good to me since I was come here.'
+
+The kind word was too much for Netta, and she sat down and cried
+bitterly. Mrs Griffey tried to comfort her by crying too, and so the
+night waned away.
+
+The following morning the cab was sent for, according to Howel's order,
+and a man-servant ordered to accompany Mrs Griffith Jenkins to the
+station and see her off. Netta had never believed it possible that she
+could have cried at parting with her mother-in-law; but after she left
+the house she wrung her hands in despair, and wept as if she had lost
+her last earthly friend.
+
+Still, she thought, Howel is kind, and loves me, so I will not mind what
+else happens.
+
+She ordered Justine to dress Minette, whilst she hurriedly finished such
+preparations as she could make for her uncertain future. She found that
+all Howel's jewels were already gone, so she had only to fill her
+pockets and a bag with the best of her own and some plate and lock her
+drawers. She took it for granted that Howel wanted the jewels for
+himself, and that she would be obliged, when she returned home, to
+secure other things.
+
+As she took Minette by the hand, and led her along the handsome square
+in which they lived, she saw two men look at her very intently, and then
+exchange some words apparently about her. In former days, when her
+bright colour and pretty face attracted the notice of passers-by, this
+would only have pleased her; now it frightened her.
+
+Before they reached Hyde Park Corner Howel hailed her from a cab.
+
+'Netta, would you rather go into Wales to my mother or come with me?'
+said Howel.
+
+'With you, Howel, anywhere, not into Wales for the world.'
+
+Howel leaned back into a corner of the cab, and did not speak again.
+
+Netta did not know where they went, but they got into four cabs in
+succession, driving a certain distance in one, then paying the driver,
+then walking into another street and hailing a fresh vehicle.
+
+At last they reached the far east of London, and found themselves in a
+dirty, wretched street, amongst a squalid population.
+
+'Give me the bag, and take care of your pocket,' said Howel, as they
+walked along the pavement. 'Keep close to me.'
+
+They reached the house where Howel had taken a lodging the previous day.
+He walked through the passage, and bade his wife and child follow him;
+ascended two pair of stairs, and entered a large and tolerably
+respectable room.
+
+There was a letter on the table, which he opened at once. It contained
+the following lines:--
+
+'The double S are comparing notes, and various rumours are in
+circulation amongst that set.'
+
+He put the letter in his pocket, and, turning to Netta, told her to go
+into the bedroom and take off her own and Minette's bonnet, as they must
+stay for a little while where they were.
+
+'Not here, papa,' said Minette, beginning to cry. 'I don't like this
+place.'
+
+'Hold your tongue!' said her father sternly, as Netta led her out of the
+room.
+
+'Netta,' whispered Howel, 'our name is Mills here--just for a time
+only.'
+
+When Netta went into the close, dark bedroom at the back of the
+sitting-room, she took off her sobbing child's things, set her on her
+lap, and by degrees soothed her to sleep. She laid her on such a bed as
+she had assuredly never slept on before, and then returned to Howel.
+
+She stood before him pale and resolute. He was pacing the room rapidly,
+and muttering to himself.
+
+'Howel, I must know all! What is the matter? What is to become of us?'
+she said.
+
+'We must not be seen by our friends for a time, dear Netta, because I
+am liable to be arrested. Will you mind staying here a day or two alone?
+I must go away for a short time on business but will return and remove
+you when it is settled. You are better here than at home, as everything
+will be seized. You are in Rowland's parish, if the worst should come to
+the worst; but I don't want him to know anything about me, as it will be
+all right again by-and-by.'
+
+'Howel, I asked Captain Dancy not to insist upon that money.'
+
+'You did! That is why he let me off with half for another month. What
+did he say?'
+
+'He said, Howel, that if I would go to France with him he would forgive
+your debt.'
+
+'And you, Netta?' Howel clenched his fist.
+
+'And I, Howel? I left the room, and have never seen him since. He called
+after, but I could not speak to him again. How could I?'
+
+'Netta, will you forgive and try to forget how jealous and unkind I have
+been? In spite of all, I have loved you, Netta. Oh! if I had not taken
+you away from your happy home!'
+
+'I can bear anything if you love me, Howel. We will try to get through
+this difficulty, and then you will begin afresh as a clerk or anything;
+and we will be happy--oh, so happy again! Happier than ever!'
+
+Netta smiled through her tears, whilst Howel groaned aloud.
+
+'Think kindly of me, Netta; don't let them make you hate me. I care for
+no one else in the world. If I send for you, will you come to me,
+supposing I cannot come myself?'
+
+'Anywhere! anywhere!'
+
+Netta put her arms around her husband and sobbed aloud.
+
+By-and-by some refreshments that Howel had ordered came up. The landlady
+appeared, who seemed a quiet, meek-looking woman.
+
+'I shall be obliged to leave Mrs Mills and the little girl for a day or
+two,' said Howel. 'You will see they are attended to, I hope.'
+
+'Yes, sir,' said the landlady looking, and, doubtless, feeling
+astonished at the sort of person Netta was, so pretty and well-dressed.
+
+That evening another letter arrived from Mr Deep, which told Howel very
+plainly that writs were issued against him, and that his bills, cheques,
+betting debts, and affairs generally, were being questioned by his
+friends. There was also rather more than a hint of his being suspected
+of forgery.
+
+He went out as soon as he had received that letter, and did not return
+until past midnight. Netta awaited him in an agony of terror lest he
+should return no more.
+
+He gave Netta ten pounds and told her on no account to disclose her real
+name, or give a clue to his having been with her in those lodgings, if
+she should see Rowland.
+
+'But you will be back soon?' said poor Netta.
+
+'In a few days I hope, or else I will send for you. I must leave
+to-morrow morning at daybreak.'
+
+A few weeks ago and neither husband nor wife would have cared how long
+the separation might be, now it seemed death for each to part.
+
+Howel kissed his child again and again as she lay sleeping in her dingy
+bed, and held Netta long in his arms. The only human being who really
+loved him! Him, weak, wild, sinful, godless! yet with one divine spark
+rekindling in his breast--the spark of human love.
+
+He laid his wife, fainting, by the side of her child on the bed, bathed
+her temples with water until he saw that she would revive, and then
+rushed out into the dirty streets, under the misty, murky morning sky, a
+reckless and miserable man.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+THE ACCOUNTANT.
+
+
+'I never shall get through these accounts!' is the soliloquy of Miss
+Gwynne, to whom we return with much pleasure, on my part, at least,
+after a separation of six years.
+
+She is seated in a gloomy but comfortable dining-room, in a house
+situated in one of the squares at the East End of London. We left her in
+her large, airy, country home, looking out upon a beautiful view of hill
+and valley--we find her in a close, dark square, with nothing to enliven
+the scene without but a few dingy shrubs, a row of tall gaunt houses,
+and a smoke-discoloured, soot-filled atmosphere. We left her unhappy and
+discontented--we find her happy and contented. We left her with a mind
+harassed by uncertain plans, disappointed hopes, and humbled pride--we
+find her with a mind strengthened by good purposes, holy aspirations,
+and prayers for humility. Still, we left her and find her Winifred
+Gwynne. She has not lost her idiosyncrasy.
+
+Reader, be not hasty to pronounce upon the suddenness of these changes.
+Six years spent principally amongst the earnest minded, laborious clergy
+of London and their families, in the heart of the most wretched, squalid
+parish, amongst the lowest, most depraved, most ignorant, most utterly
+miserable set of people in England, would sober the most thoughtless
+woman in the world, provided she had a heart. And Freda has not only a
+heart, but one earnestly desirous of doing good.
+
+She has found vent for her energy, occupation for her time, a bank for
+all the money she possesses; therefore we find her in the midst of
+papers covered with figures, containing accounts of ragged schools,
+which she is labouring to reckon up, in the simplest of morning dresses,
+without ornament or extraneous adornment. She is somewhat paler and
+thinner than she used to be amongst the breezy hills of Wales, but her
+eyes are brighter, and the expression of her countenance is gentler.
+
+'How stupid I am!' she exclaims. 'Gladys would reckon them up directly,
+but she is at the school, and I am ashamed to ask Nita, with all her
+accounts.'
+
+She pauses a moment and lays down her pen. Her eyes fall upon an
+unopened letter.
+
+'And I declare I have not broken the seal of my own father's letter,'
+she mutters, performing this duty as she does so, and running through it
+with occasional comments.
+
+'"We hope you will come and spend Christmas--" I suppose I must--"and
+see your little brother, who longs to see sister Freda again--" Humph!
+but who cut her out of Glanyravon Park and all thereto belonging, though
+he certainly is a dear little man. "Her ladyship quite well, and desires
+her love." I suppose I ought to be glad and try to return the love. "Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan and her children were here yesterday. She asked for you,
+and the little ones wished to know when you were coming home--" I am
+much obliged to her, and am afraid I am _not_ too anxious to see either
+her or her husband, in spite of their civility. "Little Harold is really
+a wonderful child! He begins to spell already!" So like my good father.
+Well, I ought to be thankful he is happy, and that it all turned out so
+much better than I expected. But I can't help feeling a kind of wicked
+disappointment when I think that Lady Mary should be quite as good a
+tactician as a second wife, as she was before she married again. But, I
+hope, I am happy that she makes poor papa comfortable and doesn't worry
+him to death. I don't think he loves her now half as well as he does me;
+still, perhaps she suits him better, because she manages him, and I
+never could. But the _tyfydd_ [Footnote: Welsh for heir.] is a dear
+little fellow, and I am really fond of him.'
+
+Miss Gwynne's soliloquy is cut short by a rap at the door, followed by
+the entrance of Rowland Prothero, who says, as he bows and seems about
+to retreat,--
+
+'I beg your pardon--I was told Mr Jones was here.'
+
+'Oh, do come in!' says Miss Gwynne, rising, and advancing to meet
+Rowland; 'I cannot get through these accounts. I have been reckoning and
+reckoning ever since breakfast, and they will not come right. I should
+be so much obliged to you if you would just look them over for me.'
+
+Rowland seated himself at Freda's desk, and began at once to do her
+bidding. The ragged school was the one in which he was so much
+interested, and that he had been instrumental in establishing.
+
+Whilst Miss Gwynne had been living with her friend, Mrs Jones, she had
+seen a great deal of Rowland; they had, in fact, been thrown much
+together. At first, Rowland ceased to come to consult the Joneses, or to
+spend his few spare hours with them, when he heard that Freda was there;
+and, of course, they and she understood and respected his reasons for
+absenting himself; but in the course of time, they met at Sir Philip
+Payne Perry's, at his rector's, and elsewhere, and his reserve slightly
+wore off. When Freda began to assist Mrs Jones in her parish work, and
+threw herself, heart and soul, into the ragged school, they met of
+necessity very frequently. Freda was so studiously polite in her manners
+to him, and so careful to avoid every subject that would recall their
+old relations at Glanyravon, that he gradually felt more at his ease
+with her, and it ended by his resuming his old, friendly intercourse
+with Mr and Mrs Jones. But Freda knew well that, in spite of her best
+efforts to propitiate him, he never forgot those words, 'Do you know who
+I am, and who you are?' He was always gentlemanlike, always kind, always
+ready to do anything she asked him, but he never relaxed the somewhat
+formal respect of his manner. In society, he was quite different with
+every one else to what he was with her. With the Perrys he was as much
+at ease as if he were their own son; and they seemed almost to consider
+him as such. At his rector's he was the life of their little circle, and
+might have been, Freda shrewdly suspected, united to it by a link closer
+than that of curate, had he so chosen; for there was a very pretty
+daughter who evidently looked upon him with favourable eyes. Amongst the
+respectable portion of his flock he was a general favourite, and all the
+young ladies, as young ladies will, worked with and for him; not only in
+the matter of schools, but in slippers and purses. What was still more
+clear and satisfactory to Freda was, that he made way amongst the
+miserable poor.
+
+The ragged school children loved him, and through them, he got at the
+hearts of some of their degraded parents. His seemed a labour of love
+with every one but her. She received his marked politeness and nothing
+more. But he interested her daily. Some new trait of character would
+break out--some little touch of deep feeling--some symptom of a highly
+sensitive nature, which told her how much he must have felt her cutting
+words. He was proud, too, and she liked him for it, although she was
+striving to humble her own pride. What would she not have given to have
+recalled those words! The Rowland Prothero of London, esteemed and loved
+by the wise and good, for his unpretending but strenuous parochial
+labours, his clear, forcible, but very simple preaching--was to her
+quite a different person from him of Glanyravon Farm, the son of her
+father's tenant. In short they were no longer identical. As she was no
+longer the heiress of Glanyravon, but simply Miss Gwynne, Mrs. Jones'
+friend--so he was Mr. Rowland Prothero, a respectable and respected
+London clergyman.
+
+And these are the relations under which they appear, sitting near one
+another over the accounts of the ragged school, which Freda has
+undertaken to keep.
+
+'I think there is a slight fault here, Miss Gwynne,' he says, pointing
+out an error in calculation.
+
+'Of course, I never had a head for figures, and Mrs. Jones could never
+get me to do my sums.'
+
+'Still, the account is quite right in the main, the errors were in the
+adding up, and it is rightly balanced.'
+
+'Thank you, I am so very much obliged to you. I should never have got
+through them. And now, will you tell me of those wretched people that
+Mr. Jones would not let me go and see.'
+
+'I gave them the money you kindly sent, or, at least, laid it out for
+them, as they would have spent it in gin, and they are already more
+comfortable; but the father is gone away, and the mother apparently
+dying.'
+
+'Is there no way of alleviating all this wretchedness?'
+
+'I fear none. Sin is at the root, and as long as the present world
+lasts, there must be misery with it.'
+
+Rowland spoke these words in an unusually melancholy and depressed tone
+of voice, which caused Miss Gwynne to look up from the papers, directly
+at him. He was paler than usual, and his lip quivered. He met her
+glance, and making an effort to rise, said hastily,--
+
+'Can I have the honour of doing anything more for you, Miss Gwynne. I am
+sure I can return you the thanks of the committee, indeed of every one
+concerned for--'
+
+'I want no thanks, I deserve no thanks from any one; are you ill, Mr.
+Rowland? You have been in some of those dreadful haunts, and they have
+upset you. May I get you something?'
+
+'Thank you, I am quite well.' Rowland's lip quivered still more and he
+grew still less calm, as he again met Miss Gwynne's eye fixed on him
+with evident interest.
+
+'I am sure you are ill; you must allow me the privilege of a
+parishioner, if not of an old friend, and let me ask what is the
+matter?'
+
+Her manner was so kind, that Rowland's reserve was for a moment
+overcome.
+
+'Thank you, Miss Gwynne--my poor sister.'
+
+'Yes, what of her? I assure you I am truly interested for her; poor
+Netta!'
+
+'I fear she is in serious trouble, I scarcely know what myself as yet;
+but she, her husband and child have left the house, and Howel's
+creditors have taken possession of all his effects. No one knows where
+they are gone, or what is to become of them.'
+
+Rowland had not the courage to tell Miss Gwynne that the police were
+searching for Howel right and left upon a charge of forgery.
+
+'Poor Netta! I am very, very sorry. What can have reduced him to this?'
+
+'Gaming, horse-racing, speculating! These will waste the largest fortune
+and ruin the fairest hopes. But he deserves it all, only my poor sister
+is the victim, and the respectability of an honest name is impeached.'
+
+'Oh no--poor Netta's hasty marriage and wilful temper were the causes of
+her trouble, it can have nothing to do with your family; besides, many
+people of high family and position are obliged to fly for debt.'
+
+'That is dishonour enough, Miss Gwynne, but this--this is worse; Howel
+is suspected of--of forgery.'
+
+Rowland gave Miss Gwynne one quick, searching glance as he said that
+word, and then rose to go. She rose, too, but putting out her hands, and
+looking him full in the face, kindly and gently, she said,--
+
+'Mr. Prothero, I am very sorry for you; for Netta; for all. But if this
+is true, the sin and the shame will rest with him who caused them--it
+cannot fall on you or yours.'
+
+Rowland shook the offered hand, and then left the room.
+
+In the hall he met Gladys, who had just come in from the school. Frisk
+was barking and jumping about her with great animation, not having
+grown, as Freda foretold, a useless and fat London dog. When Rowland
+appeared, he transferred his attentions to him, and looked much
+disappointed at receiving none in return.
+
+Rowland shook hands with Gladys, and asked her to come with him into Mr
+Jones' little study, where he told her, more clearly than he had told
+Miss Gwynne, what he knew of Howel and Netta.
+
+He said that he had been to their house the previous day in the
+afternoon, and had found it occupied by sheriffs' officers and
+policemen, who were trying, in vain, to ascertain from the servants
+where their master and mistress were. All that they knew was that their
+master did not sleep in the house the previous night, and that their
+mistress left it that morning. Rowland had waited until late at night,
+but no further intelligence was gained.
+
+He gleaned that Howel was accused of having forged cheques, at different
+times, to a very large amount, in the names both of Sir Samuel Spendall
+and Sir Horatio Simpson. The frauds had been discovered through a cheque
+on the latter's bank, purporting to be written by him for five hundred
+pounds, received by Howel a few weeks before. Sir Horatio Simpson having
+gone himself to his bankers for some money, it was found that he had
+overdrawn his account, and, upon examining his late cheques, he utterly
+disclaimed that of Howel, and declared it forged. The result of this was
+a general examination of his banking accounts for the last four years,
+and the discovery of forgeries, by alteration of figures and forged
+signatures, to the amount of some five or six thousand pounds.
+
+At the same time Sir Samuel Spendall's attorneys found, from a rigid
+examination of that baronet's affairs, that Howel's claim on him did not
+amount to two-thirds of his demand, and that various signatures to
+betting debts, and loans of money, etc., were forgeries.
+
+In addition to this, Howel's own debts, both on the turf and to his
+tradesmen, were enormous, and ignominy surrounded him on all sides.
+
+Rowland groaned aloud as he told Gladys these horrible truths, and
+Gladys had no words of comfort; all she could say was,--
+
+'It is not poor Netta's fault; it is not yours, Mr Rowland, or that of
+any one belonging to you.'
+
+'But the shame, Gladys; you know my father, it will be his death.'
+
+'Oh no, sir, he always expected something of the kind. I have often
+heard him say so. If we could only find Mrs Jenkins and her child it
+would not be so bad.'
+
+Mr Jones came in, and Gladys left the room and went to Miss Gwynne.
+
+Gladys has become the friend and confidential adviser of every member of
+that small household; no one but herself considers her as a servant. She
+acts as housekeeper for Mrs Jones, maid to Miss Gwynne, school teacher
+and district visitor to Mr Jones and Rowland, almoner and confidante to
+all. Gladys, within doors, Miss Gladys, without; no one knows that she
+has any other name. In spite of her beauty, her youth, her timidity, she
+goes amongst scenes and people, from whom most women, even the best,
+would shrink, and seems to bear about with her a charmed life and
+invisible strength that nothing can destroy.
+
+Amongst the wretched Irish who inhabit a portion of that vast, depraved
+parish, she has an influence that even the clergy cannot boast, due to
+her Irish extraction and slight accent; and the sufferings she has
+herself undergone from gaunt famine and grim death, make her keenly
+alive to their wants and feelings. No one has such power over the poor
+untutored heathen children of the ragged school as she has, and no one
+loves them as she does. She, too, like her mistress, has found her
+vocation in their city home; who cannot find a vocation in any home, if
+they will only look around them for it?
+
+Whilst Rowland and Mr Jones discuss the sad news Rowland has to tell,
+Miss Gwynne, Mrs Jones and Gladys discuss it also, for Mrs Jones has
+joined the pair in the dining room. There is but one feeling in that
+household--sorrow for Rowland and his family, anxiety about Netta. Tears
+are in the eyes of all those true-hearted women as they think of the
+probable fate of the once bright little belle of their country
+neighbourhood, deserted, perhaps amongst the wild wildernesses of London
+houses.
+
+Mr Jones endeavours to console Rowland by suggesting that if Netta is
+left by her husband she will surely fall back upon her brother; and when
+he has exhausted what little portion of hope he can inspire, Rowland
+turns resolutely to subjects that must be attended to, even if his heart
+were breaking from sorrow.
+
+The respected rector of that large parish was in very uncertain health,
+and had gone abroad with his family for three months, leaving all the
+parochial duties in the hands of his two curates. They were heavy enough
+for three clergymen, but Mr Jones and Rowland found them almost too
+weighty for them, unassisted by their chief; however, they fought
+manfully through them, Sundays and week days.
+
+Rowland refused Mr and Mrs Jones' invitation to dinner, and, crossing
+the square, entered his solitary lodging in one of the opposite houses,
+and began to write to his brother Owen. He told him all that he knew of
+Howel and Netta, and begged him to break it to their parents as best he
+might.
+
+When he had finished his letter he prepared to go out again. His
+landlady brought him some luncheon, but he could not touch it. He went
+first to his ragged school, and there the sight of those children of
+crime and infamy recalled his little niece to his mind, and made his
+heart sink still lower with the fear of what she might become. Never had
+he spoken with such feeling to the motley throng that stood about him as
+he did that day. Then he had to thread some of the haunts whence those
+children came to seek out the miserable parents to whom they had been a
+sort of introduction, and never before had he experienced so forcibly
+that he was their brother, even theirs, as now that he knew that his
+sister's husband was 'a thief and a forger;' he could almost fancy that
+they already pointed to him as belonging, at least, to one as degraded
+as themselves.
+
+That evening he read prayers and lectured in one of the churches. He
+lectured extempore, and it was noted by all his congregation that more
+than once his feelings nearly overcame him. They thought and talked of
+the fact, when, at a later period, they heard of his family sorrow. But
+they all said that his 'word was with power,' and there was many a moist
+eye amongst them as he warned them, in language made even more forcible
+than usual by the events of the day, against the pleasures and vices of
+the world.
+
+After the service many of the school teachers and Scripture-readers met
+him in the vestry to have their work allotted, and their word of advice
+and encouragement. Again he pressed upon them the subject brought home
+to his heart, that of resisting in youth the 'temptations of the world,
+the flesh, and the devil.'
+
+His youthful regiment of soldiers talked to one another afterwards of
+the earnestness and piety of Him who led them on in their battle against
+evil, and prayed to become more like one who was so devoted to 'fighting
+that good fight,' which they had enlisted to join in.
+
+Tired and exhausted, Rowland returned to his lodging. He tried to review
+the events of the day, but in doing so, fairly broke down. He had been
+striving to keep his mind in subjection by beating down his monster
+enemy, pride, for the last six years; but he found that he was still
+rampant within him. It was not simply the grief for a sister's distress
+and a brother-in-law's sin that he felt, but strong personal
+mortification. How could he think of self, of the Perrys, of his rector,
+of his family, of his parishioners and their opinion, above all, how
+could he think of Miss Gwynne, who disdained him,--at a time when every
+personal feeling ought to be merged into sympathy with others? He prayed
+and struggled against the tempter; prayed for his sister; above all, for
+Howel; in words too fervent and holy for these pages; and went to bed
+and slept from mere exhaustion of mind and body. Little did Netta
+imagine, when she made that disobedient step into the dark future, what
+misery it would bring upon all who loved her!
+
+Pause, then, and think, all you young women who may be meditating a
+similar course, even whilst reading this story, or may be at issue with
+your parents, because their experience shows them a future which your
+inexperience cannot show you! Pause and think that Netta is no
+fictitious character, her story no mere creation of an author's brain,
+but the portrait and history of one out of hundreds of wilful daughters
+brought to shame and grief, and bringing all belonging to them to shame
+and grief by an unblessed and unholy marriage.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+THE FORGER'S WIFE.
+
+
+Days and weeks passed, and there was no intelligence of Netta. Rowland
+had heard from Owen of the domestic misery at home, and also that he had
+been to see Mrs Griffith Jenkins, who disclaimed all knowledge of her
+son's hiding place, or what had become of his wife and child. Her own
+grief was too real to allow even the sceptical Owen to doubt it; and
+when, in addition, she gave him to understand that she, too, was nearly
+ruined by Howel's forgeries, but that she would die rather than tell any
+one else of it, he could only pity the wretched mother who had, by her
+bad example and teaching, helped to train her son for the ruin into
+which he had fallen.
+
+Rowland heard that Mr Deep had been arrested upon a charge of abetting
+Howel in his crimes, and that a search-warrant for the examination of
+his papers had brought to light other nefarious dealings, as well as an
+unsigned letter, supposed to be in Howel's writing, intimating his
+intention of going to America. This had caused inquiries to be made at
+the docks, and police emissaries to be despatched forthwith to America.
+A person answering his description had sailed for that continent from
+Southampton the day after Howel left his house, but unaccompanied by
+wife or child.
+
+Strange to say that the Epsom races had come off, and that Howel's
+horse, Magnificent, had actually won the Derby stakes! Too late! save
+for his creditors and those he had defrauded. Still, doubtless, one more
+bitter drop in the cup of his despair, wherever he might chance to be
+drinking it.
+
+All that he had left behind him was sold, hunters inclusive, and this
+Magnificent alone, particularly after the Derby, yielded a princely
+fortune. Too late, either for further crimes, or poor Netta's hoped-for
+reformation.
+
+It was hard work for Rowland to go through his heavy parochial duties
+with this great misfortune hanging over his head. But if the sympathy
+and kindness of friends could help him in his work, and support him
+under the pressure of anxiety, he was helped and supported. Still it was
+evident to all that he fled from society, and in spite of the delicate
+tact of the Joneses and Freda, he had scarcely been near them since that
+first day. Whether it was pride or susceptibility, he could scarcely
+tell himself, but he could not bring himself to thrust his sorrow and
+those of his family upon others. He caused every possible search to be
+made, through the police and otherwise for Netta, but in vain.
+
+But Providence answered his prayers, when his own efforts seemed
+fruitless, and that through the instrumentality of one of the poor
+children, for whose benefit he had exerted such talents as God had given
+him.
+
+Some four years before, a miserable girl of eleven years old had become
+one of his ragged school children. I say _his_, because even his rector
+allowed him the merit of establishing the school. Through this child,
+Rowland became acquainted with her mother, a wretched, starving widow,
+living in squalor and iniquity. Miss Gwynne had helped her temporally,
+Rowland spiritually, and when she had died, about a year ago, he had
+strong hopes that much suffering had brought forth a sincere repentance.
+
+Her little girl was one of the many examples of the blessed effects of a
+ragged school. At her mother's death she was fifteen years old,
+teachable and anxious to be taught. Rowland prevailed on a respectable
+woman, the lodging-house keeper, in whose house Netta had found a
+refuge, to try her as a servant, and she had turned out well.
+
+So it was that this girl, having an idea that Rowland could effect
+wonders, waited for him one Sunday evening after service, and asked if
+she might speak with him. She told him, with a long preface of
+apologies, that she did not know if she was right in saying what she was
+going to say, but that there was a poor lady in her mistress's second
+floor, who was very ill, out of her mind she thought, and who hadn't a
+friend in the world. The lady had forbidden her mistress to speak to any
+doctor or clergyman about her, but she had not forbidden her. And indeed
+it seemed almost worse to see a lady in such trouble and sickness than
+it did those who were used to it, as she, and the like of her had been,
+and would be still, but for Mr Prothero.
+
+'What is her name?' asked Rowland eagerly.
+
+'Mrs Mills, sir.'
+
+Rowland's sudden hope fell.
+
+'And she has a little girl, sir, who isn't well either, and who does
+nothing but cry and moan.'
+
+'What is her name?'
+
+'Her mamma calls her Minette, or some such name, sir.'
+
+'I will come with you now,' said Rowland, in great agitation. 'Make
+haste; I suppose she has been with you some time.'
+
+'More than a month, sir, and she is always expecting some one to
+come--and no one comes.'
+
+Rowland strode on, fast--faster than he had once before walked with
+Gladys--heedless of everything around him. In about a quarter of an hour
+he and the girl reached the lodging house.
+
+'You will tell missus how it was, please, sir. I don't think she can be
+angry, sir.'
+
+'I am sure she will not be angry; tell her that I want to see her.
+
+Mrs Saunders, the landlady, came at once.
+
+Rowland inquired into the particulars of Netta's arrival at her house,
+her illness, etc., and heard what we already know of Howel's sudden
+departure; and the following account, in addition of the month Netta had
+spent since he left her.
+
+'The morning after Mr Mills left, sir,' said the landlady 'Mrs Mills did
+not ring for breakfast, or show any sign of being up. I waited for a
+long time, and then I went and listened at the bedroom door. I heard a
+kind of moaning, and was so frightened, I made so bold as to go in. I
+found the poor lady lying down on the bed, beside the little girl, who
+was still asleep. She seemed more dead than alive, and looked at me
+terrified-like, as if she didn't know who was coming in. When she saw
+me, she tried to get up and look cheerful, and to give account of her
+never having undressed. I went and made her some tea, and got her to go
+into the sitting-room by the fire which the girl lighted, for she was as
+cold as death. Then I dressed the little girl, who awoke and began to
+cry when she saw how pale her mamma looked, and I told her to try to
+make her mamma eat and drink. And the little dear, like an angel as she
+is, began to comfort her mother, and to coax her, and when I saw the
+poor lady begin to shed tears over the child I went away.
+
+'Ever since that morning, sir, she has been in a kind of a dream. She
+does nothing but look out of the window, up and down the street, as if
+she was expecting some one, and whenever there is a step on the stairs,
+she runs to the door and peeps out. And then, when the postman's knock
+is heard, she starts, turns red, turns pale, and puts her hand on her
+heart. I am sure she has heart complaint, and I asked her to let me send
+for a doctor, but she wouldn't hear of it. Sometimes I think she's a
+little crazed. Once I mentioned the clergy, and asked if she wouldn't
+like to see one, and said you and Mr Jones, sir, were very kind
+gentlemen. She started up, and said, "Hush! hush! not for worlds--not
+for worlds! Mr Mills will soon be back!" She gave me a ten-pound note to
+change twice--and I was obliged to buy everything for her and the little
+girl, for they hadn't a rag with them, except what they stood up in. I
+was as careful as I could be, but the money went, and now she talks of
+selling some jewels and things she brought with her. Oh, sir! if you
+could find their friends!'
+
+As may be supposed, Rowland had some difficulty in controlling his
+emotion during this recital. When Mrs Saunders paused, he said,--
+
+'I have every reason to believe that I know this poor lady, and, if you
+will trust me to go to her, I am sure that I shall be of service. I must
+go quite alone. You may depend upon my having a right to do this.'
+
+'Whatever you do, sir, is sure to be right and kind. If you will take it
+upon yourself I shall be only too glad. You know the room, sir? the one
+where you used to go and see my poor husband.'
+
+Rowland was upstairs immediately. Almost before he reached the door, a
+pale, haggard face peered out of it.
+
+'It is--it is Howel!' cried poor Netta, rushing into the gloomy passage,
+and throwing her arms round Rowland's neck.
+
+'No, Netta--dearest Netta! it is I, Rowland--your brother,' said
+Rowland, supporting his fainting sister back into the room.
+
+'Uncle! Uncle Rowland! I am so glad!' exclaimed a little voice, as
+Minette ran towards him and clasped his knees.
+
+As, the glare of the gas by which the room was lighted fell upon Netta's
+face, Rowland half believed that it was the corpse of his once blooming
+sister that he was placing on the sofa.
+
+'Fetch some water, Minette, darling,' said Rowland, supporting Netta.
+
+'This is what mamma takes,' said the child, bringing Rowland a small
+bottle labelled 'Prussic acid' from the bedroom.
+
+'I cannot give her this. Is there no wine?'
+
+'The little girl went to an old chiffonier and brought a decanter with
+wine in it. Rowland poured some down Netta's throat, and she recovered.
+
+'Rowland, is it you? Not--not--' muttered Netta, as she strove to rise.
+'I think you had better go. Perhaps, when he comes, he won't like--oh,
+my heart.'
+
+'Be calm, dear Netta; I will do nothing you dislike. If Howel comes back
+I will go away directly. I will be most careful of what I say. You need
+not fear me, Netta,--your brother who loves you so dearly'
+
+'You won't go away again, uncle, will you?' said the pale, little
+Minette, climbing on Rowland's knee and nestling her head in his bosom;
+'or will you take mamma and me away from this nasty place?'
+
+'No, dear, Uncle Rowland will not leave you, he is so very glad to find
+you.'
+
+Tears, actual tears, filled Rowland's eyes as he kissed the brow of the
+child, who was soon fast asleep in his arms, and as he held Netta's thin
+hand and looked at her bewildered face.
+
+'Did you say you loved me, Rowland?' asked Netta, looking at him with a
+strange, wandering glance, whilst large tears rolled down her cheeks. 'I
+don't think I deserve any one's love, do I? Is mother vexed that I have
+been away so long?'
+
+'Yes, dear, and you must come home at once. You must come to me first to
+get strong, and then--'
+
+'Hush! hush! No, I cannot leave this house,--I will not; never, never
+till Howel comes or sends for me. Isn't that some one on the stairs?'
+
+'I will see, dear.'
+
+'No, not you,--not you.'
+
+'It is some one gone to the next floor. Lie still, dear Netta.'
+
+'It is nice having you, Rowland; but if he should come--'
+
+'I would go away. You are ill, Netta. Tell me what is the matter with
+you.'
+
+Rowland was feeling Netta's pulse, and found that they were too rapid to
+be counted, whilst he could literally hear the pulsation of her heart.
+
+'I don't know; something at my heart. And--and--my head, just here,--at
+the top. It is so burning, like fire.'
+
+'We must nurse you, Netta. If you would only come to my lodgings.'
+
+'Hush! hush! not for the world. I will stay here till--I am sure that is
+a step.'
+
+'No dear. Try to be calm and sleep for half-an-hour, whilst I go and
+make some arrangements.'
+
+'Do you think he will come to-night?'
+
+'I scarcely think he can, Netta. You know he is obliged to hide, dear,
+do you not? for--'
+
+'Yes, yes! he told me for a few days for debt, and then he would come
+back. But he didn't murder Captain Dancy, did he?'
+
+Netta started up and fixed her eyes wildly on her brother.
+
+'No,--I assure you, no! I saw some one who saw Captain Dancy yesterday.'
+
+'Thank God! thank God!'
+
+'And, Netta, I do not think he can venture to come back just yet; so you
+must try to get well for all our sakes.'
+
+'Yes, I will, that I may go to him. I will sleep now. Put Minette by my
+side. Poor Minette!'
+
+Rowland laid the child's head on her mother's lap, and arranged the
+pillows for Netta, and then went, with a heart full to bursting, to Mrs
+Saunders.
+
+'Mrs Saunders,' he said, 'I know that I can trust you. The poor lady to
+whom you have been so kind is my own sister, for whom we have been
+anxiously searching all this time. I don't know how far secrecy may be
+necessary, but, at present at least, do no let this fact go beyond
+yourself. Her husband has reduced her to what you see. I must leave her
+for half-an-hour; meanwhile, will you prepare supper, make a cheerful
+fire, let off the gas, and give us a couple of candles? Make the room as
+home-like as you can, in short. After my sister and the little girl are
+gone to bed, put a couple of blankets on the sofa in the sitting-room
+for me. I cannot leave her to-night.'
+
+'Excuse me, sir,' said Mrs Saunders, 'wouldn't your sleeping here excite
+observation, if secrecy is necessary. You may depend on my care. Sarah
+has slept on the sofa for a fortnight, unknown to Mrs Mills, to be
+within call.'
+
+'Perhaps you are right; but I want to make my sister fancy she is at
+home. It might recall her mind, which is evidently wandering. I shall be
+back soon.'
+
+Rowland walked as fast as he could to Mr Jones'. He found him, his wife,
+and Freda together in his library.
+
+'I must apologise for coming so late,' he began; 'but I know you are so
+kindly interested in my poor sister that you will excuse me. I have
+found her and her child, and cannot prevail on her to leave her rooms at
+Mrs Saunders', where she is.'
+
+Then Rowland told his friends shortly how he had found her, and that he
+feared her mind was in a most uncertain state.
+
+'She evidently does not know her husband's crimes, but thinks he is
+hiding on account of debt, and is expecting him to fetch her away every
+moment. I think if we could distract her thoughts from this one subject
+she might get better; but she is very ill, bodily as well as mentally.'
+
+'Would not the sight of old friends be the best restorative?' suggested
+Miss Gwynne. 'Gladys and I could go to her, and as we are in the habit
+of visiting the sick in the parish, no suspicion could attach to our
+being with her; for it would never do, in poor Netta's state, to expose
+her to inquisitive people connected with her husband's flight.'
+
+'Thank you--thank you, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland 'This is what I
+wished, but scarcely dared to ask.'
+
+Miss Gwynne left the room, and returned accompanied by Gladys.
+
+'Gladys says she is ready to go at once, if necessary,' said Freda; 'and
+we can do without her, cannot we, Serena?'
+
+'Quite well,' said Mrs Jones; 'but it will not do to excite an invalid,
+and so sudden a visit may not be good for her.'
+
+'She must not be left another night without a friend at hand,' said
+Freda decidedly.
+
+Rowland looked his thanks.
+
+'Could not Mr Rowland prepare her for my coming? And I could sleep in
+the sitting-room, and not even see her to-night, but be ready to wait
+upon her to-morrow morning,' said Gladys.
+
+'Yes,' said Freda. 'If you will go back and try to prepare her for
+Gladys, Mr Prothero, she shall follow you in a short time.'
+
+'I will bring her,' said Mr Jones, 'and she can but return, if you
+cannot prevail on your sister to see her.'
+
+Rowland could only press the hands of his kind friends, and hurry back
+to Netta.
+
+He found her sitting in an old easy-chair, with Minette on a stool at
+her feet, fast asleep. The child refused to go to bed till 'Uncle
+Rowland' came back. There was a bright fire in the grate, and a supper
+was spread on a table drawn close to it. Candles replaced the gas-lamp,
+and the room looked almost cheerful, in spite of its faded red curtains
+and dingy furniture.
+
+Netta had a small book in her hand, which she gave Rowland to look at.
+
+'Mother gave me that when I was ill years ago--how long ago? How old is
+Minette?'
+
+'She must be nearly eight, I think,' said Rowland, turning over the
+small, well-read Testament that had once been his mother's.
+
+'I like that book now, Rowland!' said Netta. 'I am so glad you have come
+back. It seemed so lonesome when you were gone. Ha! ha! Howel used to
+say I must say _lonely_ and not lonesome. Are you sure he won't come and
+find you here?'
+
+'Quite sure. And I am going to bring another old friend to see you?--you
+remember Gladys?'
+
+'Gladys! No, I don't remember her. What! The Irish beggar? I don't like
+her, and she don't like me. I think I was very unkind to her. Yes, I
+should like to see her once to ask her pardon.'
+
+Minette awoke just at this moment, and Rowland took her on his knee, and
+gave her some supper, and tried to make Netta eat, but it was evident
+that she had neither appetite nor inclination for food, though she did
+her best to please her brother.
+
+'This is like old times, Rowland,' she said. 'I like it better than
+grandeur. When will Gladys come? Owen told me she saved mother's life.
+Is it true? Why doesn't mother come?'
+
+'Would you like to see Gladys to-night, Netta?'
+
+'Yes. Will you go and fetch her?'
+
+Rowland found Gladys and Mr Jones in Mrs Saunders' parlour. Gladys said
+she would take her bonnet off, that she might meet Netta as she used to
+do at the farm.
+
+Rowland did not know that Gladys had put on the identical print gown
+that Netta had given her years ago, and which she had kept carefully, in
+remembrance of her. This and a plain cap transformed her into the Gladys
+of Netta's recollection, from the Gladys of Miss Gwynne's attiring.
+
+Her heart beat almost as quickly as Netta's as she entered her room, but
+she steadied her nerves and voice as she went up to Netta, curtseyed,
+and said quite naturally,--
+
+'How do you do, Miss Netta?'
+
+Netta put her hand to her brow, as if to clear her memory, and fixed her
+large bewildered eyes on Gladys. Then she put out her hand, rather
+condescendingly, with something of the old attempt at superiority, and
+finally burst into tears.
+
+The tears were so natural that Rowland and Gladys let them flow on; only
+the latter knelt down by poor Netta's side, and taking her hands in
+hers, pressed them tenderly. Netta threw her arms round Gladys' neck and
+kissed her, and called her, 'Gladys, Gladys, fach!' and said, 'You will
+not leave me.'
+
+And thus the once proud little Netta and the always humble Gladys clave
+to one another, as Naomi and Ruth.
+
+Minette got off her uncle's knee, and climbed up into the chair, and
+put her arms, too, round her mother's neck, and began to cry with her.
+
+Rowland's emotion at this scene found vent in prayer. Inwardly he asked
+that Gladys might be a comfort and support to his dear, wandering,
+forsaken sister.
+
+When Netta's emotion had worn itself out, Rowland prepared to go,
+promising to return early on the morrow.
+
+He asked Netta if she would like him to offer up a few words of
+thanksgiving for their reunion before he left her, and when she assented
+they all knelt together in family prayer. Eight full years had passed
+since Netta had so knelt before.
+
+When Rowland had departed, Gladys asked Minette if she might put her to
+bed. The child looked shyly at her at first, and then allowed her to
+undress her, and to take her to the close, gloomy bedroom. It was so
+late, and the child was so tired, that her little head drooped in sleep
+even before she was undressed, and when Gladys laid her pale cheek on
+the pillow she slept soundly at once. Then Gladys returned to the
+sitting-room, and found Netta at the door listening.
+
+'Hush! you had better go. I think he is coming,' she said.
+
+Gladys withdrew for a moment, till the steps were no longer heard. As
+long as Netta had been occupied with her brother and Gladys, she seemed
+to have forgotten the passing sounds, but when left alone she listened
+as before.
+
+With some difficulty Gladys prevailed on her to go to bed. Mrs Jones had
+given her night-lights, and a slight sleeping potion before she left
+home, upon the chance of their being wanted; and she put one of the
+former in the bedroom, and gave Netta the latter. She sat by her side
+until she fell asleep, and then returned to the sitting-room, literally
+'to watch and pray.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+THE SISTER OF CHARITY.
+
+
+The following morning, soon after eight o'clock, there arrived a basket
+from Miss Gwynne, containing various meats and condiments that she
+thought might be good for Netta and her child, and, above all, a nosegay
+of Glanyravon flowers. Mr Gwynne had of late taken to send his daughter
+baskets of game, poultry, and other country cheer, to which her
+particular ally, the old gardener always added a tin of well-packed
+flowers. These Miss Gwynne was in the habit of tending and treasuring,
+as people in large cities alone can tend and treasure flowers, until
+their last odour and colour departed, and these she now gladly
+sacrificed to Netta.
+
+It was an October morning, dull and misty. Gladys had kept up the fire,
+and when Rowland's friend, Sarah, came to clean the room, she found that
+her work had been done for her.
+
+'Oh, Miss Gladys,' said the girl, 'why did you?'
+
+'Never mind, Sarah, you get the breakfast things and boiling water, and
+I will do the rest.'
+
+Netta and her child slept late, and so heavily, that Gladys thought they
+would never awake. She had arranged and rearranged the room, the
+breakfast, everything; and was employed in mending a rent in Minette's
+frock, when she heard the little girl say 'Mamma!' She went into the
+bedroom, and found Minette sitting up in bed, and her mother still
+sleeping. She washed and dressed the child, who seemed to take to her
+naturally, and then led her into the sitting-room. Her delight was so
+unbounded at the sight of the breakfast and the flowers on the table,
+that her exclamations pierced the thin partition, and awoke her mother.
+
+'He is come! he is come!' cried Netta, jumping out of bed, and hastening
+into the sitting-room in her night-dress through the door that
+communicated with the bedroom.
+
+When Gladys saw the wild excitement of Netta's manner, and the unusual
+gleam of her eyes, she understood what Rowland meant by saying that her
+mind was unsettled; when she saw Gladys, she started, and ran back again
+into the bedroom, whither Gladys followed her. A fit of depression and
+pain at the heart succeeded, as they always did, this new
+disappointment; and it was evident to Gladys that the only chance of
+restoring her to health of mind or body was by keeping her amused, and
+distracting her thoughts from her husband.
+
+Minette brought in the flowers, and Gladys ventured to say that they
+came from Glanyravon, and that Miss Gwynne had sent them. The flowers,
+or their associations, brought the tears, which were the best outlets
+for poor Netta's hysterical feelings, and when she had minutely examined
+each--chrysanthemums, verbenas, salvias, geraniums--she shook the one
+carnation from the vase, and kissing it, and pressing it to her heart,
+said,--
+
+'This came from mother, how good of her to think of me.'
+
+Then she let Gladys help her to dress, and went to the well-stored
+breakfast-table, sitting down on a chair Gladys placed for her. She
+seemed to take up the teapot mechanically, and began to pour out the
+tea; Gladys did not attempt to sit down, but waited upon her and
+Minette, as if she were, indeed, the servant she professed to be. Either
+Netta took this as a matter of course, or was too much absorbed in other
+thoughts to give it consideration.
+
+'Mamma, I should like Gladys to have some breakfast with us,' said
+Minette, 'she must be so hungry. I think she is a lady, mamma; I like
+her, she is so kind.'
+
+'Yes, Gladys, do,' said Netta, 'you know this is not Abertewey. But
+where did you get this game?'
+
+'Miss Gwynne sent it, ma'am, she will come and see you by-and-by. I am
+sure I hear Mr Rowland's voice on the stairs,'
+
+Gladys said this to avoid another start, and Rowland appeared. Having
+kissed his sister and niece, and shaken hands with Gladys, he sat down
+to the breakfast-table. Gladys was still standing, but he begged her to
+sit down, and she did so.
+
+'Miss Gwynne sent me all this, Rowland,' said Netta, 'except the
+carnation, that was mother's.'
+
+Netta had placed it in her bosom.
+
+'Uncle must have a flower too, mamma,' said Minette, jumping up, and
+taking him a red geranium. 'Let me put it into your button-hole, it
+smells so sweet.'
+
+Rowland smiled and coloured as that sprig of red geranium from
+Glanyravon was placed in his coat by his little niece, and in spite of
+his better resolutions, when he went home, it was transferred to a
+glass, and treasured as long as imagination could fancy it a flower.
+
+After breakfast, Gladys asked Netta if Minette might go with her to see
+Miss Gwynne, as she was obliged to leave for a short time.
+
+'Gladys, you are going away, and would carry off my child, I know you
+are,' said Netta, 'all, all! nobody cares what becomes of me. Why can I
+not die?'
+
+Minette's arms were round her mother's neck in a moment.
+
+'I will stay till you return, Gladys,' said Rowland.
+
+'She will not come back if once she goes,' repeated Netta; 'none of them
+do, except you, Rowland. Owen never did--mother never did--Howel--oh! he
+will! he will!'
+
+'They will both return, dear Netta, only let Minette go.'
+
+'No, uncle, I won't leave mamma, never--never!'
+
+Gladys went away alone. Sarah came to clear the breakfast things, and
+when Netta was seated in her old armchair, Rowland again began to urge
+her to leave the lodgings she was in, and either come to his, or accept
+an invitation that he brought her from Mrs Jones to go to her house.
+
+'I will never leave these rooms, Rowland,' she said solemnly, 'until
+_he_ fetches me, or sends for me, or bids me go. He loves me, Rowland,
+dearly; he said so. Do you know, I once fancied he did not, and tried
+not to care for him. But when he was in debt and trouble, it all came
+back again. And, you know, he is my husband, even if I did run away from
+home, and I must do as he bids me.'
+
+Mrs Saunders came to say that Mr Wenlock wanted Rowland.
+
+'Perhaps it is he, Rowland,' said Netta.
+
+'No, dear Netta; it is a great friend of mine, a doctor. Will you see
+him to please me? We all want so much to get you better.'
+
+'Yes, if you will not tell him about Howel. I must get well, for it may
+be a long, long journey. Do you know that I dreamt last night that he
+sent for me, and that I was to travel thousands of miles before I met
+him. I must get well, so I will see your friend, Rowland, only don't
+tell him my name. Minette, go with Mrs Saunders, whilst mamma sees Uncle
+Rowland's friend.'
+
+Mrs Saunders took Minette away, and Mr Wenlock, a gentle-looking,
+elderly medical man, a great friend of Rowland's, made his appearance.
+
+Netta rose with a little attempt at her Parisian curtsey, and an effort
+to assume her Abertewey manners; but she soon forgot her grandeur when
+the doctor spoke to her in a soothing, fatherly way, and won her to
+confide her long-concealed illness to him. Rowland left them together,
+and went down to Mrs Saunders' parlour to amuse his little niece.
+
+In something less-than half-an-hour he was joined by Mr Wenlock, who
+took Minette on his knee, and looked at her thin cheeks and hollow eyes,
+felt her weak pulse, and asked her many questions.
+
+When she went upstairs to her mother, Mr Wenlock said,--
+
+'The poor lady is very ill, dangerously, I fear. She must have had some
+heavy sorrows for years to have reduced her to her present state of
+nervousness, nearly amounting to insanity, but not quite. This may yet
+be warded off with great care, total freedom from all excitement, and
+change of air and scene. She has heart complaint of an alarming nature.
+This can never be cured; but if her strength can be restored, she may
+live for years--her natural life, in short--or she may be taken at any
+moment. Any sudden shock would probably be fatal.'
+
+Rowland had not told Mr Wenlock that Netta was his sister. When he heard
+his opinion, so clearly and unreservedly expressed, he was greatly
+distressed.
+
+'She will not be moved from these lodgings,' he said. 'She positively
+refuses. Will it do to oblige her to leave?'
+
+'By no means. But I hear that admirable young woman, whom I call _our_
+Sister of Charity, Miss Gladys, has undertaken to nurse her. If any one
+can persuade her to submit to go elsewhere she will do it. It should be
+into the country. To her native air, if possible.'
+
+Just at this juncture, Gladys returned, and Rowland called her into the
+consultation. Mr Wenlock continued,--
+
+'Lead her to think of her child, who is also in a most delicate state.
+Tell her, that change of air, country air, is absolutely necessary for
+her--which it really is--but she must not be taken from her mother.
+Distract her mind as much as possible from the trouble, whatever it is,
+that oppresses it. Had she been left much longer to herself, she would
+have quite lost her reason. Let her see such friends as can be trusted
+to talk to her cheerfully and to amuse, without wearying her. If you
+undertake this office, Miss Gladys, you will require all your patience,
+and more than your natural health; and once undertaken, you must not
+give it up, for she will get used to you, and depend upon you. Poor
+thing! poor thing! I have seen many such cases, and never need to
+inquire much into private history to know their origin. Wicked, morose,
+unfeeling, cruel husbands are generally at the root, and God only knows
+what their victims have to bear. There will be a pretty large account to
+make up at the Great Day, Mr Prothero, between man and wife, of marriage
+vows broken, and feelings outraged.'
+
+'And my poor--and Mrs Mills,' said Rowland, 'ought, you think, to be
+removed at once from London?'
+
+'Decidedly, if she can be prevailed upon to go of her own free will, not
+otherwise. I will see her again to-morrow, and watch her case as long as
+she remains here. As regards the poor child, Miss Gladys, she, too, must
+be nursed and amused, and well fed. I suppose she has been neglected
+since the measles that her mother told me of, or else she never was a
+strong child. Poor little lamb! It would kill her mother if she were to
+be taken! But, really, I couldn't say--however, we shall see. Good
+morning. I ought to be elsewhere by this time.'
+
+Mr Wenlock took his departure.
+
+'Miss Gwynne is coming directly, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys; 'I suppose I
+had better tell Mrs Jenkins so. She has been out all the morning,
+purchasing everything she thought Mrs Jenkins and Miss Minette could
+want, and is going to bring what she has bought, in a cab, herself,'
+
+'God bless her!' murmured Rowland. 'Gladys, do say Minette, and not
+Miss. Why will you not consider yourself as a friend--a sister?'
+
+Why did that quick, bright flush spread so suddenly over Gladys' pale
+face?
+
+'Thank you, Mr Rowland, I will. But I cannot forget what I really was,
+and am.'
+
+'You are and have been everything to us all, and now all our hopes seem
+to centre in you. Can Miss Gwynne spare you?'
+
+'She proposed my coming herself; but even if she had not, my first duty
+is to my dear mistress and her children.'
+
+'You will receive Miss Gwynne, Gladys. It will be less awkward. I have a
+hundred things to do. Tell Netta that I will come again.'
+
+Rowland went first of all to his lodgings, and wrote a long letter to
+his father. He told him boldly and plainly what Mr Wenlock had said; he
+had already written to his mother the good news of his having found
+Netta. He asked his father in a straightforward manner to receive Netta,
+and to forgive her. He made no comments, preached no sermon. He thought
+that a statement of facts would have more effect on his father than all
+his eloquence, or all the texts of the Bible, every one of which his
+father knew as well as he did. He also began to feel it was not for him
+to lecture and reprimand a parent, even though he knew that parent to be
+in the wrong. As he folded his manly and affectionate letter, he prayed
+for a blessing upon it, and went to preach and pray with many members of
+his flock, who, alas! knew not, like his father, those blessed texts,
+which teach us to 'forgive as we hope to be forgiven.'
+
+Later in the afternoon he went to Netta again; he found Miss Gwynne with
+her, cloak and bonnet thrown off, and Minette in full and eager talk on
+her lap. Netta was looking quite cheerful under the influence of Miss
+Gwynne's animated manners, and Minette's shouts of laughter. Toys and
+picture-books were on the table before the child, and all sorts of
+garments spread about the room. Miss Gwynne had sent Gladys home for a
+large dressing-gown for Netta, and had expressed her intention of
+remaining some time.
+
+Minette jumped off her lap when Rowland entered, and ran towards him,
+with a book in one hand, and a doll in the other.
+
+'Look, uncle, what this kind lady has brought me; and she has made mamma
+quite well. She has been laughing like she used to laugh. Oh, uncle, I
+love her very much, don't you?'
+
+Rowland did not say 'yes,' but went up to Miss Gwynne, and with all his
+heart,--
+
+'Oh, Miss Gwynne, how can we ever thank you enough for all this
+kindness?'
+
+'By not thanking me at all,' replied Miss Gwynne, stooping to pick up a
+book, doubtless to conceal a very decided increase of colour.
+
+These were the first genuine and natural words that Rowland had spoken
+to Miss Gwynne since those fatal sentences under the great oak in her
+father's park.
+
+'It is all like a dream,' said Netta, passing her hand over her eyes and
+forehead, as she did constantly, as if to clear away some cloud that
+obscured her memory. 'If mother were only here, it would be quite
+home-like.'
+
+Truly Gladys had made the room almost a pleasant place. The books and
+work she had brought with her, were already on the tables, and the
+flowers filled all the old-fashioned vases, taken from the mantelpiece.
+The fire was bright, and the hearth swept, and poor Netta and Minette
+were neat and clean.
+
+'Uncle, what have you done with the geranium?' suddenly asked Minette.
+
+'I left it at home, dear.'
+
+'How cross of you, uncle, to let the pretty flower die.'
+
+'I put it in water, Minette, because it came from Glanyravon, where your
+mother and I were born, and where your grandfather and grandmother
+live.'
+
+'I don't like grandmamma, uncle, she was so fat, and talked so
+strangely.'
+
+'You should not say that; but you have another grandmother whom you have
+never seen.'
+
+'Shall we go to her, mammy dear? and will you come, Uncle Rowland? and
+shall the kind lady come, and Gladys? and then we can gather those
+pretty flowers. I saw them growing once at the Crystal Palace, and they
+would not let me pick them.'
+
+Netta forgot her grief, Rowland his sermon, Miss Gwynne her dignity, in
+talking to Minette of Glanyravon and its inhabitants; and, by degrees,
+they fell into a conversation upon old friends and old times, that ended
+in the days when they played together as children in the garden at the
+vicarage, whilst the squire and his lady were paying their periodical
+visits to the vicar and his lady.
+
+Unconsciously it oozed out how every incident of those childish games
+was remembered and treasured up by Rowland, as well as the meetings of a
+more advanced age, when, as a Rugby boy, he tried to make himself
+agreeable to the young heiress, who bestowed no thought on him.
+
+But Rowland suddenly remembered that he was treading on dangerous
+ground, and must not forget who he was, and who Miss Gwynne was. Those
+words always came to haunt him, whenever he felt more than usually
+happy; and how could he feel happy for one moment, with Netta possibly
+dying, and Howel an exile for forgery. Poor fellow, it was only a
+passing gleam through the mists of a hard life; let him enjoy it.
+
+Gladys returned, and Rowland got a cab for Miss Gwynne, who went home to
+dinner. Rowland had some tea, and went to his evening service in the
+church.
+
+After tea, Gladys read a story to Minette, which interested Netta, and
+so the day passed, with but a slight recurrence of Netta's nervous
+excitement.
+
+Gladys asked Netta if she would like her to read a chapter in the Bible,
+and Netta said yes; so, with Minette on her lap, she read one of the
+lessons of the day, which she knew to be particularly applicable to her.
+
+'I will read the other with you,' said Netta, when it was concluded
+taking her mother's little Testament out of her pocket.
+
+'I wish you would teach me to read, Gladys?' said Minette. 'Justine
+taught me to read French, and to say French prayers, but I can't read
+English,'
+
+'Perhaps mamma will teach you, darling!' said Gladys, 'and I will help
+when she is poorly.'
+
+'We will begin to-morrow,' said Netta? 'I meant to get her a governess,
+but we were always moving about, and so I never did.'
+
+They read the second lesson, and when it was finished, Netta asked
+Gladys to sing her a hymn. 'The Evening Hymn, Gladys. I could sing and
+play that once, before I learnt to sing French songs.'
+
+Gladys' beautiful, clear voice soon began the 'Glory to Thee, my God,
+this night,' that has been the evening song of praise of so many
+thousands for so many years. Netta joined at intervals, and her
+wandering eyes seemed to be steadied, for the time, into a fixed
+attention, as she gazed at Gladys whilst she sung.
+
+When she finished, Minette was crying. Gladys soothed her, and asked her
+what was the matter.
+
+'It was so beautiful!' she said. 'Your voice was like the lady's I heard
+at the play, only the words were so solemn. I thought of my papa. I do
+not love him much, because he was cross to mamma, but I want to see him,
+that you may sing to him and make him good.'
+
+Gladys saw Netta's countenance lose the expression of calm it had worn
+for a few moments, and regain the bewildered and painful one of the
+morning.
+
+'We can pray for your papa, my love,' she said, gently.
+
+'Will you, will you, Gladys!' almost screamed Netta. 'Your prayers will
+be heard, you are so good. Now, before Minette goes to bed, that she,
+too, may pray for her father.'
+
+Gladys had long been in the habit of praying with and for people in
+great misery, as well as in great sin, so the request did not startle
+her as it might have startled many. She read, from the Prayer Book, the
+Confession, and then chose the concluding portion of the Litany, feeling
+sure that almost any part of that list of petitions was suitable both
+for Howel and themselves. When she read the words, 'That it may please
+Thee to have mercy upon all men,' she paused, and added earnestly,
+'especially upon him for whom we now desire to pray,' and little Minette
+added to this, 'that is my poor papa.'
+
+It was with difficulty that Gladys could conclude, she was herself so
+affected by Netta's sobs, and Minette's innocent petition, but when they
+rose from their knees, Netta said, 'I have not really prayed before,
+Gladys, for a long time. Will God ever forgive me?' and Minette
+entreated Gladys 'to teach her prayers in English; she liked them so
+much better than in French.'
+
+Gladys endeavoured to comfort the poor mother by passages from the
+Scripture, and promised the child 'to teach her to pray,' and so she
+helped to repay to her mother and grandmother the debt of gratitude she
+owed to her and her family.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+THE NIECE.
+
+
+THE following day Mrs Jones came to see Netta, and to do her part in
+amusing her, and distracting her mind from Howel's promised return. Mr
+Jones also accompanied Rowland in the afternoon in his visit to his
+sister, and, the ice once broken, these kind and Christian people came,
+alternately with Miss Gwynne, daily, for about a week, during which
+period there had been no news of Howel, either public or private. Mr
+Wenlock visited Netta regularly, but said there could be no improvement
+in her health, and comparatively little strengthening of the mind, until
+she could be removed to country air; this, however, she would not hear
+of, although she cried very much, and was painfully excited, when
+Rowland gave her a letter from her mother, entreating her to come to
+Glanyravon, and made her acquainted with the contents of a letter he had
+received from his father, which we will transcribe.
+
+     GLANYRAVON FARM, _October 9, 18--._
+
+     'MY DEAR SON,--Your letter came duly to hand, and I will not deny
+     that it affected me very much. Netta, set up above her station at
+     Abertewey, after disobeying her parents by running away, is very
+     different from Netta, deserted by her scamp of a husband, and left
+     in a poor London lodging. Bring her home, and we will take care of
+     her and her child, though I would rather lose a thousand pounds
+     than have to see her as she is. Mother wants to go up and nurse
+     her, but as that would kill her, I don't choose to let her go. If
+     you can't bring her down, Owen shall fetch her. I always said how
+     it would all end. Netta will believe me now it's no good; but no
+     need to tell her that. I wish Howel the--Well, I won't say more,
+     but remain your affectionate father, DAVID PROTHERO.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was very anxious to tell Netta that Howel was supposed to be
+in America, and that it was well known he could not return; and at last
+Rowland took Mr Wenlock into full confidence and asked him whether it
+would be advisable to do so. He said that he feared she would be
+frightened at first, and then consider it a _ruse_ to get her away.
+However, something must be done. To tell her that her husband was a
+felon would kill her; and she would die if she remained in that close
+air. He would think the matter over, and decide.
+
+It was, however, decided for them the following morning. Netta was the
+first to hear, as usual, the postman's rap. Manoeuvre as she would,
+Gladys could not prevent this, and it always brought on considerable
+excitement. This morning, however, there was actually a letter for
+Netta, and Sarah went upstairs with it to Gladys. Although she called
+Gladys out of the room to give it to her, Netta suspected something, ran
+into the passage, and seized the letter.
+
+Gladys was obliged to support her back to the sofa, and give her some
+medicine, before she was sufficiently herself to open it When she
+recovered, she waited for Gladys to leave the room, which she thought it
+best to do, and then broke the seal. The letter contained the following
+words:--
+
+     'DEAREST,--You had better go to your mother or mine. Kiss our child
+     for me. Believe that I love you. God bless you.'
+
+When Gladys returned to the sitting-room, upon a cry from Minette, she
+found Netta in a swoon. The letter was tightly clasped in her hand, the
+envelope was on the floor. She ventured to look at the address and
+postmark. The former was to Mrs Mills, the latter some illegible place
+in America. She wanted no more information, and asked for none. She
+brought poor Netta to herself with difficulty, and let her put the
+letter in its envelope, and both in her bosom, without a question. Netta
+lay on the sofa, with her eyes closed, and said not a word. All that
+Gladys or Minette could do to attract her attention was unavailing. But
+when Rowland came, she roused herself sufficiently to say, 'I am ready
+to go home now, Rowland: I must go directly.' And then she relapsed into
+a state of passive inaction. Rowland went for Mr Wenlock, and was
+fortunate in finding him at home. He accompanied him to Netta, and said
+that she must be roused by a change of some kind. Rowland said that it
+was absolutely necessary to write to summon his brother to fetch Netta,
+and that by the time the letter reached home, and Owen reached London,
+three days must elapse. Fortunately, Miss Gwynne arrived, and with her
+usual promptitude, proposed that Netta should be taken for those three
+days to Mrs Jones'; and she returned home at once to expedite any
+arrangements Mrs Jones might have to make.
+
+'I am afraid, my dear Serena,' she said, when she had begun the subject,
+'that it will put you out. But the poor creature shall have my bedroom,
+and I can sleep anywhere for those few nights. The dressing-room,
+Gladys' workroom, will do beautifully for her to sit in if she shouldn't
+be able to come into the drawing-room.'
+
+'Yes,' said Mrs Jones, 'we can put a sofa in it and easy-chair, and make
+a regular snuggery of it.'
+
+Mr Jones came in and entered into consultation.
+
+'I shall be thankful if she can come here,' he said, 'for poor Prothero
+is making himself quite ill with anxiety and overwork. I don't think he
+has slept four hours a night since he found her. And then, Gladys! she
+is not strong, she will be laid up.'
+
+'I believe you love Gladys better than me,' laughed Mrs Jones.
+
+'It was love at first sight, my dear. She was the first pretty girl that
+I saw after I came from Australia. And I have gone on loving her better
+and better ever since.'
+
+'The worst of it is, that it is mutual,' said Miss Gwynne. 'I wonder
+whether it is on your account or Owen Prothero's that she has refused
+all the London swains who are dying for her.'
+
+Mrs Jones and Freda were soon hard at work arranging rooms. Every
+available comfort was put into Freda's bedroom and dressing-room, and
+her own clothes and general possessions were turned out to find a home
+elsewhere. Gladys' little workroom soon wore a most cheerful aspect, and
+the easiest chair and sofa the house afforded were put into it. Whilst
+these matters were being arranged, Mr Jones was despatched to tell
+Rowland to bring his sister as soon as possible, and in the course of a
+few hours they arrived, accompanied by Gladys and Minette. The shock of
+the morning had so weakened Netta's nervous system, that Rowland was
+obliged to carry her upstairs. When she was put on the sofa in the
+little room, and saw so many kind friends about her once more, the
+bewildered, wandering eyes found relief in tears.
+
+'Gladys! you will not go away?' she said, holding Gladys by the hand.
+'She may come home with me, Miss Gwynne?'
+
+Gladys knelt down by the sofa, and tried to soothe her, by telling her
+that her brother was coming to fetch her.
+
+'I can't go home without Gladys!' persisted Netta, casting wild,
+beseeching glances from one to the other of the friends who stood round
+her.
+
+'She shall go with you, Netta, decidedly,' said Miss Gwynne. 'It will be
+much the best plan.'
+
+'Gladys, you will come with us?' said Minette, throwing her arm round
+her neck, as she knelt by her mother. 'You won't go away from poor
+mamma, and your little Minette.'
+
+Gladys felt, that in this, she was but an instrument. However it was
+settled that she was to accompany Netta home; and if the inmates of the
+farm did not receive her willingly, she was to go to the Park, whither
+Miss Gwynne was to follow shortly, for her long-promised Christmas
+visit.
+
+When Netta and Rowland were left alone, Minette having been seduced by
+Miss Gwynne into another room, Netta said,--
+
+'You see, Rowland, I must go away directly, because I don't know when he
+may come. I am sure he will fetch me, and if I stay here he will not
+know where to find me.'
+
+'Only two or three days, dear Netta. I have written to Owen. He will get
+the letter to-morrow, and be here the next day. You can start the day
+after to-morrow, if you will try to rouse yourself, and eat and drink.'
+
+'Yes, I will; but I am afraid of father. It is nearly ten years since I
+saw him, and if he is cross now, I shall die.'
+
+'He will be kind, quite kind.'
+
+'Are you sure?'
+
+'Yes, quite sure.'
+
+'And will you come and see me, Rowland? I used to think you cross too,
+but now you are very good to me. Do you think it was wrong of me to run
+away with Howel? You know he loves me; he says so, Rowland.'
+
+Here Netta pressed her hand upon the letter that was in her bosom, and
+Rowland kissed her tenderly.
+
+At intervals, during that day and the next, Netta made fitful efforts
+to exert herself, but it was evident to all that her body was getting
+weaker, and every one dreaded the journey in prospect, and longed for
+its conclusion.
+
+Netta had taken a sudden and violent interest in teaching her child to
+read and repeat hymns. The hymns that it pleased Minette best to learn
+were some that Gladys had sung at her mother's request. These Netta did
+not know by heart, indeed, her failing memory prevented her retaining
+anything she had once known; so an old hymn book was produced from
+Gladys' book-shelf, which contained these hymns that she had been taught
+in her childhood by her mother.
+
+It was the second evening of Netta's stay with the Joneses, and she had
+been prevailed upon to go into the drawing-room, where Rowland was added
+to the usual little party.
+
+She was gradually sinking into a state of apparent forgetfulness of
+those around her, from which it had been so difficult to rouse her since
+Howel's letter, when Miss Gwynne said,--
+
+'I think Minette knows the hymn now, Mr Jones. Ask mamma if you may say
+it, dear.'
+
+'Mamma, may I try to say the hymn now? Mr Jones will take me to see the
+little children to-morrow if I know it,' asked the child.
+
+Netta was roused.
+
+'Where is the book? I don't think I remember it, she said.
+
+'I will go to Gladys for the book. I know the way, mamma.'
+
+Minette ran to the little room where Gladys was at work busily preparing
+for the journey. She got the hymn book, asked Gladys to find the place,
+and returning to the drawing-room triumphantly, gave the book to Mr
+Jones.
+
+'You must hear me, to see that I say it quite, quite right,'
+
+The hymn was somewhat difficult for a child, but it had taken Netta's
+fancy, because the words were written for an old Welsh air that she knew
+well; indeed the book consisted principally of English and Welsh hymns
+that had been composed for some of the fine old Welsh tunes.
+
+The words were as follow:--
+
+             MORNING, Y FOREU.
+
+         Great God, look on me,
+           From Thy throne eternal;
+         Make pure unto Thee
+           This my hymn diurnal.
+     I my grateful voice would blend,
+       With nature's loud thanksgiving;
+
+     Praises through the earth would send
+       For the bliss of living.
+         Then, God, look on me,
+           From Thy throne eternal,
+         Make pure unto Thee,
+           This my hymn diurnal.
+         On the wings of morning,
+         With songs of birds up-soaring,
+           I address Thee,
+           Praise and bless Thee,
+           Joying and adoring.
+       O Lord! bless this day,
+         All my thoughts and doings,
+       And keep my heart away
+         From all vain pursuings.
+       Shield me with Thy fostering wings,
+         From every wild temptation.
+       Let the daily course of things,
+         Work for my salvation.
+       O Lord I bless this day,
+         All my thoughts and doings,
+       And keep my heart away
+         From all vain pursuings.
+         With the hymns of flowers,
+       And streams and fountains blending?
+             I adore Thee,
+             And implore Thee,
+       Prayer and praise upsending.
+
+Minette was in a great state of excitement whilst saying her hymn, and
+repeated it so energetically, and withal so feelingly, that the
+attention of Mrs Jones, Miss Gwynne, and Rowland was quite drawn towards
+her. They did not, therefore, notice the still greater excitement of Mr
+Jones, as he was, professedly, looking at the hymn book to see whether
+the child repeated her task correctly.
+
+'Well done, my little niece,' cried Rowland, catching her up in his
+arms, and giving her a hearty kiss.
+
+'Let me go, uncle. Mr Jones, Mr Jones,' screamed Minette, 'may I go with
+you to see the poor children, Mr Jones?'
+
+Mr Jones did not even hear the entreating appeal of the little girl. He
+was out of the drawing-room, book in hand, and in Gladys' work-room,
+almost before the struggling Minette was released from her uncle's arms,
+and forcibly caught by Miss Gwynne.
+
+Gladys was sitting quietly at her work, humming low the air of the hymn
+Minette had been saying, when Mr Jones entered the room abruptly.
+
+'Gladys, tell me where you got this book?' he said, putting the hymn
+book on the table before her.
+
+He looked so nervous and excited that Gladys was almost frightened.
+
+'My mother gave it me, sir,' was the reply.
+
+'And who wrote these names?' he asked, pointing to the words written on
+the fly-leaf, which were, "Margaret Jones, from her affectionate
+brother, William Jones."
+
+'My uncle, sir, I believe, who gave the book to my mother.'
+
+'And your mother--your mother, who was she?'
+
+'The daughter of a clergyman, sir.'
+
+'I know that. But where--what--who?'
+
+'That is what I don't know, sir.'
+
+'Who did she marry? For God's sake tell me all, Gladys.'
+
+'She ran away with my father, sir, an Irish soldier, a corporal named
+O'Grady. She went abroad with him, and did not come back to Ireland for
+two years.'
+
+'And then--and her father--and--and her brother?'
+
+'Her father was dead, sir, and nobody knew where her brother was.'
+
+'Where did her father live?'
+
+'Alas! sir, I cannot tell that either. We never talked to my poor mother
+about him, because it made her so unhappy, and as he was dead, I had no
+interest in asking for the address. All I know was, that she was Welsh;
+and when she was dying, she told me to go into Wales and find my uncle.
+I don't think she quite knew what she was saying, but I came.'
+
+The tears gathered in Gladys' eyes, and hearing a strange heavy sigh
+from Mr Jones, she looked up at him through their mist, and saw that he
+was struggling to speak through some great emotion.
+
+'Oh, sir! what is the matter?' said Gladys, rising and going towards him
+as he stood, trembling, on the other side of her work-table.
+
+He could not speak, but opening his arms as she approached him, folded
+her in them, and kissed her, as she had not been kissed before, since
+her poor mother died.
+
+Gladys could only yield to the embrace, she knew not wherefore. She
+loved Mr Jones as if he were her own father, he had been almost like a
+father to her ever since she had been in his house; she felt as if she
+were once more in a father's arms.
+
+We will leave them thus for one moment, to return to the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs Jones, in her turn, kissed Minette, and praised her for repeating
+her hymn so well.
+
+'But where is Mr Jones?' asked the child. 'Will he take me to see the
+little boys and girls?'
+
+'I think he must be gone to find a book for you, dear,' was the reply.
+
+But as neither Mr Jones nor the book came, Mrs Jones got rather fidgety,
+and fancying her husband might be ill, left the room to see what had
+become of him. She went to the dining-room, study, and bedroom, and, not
+finding him, went to ask Gladys whether she knew where he was. She was
+not a little astonished at finding him with Gladys in his arms, and the
+door half open at his back.
+
+Mrs Jones was not a jealous wife, but Gladys was a very pretty girl, Mr
+Jones was avowedly very fond of her, and Mr Jones was mortal.
+
+She felt a strange pain at her heart, turned pale, and stood for a
+moment unobserved by either, on the threshold, irresolute, when she
+heard these words from her husband,--
+
+'It must be so. Gladys--you are--you must be--my poor, dear, lost
+sister's child!'
+
+Gladys and Mrs Jones uttered a simultaneous cry, and the latter entered
+the room.
+
+'My dear William, what does this mean?' she said, approaching her
+husband and putting her hand on his shoulder.
+
+'Serena!' (he, too called that gentle woman Serena) 'my love. For my
+sake! This is my sister's child--my niece--my--our Gladys!'
+
+Mr Jones released the bewildered Gladys from his embrace, and almost
+placed her in the arms of his wife, who, scarcely comprehending what was
+passing, kissed her tenderly.
+
+Then Gladys sat down, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed
+convulsively. It was all a dream to her, from which she must awake. It
+could not be true. Mr and Mrs Jones soothed her. The former, restraining
+his own emotion, endeavoured to calm hers, by telling her that it was he
+who had written the names in that fortunate hymn book; he who was the
+brother of her mother; he who was her uncle, and who would be, not only
+an uncle, but a father to her henceforth.
+
+At last, the agitated girl looked up at the kind and loving faces that
+were bending over her, and murmured,--
+
+'It cannot be--it is--too good--too great--too happy.'
+
+'It is true, Gladys, my niece, my child,' said Mr Jones, stooping to
+kiss her forehead.
+
+Mrs Jones sat down by her, and taking one of her hands in hers, said,--
+
+'It all seems a dream, Gladys. But if it be true, remember, you are now
+my niece, my child as well; and, God knows, I love you, and value you
+dearly.'
+
+Once more the lonely Gladys felt that she had kindred. Yielding to the
+feeling, she threw her arms round Mrs Jones' neck, and gave vent to the
+emotion she had been striving to suppress.
+
+At this juncture, Miss Gwynne appeared, who, wondering in her turn what
+could detain Mr and Mrs Jones so long from their guests, came to look
+for them.
+
+Of course, she wondered still more when she found them both with their
+arms round one another and Gladys.
+
+She was going away; but Mrs Jones, perceiving her, said,--
+
+'Come in, dear Freda, Minette's hymn has led to a wonderful
+discovery--has given us a niece--a child--in--in--our dear friend
+Gladys.'
+
+Miss Gwynne knelt down at the feet of the sobbing Gladys, and taking one
+of her hands, said,--
+
+'Gladys, if this be true, we cannot love you better than we do now, or
+esteem you more; but you now _feel_ one of us, instead of the isolated
+Gladys of this little room, which you have resolutely been hitherto.'
+
+As may be imagined, Gladys was a long time realising the fact, that she
+was suddenly, and in the most extraordinary manner, raised from the
+Irish beggar, lady's maid, or whatever she had hitherto chosen to
+consider herself--for every one about her had long looked upon her as a
+friend--to the niece of the good and kind Mr Jones. When she was able to
+speak, her first words were,--
+
+'I do not understand it--I cannot believe it. It is too good--too
+happy.'
+
+'I can scarcely believe it either,' said Mr Jones, taking up the hymn
+book, and turning to his wife and Miss Gwynne, who had, thus far, taken
+the strange news upon Mr Jones' word, which they never ventured to
+dispute.
+
+'This is my writing. Margaret Jones was my sister, and Gladys' mother. I
+gave her this book when we were both young, and the date, also in my
+handwriting, marks the time, some two or three years after the gift,
+when I was at college, and she must have been about eighteen; she ran
+away with an Irish soldier, whose real name, even, we never learnt. My
+poor father doated on my sister, and spoilt her. She was high-spirited
+and wilful, but very loving, and very handsome. Not at all like Gladys.
+My sister's was the Welsh, Gladys' the Irish cast of countenance; yet I
+have seen an expression in Gladys' face that has reminded me of her
+mother.'
+
+'We discovered, after my sister ran away, that she had met the man she
+married when going to visit the landlady of a small inn, in my father's
+parish, who was ill. It seems that this woman connived at their meeting;
+and when strictly questioned, said, that she had believed he was a
+gentleman, and that he had called himself Captain O'Brien.'
+
+'My poor father!' here broke in Gladys. 'He bitterly repented this, his
+only deception. He was of a good family, and his mother was an O'Brien;
+but no one belonging to him could afford to purchase him a commission,
+and so he went into the ranks. He once told me, that he persuaded my
+mother to marry him first, and then promised to let her write to his
+father. But I only know scraps of the story. I fancy my father was on
+his way home on leave, when he saw my mother and fell in love with her.
+He loved her very dearly, and as long as he lived she wanted nothing
+that he could get her. The regiment was suddenly ordered abroad, and my
+mother could not write to her father, or did not, before they sailed.
+And so she delayed, and delayed; but she wrote at last, and received no
+answer at all. I fancy she wrote several times from foreign parts, but
+never heard from any one. I know she wrote again from Ireland; but the
+letter was returned, with a note from some one, saying that her father
+had been dead some years, and no one knew anything of her brother.'
+
+'Too true! too true!' said Mr Jones. 'My poor father, never very strong,
+was in his grave in less than six months after my sister left him. I
+returned from college to nurse, and bury him. I have told you all this,
+my dear Serena, little thinking that the young girl I first saw, after
+visiting his grave some twenty years after I had seen him laid in it,
+should be the child of the beloved daughter who had helped to hasten him
+thither.'
+
+'My poor, dear mother!' said Gladys, sobbing as if her heart would
+break.
+
+'Still less that you, my dear niece, would be five or six years in my
+house; I loving you as a daughter, and yet not knowing the relationship
+existing between us. But how could it have been discovered but for this
+book? I only knew of you, that you were an Irish girl escaping from
+poverty in Ireland, to find some Welsh friends, whose address even you
+did not know. But for your evident truthfulness, the very story must
+have been doubted. When I saw you at Mr Prothero's, I took you for his
+daughter; since I have looked upon you as one of our family, an orphan
+to be pitied and loved. Let us thank God and kind Christian people, that
+you have been so pitied and loved.'
+
+Mr Jones' mild grey eyes, full of tears, turned upon Miss Gwynne, who
+said, hastily,--
+
+'Ought not we to tell her first and best friends of this strange
+discovery?--Rowland, Mr Prothero, and Netta. What must they think of our
+long absence?'
+
+'Not for worlds, Miss Gwynne, if you please!' cried Gladys, 'I could
+never be what I would like to be to Mrs Jenkins and her dear mother, if
+I were anything but the Gladys they have always known. They would be
+treating me as--as--they would not let me work and wait upon Mrs
+Jenkins. Until she is at home, at least, let me be as I am, as I was; it
+is all so strange. Until I have offered to remain and nurse her, and
+been refused--until, in short--'
+
+'I understand, Gladys,' said Miss Gwynne. 'You are quite right. Let them
+all value you for yourself, and then we will introduce you as--'
+
+'I didn't mean that, indeed, indeed, Miss Gwynne,' said Gladys, her pale
+face growing red. 'I only wanted to show my gratitude, as I am, to them
+all. Perhaps even Mr Prothero may excuse me then, and--'
+
+Here Gladys broke down again. She could not explain her own bewildered
+thoughts; but her friends understood her, and respected the honest pride
+that would be known, welcomed and beloved for merit, and not for a
+bettered position and condition. Miss Gwynne saw a vision of Owen in the
+background, with his handsome, honest, black eyes, and white teeth; but
+she did not mention what she saw.
+
+'At any rate, I must go and make the best of lame excuses,' she said,
+'and leave you in your new relationship, to dry your eyes, and learn to
+say "Uncle." Such a pleasant name! I always longed for an uncle.'
+
+Miss Gwynne returned to the drawing-room, and told Rowland that Mr Jones
+had been quite upset by the Welsh hymn that Minette had repeated, having
+known it under peculiar circumstances when he was young. She apologised
+for his non-appearance, and Rowland, seeing that something unusual had
+occurred, took his departure. She promised Minette a visit to the
+school, and prevailed on the little girl to allow one of the servants to
+put her to bed, instead of Gladys. Minette begged Miss Gwynne to let her
+say her 'English prayers' to her first, which she, of course, did.
+
+Then Freda did her best to amuse Netta until Mrs Jones appeared, and
+said Gladys was quite ready to assist Netta, if she liked to retire for
+the night.
+
+When Netta was in bed, Gladys joined her friends, and they discussed,
+more calmly than before, their newly-found relationship.
+
+Gladys brought with her her Bible, in which her mother had written her
+name, and Mr Jones recognised his sister's hand writing. She had also a
+lock of her mother's hair, and her wedding-ring, and one or two other
+trifles, that drew fresh tears from a brother's eyes.
+
+Gladys said that she should like, for her own satisfaction, that a
+certificate of her mother's marriage, and of her birth, should be
+obtained. Her mother was married, she believed, during the short time
+she was in Ireland; and she was born, she knew, in the parish where her
+father's parents lived, to whose care her father had confided her
+mother. Two children had been born, and died before her birth, during
+the period that her parents were abroad.
+
+It may be as well to say here, that the certificates were duly procured,
+through the clergyman of the parish, to whom Mr Jones wrote a statement
+of the case. Also that letters, written for the gratification of Gladys,
+to the Protestant and Roman Catholic clergy of her parent's last
+neighbourhood were duly answered, and confirmed all that Gladys had said
+of them and of herself from first to last. This, of course, took some
+time to effect; but I have so far anticipated the event, to avoid
+fanning to it again.
+
+Gladys now recapitulated, more minutely, the circumstances of her early
+history, a sketch of which she gave Miss Gwynne and Mrs Prothero when
+she was recovering from her fever.
+
+There were a few points that she did not mention at that time, which, we
+will insert for the benefit of the reader, in Gladys' own words.
+
+'My father left my mother in Ireland, and went with his regiment to
+India. My mother lived with my grandfather, who was old and infirm, but
+still managed a small farm, in which my mother assisted. He died, and
+then my mother kept a school, took in needlework, and did what she could
+to help out my father's remittances, which were small, but regular. He
+was severely wounded in the head, and got his discharge upon his
+corporal's pay. Being a clever man, he soon procured work, as a kind of
+under-agent, and we lived very happily together for some years. He was
+never a saving man, so what he earned he spent, and my poor mother spent
+it with him. I had two brothers and three sisters, and when my father
+died, rather suddenly, we had nothing but our own exertions to depend
+upon. My mother and I managed to live and keep the children--how, I
+scarcely know--till the famine from the failure of the potato crop, and
+consequent fever and starvation came upon us. God preserve me, and every
+one else, from witnessing such misery again! One child died after
+another, and then the darling mother! I had nothing to give her;
+literally nothing. Every one round us was in the same state. On her
+death-bed she was rambling and incoherent, but talked of Wales, and her
+father and brother.
+
+'"Go to them, Gladys," she said, "when I am gone. Maybe they'll take to
+ye." "Where, mother dear!" I asked. But she did not hear me. Thank God!
+she clasped her hands and prayed for pardon of her sins through Jesus
+Christ; and so she died. I don't know how I lived after her--how I
+buried her--how I came into Wales. I scarcely remember anything, till I
+awoke from that illness in calm, clean, beautiful Glanyravon; with my
+mistress's blessed face looking down upon me, and Miss Gwynne waiting on
+me, and Mr Rowland praying for me.'
+
+For some years past Gladys had succeeded in obtaining a calm and even
+spirit, by striving to banish these dreadful scenes from her mind, by
+active labours for others, and abnegation of self. Now, they opened once
+more the flood-gates of memory, and as the old recollections rushed
+through, like repressed waters, her strength of mind gave way, and she
+could do nothing but weep.
+
+'Only to-night--forgive me!' she sobbed. 'I shall be better to-morrow.
+But it all comes back, all; even in the moment of my great happiness.'
+
+Her kind friends soothed and comforted her--her uncle wept with her, and
+by degrees she once more grew calm.
+
+Before they separated for the night, Mr Jones offered up a thanksgiving
+for the great mercy God had vouchsafed to them; and commending his
+newly-found niece to the further protection of that gracious Providence,
+who had led the orphan to her home; in His presence, and that of his
+wife and her friends, he solemnly blessed her, and adopted her as his
+own child.
+
+It need scarcely be added that his wife registered and signed the vow
+that her husband made.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD.
+
+
+Most people know what it is to awake from sleep the morning after a
+great sorrow; some, also, know what it is to awake after a great and
+unexpected joy. Gladys opened her eyes upon a dark, thick, cheerless
+November fog in London, one of the most depressing of all the
+atmospheric influences. But she did not think of the fog. Although she
+did not at first fully realise the happiness that she had experienced,
+and was to experience, she felt, on awakening, a strange sensation of
+spirits so light, and a heart beating to such cheerful measure, that it
+all seemed too ethereal to be real. She thought it was the continuation
+of a blissful dream. For many a long year she had retired to rest, and
+arisen in the morning calm, resigned, nay, cheerful; but it was the
+calmness and resignation of a soul attuned by prayer and self-restraint
+to an equanimity that rarely was disturbed by mirth or pleasure. Now,
+that soul seemed to dance within her to exhilarating melodies. So happy
+had been her dreams, so joyous her sleep, that her eyes sparkled
+unwonted fires when she opened them; and as she jumped out of bed, there
+was an elasticity in her movements that surprised her very self.
+
+Netta and Minette were still sleeping, and as she dressed herself
+carefully and neatly, she almost forgot that every one else was not as
+suddenly raised from sorrow to joy as herself.
+
+'He will come to-day,' she thought, as she smoothed her dark hair, 'and
+I shall meet him as an equal, no longer a suspicion of my truth. He will
+not know it yet, but I know it, and oh! the difference of feeling that
+you can clear yourself by a word when you like. Not to him, for he never
+doubted--generous, kind Mr Owen! but to his father! to all. How can I be
+thankful enough! and such an uncle and aunt! It must be a dream; but
+will he care for me still? so long! and after all my coldness. He has
+asked me again and again, and each time have I refused him; but then I
+was an Irish beggar, and nothing more, and I would have died rather than
+have brought disgrace into his family. And still my promise to his
+father is binding, and without his consent I never could--but where am I
+wandering? Maybe he'll not care for me now I am all this older--and he
+so handsome that he may have any one in and about Glanyravon.'
+
+Gladys cast a shy look into her glass, and a delicate blush kindled her
+cheek as those dark violet eyes glanced from beneath their long black
+fringes. Gladys! you are but a weak woman after all.
+
+When Gladys was dressed, she gently awoke Minette, and took her into the
+dressing-room to attire her also.
+
+'Gladys, dear, how pretty you look!' exclaimed the child, 'you have a
+pink cheek, and your eyes are as bright as the sky; and you have such a
+pretty gown and collar, and everything. You are quite a lady, now you
+have left off that gown mamma gave you so long ago. Is Uncle Owen, who
+is coming to-day, as nice as Uncle Rowland? Do you love him as well,
+Gladys?'
+
+'He is very, very nice, dear, and as kind as any gentleman in the
+world.'
+
+The little girl clapped her hands.
+
+'I shall like to go to Glanyravon and make mamma quite well.'
+
+Soon after breakfast, Rowland arrived, accompanied by Owen, who had
+travelled all night.
+
+Gladys was with Netta in her bedroom, but all the rest of the family
+welcomed Owen. Mr Jones shook him by the hand with peculiar warmth,
+because he was given to understand that he loved his newly-found niece.
+
+Minette was soon on his knee, and in less than ten minutes had duly
+informed him that she loved him next to Uncle Rowland and that Gladys
+told her he 'was the nicest gentleman in the world.'
+
+Owen laughed heartily at this, to conceal his rising colour, and said,--
+
+'And how is Gladys?'
+
+'Quite well; she is coming to Glanyravon with us, to take care of mamma
+and me.'
+
+Here Mrs Jones interposed, and explained how matters stood.
+
+In a few moments Gladys appeared to say that Netta was ready in her
+little sitting-room to see her brothers.
+
+Owen was not shy, so he walked bravely across the room to meet Gladys,
+and to shake hands with her, so thoroughly _con amore_ that if, as
+Minette expressed it, her cheek was pink when she entered the room, it
+was crimson when she quitted it.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones looked at one another with great satisfaction, and
+somehow or other Rowland's eyes met Miss Gwynne's, and both smiled
+involuntarily.
+
+'He is a fine young fellow,' said Mrs Jones, when Owen and Rowland had
+gone upstairs to Netta, accompanied by Minette.
+
+'I almost wonder how two such sons, with such a fine, sturdy, sensible
+father, should have had such a silly little sister as that poor child
+upstairs; but I must go out. Ask them to dinner, my dear, and don't let
+Gladys tire herself to death before she starts for her journey. Did you
+ever see any one look prettier in your life than she did when she met
+that fine young man? What a couple they will make!'
+
+'What a romance you have worked up already, my dear,' said Mrs Jones
+laughing, 'but certainly one may be proud of Gladys. How thoroughly
+ladylike she is, and looks. And she is so happy; she told me just now
+that she felt as if she had suddenly begun a new life.'
+
+'God grant it may be a happy one, and may He bless you, my dear, for
+taking to the poor child so kindly.'
+
+Miss Gwynne, who had left the party to put on her bonnet, here appeared,
+and Mr Jones and she set out on parochial business.
+
+When Rowland and Owen had been some time with Netta, they returned to
+Mrs Jones, who pressed them to come to dinner. They declined, however,
+having much to talk of, that could not be discussed in public, even
+before the kindest of friends. Moreover, when Owen had been in London
+before, he told his brother that he would not dine in any house as guest
+where Gladys was considered as a servant. In vain his brother assured
+him that she was more friend than servant--she did not dine with her
+friends, and therefore he would not dine with them.
+
+When they had left the house, and reached Rowland's lodging, Owen said,
+his usually joyful face clouded by an expression of sorrow and pain,--
+
+'Curse that fellow! I say, Rowland, I can't help it, it breaks my heart
+to see Netta as she is; and she will kill mother. As to father, there is
+no getting a civil word from him ever since the news came.'
+
+'I suppose every one knows it?' said Rowland.
+
+'Of course Aunt 'Lizbeth has employed Mr Rice Rice and a counsel for
+that scoundrel, to do what they can when the case is tried. You know
+they have indicted him, and, present or absent, it is to come on at the
+next assizes. Then, if they prove him guilty, or make out a case against
+him, or whatever they call it, he will be brought to trial as soon as
+they can catch him.'
+
+'Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio Simpson are furious against him, I
+hear,' said Rowland.
+
+'No wonder; I foresaw something bad when I was at Abertewey. But what of
+that rascal, Deep?'
+
+'They can make nothing of him; he is already released, and if he knows
+anything of Howel he has not let it out.'
+
+'I can't help liking poor Aunt 'Lizbeth; she says she will spend every
+farthing she has for Howel, and when I tell her to remember her old age
+and keep her money, all I get is, "What will I do if my Howel is ruined?
+What will I care for money if he is gone?" It is pretty well known that
+he has forged her name for thousands of pounds, but she won't own it,
+and swears to all his signatures as her own, I verily believe, with her
+eyes shut.'
+
+'Does father hear all these things?'
+
+'Nobody dares to speak to him. He opens out to me with a vengeance, and
+wants a little of your preaching to refine his language. But who can
+wonder? I am ashamed to show my nose myself. The first bit of pleasure I
+have had since it began was seeing Gladys look so well and happy this
+morning. What has happened to her? Is she going to be married? for
+nothing else have changed a girl's face from November to June. At the
+same time, she might have a little more feeling for us than to look her
+best when we are at our worst. Poor Netta! I'm sure she won't live. I've
+wished myself at sea nearly every day for the last six years, and I'm
+sure I wish myself there now.'
+
+'My good fellow,' said Rowland, 'don't say that; what should any of us
+do without you? You are the only stay of our parents at home, and will
+be poor Netta's last comfort.'
+
+'If I were sure I were of any use I wouldn't mind; but when I see
+Gladys, or think of her, the truth is I get savage. Perhaps it is a
+proper punishment for pretending to stay at home on father and mother's
+account, when it was really on hers. But never mind; I suppose one
+girl's really as good as another. Will you come down at Christmas,
+Rowland?'
+
+'I wish I could; but our rector is so ill that there is no chance of his
+being able to leave Nice this winter, and Jones and I have all the duty.
+The last account was so bad that Mr Wenlock fears, if he returns at all,
+it will be only to die.'
+
+We will not follow the brothers further in their conversation; they made
+the most of the few hours they were together, and after a short night's
+rest, arose early, breakfasted, and went to fetch Netta.
+
+The sight of her favourite brother, and the prospect of returning home
+had roused her, and she seemed more herself than she had been since
+Howel's letter. Gladys was as bright and busy as a queen-bee, and
+Minette was all tears and smiles.
+
+There were a great many 'last words' to be said, and as all the
+preparations had been made the previous day, there was plenty of time to
+say them.
+
+'I don't know how to thank you,' said poor Netta to Mrs Jones and Miss
+Gwynne, as they were putting on her last warm cloak. The tears were
+streaming down her pale cheeks, and her hand, as usual, was on her
+heart.
+
+Mrs Jones kissed her, and Miss Gwynne said cheerfully, 'I shall see you
+soon, Netta, and I want Mrs Jones to come to Glanyravon with me, so it
+will not be a long parting.'
+
+'You have been very good to my child and me,--God will bless you!'
+sobbed Netta.
+
+'I will come again, Mr Jones, and see you, and Mrs Jones, and the little
+children,' said Minette, who was hugging Mr Jones warmly.
+
+He took her up in his arms, kissed her, and put her into the cab next
+her mother, who had been placed therein by Rowland.
+
+Gladys' farewells were the last.
+
+'That's what I call something like it, Rowly,' said Owen tapping his
+brother's shoulder, as he watched Mr and Mrs Jones alternately give
+Gladys a most affectionate embrace.
+
+'But why does the old parson hug her so? He shouldn't do that if I were
+Mrs Jones, or if she were Mrs--'
+
+The truth was, that at the last the uncle's feelings overcame Gladys'
+desire for secrecy, and exploded in a kiss long and fatherly.
+
+When she was in the cab Mr Jones called Owen aside, and said in a
+whisper,--
+
+'I know you will take care of Gladys, and remember, that although she is
+ready for everything that is good, she is not strong. If your father
+makes the least objection to her remaining with your sister, take her to
+the Park, whence she can return at once to us. As long as I live, no one
+will neglect her with impunity; but I am sure I can trust you and
+yours.'
+
+'That you certainly may,' said Owen, nearly shaking Mr Jones' hand off,
+but saying to himself a few minutes after, 'What could he mean by
+putting her into my care? If his wife had done it, or Miss Gwynne, well
+and good; but I declare parsons are no better than the rest of us, I
+daresay Rowly isn't half as steady as he seems; he and Miss Gwynne are
+wonderfully polite to one another, and he's as grand as any lord.'
+
+Owen jumped upon the box, and Rowland by the side of Gladys inside the
+cab, and so they drove off through the thick fog, some five or six miles
+to the Paddington Station.
+
+Owen took a second-class ticket for himself, but when Netta heard that
+he had done so she begged so hard to be allowed to travel second class
+with him, or that he would come with her, that he was obliged to change
+it, and become, as he expressed it, 'a grand gentleman for once in his
+life.'
+
+They had a compartment to themselves, into which Rowland went, to be
+with Netta until the whistle sounded.
+
+'Oh, brother!' sobbed Netta, 'if I never see you again, promise to be
+kind to Howel; promise to give him whatever I leave for him. Perhaps I
+shall die,--I don't know. Tell him all you have said to me; try to make
+him good, and give him the hope you have given me. Will you, brother?
+Say, will you?'
+
+'I will do everything you wish, my darling sister, if I have the
+opportunity.'
+
+'And will you write to me about what you have been saying to me?'
+
+'I will, dear, regularly. But you have only to believe and pray. God
+bless you, Netta, dear! God for ever bless you!'
+
+The guard was at the door, Owen in the carriage. Rowland gave Netta one
+long, last kiss, and went out upon the platform.
+
+'Kiss me, uncle,' said Minette, putting her little face out of the
+window.
+
+When she drew it in again she wiped off a tear that Rowland had left
+upon her cheek.
+
+'Good-bye, Gladys,--good-bye, Owen,' he said, stretching out his hand,
+which was clasping that of his brother as the train began to move, and
+separated him from the sister, brother, niece, and friend whom he loved
+so well.
+
+Poor Netta cried long and quietly in the corner of the carriage in which
+she had been placed. Of course she had the side without an arm that she
+might put up her feet when she liked, so Owen and Gladys were placed, of
+necessity, side by side, and Minette jumped upon Gladys' lap, and began
+talking of Glanyravon. Owen and Gladys were quite shy with one another.
+The former studied Bradshaw, the latter occupied herself with Minette.
+
+When Netta ceased crying, Owen tried to engage her attention, and amused
+her for a time by accounts of home and country news. But by degrees she
+relapsed into her usual abstraction.
+
+Owen hated railway travelling, and was a great fidget. Out at every
+station, of course, and alternately reading the newspaper and making
+remarks upon the confounded November weather when in the carriage. He
+scarcely addressed Gladys particularly, but talked to Netta or Minette;
+and Gladys thought him very cold and constrained, but did not know that
+he was thinking of what Colonel Vaughan had done years ago, and
+comparing it with Mr Jones' embrace.
+
+'Do you know, Netta, that I am thinking of getting married?' he said
+suddenly, and thoroughly rousing Gladys.
+
+'Don't be so foolish, Owen! You have been getting married or falling in
+love ever since you were twelve,' said Netta. 'Who is it now?'
+
+'Miss Richards,--Dr Richards' daughter. It is the talk of the county.
+You know she has plenty of money.'
+
+Owen cast a side glance towards Gladys and saw her turn quite pale,
+which was very satisfactory to him.
+
+'Is Miss Richards pretty, uncle?' asked Minette. 'Is she as pretty as
+Gladys?'
+
+'That depends upon taste.'
+
+'But what do you think, uncle? She must be very pretty, if she is as
+pretty as my dear Gladys! Isn't Gladys pretty, uncle?'
+
+'Gladys knows what I think on that subject,' said Owen, 'but she doesn't
+care what I think.'
+
+This was said so that Netta, sitting opposite, did not hear.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys, involuntarily.
+
+'Oh, Mrs Snow!' said Owen.
+
+'As the day went on, Netta got very weary, and, finally, slept. Minette,
+also, in spite of Gladys' resolute efforts to keep her awake, fell fast
+asleep, curled up in the corner, with her mother's feet in her lap. And
+so Owen and Gladys were _tête-à-tête_.
+
+The November day was drawing to a close, and it was dull and dark.
+Gladys fancied Owen was asleep, and was thinking how very much more
+cheerful she felt in the morning than she did at that moment; and all
+because Owen said he was going to be married. She was trying to remember
+the great blessings she had lately experienced, and that she ought to be
+thinking of Netta instead of her brother.
+
+At last, Owen started up, and said,--
+
+'Gladys, do you like coming back to Glanyravon?'
+
+'Dearly, sir, if you like to have me.'
+
+'Now, Gladys, that is too absurd! You know I have wanted to have you all
+these years.'
+
+'I didn't mean that, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Gladys, tell me why that old Jones kissed you.'
+
+'I--I--don't know. Because--because he is fond of me, Mr Owen.'
+
+'That is no reason, Miss Gladys. If it was, somebody else would kiss
+you, too. Now I have an opportunity, I must ask you a few more
+questions. I beg you to understand that old Jones, who is so fond of
+you, put you under my especial care.'
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!'
+
+'Oh, Mrs Snow! Now, tell me why you let that cunning man of the world,
+Colonel Vaughan, give you ten shillings? This has been on my mind for
+six or seven years, and I have never had an opportunity of getting it
+off before. You know if you won't have me for a lover, you may for a
+brother.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan offered me the money, Mr Owen, and I returned it to
+him. Who could have told you of that?'
+
+'The boy who saw him give you some money, and picked up the
+half-sovereign you dropped.'
+
+'He gave me money for poor Mr Lloyd, who was ill, and offered me the
+half-sovereign for myself, which I refused.'
+
+'Why did you refuse it.'
+
+'Because I did not want it, and because he had no right to offer it me.'
+
+'Bravo, Gladys! You are a capital girl!'
+
+'And yet, Mr Owen, you think all sorts of unkind things of me when I am
+absent. For six years!'
+
+'How can I help it, Gladys? You know that I love you better than my
+life, and yet you won't care one straw for me.'
+
+'Oh! Mr Owen.'
+
+'I can tell you it is no trifling mark of constancy, for a wandering
+fellow like me to stick to farming, and doing the dutiful son all these
+years. I should have been off to sea again long ago but for you, and--'
+
+'And the father and mother, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Well, yes, to a certain extent. But you always answer every question
+but one like a pure, straightforward young woman, as you are. Why won't
+you tell me the reason you have for hating me so?'
+
+'I don't hate you, Mr Owen.'
+
+'It must be either love or hate. You don't love me. Do you love any one
+else?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'Have you a heart to give?'
+
+'Ye--no.'
+
+'Which do you mean?'
+
+'I cannot tell you, indeed I cannot!'
+
+'Oh! Gladys, if you knew the pain! Why will you not make me happy, or at
+least give me a sensible reason?'
+
+'I--I--promised--oh, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Dear Gladys, what? I will never betray you, and will always be a
+friend, a brother. Who have you promised? Not to marry, not to love--'
+
+'Your father, Mr Owen. I--I--promised never--to--without his consent.'
+
+Fortunately it was dusk, and the curtain between the double carriage was
+drawn, and Netta and Minette were, apparently at least, fast asleep, so
+no one saw Owen jump up from his seat with a kind of bound, seize
+Gladys' hand, try to look into her face, and finally sit down again,
+retaining possession of the said hand across the elbow of the carriage.
+
+'Do you mean, Gladys, that you promised never to marry me without my
+father's consent?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Never to love me without his consent?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'That you don't hate me?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'That if I got his consent you would make me the happiest man in the
+world?'
+
+'I would try, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Nothing but his consent?
+
+'Nothing, Mr Owen. If you do not change, I cannot.
+
+'Gladys, do not trifle with me. But you could not trifle. Have you cared
+for me--may I say loved me--all these years?'
+
+'All these years.'
+
+Gladys bowed her head as if in shame over those clasped hands, and a
+large tear fell upon Owen's. He wanted no other confirmation of her
+words, and felt, as he had expressed it, the happiest man in the world.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.
+
+
+It was nine o'clock when the fly that took the travellers from Swansea
+to Glanyravon reached the door of the farm. The night was 'dark and
+dreary;' very different was the weather, the aspect of external nature;
+very different were Netta's feelings and all the circumstances, when she
+was at home ten years ago. She had been thinking again on all these
+things during that gloomy drive, when her companions thought she was
+asleep.
+
+Bright lights are in the windows and passage as the travellers look out
+of the carriage. Mrs Prothero's anxious face is visible in front, Mr and
+Mrs Jonathan's tall forms above her from behind, the servants are
+without, Lion is barking joyously, but there is no Mr Prothero.
+
+'Is this Glanyravon, mamma?' asks Minette waking up and rubbing her
+eyes.
+
+No answer.
+
+Owen jumps out, and without stopping to greet his pale, trembling
+mother, turns to help Netta, who cannot help herself. He carries a dead
+weight into the parlour, and lays it on the sofa. Netta has fainted.
+
+Gladys is at her side in a moment with every kind of restorative but no
+one notices or thinks of her. Mrs Prothero is on her knees rubbing her
+child's cold hands, and looking as white as the corpse-like daughter
+thus restored to her. Mr and Mrs Jonathan look at one another, and then
+at Netta, with a glance of pity and grief.
+
+There is another face for one moment bent over the sofa, and the next a
+loud heavy groan is heard in the corner of the room that comes from a
+heart in extreme agony; but no one, save Minette, seems conscious of
+it. She turns affrighted at the sound, and in the impulse of her quick,
+warm nature runs to comfort.
+
+'Mamma will be better soon,' she says; 'she is often so. Don't cry so
+loud, you will frighten her.'
+
+Poor Mr Prothero removes his hand from his eyes to behold, for the first
+time, his grandchild. Another heavy groan, almost a cry, and he takes
+the child in his large arms, and presses her to his breast, weeping like
+an infant.
+
+Netta uncloses her eyes on familiar objects for a moment, and shuts them
+again. Has she seen the cheerful, old-fashioned parlour, the bright
+fire, near which the sofa is wheeled, her father's portrait over the
+mantelpiece, her mother at her feet?
+
+'She is getting better,' whispers Gladys, who still holds her place at
+Netta's head, with strong salts in her hand, and a bottle and glass by
+her side.
+
+Again the eyes unclose, wander restlessly from one anxious face to
+another, settling on none; close again, once more unclose and look with
+some consciousness on the breathless group that surrounds the sofa.
+
+'Father! father!' now murmurs Netta; 'where is father?'
+
+The feeble cry has reached that father's ears and inmost heart. He puts
+down Minette and staggers, blinded by his grief, to the sofa. All
+withdrew but his wife. He is on his knees before his poor penitent
+daughter. Her arms are round his neck, and she strives to rise but
+cannot. Oh! the depth, agony, remorse of that long, silent, paternal,
+and filial embrace.
+
+'Do you forgive me, father?' asks Netta.
+
+'All--all. God forgive us both!' groans Mr Prothero.
+
+Mrs Prothero lays her head on her hands on the sofa, by which she
+kneels, and gives way to a passionate burst of grief.
+
+'My poor, poor mistress,' says Gladys, unable any longer to refrain from
+approaching her. 'All is well; she will be better now.'
+
+'Mother!' cries Netta. 'Don't cry so for me. Come and kiss me, mother.'
+
+Father and mother surround with their arms that wandering, restored
+lamb, and take it into the fold again.
+
+A little voice from behind is heard.
+
+'Mamma! mamma! think of your poor Minette!'
+
+And in another minute Minette is on the sofa, in the midst of her
+mother, grandfather, and grandmother.
+
+Blessed are the warm, gushing tears that fall on the child's head--tears
+of love and reconciliation.
+
+Soon the worthy vicar and his wife, who have thus far been only
+spectators of the scene, draw near to bless and welcome their niece.
+
+'She will faint again,' whispers Gladys to Owen.
+
+'She is happy now,' replies Owen, looking into Gladys' tearful eyes from
+his own, equally dimmed with tears. It is the first time he has seen
+that face since he has known that Gladys loves him.
+
+But Gladys is right--happiness is too overpowering for Netta. She faints
+in the midst of all those dear ones, so kind and loving.
+
+Again Gladys is at her side to revive her, which she is able to do more
+quickly than before. When she is better, Gladys raises her pillows, and
+places her in a more comfortable posture. By degrees every one is
+conscious that Gladys is present.
+
+'Dear Gladys!' says Netta, 'I am better now; quite--quite well, father!'
+
+'Drink this first,' says Gladys, giving her some wine and water that
+Owen has brought.
+
+She drinks the wine and water, and again calls her father
+
+'I brought Gladys, father; I cannot do without her. She has saved my
+life, I think, and mother's, so Owen told me--didn't you, Owen? May she
+stay with me, father?'
+
+Netta presses her hand to her head, and looks at her father with those
+bewildered eyes, which are only too sadly irresistible.
+
+'Gladys!' he replies. 'Oh, yes! I haven't seen her yet.'
+
+Gladys is by his side, and he turns and shakes her hand warmly, and
+says,--
+
+'Thank you, Gladys, thank you, I have heard all; but we will talk of
+this another time.'
+
+'Best now, father, whilst I remember. She may stay? You like to have
+her?'
+
+'Of course, of course, my dear.'
+
+Mr Prothero glances rather uneasily at the very lady-like looking young
+woman, for whom he is thus humbly petitioned, and in doing so spies Owen
+close behind her.
+
+His feelings are too much softened by Netta to allow him to feel angry;
+still he does not know what to make of if. Mrs Prothero kisses Gladys,
+and Mr and Mrs Jonathan shake hands with her.
+
+'Nothing like the present time,' thinks Owen; but Gladys declares
+decidedly that Netta ought to go to her room, and everybody yields to
+her calm, assured voice.
+
+'Then you will stay with us?' asks gentle Mrs Prothero, looking the
+while at her husband.
+
+'To be sure she will,' says Mr Prothero.
+
+'Thank you, sir; thank you, ma'am. I shall be only too glad,' replies
+Gladys, as humbly as if she were really the servant she professes to be.
+'Miss Gwynne will allow me to stay, if you wish it.'
+
+After they had been upstairs they returned to tea, and Mr Prothero could
+not quit Netta, but sat watching her with a painful anxiety.
+
+She was greatly excited, and her mind and eyes appeared equally to
+wander on the objects of her childhood. She asked her father a variety
+of questions concerning scenes and people that she felt were
+particularly associated with him, and he was quite overcome.
+
+When the meal was finished, Owen carried Netta at once to her room, and
+all the womankind accompanied her. It was then that poor Mr Prothero's
+wrath and grief exploded. Left alone with his brother he vented both in
+language which, as Owen had expressed it, needed clerical revision. But
+Mr Jonathan knew that it must have its course before exhortations could
+take effect. He paced up and down the room pouring curses loud and deep
+upon Howel, and bemoaning his unfortunate daughter. At last he sat down
+and cried bitterly.
+
+It was then that his brother drew near to comfort, and that Owen
+returned to the room.
+
+'So young, so pretty--our only girl! God only knows how I love her--to
+come to die! Driven mad by that heartless villain--curse him--a
+thousand--'
+
+'Hush, brother! hush! You cannot alter the past. Home and a father's and
+mother's love will soon bring her round, poor dear.'
+
+'Do you think so? why, she looks like a corpse. No rose was redder when
+she went away, when I kissed her the night before. And now! and now! I
+say again, curse the man! I can't help it, brother,--I won't help it.'
+
+'Come, father, let us hope the best, now we have her home again.'
+
+Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder as he spoke, but there was no
+comfort for that sorrowing parent. While he cursed Howel there, was much
+self-reproach within him for long-harboured feelings of anger and
+unforgiveness against his daughter. He even began, to think that if he
+had been gentle and kind he might have saved her. The proud hearts of
+parent and child were alike subdued by heavy sorrow.
+
+The following day Netta was unable to leave her bed. Excitement and
+fatigue had been too much for her. Dr Richards was sent for, who shook
+his head, and ordered quiet and rest. Mrs Prothero and Gladys were with
+her, and as she was continually sleeping, no one else was admitted. Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan left early, after having made friends with Minette, who
+confided to them that she liked them better than grandpapa and
+grandmamma, because they were gentlefolks. She didn't know why there was
+no carpet in the hall, and didn't like stones to her feet. She promised
+to go and see them when her mamma was better. The worthy couple took to
+her as they had done to her mother.
+
+In a day or two Netta was much better and able to be brought downstairs.
+Matters gradually settled into their regular course at the farm, and all
+went on as usual. Mr Prothero spent every spare moment with Netta and
+his grandchild, who soon forgot that 'grandfather,' as he insisted on
+her calling him, 'talked loud, and had large, rough hands.' Gladys
+slipped imperceptibly into her old place, and alternately nursed Netta
+and helped Mrs Prothero in the dairy. Owen found many opportunities of
+entreating Gladys to let him speak to his father, but she positively
+forbade him, as long as there was painful anxiety about Netta; and, at
+the same time, angered him by refusing to consider him as her accepted
+lover until his father's consent was obtained. Mrs Prothero schooled her
+aching heart into outward calm, but her white hair and paleface showed
+what she had gone through, and was still suffering. Howel's name was
+never mentioned, except between Netta and Gladys. It was to Gladys that
+poor Netta opened her mind, and poured out all her hopes and fears about
+Howel's return.
+
+The state of that mind varied continually. Sometimes it was tolerably
+clear, at others sadly wandering, and the least excitement produced
+faintness and pain at the heart; still her friends fancied she gained
+strength.
+
+She had the sofa placed so that she could look out of the parlour-window
+upon the distant hills. The weather cleared up brisk and bright. The red
+and yellow foliage that still remained to cover the huge trunks of the
+oaks shone in the sunlight, and the lights and shadows danced upon the
+mountains. A few white chrysanthemums, and one or two roses still looked
+in at the window, upon her who had once been the brightest flower of
+Glanyravon.
+
+Netta had been at home a fortnight, and was really stronger and better.
+The sun was setting behind those distant hills, and casting glorious
+shades of red, purple, and gold upon them. She was gazing wistfully on
+the sky, and thinking of Howel, whilst Minette was sitting on a stool at
+her feet, turning over a book, out of which she had been reading to her
+mother, whose chief occupation was trying to teach her.
+
+Mr Prothero came in, and took his customary seat at the head of her
+sofa. He was followed, almost instantly, by Gladys, who called Minette
+out to have her cup of warm milk fresh from the cow, ordered by her
+doctor.
+
+'Father,' began Netta, abruptly, 'I have something to say to you.'
+
+'Well, Netta, fach!' said her father, cheerfully. 'Say away. I'm all
+attention,'
+
+'Do you like Gladys, father?'
+
+'Of course I do, my dear. Who could help it? She's an excellent young
+'ooman.'
+
+'I wish you would promise me one thing, father, before I go away.'
+
+'But you are not going away ever again, my love?'
+
+'Perhaps I may--far, far away; and perhaps I may go to heaven. I don't
+know. But I should like, when I go away, to leave you a better daughter
+than I have ever been to you. One that will take care of you and mother,
+and my Minette, as long as you and she live; who will make Owen a good
+wife and a happy man, as he is now, a good son and brother. Father, will
+you take her for my sake?'
+
+'My darling, I don't know what you mean?'
+
+'I mean--You won't be cross, father, bach?'
+
+'Never again with you, Netta, please God.'
+
+'Will you promise to grant me this great favour, now that my head is
+clear, and I have no pain, and can ask it right?'
+
+'There is little I 'ould refuse you, Netta; but I should rather hear it
+first.'
+
+'It is about Owen and Gladys, father. They have loved one another ever
+since they were first together. I found it out in the train; and when
+Owen pressed Gladys very hard to tell him why she didn't love him, she
+said it was because she had promised you something. I could not hear
+what; but I heard enough to know that she loved Owen dearly. And she is
+good and clever; and, oh! so kind and gentle to me. I never think now of
+what I used to think so much--how she was a beggar at our gate; and
+everybody in London looks up to her and loves her. Mr and Mrs Jones,
+Miss Gwynne, and Rowland, all treat her like a lady. I should die, I
+think I should, so much happier, or go away when I am fetched, so much
+happier, if I could know she was with you as a daughter. I have been
+very disobedient and wilful; but she has been obedient and grateful,
+though she was not your child. When I left mother to die of fever, she
+nursed her and saved her life. May God forgive me, for Christ's sake,
+and bless her! She has made Owen steady. She has nursed the sick. She
+has taught in the poor, wretched London ragged-schools, as well as in
+the others. She has made clothes for the poor. What has she not done?
+Oh, that I were like her! And now she is waiting on me, and helping
+mother, and nursing my child, like a common servant. Oh, father! take to
+her instead of me. Indeed indeed, you will never repent--never!'
+
+As Netta spoke, her wasted cheek flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her
+manner grew more and more animated. Her father listened attentively,
+without interrupting her, and when she paused, said,--
+
+'Netta, fach, are you seure you didn't dream or fancy this? Owen
+declared to me, Gladys 'ouldn't have him, and didn't love him.'
+
+'Because you would not let her, father. Think of her making him believe
+this, and yet loving him dearly all the time; and because she was too
+grateful to you and mother to do what you don't like.'
+
+'Yes; the girl's a good girl, Netta, I don't deny that; but I can't bear
+the Irish, and don't want Owen, who is a fine, sensible young man, who
+might have any respectable young 'ooman, to marry a girl nobody knows
+of, and there's the treuth! If you let him alone, he'd marry Miss
+Richards.'
+
+'Never, father! Only ask him; for my sake--though I don't deserve you
+should do anything for me.'
+
+'There--there; don't you begin to cry, and excite yourself. I'll ask the
+boy.'
+
+'Now, father! He's in the hall; I heard him whistling. Let him come
+here.'
+
+Mr Prothero went out and called Owen, who came in forthwith He began the
+subject at once.
+
+'Owen, Netta has got into her head that you and Gladys are making fools
+of one another still, in spite of all I said. Is that treue?'
+
+'Not exactly, father. You know I have been in love with Gladys nearly
+ever since I knew her, and made up my mind never to have anybody else. I
+don't call that making a fool of her; perhaps it was of myself. She has
+refused me, without rhyme or reason, more than once; and it was only
+when we came home with Netta that I found out the cause of her refusal.
+It is just because she won't marry me without your consent. I have been
+waiting for her permission to speak to you about this ever since I came
+home; but she wouldn't let me, because Netta was ill. I must confess to
+you, honestly, that I would have married her any day these seven years,
+and worked for her, by sea of land, if she would have had me. But she
+wouldn't, so there's an end of that I find, now, that your consent is
+wanting alone, and I ask it boldly. If you let us marry, you make us
+happy; if you refuse, you make us miserable, and send me to sea
+again--for I don't see that you can expect me to work at home, if you
+don't try to contribute to my happiness. I am not angry, father, though
+I can't see what right you had to extract a promise from a girl to whom
+you had done a service. That was not generous, or like Prothero,
+Glanyravon.'
+
+'Treue for you there, boy.'
+
+Mr Prothero began to rub his ear; a trick he had when in doubt. Netta,
+seeing this, put her arms round his neck, and whispered,--
+
+'Oh, father! make us happy. He is a good son, father, bach.'
+
+'Then go you and tell the girl, you may have her, as far as I am
+concerned,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'Indeed, father!' said Owen doubtfully.
+
+'Do you want me to swear, sir? Upon my deed, then, you may marry the
+girl. I have but one objection, and that's the way she came here. The
+girl's a good girl, and I like her well enough. Now, p'r'aps you 'ont go
+to sea.'
+
+'Decidedly not; I'm a steady land-lubber for my life: thank you, father.
+Shake hands upon it! You won't repent. Kiss me, Netta! You have done it,
+I know, and you shall dance at the wedding. Now, I'll go and tell
+Gladys.'
+
+Owen and his father shook hands until their arms ached. Then the brother
+and sister kissed one another, and, with a sort of greyhound leap, or
+caper, Owen started off in search of Gladys.
+
+'Father, you will never repent it. Thank you--a thousand times,' said
+Netta, covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears.
+
+The worthy farmer cried with her, and thus the father and daughter's
+love returned and increased.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+THE BETROTHED.
+
+
+Owen found Gladys in the dairy with his mother and Minette. She had a
+candle in one hand, lighting Mrs Prothero, whilst she was looking at the
+fresh milk just put into the pans; Minette held the other.
+
+'All right, Gladys! all right! Father has consented!' cried Owen,
+literally tumbling down the passage between the milk-pans.
+
+Down went a splendid tin of milk right over Minette. Owen didn't mind.
+His arm was round Gladys' waist, and the candle stowed away somewhere,
+before any one knew what he was about. Mother and niece saw the long,
+fervent embrace to which Gladys yielded; but Owen didn't mind that. If
+all the servants, domestic and otherwise, had been there, he wouldn't
+have cared.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys.
+
+'Oh, Mrs. Owen,' said he.
+
+'Mother, she is mine and yours now for ever!' he continued, releasing
+Gladys somewhat from his firm clasp. 'Father has given her to me. I
+needn't ask you. We will live all together. I will herd the cows, and
+she shall milk them.'
+
+'Come into the kitchen, Owen,' said Mrs Prothero, utterly astonished.
+
+'Uncle, you have wet me all over,' sighed Minette.
+
+'Never mind. Come by the fire and dry yourself.'
+
+They all went into the kitchen, which was empty. There, by the blazing
+wood fire, Owen kissed Gladys and his mother and Minette, and Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys; and the women cried and Owen laughed. It was a
+long time before he could explain the real state of the case.
+
+'You are quite sure you love me, Gladys? It is not _gratitude_, but
+love!' said Owen, looking into the pure, lustrous 'violets dropping
+dew,' that he had studied so long and so lovingly.
+
+The answering glance and the quick blush were quite satisfactory.
+
+'Then, will you come with me to father and Netta. We owe it all to
+her--poor dear Netta!'
+
+'Please to wipe my frock first,' said Minette to her grandmother; 'and
+tell me if uncle is going to marry Gladys. I am so glad.'
+
+The frock was wiped, and Owen took the child up in his arms, and told
+her to love her new aunt better than ever.
+
+'I can't love her better, uncle,' was the simple assurance of the little
+girl.
+
+'Nor can I, even as my daughter,' said Mrs Prothero, pressing the hand
+she held with a mother's love.
+
+They all went to the parlour, where Mr Prothero and Netta were sitting,
+quite silent, by the fire-light.
+
+Owen led Gladys to his father, who did not well know what to do on the
+occasion, not being quite satisfied with the respectability of the
+parentage of his future daughter-in-law.
+
+Gladys summoned all her courage, and standing before Mr Prothero, said
+firmly,--
+
+'You will be glad, sir, to know that I have found my friends, and that
+they acknowledge me as their relation. I could never have consented to
+bring disgrace upon you and yours. I do not think I could have accepted
+your present great kindness even, had I not been able to make my truth
+as clear as the noon-day. Mr Jones, with whom Miss Gwynne and I have
+been living so long, is my uncle--my mother's own brother.'
+
+The general exclamations of surprise may be imagined.
+
+'The girl's dreaming, like Netta,' from Mr Prothero.
+
+'Why didn't you tell me before?' from Owen.
+
+'I knew she was true,' from Mrs Prothero.
+
+'How can this be, Gladys?' from Netta.
+
+Gladys told her story simply. Every one was too much engrossed with it,
+to think of the pretty picture that wondering family group made; but as
+we know it already, we will look at the picture whilst she is telling
+her tale.
+
+The large, old-fashioned sofa is placed at one side of the fire-place,
+its head against the wall, its foot towards the window, so as to give
+Netta warmth and the view of the distant hills at the same time. Between
+the head of the sofa and the fire-place is an arm-chair, also against
+the wall, Mr Prothero's favourite seat; and Minette's footstool is by
+the side of her mother, and at the feet of her grandfather.
+
+Netta's pale face is in shadow, but the large, bright black eyes beam
+upon Gladys, with preternatural lustre, and the raven hair shines
+against the white pillow that supports her head. The broad, massive
+figure of the father, in its rough work-a-day clothes, is also in
+shadow. One elbow rests upon the arm of Netta's sofa, one hand smooths
+mechanically the head of his grandchild, resting against his knee. This
+large hand and that tender head come within the glow of the fire-light.
+His grey head is lifted towards Gladys, on whom his keen black eyes, so
+like Netta's, are also fixed. Minette, too, sitting at his feet, gazes
+with child-like wonder on Gladys; her long black curls falling over her
+pale face. Grandsire, daughter, child, so like one another, and yet so
+far apart in age. Three types they are of the ancient Briton.
+
+Opposite this trio, with her left hand clasped in that of Netta, and
+close to her sofa, stands the fair, blue-eyed, graceful Gladys;
+thoroughly Irish in beauty, if Welsh in heart. The red glare of the
+large bright fire brings out her sweet, earnest face, and slight form.
+Her eyes are cast down, as if they cannot support the gaze of so many
+other eyes, and her cheeks are flushed with a strange excitement.
+Towering a full head above her, his arm round her waist, the thick black
+beard touching her hair is the manly, handsome Owen. Love, joy, pride,
+in his honest black eyes, and health on his bronzed and ruddy cheeks.
+Seated on the sofa, her arms on Netta's knees, her head, with its silver
+hair, and plain white lace cap, eagerly pressed forward, is the
+well-beloved mother. For the first time since Netta's return, grief for
+the one child, has merged into joy for the other, and prayer and praise
+for all are in her heart even whilst she listens.
+
+The story is told, Gladys raises her eyes and head somewhat proudly for
+her. Owen lowers his, and kisses the pure, white forehead. There is
+silence for a few moments, no one can speak for tears. Owen is the
+first.
+
+'Well, father! all's right now, at any rate.'
+
+'Treue for you there, Owen, my boy. The only objection is removed;
+everybody will know now that Gladys was honest, God bless you both, and
+make you happy.'
+
+At this moment there was a suppressed sob from Netta. Her mind had
+wandered from the open, straightforward betrothal of Owen and Gladys,
+crowned, after years of difficulty, with a father's and mother's
+blessing, to her own unhallowed marriage--to her lost husband.
+
+Again poor Netta was the object of every one's thoughts, Gladys forgot
+herself, and Owen his joy, to cheer and comfort her.
+
+It was in private that Mrs Prothero poured out her feelings to Gladys,
+and assured her of her unbounded satisfaction in the prospect of such a
+daughter. It was also in private that Netta solemnly gave her child into
+Gladys' care. She said,--
+
+'If I die, Gladys, you are to be her mother. You are to bring her up;
+she is never to leave you. If Howel comes back, say to him this was my
+wish. But I will write it for him. You must teach her to love her
+father, and to pray for him; and when she is old enough to be firm in
+her duty, to go to him if he wishes it. But never let Aunt 'Lizbeth have
+her--never. I _must_ see Aunt 'Lizbeth, I must tell her my wishes
+myself; you must talk to her, Gladys; she must not have my child if I
+die.'
+
+Owen and Minette went together to see poor Mrs Griffey. They
+found her much altered. Owen could scarcely recognise the brisk,
+handsomely-dressed Aunt 'Lizbeth who came to announce her son's gay
+wedding to Mrs Prothero, in that son's mother, as stricken by his crime.
+Moreover, there was a very strong smell of spirits in the room, and Owen
+perceived a bottle and glass, that had been hastily put aside, under a
+table in the corner.
+
+Mrs Jenkins cried a great deal when she saw Minette, and Owen was soon
+very sorry that he had brought the child. However he told her to go to a
+small inner room, the window of which looked into the street, and her
+attention was soon quite absorbed. Her grandmother was in a maudlin
+condition, out of which, under any other circumstances, Owen would have
+extracted mirth, but now he only felt anger and sorrow.
+
+'Have you heard anything of Howel, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' he asked.
+
+'Oh, _annwyl_! No. Mr Rice Rice is telling me there is a 'ditement
+brought against him for forgery, and now they can be taking him
+anywhere, and bringing him to trial as soon as they do find him.
+Forgery! name o' goodness, why 'ould he be forging, as I do say to every
+one, and his own mother as 'ould be giving him thousands of pounds. My
+Howels! Ach a fi! for sham to them! But he 'ont be found guilty, if they
+do tak him. Owen, bach! it was killing me, 'deet to goodness it was,'
+
+'Don't cry, Aunt 'Lizbeth, I wanted to speak to you about Netta.'
+
+'Oh seure! she 'ont come to see her husband's mother! and I don't be
+cheusing to be turned out of doors again.'
+
+'She is very ill, aunt. We don't know whether she can ever recover. Her
+mind is wandering, and has been ever since that--Howel left her; she
+thinks he is gone for debt, and if she knew the real state of the case,
+it would probably be the death of her. If we could manage a meeting
+between you, could you speak only of Howel's debts, and not of this
+terrible suspicion.'
+
+'Seurely I could; but I 'ont go to Glanyravon; if your father was
+turning me out of doors then, what will he be doing now?'
+
+'We must see, Aunt 'Lizbeth? poor Netta sends her love to you, and begs
+you to keep up; she says she is sure Howel will come back; I was to tell
+you this.'
+
+'Netta! Netta! poor dear, poor dear.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins began to rock herself to and fro in her chair violently, and
+to cry hysterically.
+
+'He was very fond of her, Owen; you don't think she'll be dying? I do be
+wishing all day long that she hadn't gone off with him, and that my
+Griffey hadn't left all that money--and--and--tak you a glass of
+brandy and water, Owen, it will be warming you after your cold walk, and
+I do feel so poorly and wretched all over, that I'll be having a drop
+along.'
+
+'No thank you, aunt, we must be going; what of the counsel for Howel?'
+
+'Oh, I do be having the best in all London; Prince Albert or Queen
+Victoria 'ouldn't be having a better; to think of him as was dining with
+them wanst.'
+
+'Don't believe such nonsense, Aunt 'Lizbeth.'
+
+'Was you thinking that my Howels is not telling the treuth? But I am
+seure they 'ont be finding him; they was telling me that America, where
+they do think he is gone, is bigger than all Wales, and England, and
+London put together. Oh, if I could be going to him, I 'ouldn't be
+vexing shocking, as I was now. All that money that my Griffey was
+putting by in pence and sixpences and shillings all gone, and he no
+better, and Howels no better, and I no better, 'scept that I did be
+seeing London. Come you, Owen, tak you a drop of brandy and water. I do
+tak it very kind of you to be coming to see me.'
+
+'What message shall I give Netta, Aunt 'Lizbeth?'
+
+'Give you her my love, and I'll be seeing her whenever she do like. Tell
+you her that Howels shall be having every penny his poor old mother do
+own to set him right again; he'll be seure to be proving himself right,
+come you. Them Simpsons and Spendalls were always living upon him, and
+now to be turning against him. Ach a fi! now do be taking a drop before
+you do go.'
+
+'No thank you, Aunt 'Lizbeth; and I don't think spirits good for you.
+You had better be careful.'
+
+'I don't be drinking a wine glass full in a week, but when I am having
+the spasms, and now I am vexing so, they was coming oftener than they
+was eused to.'
+
+Owen left Mrs Jenkins with a heavy heart, foreseeing her end; Minette
+said she didn't like her because she smelt so of wine, and wasn't a
+lady.
+
+The next day but one Gladys went to see her, and did what she could to
+comfort and help her; she was used to all sorts of sorrow and sin, and
+was so gentle a consoler, and so Christian an adviser, that poor Mrs
+Jenkins asked her to come and stay with her always; but that could not
+be; she went, however, as often as she could leave Netta.
+
+Netta's will and word was now law with her father; he refused her
+nothing; he even allowed her to see her mother-in-law, provided the
+meeting was managed when he was from home. It was so managed, and a
+melancholy meeting it proved; the old woman's tears and sobs were so
+irrepressible, that Gladys was obliged to shorten it as much as
+possible; Netta, however, was calmer than she expected.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'I want you to promise me one thing. If I die--'
+
+'Oh, Netta, fach! why was you talking of dying? you 'ont be dying.'
+
+'I said _if_, mother. I wish Gladys, who is going to marry Owen--'
+
+'Gladys, Owen! name o' goodness! and your father! he 'ouldn't let you
+marry my Howels, and she--'
+
+'Is very good, mother, whilst I am very bad. But I wish her and Owen to
+bring up my child; you must tell Howel so, when he comes back; and when
+she is grown up, she will be a comfort to you and him. My head is
+confused; I dreamt last night Howel was here, and he was going to take
+away Minette. Is he with you, mother? tell me! do you know where he is?
+Oh! if I could see him once more! once more!'
+
+'He is being safe in America, Netta, fach, but is coming home soon I am
+thinking. Don't you be dying; he was doating upon you, and if he do come
+home, and don't be finding you, he'll be dying too.'
+
+'Are you sure he will come back? Did he tell you so himself?'
+
+'To be seure. He is coming back soon, only he must be paying his debts
+first. Come you!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins' unmitigated falsehoods did Netta a great deal of good; they
+cheered her, and gave her hope for the time. Gladys doubted whether
+hopes so based, and to be so miserably crushed, were to be encouraged,
+but she had not the heart to undeceive her.
+
+When Mr Prothero returned home that evening, he was surprised to see
+Netta looking so much more cheerful than she had done since her return.
+
+'Better, much better,' was her answer to his eager look of inquiry. 'And
+now I am better, I have another favour to ask. I want to see Owen and
+Gladys married while I am here. I think it would almost cure me to feel
+that I had helped to do one kind and right thing in my wrong life. Would
+you mind it, father?'
+
+'I shall be very glad to see them married, my dear; the sooner the
+better. Owen's good-for-nothing now but sitting with his arm round
+Gladys' waist all day long, and I hate those sort of follies.'
+
+'Oh! Davy,' said Mrs Prothero, 'young people will be young people, and
+I'm sure no one can be so modest as Gladys,'
+
+'Well, I'm of Netta's opinion, and the sooner they're married the
+better. I must confess, now I know who Gladys is, there isn't a girl in
+all the country I like so well. And Mr and Mrs Jones have written as a
+gentleman and lady ought to write, owning her, and giving their free
+consent to her marrying our Owen. So, Netta, fach, if you can get the
+young folk's consent you have mine.'
+
+Owen and Gladys had accompanied Mrs Jenkins part of the way home. She
+had particularly asked Gladys to 'send her,' and as it was getting dusk,
+Owen had 'sent her' also. They returned during the conversation
+respecting their marriage and Mr Prothero who had forgotten, if he had
+ever experienced, the shyness of affianced lovers, began the subject at
+once.
+
+'Netta wants you two young people to be married directly, so do I. I
+shall be glad when 'tis all over. What do you say to it?'
+
+They had nothing to say, Gladys blushed, and Owen felt awkward on her
+account, not his own.
+
+'There, I always said that lovers were fools,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'We will settle it another time,' said Netta.
+
+'Go you and settle it directly,' said Mr Prothero; 'what my little girl
+here says, is law in this house.'
+
+Poor Netta always began to cry when her father said anything
+particularly kind. She did so now. There was a reaction on her spirits,
+and she suddenly became as depressed as she had previously been gay. The
+constantly recurring contrasts between herself and Gladys continually
+affected her, and her father's readiness for the marriage reminded her
+of the scenes between him and herself previously to her own.
+
+The topic was given up for that evening, but the following morning Netta
+renewed it with Owen, who declared himself ready to marry Gladys that
+very moment.
+
+The upshot of it all was, that the wedding was settled for New Year's
+Day, at Netta's particular request. No one cared, or indeed thought what
+the world would say at a marriage taking place during a period of such
+heavy affliction. Netta willed it, and to give her pleasure, and an
+object for her poor wandering mind, every member of the family would
+have made any sacrifice; and this was not a sacrifice at all, but an
+event of importance to all.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones promised to come if only for one clear day, and sent a
+box of presents to their niece, which Netta had the pleasure of
+unpacking. Amongst them was a simple and pretty wedding dress and
+bonnet, that poor Netta wept over, thinking of her own.
+
+On the whole, however, Netta was better and more cheerful, and even
+assisted in the preparations that were going forward. She helped to make
+that pretty dove-coloured silk dress that was manufactured at home, and
+tried to join in the happiness which her apparently improved health
+seemed to make allowable.
+
+But Netta's heart was with Howel, and the certainty that she felt of his
+return and constant love, alone sustained her. Alas! that poor,
+fluttering, uncertain heart!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+THE HEIR.
+
+
+Miss Gwynne returned to Glanyravon on Christmas Eve. She had not visited
+it before, since she left it when her father married. She had seen her
+father, his wife, and her little brother almost yearly in London,
+whither Lady Mary Nugent insisted on dragging her husband annually; but
+she had not hitherto had love, or courage, or Christian charity enough
+to visit them at home. When last in town, and repeatedly by letter, her
+father had urged her doing so, and she had at last complied with his
+request, more from a latent sense of duty than from inclination.
+
+It was a bright, frosty night, when the carriage that had been sent to
+meet her drove up to the door. If poor Netta had fainted on returning to
+the farm, Freda was obliged to brush away gathering tears as she
+returned to the Park. Every branch of tree, as it glittered in the
+moonlight in its dress of hoar frost, was familiar to her, every pane of
+glass in the windows of the old place seemed a friend.
+
+On the lowest step, bare-headed and expectant, were the old butler and
+footman she had left when she went away; she shook hands with each, and
+they almost rung her hand off. In the door-way stood her father, not
+bare-headed, but expectant, who received her with paternal warmth. Freda
+knew that he must for once have forgotten himself and his nervous
+debility to have thus exposed himself to the frosty air. In the hall was
+Lady Mary ready with smiles and embraces, with which Freda would gladly
+have dispensed; but she did her best to seem, if she could not feel,
+glad to see her.
+
+Her ladyship preceded her to her own old bedroom, where a huge fire, and
+bright wax candles bade her welcome, and whither she was followed by
+Frisk, who was exuberant in his demonstrations of delight at his return
+home after his long absence.
+
+'I have ordered my maid to wait on you my dear,' said Freda's
+stepmother, 'because I find your's does not return to you. But we can
+replace her. Dinner will be ready whenever you are; can I do anything
+for you?'
+
+'No, thank you, I shall not be long,' said Freda mechanically.
+
+Lady Mary left the room.
+
+Freda felt that her tact was good after all; for no nice feeling could
+have been more successful than it was. She had received her just as if
+she had come home after a short absence. No demonstrations of any kind;
+her room was much as it had ever been. There were even some of her
+clothes in the wardrobe.
+
+'I won't cry! I won't give way!' muttered Freda, beginning to take off
+her wrappings.
+
+There was a tap at the door.
+
+'Come in!' And Anne the old housemaid appeared.
+
+'Oh, miss, I am so glad to see you home again, it do seem so natural.
+Please to let me unpack your things, miss. My lady thought you might
+like me better than Mrs Pink.'
+
+'Thank you, Anne, it does look like home to see you.'
+
+'Shall I get your dress, miss?'
+
+'I can't dress to-night, I am too tired. There, that will do. Now I will
+go downstairs.'
+
+She did so, and found her father alone in the library.
+
+'I won't cry,' again she said, as she kissed him affectionately.
+
+'Thank you for coming, Freda, it will do me good, and my wife is
+delighted. Harold, too, is in ecstasies, and only went to bed with a
+promise that sister Freda--he calls you sister, you know, and--and all
+that sort of thing.'
+
+The 'my wife,' grated strangely on Freda's ear, but she promised to go
+and see her little brother.
+
+Lady Mary came in, and they went to dinner.
+
+It seemed strange to see her at the head of the table, and Freda felt as
+if she were in a dream. But nothing could be more perfect than her
+ladyship's manner. She behaved as if nothing had ever happened to cause
+the least estrangement between them, and almost as if she were still
+Lady Mary Nugent. Handsome as ever, and perfectly well-bred, she almost
+made even Freda believe, after her long absence from her, that she
+really was what she seemed. However, Freda tried to take her as she was,
+and to feel thankful that she was no worse. It was she who principally
+kept up the conversation; Freda made great efforts, and signally failed,
+and Mr Gwynne never talked much.
+
+After dinner, Freda proposed to go and see the little brother. As she
+looked at the magnificent boy who lay peacefully sleeping in his little
+crib, she was thankful to be able to kiss him, and say, 'God bless you,
+my brother,' without feeling angered that he had deprived her of the
+inheritance she had once been so proud of. She knew that Lady Mary was
+watching her narrowly, but there was no hypocrisy in her affection, so
+she did not care.
+
+They went down to the library, where were Mr Gwynne, tea and coffee.
+
+'Is he not a splendid fellow, my dear?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'He certainly is, papa,' replied Freda, aloud, saying inwardly, 'and
+everything with you now. I am quite second--third I ought to say.'
+
+This was true; Mr Gwynne was proud of his wife and son. The former took
+care of him, and did not greatly interfere with his pursuits or
+peculiarities, the latter gave him new life and hopes. An heir in his
+old age was a gift that might well exceed that of the daughter who could
+not perpetuate his name.
+
+Freda was glad when she went to bed, which she did as soon as tea was
+over. It was a great relief to sit down once more in the easy-chair
+which had helped to nurse so many crude fancies and humours in days gone
+by, and think over the past and present. There was an atmosphere of
+unreality about everything at Glanyravon, that she hoped to clear off on
+the morrow, so she resolved to try not to feel depressed under its
+influence; but having once known what it was to enjoy living with real,
+working men and women, with aims beyond the formalities of society, it
+seemed hard to be thrown back upon the cold worldliness of her
+stepmother, and the selfish nervousness of her father.
+
+She was, however, aroused on the blessed morning of Christmas Day by
+something that was very real.
+
+'A merry Kismas, sister Freda,' shouted a sharp little voice into her
+ear, and before her eyes were half opened brisk little feet were
+stamping at her bedside, and the same voice authoritatively enouncing,
+'Put me up, Dane, I 'ull be put up.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, miss,' said the nurse, who stood in the doorway,
+'but Master Harold would come, and my lady isn't up, and--'
+
+'Never mind, let him in,' said Freda, sitting up in bed, and opening her
+arms to receive the rosy, wilful, handsome child, who did not know how
+he had supplanted her.
+
+'A merry Kismas!' he repeated, returning Freda's kisses by pulling off
+her night-cap, and letting down her long hair before she knew what he
+was about. 'Now, I'll dive 'ou to Tewey.'
+
+'Master Harold! don't, sir!' said the nurse.
+
+But Master Harold was jumping on the pillow behind his sister, making
+reins of her hair and horses of her head in no very gentle fashion.
+
+'I sha'n't give you what I brought you from London if you pull my hair,'
+said Freda, catching the bare, firm, sturdy leg of the small tyrant who
+called her sister.
+
+'Is it soldiers?' asked the child, suddenly tumbling down before her.
+
+She caught the little fellow in her arms, and told him that if he would
+go away whilst she dressed he should have the present. After some demur
+he consented, having first informed Freda that ''ittle Minnie, and
+Winnie, and Dot, and baby' were all coming to dinner.
+
+'A family party!' groaned Freda, when the child was carried away by its
+nurse, 'myself the only rightful member of the family, and probably the
+only one who will feel as if she doesn't belong to it.'
+
+Freda got up and looked out upon the fine park and the hills beyond. She
+sighed involuntarily.
+
+'Why should I sigh,' she said. 'I am happier than when it was my
+home,--happier, and, I hope, more useful. My father doesn't want
+me,'--here she paused. Perhaps that father really did want her, for she,
+at least, loved him, and his wife did not; and she was beginning to be
+conscious, daily more and more conscious, of the exceeding preciousness
+of love.
+
+Breakfast passed, with the same effort to feel at home on her part, and
+attempt to keep up a conversation on that of Lady Mary, as had the
+dinner of the previous day.
+
+Harold made a diversion by bursting into the room to ask for his
+soldiers. He, at least, was quite natural, and entirely spoilt.
+
+Immediately after breakfast they drove to church. It was delightful to
+Freda to see the good vicar in the reading-desk, and his wife in the pew
+beneath. She felt at home again for the first time. For the first time,
+also, she really listened to the worthy man's somewhat dry sermon, and
+strove to feel 'in charity with all men' on that blessed day. She
+thought once or twice of a sermon Rowland had preached that day
+twelvemonth, which riveted the attention of his large congregation, and
+made her wonder whence he had received the gift, by half-an-hour's plain
+eloquent preaching, of opening the heart to receive truths hitherto more
+understood than felt. Rowland had become to her, and many, the type of a
+preacher and minister of the Gospel, and to him she owed, under God, the
+fuller enlightenment and enlargement of her own mind.
+
+After the service was over she went into the vicarage. Here, again, she
+was at home. She had much to tell Mrs Prothero of the kindness of Sir
+Philip Payne Perry and his wife to her, and many messages to deliver
+from them. She had also to hear Mr and Mrs Jonathan's opinion of Netta,
+and of the approaching wedding. She avoided any word that could recall
+Howel.
+
+'I hope you are not displeased with the match?' said Freda.
+
+'By no means,' was Mrs Jonathan's reply. 'I always thought Gladys very
+superior, and her turning out to be Mr Jones' niece removes our only
+objection. It is quite a romance!'
+
+'She is a clever young woman,' said Mr Jonathan. 'I was surprised the
+other day to find how much history she knew. As to Wales, she has it by
+heart, and is not wholly unacquainted with the antiquities of the
+country. It was quite a pleasure for me, Miss Gwynne, I assure you, to
+meet with any one who took so much interest in ancient lore. And now she
+is to be one of the family she is so much more at her ease. Actually
+asked me, of her own accord, of the fossils in the Park quarry, and a
+very acute question concerning the lords of the marches. She even knew
+that her name, Gladys, meant Claudia, and that the original Gladys is,
+probably, the very Claudia mentioned by St Paul.'
+
+'We shall all be thrown into the shade now, Mrs Prothero,' said Freda,
+laughing. 'Gladys will evidently be the favourite.'
+
+'I am afraid I must break up your conversation, my love,' interrupted
+Lady Mary. 'You can drive or ride over to finish it when you like.'
+
+On their way home her ladyship remarked,--
+
+'I suppose this unfortunate discovery concerning Mr Howel Jenkins will
+quite ruin Mr. Rowland Prothero's position in London society?'
+
+'He is scarcely in what is called "society;" but his friends are not
+likely to be changed by the conduct of his brother-in-in-law. He is far
+too highly esteemed and admired to be injured by such a man as Howel
+Jenkins.'
+
+Freda felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and was convinced that Lady
+Mary noticed it.
+
+'I am glad to hear you say so, my dear,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a great
+favourite of mine, and I should be sorry to think his prospects were
+injured. They are a rising family. His brother is very much thought of,
+and improving his own and my property amazingly. A most energetic young
+man, and so amusing, that he almost kills me whenever I see him. I am
+glad he is going to marry that pretty Gladys.'
+
+When they arrived at home they found the party from Abertewey ready to
+receive them,--at least, Mrs Gwynne Vaughan and her children. The
+colonel was to join them at dinner.
+
+'Oh, Freda, dear, I am tho glad you are come home again!' lisped Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan. 'Tho ith Gwynne. He thaith it will be delightful to have
+you. Thith ith little Gwynne, and thith ith Minnie, and we call thith
+one Dot, and baby ith in the nurthery. You thall thee her by-and-by.
+Kith Aunt Freda, Minnie,--they all call you Aunt Freda, you know.'
+
+Freda, not at all rejoicing in the honour, stooped to kiss all the
+pretty little children by turns, and had soon made friends with them
+all. The children were the greatest possible relief to her; she turned
+to them as a sort of neutral ground between the war in her own heart and
+the tact and inanity of her stepmother and stepsister.
+
+The latter was as unchanged as the former. Very handsome, very
+fashionably dressed, very good-tempered,--in short, Miss Nugent simply
+turned into Mrs Vaughan. Freda wondered how the really clever and
+agreeable Colonel Vaughan could live with so dull a companion.
+
+Having got through luncheon and the afternoon somehow, thanks to the
+children, the dinner-hour arrived, and therewith the colonel. Freda
+always felt reserved with him, and his studied kindness and politeness
+to her when she had met him occasionally in London, irritated her. She
+had spoken to him before his marriage so unreservedly of his wife, and
+had given him to understand so unmistakably that she knew what had
+passed between him and Gladys, that she fancied he must at heart
+cordially dislike her. Moreover, she had loved him. Much as she despised
+herself now for having done so, she knew it, and she despised him all
+the more on that account.
+
+There was, however, no mistaking the real warmth of his welcome, and for
+the moment--only for the moment--Freda's heart beat quick.
+
+'I am so glad to see you, Freda,--sister Freda, you know, now,--and
+looking so well.'
+
+'Yeth, ith'nt the looking well. I think the lookth younger than when the
+went away.'
+
+'Handsomer, at any rate. I may pay you a compliment, now, Freda.'
+
+Freda could not return it. Colonel Vaughan looked more than six years
+older since his marriage, and there was a dissatisfied expression on his
+countenance very different from the old suavity.
+
+Freda was not long in discovering that if he had improved his fortune by
+marriage he had not improved his temper, or increased his happiness.
+Fortunately for his wife, her imperturbable placidity and want of acute
+feeling prevented her from appropriating many hard hits from her husband
+that would have made Freda wretched.
+
+Again, she admired the tact of the mother. By it she managed her husband
+admirably, and retained her power over him in precisely the same way as
+she did before she married him; while Wilhelmina wholly lost what little
+she had gained over hers prior to her marriage. Her silliness annoyed
+him continually, and her beauty, for want of expression, palled upon his
+fastidious taste.
+
+Freda's contempt very soon turned to pity. The handsome, fascinating,
+deceitful colonel was amply indemnified for all the hearts he had
+broken, and those broken hearts fully avenged by the tedium of his home
+life.
+
+Of course, Freda did not discover all this during that one Christmas
+Day, but it developed itself during her subsequent stay at Glanyravon.
+
+'We did not ask any one else to dinner to-day, Gwynne,' said Mr Gwynne,
+'because we thought Freda would like to have us alone, you know, and see
+the children, and--and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'I hope Freda enjoys a family-party better than I do,' said the colonel,
+looking at her as he spoke. 'Of all things on earth, it is the slowest.'
+
+'Complimentary,' said Lady Mary.
+
+'Oh! Gwynne ith alwayth tho fond of thaying what he dothn't mean. He
+often doth to me, don't you, my dear? But I don't mind, becauth I
+underthtand him now.'
+
+Freda looked at Mrs Vaughan to see if she spoke ironically. Not at all.
+She fully believed what she said. Colonel Vaughan saw the glance, and
+smiling, said,--
+
+'All in good faith, I assure you.'
+
+Freda blushed, and to turn the conversation, began to talk to him of his
+children, and to praise their beauty. He smiled again, as perfectly
+understanding her ruse.
+
+'People call them loves and angels!' he said, 'and even go into raptures
+over the baby. For my part, I never look at them when they are babies.
+Indeed, I don't like children, and all ours are so spoilt. Wilhelmina
+doesn't know how to manage them, and now their governess is away, the
+house is like a lunatic asylum.'
+
+'Oh, Gwynne, how abthurd you are! He ith tho fond of them, Freda, you
+can't think, and they are thuch little dearth.'
+
+'I was greatly amused,' said Freda, 'to hear Minnie call Harold "uncle,"
+just now; and he seemed not a little proud of his dignity.'
+
+'Surely, Freda, you haven't learnt to talk baby talk!' said Colonel
+Vaughan. 'You used to eschew such twaddle.'
+
+'It was time for me to learn to like a great many things that I
+professed to hate. I hope I am improved since I was here last. But I
+always liked children.'
+
+'Oh! Harold is so fond of her,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a wonderful boy.'
+
+Here followed a history of various achievements of Harold, during which
+Colonel Vaughan vainly endeavoured to catch Freda's eye. She was only
+too well-disposed to smile at the infatuation of the doating father.
+
+'Here are the children, I think,' said Lady Mary.
+
+In bounded Harold, and jumped, unbidden, on Freda's lap.
+
+'I ull have some of that--and that,' said Harold.
+
+'And I will have--' began Minnie.
+
+'You will have nothing if you ask for it,' said the colonel with a
+frown.
+
+His little trio were quiet in a moment.
+
+'Ganpapa, take me up,' said Dot, creeping round to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Freda felt her blood creep at that word 'Grandpapa,' and also felt the
+colonel's glance. He seemed to take a pleasure in watching every
+expression of her countenance, and it did, unfortunately, always convey
+her feelings to the watcher.
+
+Freda had never passed so uncomfortable a dinner since the day when the
+present Mrs Vaughan came of age. Probably she was the only one of the
+party who was conscious of Colonel Vaughan's changed manner and temper,
+because it was new to her, and she could scarcely believe him to be
+himself. Her father was wrapped up in his boy--his wife's attention was
+divided between him and the other children, and Mrs Vaughan smiled and
+lisped on all by turns.
+
+Freda thought of old times, when her father and herself were so happy
+together; and then she thought of the last Christmas day in London, when
+Mr and Mrs Jones, Rowland, and herself dined late off a Glanyravon Park
+turkey, having first feasted as many poor people as the kitchen would
+hold, on geese from Glanyravon Farm. Certainly the comparison with her
+present companions was 'odious' to her.
+
+Freda scarcely knew which was worst--the riotous, untameable spirits of
+Harold, who did and said what he liked, unchecked either by father or
+mother, or the cowed and altered manner of the other children in the
+presence of their father; they, too, had been noisy enough before he
+arrived.
+
+'It was very good of you to come to-day, Gwynne,' said Lady Mary; 'I
+scarcely expected you, knowing how you dislike this frosty weather.'
+
+'Freda is attraction enough to draw off the frost, though she has become
+so much better than her neighbours. Wilhelmina, my dear, why do you let
+Minnie stuff her mouth so full of orange? The child will choke.'
+
+The dinner came to an end at last, and the children went to bed. Freda
+played and sung some sacred music at Colonel Vaughan's request, and he
+complimented her on her improvement, and said he wished his wife played
+and sung as well, because music was such a resource in a dull country
+place.
+
+'I suppose you have practised a great deal since you have been in
+London?' he said.
+
+'Mrs Jones and I play and sing whenever we have time, and I have had
+some lessons,' replied Freda. 'Besides, one hears all the first
+musicians and singers, and they teach one.'
+
+'Did you see much of that young parson, Prothero? I remember he was
+somewhere in your neighbourhood,' asked the colonel.
+
+Freda was sure this question was a feeler, and she answered
+carelessly,--
+
+'Yes, naturally. He is Mr Jones' brother curate.'
+
+'Now confess, you didn't like those people, and that sort of life? You
+must have been _ennuyée_ from morning to night.'
+
+'On the contrary, the days were not half long enough.'
+
+'Freda!' exclaimed Mrs Vaughan, 'I get tho tired, and tho doth the
+colonel, before half the evening ith over.'
+
+'Some one else seems in the same condition,' said Freda. 'Papa is fast
+asleep.'
+
+'And mamma nearly,' said Mrs Vaughan. 'And I am tho tired. I think
+Chrithmath dayth are very dull. One dothn't know what to do.'
+
+'That isn't peculiar to Christmas days in your year,' said the colonel,
+sarcastically; 'but I suppose we had better go to bed. I hope we shall
+be more amusing to-morrow, Freda. All your old friends, the constant Sir
+Hugh amongst them, are invited to meet you. Let me light your candle.
+Remember, I always used to do that, when we had our snug evenings
+together such an age ago.'
+
+'Yeth, he often talkth of you, Freda, and thayth you were thuch good
+company.'
+
+Freda heard Colonel Vaughan sigh, and thought, as she said 'good-night,'
+and hastened upstairs, that she ought to be thankful that the
+imperturbable and dull Wilhelmina Nugent had been the choice of that
+discontented and irritable colonel, instead of the quick-tempered,
+independent Winifred Gwynne.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.
+
+
+New Year's Day dawned under the influence of a bright sun, and a clear,
+frosty atmosphere. The old year was dead and buried with all his griefs
+and joys; his son and heir came forward smiling, to begin his career of
+times and seasons, clouds and sunbeams.
+
+With him, Owen and Gladys were to commence their united lives. An
+auspicious morning ushered in this, their bridal day, and the year's
+birthday. Nature had put on all her jewels in honour of the joint
+festivities. Her very tears were turned into diamonds that sparkled on
+her capacious breast, neck, and arms, more brilliantly than stomachers,
+necklaces and bracelets of gems, on the courtiers of an Indian monarch.
+
+Truly, as the fair and gentle Gladys drove through the roads and lanes
+that led from the farm to the church, the hedge-rows sparkled with these
+brilliants, and her very pathway was strewn with them. Attired in that
+Quaker-like garb of dove-colour and white, her soft cheek tinged as from
+the sun, her eyes cast down in modest shyness, and her heart beating
+with quiet happiness, she seemed a fitting bride to wait upon that heir
+of so many by-gone generations.
+
+And assuredly a happier never drove to a church to meet her expectant
+bridegroom, her hand clasped lovingly between the kindly palms of her
+future mother, sitting by her side; and the affectionate glances of her
+uncle and aunt cast upon her from the opposite seat. She felt as if it
+were all a dream. She, the Irish beggar--the friendless--the
+wanderer--the orphan!
+
+And now so honoured! All whom she most cared for in the world, with the
+exception of Rowland, were assembled in that village church to meet her.
+There were Owen and his father--Miss Gwynne and Minette--Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan Prothero.
+
+Gentleness, gratitude and simple merit, were, for once rewarded, even in
+this world.
+
+The kind and worthy Uncle Jonathan--so soon to be _her_ uncle--married
+her. Her own uncle gave her, with prayers and blessings, to him whom she
+had loved so long and truly--her former mistress, now her fast friend,
+and another mistress's grandchild, were her bridesmaids.
+
+If a tear gathered in her eye, it was a tear of joy; and there, at the
+altar, amongst all those to whom she was henceforth to be united by the
+ties of relationship, she inwardly vowed to devote herself to their
+happiness, and to the fulfilment of the promises she was making to him
+who would be one with her for ever.
+
+The churchyard was full of spectators, as the proud and happy Owen led
+his bride through it to the vicarage, and the general opinion was, that
+there had never been married so handsome a couple in the church of
+Llanfach.
+
+The bells and the sunbeams rang out and shone out together, and all the
+wedding-party forgot their private sorrows in the joy of the moment.
+
+Even Netta, who had been taken to the vicarage for the occasion,
+received them with one of her old bright smiles. She threw her arms
+round Gladys, and called her 'sister.'
+
+'_My_ sister,' she said more than once emphatically.
+
+And if tears would, from time to time, spring into her eyes, as she
+contrasted herself with Gladys, she brushed them away, and did her best
+not to cast a shadow from her grief, on the brightness of a brother and
+sister's joy. That little drawing-room at the vicarage contained as
+pretty and pleasant a group as could well be seen, of which Owen and
+Gladys formed the centre figures.
+
+'Now, my good girl, let me give you a real kiss,' said honest Mr
+Prothero, 'and tell you that I am proud of my daughter. Mother, what do
+you say?'
+
+'I say, thank God for all His mercies,' said quiet Mrs Prothero, shaking
+Gladys' hand, which she seemed loath to part with.
+
+If there is a great variety of character and feeling displayed in
+shaking hands, there assuredly is, also, in kissing. Gladys experienced
+it in that same little drawing-room, where she submitted her blushing
+cheeks to all sorts of impressions.
+
+Mr Prothero gave her three very hearty smacks, which resounded through
+the room, and seemed to say at once, 'I am your father; his wife's
+embrace was quieter, but more tender. Mrs Jonathan stooped majestically,
+and imprinted her lips patronisingly on the forehead, as much as to say,
+'I receive you into the family of the Payne Perrys, since you are
+respectably connected.' Mrs Jones kissed her on the lips, and said, 'God
+bless you, my dear.' Miss Gwynne, who hated kissing, and did not
+consider herself one of the family, looked on, but took no active part.
+Was that pride? she asked herself afterwards, and the answer was, 'Yes.'
+As to Mr Jones, his embrace made Owen exclaim, 'It is well I know you
+are her uncle now. I was as jealous as could be when you kissed her in
+London.' Minette's embrace was a long hug, and when the vicar came in,
+he wound up the scene by a salute as original as himself, which called
+forth the following reproof from his brother:--
+
+'Why, man, you don't know how to kiss. You stumbled upon the very tip of
+her nose, and almost put her eyes out with your spectacles.'
+
+Heedless of the interruption, Mr Jonathan addressed his niece as
+follows:--
+
+'My dear Niece, Claudia,--I shall henceforth call you by that name, in
+memory of her of the Epistle, and I so registered it just now, Gladys or
+Claudia--I wish you and my good nephew, Owen, all happiness and
+prosperity, both spiritual and temporal. I pray that you may, according
+to the example of your illustrious namesake, devote yourself to works of
+piety and hospitality, making your husband's home happy, and keeping a
+place therein for his and your friends.'
+
+'To be sure she will, uncle,' said Owen, 'and we will have an especial
+corner for you, called "The Claudia," where the little hypocrite shall
+talk to you of all the druidical remains, and fossil mammoths, that she
+pretends to be so interested in.'
+
+'You had better come and take off your bonnet now, my dear,' said Mrs
+Jonathan to the flushed and shy Gladys.
+
+'I hope I shall never be married,' whispered Freda to Mrs Jones, 'if I
+am to undergo that sort of ordeal. But I suppose all brides are not
+kissed in that way.'
+
+Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had prepared a substantial early dinner--they
+did not dignify it by the name of _déjeuner_, or miscall it
+breakfast--to which, in the course of an hour or so, the family party
+sat down, much as they would have sat down to any ordinary dinner. The
+dining-table just accommodated ten comfortably, and Netta sat in her
+easy-chair by the fire, with a small table by her side, making the
+eleventh.
+
+Miss Gwynne remained to luncheon only, being engaged to dine at
+Abertewey, and not considering herself quite as one of the guests. She
+had come uninvited and unexpected, to show due honour to Gladys and her
+dear friends, Mr and Mrs Jones, and the whole party were gratified by
+the attention.
+
+The remarks upon her doing so made by her friends at home, were various.
+
+'Freda is certainly very eccentric,' said Lady Mary to her husband. 'Her
+former maid--your tenant's son--the brother-in-law of that Howel
+Jenkins. Do you think it discreet, Mr Gwynne?'
+
+'Why, really, Lady Mary, I didn't think about it. She has always done
+what she likes; they are very worthy, respectable people, you know, and
+all that sort of thing.'
+
+'Well, if you don't object, of course it is no affair of mine. But it
+looks very much as if she still thought of Mr Rowland.'
+
+'Oh, an excellent young man! It was only yesterday I saw his name
+mentioned in the _Times_, as having attended a large meeting in the
+place of his rector, who is ill. It was upon the general question of all
+sorts of improvements of the low parts of London. I can't exactly
+remember what they were, religious, and sanitary, and all that sort of
+thing you know. Well, the thanks of the meeting were awarded him, for
+his very clear and accurate information, or something of the sort. Very
+satisfactory, you know.'
+
+'Oh very! but that can have nothing to do with Freda.'
+
+'She is very good, is Freda, much improved! she never disputes and
+quarrels with me now. I hope she will live with us--indeed I cannot part
+with her again.'
+
+At Abertewey, Mrs Vaughan asked the colonel whether 'he thought Freda
+would come away from that thupid wedding, in time for dinner.'
+
+'If she doesn't, I will never ask her here again,' was the reply. 'Now
+Freda really is a capital girl, unaffected and sensible; improving every
+year. I wish all women were more like her.'
+
+'Tho do I, Gwynne; the ith very nice, tho kind to the children, and not
+tho thatirical to me as the uthed to be. I uthed to be afraid of her,
+but I am not now, at all. Don't you think thatirical people very
+dithagreeable? I hope Winnie won't be thatirical, don't you? Mamma
+thaith--'
+
+'Never mind what she says, my dear. I hope Freda will come. All the
+people will be so disgusted if she does not, particularly poor Sir Hugh.
+I wish she would marry him--but she is too good for him. Intellectual
+people ought not to marry those who have no brains.'
+
+'No, thertainly not. Oh! here they are! Freda and all. I hear her
+voithe. I am tho glad.'
+
+To Freda's surprise, every one seemed really glad to see her, and to the
+surprise of every one, the more they saw of her, the more they liked
+her. The very people whom she had shunned as bores, and who had shunned
+her as 'tho thatirical,' now became friendly and pleasant to her, and
+she to them; how it was they could not tell, but various reasons were
+assigned for the change.
+
+'How altered Miss Gwynne is,' said one; 'I suppose the birth of the
+brother has made her more humble.'
+
+'Nothing like London to pull the pride out of our country gentry,' said
+a second. 'Lords at home, they are only one of a multitude there. Miss
+Gwynne has learnt her true position at last.'
+
+'How much more agreeable Miss Gwynne is,' said a fourth. 'I suppose it
+is because she has been living in a clergyman's family, where they are
+obliged to be pleasant to all the parishioners.'
+
+'How much less fastidious, satirical, and overbearing Freda Gwynne is,'
+a fourth; 'her very countenance is altered; I am sure there has been
+some great change in her mind.'
+
+And thus the neighbours rang the changes upon Freda's change; but Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan had been, perhaps, the nearest to the real cause. She was
+no longer satirical, no longer striving to find out vulnerable points in
+people's characters to laugh at; she had learnt to make allowances for
+others, who in turn made allowances for her. Satirical people are very
+amusing, but rarely welcome, companions; not that Freda was exactly
+satirical, but she had the gift of finding out every one's weak
+points--a good gift to those who will kindly cover the point, but a bad
+one to such as like to lay it bare.
+
+The party at Abertewey went off very well; the colonel was in good
+humour, and devoted to Freda, who tried to treat him as her
+brother-in-law; and Sir Hugh was more gallant than ever, and long before
+the evening was over, had managed to tell Freda that he would rather
+have her without the Park than with it, which Freda pretended to take as
+a joke on the part of her old admirer.
+
+The following day, Mr and Mrs Jones spent at the Park, according to a
+special invitation from its master and mistress. Lady Mary's attention
+to Freda's friends did more towards reconciling her to her step-mother
+than anything else; and she even forgot to ask whether it was tact or
+not. Mr Jones was obliged to return to London the next day, but at
+Freda's earnest entreaty, he left his wife behind him for a week, which
+was spent by her between the Park and farm very agreeably.
+
+Before she left, Mr Gwynne had a little private conference with her, to
+the following effect, and very nervous he was meanwhile:--
+
+'I am very much obliged to you and Mr Jones, I am sure, for your
+kindness to Freda. I hope you understand how satisfied, and--and--all
+that sort of thing, you know, I am whilst she is with you.'
+
+Mrs Jones saw that she must say something to help him on.
+
+'We are only too glad to have her society and aid. I assure you she has
+been invaluable in the parish, and is beloved by every one.'
+
+'Exactly; I perceive a wonderful change in her; she is gentler, and less
+excitable. I feel that you--that your husband--in short, I
+mean--that--hem--'
+
+'Freda has such a fine natural character, Mr Gwynne.'
+
+'Precisely; I would say that I am convinced you would not influence her,
+and so forth, in remaining away from--you understand--from me, in
+short.'
+
+'Certainly not. I should be very glad to think that she would return
+and live happily at her natural home, sorry as I should be to lose her.'
+
+'Thank you very much indeed; you have always been her true friend. I am
+very anxious--so we are all you see--Lady Mary would like a
+companion--Harold attends to her better than to any one else. I hope you
+like Harold; ah--yes--he is a fine boy, and so talented; and you
+know--to be sure. I should wish to have Freda to read with me again; I
+assure you I miss her in many ways. And the colonel and Mrs Vaughan--the
+children--in fact--in short--you understand?'
+
+'Perfectly, and will not throw any obstacle in the way of Freda's
+remaining at home.'
+
+'Thank you very much. You are a true friend, Mrs Jones; thank you.'
+
+Mrs Jones made a point of repeating that conversation to Freda, whose
+look of blank dismay quite startled her.
+
+'Oh! Serena, you want to get rid of me. I could never live this kind of
+life again. Lady Mary would kill me in another month; not an idea in
+common. Her daughter is fifty times more endurable, for she is innocent
+in her silliness. And then that cranky, exigeant colonel, longing to
+make love to me if I would let him; the stiff dinner parties, tiresome
+people, spoilt children--though I do delight in Harold and Winnie and
+Gwynne and Dot and baby, too, for that much--and--'
+
+'And your father,' quietly suggested Mrs Jones.
+
+'I never thought you would wish me to leave you, Serena. Those happy,
+useful days! The poor, the schools, the church!'
+
+'They are everywhere, my love.'
+
+'But so different. I never felt so happy or useful before I lived with
+you in London.'
+
+'The change is in yourself, not in the place.'
+
+'Oh! Serena, this is cruel! I could live with my father anywhere, but
+the others--impossible.'
+
+'Think it over. You know that you have a home with us whenever you like;
+that it would be my pleasure as well as interest to have you always.
+That we shall miss you in every possible way; still duty is duty. As
+long as your father did not care, and Lady Mary was rather glad to have
+the Park to herself, the thing was, perhaps, different, at any rate
+Freda was not then the Freda she is now.
+
+'Serena, you are a bitter-sweet, and a horrible little apple that is.'
+
+'But they say it makes good cider.'
+
+'At any rate you ought not to influence me. I will not decide whilst you
+are here, and that is all I will promise. If I do, it will be to go to
+you undoubtedly. But I will think it over.'
+
+That very night before she went to bed, Freda did think it over, sitting
+by the fire in her delightful, warm, well-lighted, well-furnished
+bedroom; but she could not come to any determination. She made out a
+sort of debtor and creditor account in her own head, and cashed it
+according to her somewhat imperfect notions of book-keeping.
+
+'My father--of course I owe him a great deal in the way of duty and
+love; but he owes me something for letting me have my own way all my
+life, bringing me up with the notion that I should be an heiress, and
+then disappointing me by marrying a woman whom I utterly despise. Lady
+Mary--I owe her nothing whatever, beyond the common proper treatment
+that one must give to every one; she, on the contrary, owes me
+compensation for marrying my father when I am sure he didn't want her,
+and certainly I did not.
+
+'Colonel Vaughan--I don't owe him anything beyond a little improvement
+in my style of singing and drawing; yes, I owe him a heavy debt of
+gratitude for not proposing for me instead of Wilhelmina, for assuredly
+I should have married him, and he owes me something for making a fool of
+me. Wilhelmina--I owe her a good deal, firstly, for despising her,
+laughing at her, ridiculing her--and she all the time better than I was,
+for she never retaliated--and secondly, for trying to prejudice the
+colonel against her. Harold--I owe him the love of a sister, and he owes
+me nothing as yet; here I am decidedly debtor. The poor, of course,
+wherever one is, one owes them a great debt of Christian charity and
+love; and I must confess that they are not quite so well seen to as when
+Gladys was my almoner; but then she is here again to see to them, and
+that, on her own responsibility, and it is Lady Mary's place to care for
+them now.
+
+'On the other hand, Serena--I owe her everything; all my few good
+thoughts, words and works. She owes me nothing. Mr Jones, ditto; I am
+wholly creditor in London: the poor, the ragged schools, I owe them
+every farthing I can give, for they want it, and have few to help them.
+I feel almost sure I should be best in London. Rowland Prothero, I owe
+him compensation for my great, unpardonable rudeness and pride; I am
+more ashamed of that one action than of any other. He so superior to me
+in every way, but the mere accident of birth.'
+
+Thus far Freda got in her arithmetic. But Rowland seemed to open a new
+rule, farther on in Butler than addition and substraction. In short,
+she found herself lost in the maze of fractions, and could not extricate
+herself. When she jumped up from her easy-chair, she was trying to
+reduce the following complex fractions, into one simple one, and
+entirely failed.
+
+'A curate, the son of my father's tenant, the brother-in-law of my
+former maid, brother-in-law also of a man indicted for forgery. But,
+proud as myself; below me here, but above me in London; infinitely my
+superior in everything worth the consideration of a person travelling
+quickly through a world of silly distinctions, to one where we shall all
+begin life on very different principles. The fact is, Freda, that the
+tables are turned, and you now esteem this same Rowland Prothero much
+higher than he esteems you. Constant intercourse has brought out all his
+grand points, and all your weak ones. His mind has conquered your vulgar
+prejudices, but has also fully seen through them, and despises you
+accordingly. Well, I suppose duty and propriety concur in my remaining
+at Glanyravon Park, discretion being the better part of valour.'
+
+And so ended Freda's arithmetic.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE PENITENT.
+
+
+A week after the marriage of Owen and Gladys, the following conversation
+took place between Gladys and Netta. The latter had been much more
+wandering in mind since the wedding, and had been occupying herself by
+writing a variety of letters, all of which were addressed to Howel, with
+the exception of one, which was to her brother Rowland.
+
+'You see, dear sister,' said Netta, 'that Howel cannot come to me,
+because he is in debt, so I must go to him. He is in America, I know.
+His letter was from America.'
+
+'But America is an immense continent, dear Netta,' said Gladys; 'you
+would not know where to seek him.'
+
+'Oh, yes! I should find him very soon. My love would point the way. I
+should track his steps like a dog, Gladys--like a dog.'
+
+'But you cannot go till you are better and stronger. Then we can all
+consult upon the best way.'
+
+'Hush not a word to any one. They would stop me. And you know now
+Howell is my husband, I must leave father and mother to follow him. I
+know I was wrong to leave them to marry him; though he loves me, Gladys!
+he loves me! Don't you think he does?'
+
+'I am sure he does. Still, it might not be well for you to go to him, if
+he is hiding for debt. He might prefer your remaining here?'
+
+'Would you not go to Owen? Would he like you to be away from him in
+trouble? You, who have only been married a week, know better; and I have
+been married years.'
+
+'Owen shall tell you, my dear love, whether he would wish me to go to
+him at such a time. Perhaps men know best what other men would like?'
+
+'But I mean to go, Gladys. Neither Owen nor you can hinder me.'
+
+'And what of Minette? You would kill her, if you took her so far.'
+
+'Ah! that is what I wanted to say to you. I knew there was something;
+but my head aches so, I forget. If I go away, will you take care of
+Minette till I come back. Will you love her as if she were your own?'
+
+'Wherever you go I will be a mother to her; but she would not like to
+part from her own dear mother, any better than you will from yours. We
+will not think of the journey just yet, dear; we will be happy together,
+all of us, for a little longer. You cannot leave so soon, after you have
+made Owen and me so blest.'
+
+'None of you want me now; father and mother have a new daughter, a
+better one than I have ever been; Owen a wife! What a word that is,
+Gladys! We don't understand it till we are parted from our husband; and
+I give Minette a mother in my place. I must go very soon.'
+
+Poor Netta laid her head on Gladys' shoulder, and began to cry.
+
+'Well, dear,' said Gladys soothingly, 'we will see about it, you and I.
+But you must not go till I think you strong enough, and till we are
+prepared with clothes and money.'
+
+'Oh! I can beg! I don't want clothes or money to get to Howel.'
+
+Gladys knew that it was of no use to try to combat Netta's purpose. All
+she could do was to seem to yield.
+
+'We will see,' she said, 'when the days are a little longer. But you
+have not told me about the letters yet.'
+
+'No, I was forgetting them. If anything happens to me, or it I should
+miss Howel on my way, I want him to have this packet of letters. In
+them, I have told him that I wish Minette to remain here with you and
+mother; I have said a great deal to him, but mostly to beg him to
+forgive me, as I forgive him, all our unkindness to one another. Was
+that right, Gladys?'
+
+'Quite right, love. We must forgive, as we hope to be forgiven.'
+
+'Father and mother have forgiven me. Do you think my heavenly Father
+has?'
+
+'Yes, I do; because you have repented, and "come to your Father," and
+asked forgiveness for His Son's sake.'
+
+'I have, Gladys; so I can go on my journey cheerfully.'
+
+Gladys could scarcely refrain from tears, when she thought of the
+journey she was really travelling.
+
+'I know you have forgiven me, Gladys, for all I said of you when you
+came here first. Strange that I should have been willing to leave you in
+the barn, or anywhere, to die; you who have done so much for me! Oh,
+Gladys!'
+
+'Don't think of those times, Netta, dear; they are past, thank God.'
+
+Here the door opened, and Owen appeared, his face beaming with a
+happiness that it did all around him good to see.
+
+'What! tears! both of you! Only a week married!' he said, half
+playfully, half reproachfully, as he kissed, alternately, his wife and
+sister, and finally, sat down by the side of the former.
+
+'It was my fault, Owen,' said Netta.
+
+'Is that true, Gladys--quite true?' asked Owen, taking Gladys' hands in
+his, and looking into her eyes.
+
+'Quite true, Owen,' said Gladys, smiling lovingly on the open
+countenance of Owen, whilst a quiet tear rolled down her cheek.
+
+Owen kissed off the tear.
+
+'You are happy, my love?' again he asked, as if fearing that a shadow
+should pass over that fair, sweet face, to obscure the light of their
+spring of wedded life.
+
+Gladys pressed his hands, assured him by a glance true as oaths, and
+looked at Netta. The hint was taken.
+
+In a moment Netta's were the thin hands that Owen clasped, her's the
+face into which he gazed.
+
+'Owen,' she said earnestly, 'if I go away, will you take my child, as if
+she were your own? Will you love her, and bring her up?'
+
+'You are not going away, Netta! But you may be quite sure that I will
+love Minette, without any going away. We will all keep together now, we
+are too happy--so happy, my Gladys, are we not?'
+
+There was a strange restlessness about Netta. This resolution to go
+away had taken such a hold upon her, that she reverted to it again and
+again. Gladys confided it to Owen and their mother, and they all decided
+that it would be necessary to watch her night and day, without letting
+her know that she was watched.
+
+They resorted to every possible means of amusement, but in vain. She was
+quite preoccupied, and even her child failed to attract her attention.
+Again she became nervous at every sudden sound, and started at every
+footfall. She told Gladys that she knew that Howel would either come to
+her during the course of that week, or that she should go to him.
+
+Her mother assisted her in going to bed that night, and before she laid
+down, she said,--
+
+'Dear mother! do you remember that you used to come to this dear room
+when I was a child, the last thing at night, and, sleeping or waking, to
+kiss me before you went to sleep? and do you remember that I always said
+my prayers at your knee, in that very corner by the little table?
+Sometimes I feel as if I was a child, or quite a young girl again. It
+was so good of you to give me my own room, and my own bed, that I love
+so well. If I go away, I should like Minette to have this room. It will
+make her think of me. I pray she may be a better child than I have
+been.'
+
+'Will you not get into bed, dear, and try to sleep?' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'I think I should like to say my prayers again alone with you; so, at
+your feet. You shall pray for me, and I will join with you.'
+
+Netta knelt, as if she were, indeed, once more a child, at her mother's
+knees, and clasped her thin white hands together.
+
+'Will you pray for Howel, mother?' asked Netta.
+
+Mrs Prothero laid her hand on her kneeling daughter's head, and
+uplifting her tearful eyes to heaven, prayed aloud for Netta, for Howel,
+for all. Netta repeated each sentence after her mother, and when the
+prayer was concluded, threw her arms around her, and thanked her for
+praying for Howel.
+
+'I cannot deceive you again mother, fach,' she said 'I am going away to
+seek Howel, because he cannot come to me. If I should never find him,
+mother--but I shall, I know I shall, if I should die on the road--tell
+him that I never loved any one but him all my life, and I am sure he
+loves me. And now I am at peace with all the world, and have repented of
+all my sins. Gladys thinks I shall go to heaven if I die. And I humbly
+believe I shall. I feel quite calm and happy in my own mind, only
+wishful to go to my poor Howel, who is alone and unhappy. Now, mother, I
+will go to bed.'
+
+She went to bed accordingly.
+
+'Let Minette come and say good-night to me, mother,' she said, when Mrs
+Prothero had made her comfortable.
+
+Mrs Prothero called the child, and her grandfather brought her upstairs.
+
+'How does my girl feel to-night?' asked Mr Prothero cheerfully.
+
+'Better, father, thank you; quite well indeed. God bless you, darling.
+Be a good child to grandmother and Aunt Gladys, and all. God bless you,
+father. I think I should like to have Owen and Gladys to wish me
+good-night; it is so nice to see you all together.'
+
+Owen and Gladys came, and Netta bade 'God bless' them all, and said she
+should now go to sleep quite happy.
+
+Gladys went to put Minette to bed, and Mrs Prothero sat by Netta's
+pillow.
+
+'Good-night, mother; God bless you,' Netta said, more than once, before
+she fell asleep.
+
+When Gladys returned, she was sleeping peacefully.
+
+'The excitement of the day seems to have passed away,' whispered Gladys.
+'Let me watch by her, dear mother.'
+
+The words 'mother' and 'daughter' had come quite naturally to Mrs
+Prothero and Gladys.
+
+'No, Gladys, thank you; not to-night. I will be in the room to-night.'
+
+'Then you will go to bed soon?'
+
+'Yes, very shortly.'
+
+The two women embraced one another tenderly.
+
+'We can only pray for her, poor lamb,' said Mrs Prothero gently. 'I have
+given her to the Lord to do with her according to His good pleasure.'
+
+'He will not leave her nor forsake her,' said Gladys.
+
+Mrs Prothero sat a long time by her child's side watching her, but she
+slept so calmly that at last she went to the little table by the fire,
+and read her Bible. It was late--very late for the farm--when she
+undressed herself and lay down on the little bed, placed near the larger
+bed of Netta. Even then, more than an hour passed before she slept. The
+last thing she heard before she closed her eyes was her daughter's
+somewhat irregular breathing--the last words that rang in her ears were
+her 'God bless you, mother.'
+
+Gladys, uneasy, she knew not wherefore, was in the room at about three
+o'clock in the morning. She had learnt to move so gently that the
+sleepers were not conscious of her presence. She was most thankful to
+find them sleeping.
+
+Gladys was up and dressed by six o'clock. She was anxious to spare her
+mother all possible trouble, and to see that the household was astir
+before she arose. It was a cold, dark January morning. As she went down
+the passage, a candle in her hand, towards Netta's room, she felt the
+chill air press heavily around her. She put the candle on the floor,
+outside the room, and went in. The night-light had burnt out, and the
+fire was dim, though not extinguished. Gladys passes Mrs Prothero
+without awaking her, and stands at Netta's bedside.
+
+She cannot see clearly the face of the sleeping Netta, but such a
+restless anxiety about her had haunted her all the night, that she
+stoops down to listen to her breathing. It is so faint that she kneels
+down, and puts her ear close to the face. So very faint it is, that she
+is not quite sure that she hears it at all. She goes into the passage
+for the candle, and meets Owen. She signs him to silence, and her pale
+face frightens him. He goes with her into Netta's room. Shading the
+candle with her hand, she again stoops over Netta, so does Owen.
+
+Very calm, very pale, and most lovely is the face on which they gaze
+with an eager, throbbing anxiety. Gladys presses her hand on Owen's arm,
+as she puts the candle near that placid face. He, too, puts his ear
+close to the half-open mouth, touches the hand that lies on the white
+counterpane, feels for the pulse, so quick but yesterday. He is about to
+utter the fear that oppresses him, but Gladys points to his mother,
+still heavily sleeping.
+
+'Perhaps it is a swoon,' she whispers, and goes for the draught ready
+for such an attack. The light of the candle awakes Mrs Prothero, and she
+is out of bed in a moment.
+
+'Netta has fainted, mother; she has one of her spasms,' says Owen,
+turning his pale face to his mother.
+
+'My God, it is death!' cries the stricken mother, falling on her knees
+by the bedside of her child.
+
+And it is death. Without a groan the spirit has quitted its dwelling of
+clay to enter upon its eternal rest!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+THE RECTOR.
+
+
+Life and death! What are they? A soul in chains, and a soul set free.
+Darkness and light, uncertainty and certainty! Warfare and peace! A
+railway journey and the great terminus! A span of time and immeasurable
+eternity! A bounded horizon and illimitable space! Earth and heaven!
+Satan and Christ! Man and God!
+
+Life! On New Year's morning Glanyravon Farm was gay with preparations
+for a wedding. All its inmates were hopeful and cheerful! Two human
+beings were made as happy as human beings can be in this world. Three
+generations witnessed the auspicious event, and blessings and
+congratulations mingled with the marriage bells!
+
+One short week, and Glanyravon Farm was mournful with lamentations for
+the dead. All its inmates were weeping. Death's angel had glided in
+unawares and unexpected, and had borne away one of that loving family,
+leaving only her earthly tenement behind!
+
+Another short week, and Glanyravon Farm held no longer even that once
+beautiful tenement. Quiet forms moved about in black clothing, and
+melancholy faces looked sadly at one another, and spoke low of her from
+whom they were parted for an indefinite period.
+
+Such is life!
+
+Death! what know the living of death? Is it not 'swallowed up in
+victory?' Death, then, to the believer in Christ is victory.
+
+Such is death!
+
+These were thoughts that presented themselves to Rowland Prothero after
+he had followed his sister's body to the grave. It was with such
+thoughts, simplified when put into words, that he attempted to comfort
+his mother, and to raise his father's mind from a morbid ruminating upon
+the past, to the hope that his beloved child had found death victory.
+Whilst Gladys comforted Owen and Minette, Rowland seemed to be all in
+all to his parents, and devoted himself to them during the period that
+he was able to leave his duties in London. The news of the death of his
+rector abroad had reached him the day before the intelligence of that of
+Netta; and, had it not been for the kind exertions of Mr Jones, he could
+not have stayed with his family the Sunday that followed the funeral.
+
+Mr Jones, however, managed everything for him in London, and procured
+help in the emergency. Thus Rowland was able to accompany his family to
+church, and to be with them a few days of the week succeeding that on
+which his dear sister was buried.
+
+It was on the afternoon of one of these few and precious days that he
+was sitting alone with his mother. The rest of the family were about
+their necessary avocations. Gladys, followed by poor little Minette in
+her black frock, was managing the household. Owen and his father were
+out of doors, the former doing his best to cheer his poor father, who
+had been perhaps more entirely cast down by his loss than any other
+member of the family, Mrs Prothero not excepted. As he himself said, he
+had not known what an idol he had made of his girl until she was gone
+from him.
+
+Rowland and his mother were talking of Netta. It was Mrs Prothero's one
+theme when alone with him or Gladys. They could comfort her aching heart
+by assuring her that they believed her child's repentance to have been
+sincere, and her faith, if at times troubled and confused by the
+wandering mind and puzzled brain, placed on the One sole and sure
+foundation.
+
+It was in the midst of this conversation that Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+entered, unushered, into the parlour where they were sitting.
+
+At the earnest request of his wife and all his children, backed by the
+feeling that Netta would have wished it, Mr Prothero had consented to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to the funeral, which she had attended, together with
+Mrs Prothero, Mrs Jonathan, and Gladys. Mr Prothero had shaken her by
+the hand on that sad day, but had not spoken to her. Sorrow had so far
+bowed his spirit as to teach him to forgive her, if not Howel.
+
+Mrs Jenkins scarcely gave herself time to say 'How do you do?' when she
+poured out the grief which had brought her to Glanyravon.
+
+'Oh, Mrs Prothero, fach! Ach, Rowland! what will I do? They was finding
+him in America--the pleece was finding him, my Howels! And he do be in
+jail in London, 'dited for forgery. He, my beauty Howels--he forge! Why
+'ould he be forging? Annwyl! Fie was innocent, Rowland--on my deet, he
+was innocent. Oh, bach gen anwyl!'[Footnote: Oh, darling boy!]
+
+Mrs Jenkins wrung her hands and cried bitterly.
+
+'How do you know this, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' said Rowland. 'Tell me calmly,
+and then we will see what can be done,'
+
+'Read you that letter. By to-morrow he'll be in all the papers. He--so
+clever, so genteel, so rich! And all my Griffey's savings--hundreds of
+thousands of pound--nobody do be knowing where they was. Ach a fi! ach a
+fi!'
+
+Rowland read a letter from a celebrated London counsel retained by Mr
+Rice Rice for Howel, to the effect that Howel had been taken in America
+on the very day that his poor wife was planning to wander away in search
+of him, and was a prisoner the day she died. He had arrived in London,
+and been lodged in Newgate the previous day, the one on which that
+letter was written.
+
+Rowland gently told his mother the contents of it.
+
+'Thank God that my child did not live to see this day!' exclaimed Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+'Better dead, cousin, than to be living as Howels is!' sobbed Mrs
+Griffey. 'In a prison, too, my beauty Howels! But I was wanting to know,
+Mr Rowland, when you was going to London? Seure, I do think of going
+to-night, or to-morrow morning.'
+
+'Why must you go, aunt?' asked Rowland.
+
+'Why must I be going? Why ask such a question? 'Ould I be staying at
+home, and my Howels in gaol? I do go to tak care of him, to pay for him,
+to be seeing justice done him, to be near him. Night or morrow morning I
+do mean to go.'
+
+'Mother,' said Rowland, 'I am sure you will not mind sacrificing one day
+to poor Aunt Griffey and Howel. I must be in London the day after
+to-morrow. I will go to-morrow instead, and take her up with me, and see
+what is to be done for Howel. He will not have too many friends near him
+at such a time.'
+
+'God bless you, Rowland, bach,' said Mrs Griffey, springing up from her
+chair, and running to Rowland and kissing him vigorously--a compliment,
+it must be confessed, he could have dispensed with. 'And you will be
+standing up for him, and be telling of his character--and of his living
+at Abertewey--and how he was so clever, and did never be doing anything
+wrong. You will be saving him, Rowland, seure!'
+
+Rowland shook his head.
+
+'I will go with you, Aunt 'Lizbeth, and take you to my lodgings till I
+have seen Howel, and told him you are in London. We shall then see what
+can be done.'
+
+'But you will be speaking up for him, Rowland, bach?'
+
+'Cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero, 'if Howel had been a good son, and
+a steady young man, you could scarcely ask Rowland to speak up for him,
+and his own sister in Llanfach churchyard! "As we have sown, so must we
+reap," in this world.'
+
+'It do be fine for you, cousin, to be preaching, who was having
+fortunate sons, but--'
+
+'Hush, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if you please,' interrupted Rowland. 'I will take
+you to London to-morrow, if you are resolved to go. You must meet me at
+the omnibus.'
+
+(There was now a railway within a few miles of Llanfawr.)
+
+'Then I will be going home to get ready. You was seure to come, Mr
+Rowlands?'
+
+'Sure, if nothing unforeseen prevents me.'
+
+At this point of the conversation, Mr Prothero entered the parlour,
+leading Minette, who had two letters in her hand.
+
+'Here are two letters for you, Uncle Rowland,' said the child.
+'Grandfather says one must be from a bishop. What's a bishop, uncle?
+Oh, Grandma Jenkins!'
+
+Minette gave the letters to Rowland, and then went to kiss her
+grandmother, who began to cry when she saw her. Mr Prothero suppressed a
+very equivocal question concerning the reason of her again appearing at
+Glanyravon, and said,--
+
+'How d'ye do, Mrs Griffey?'
+
+Rowland opened his letters. One was from Mr Jones, the other, as Minette
+said, was from a bishop--the Bishop of London. He read Mr Jones' first,
+and turned more than usually red as he did so. He uttered an exclamation
+of surprise when he finished reading it, and put it into his father's
+hands.
+
+He then read the second letter. It was short. He got up, sat down, got
+up again, gave the letter to his father, and said,--
+
+'It is too much! I do not deserve it! I wish it were Jones instead of
+me. He is much better--more suited--married. I cannot believe it!'
+
+Neither could Mr Prothero, to judge from the expression of his face. He
+read each letter twice over, and seemed struggling with some great
+emotion as he ejaculated, 'Rowland, my boy!' and burst into tears.
+
+Mr Prothero had not cried before since Netta's death, and those were,
+indeed, precious tears.
+
+Minette, terrified at seeing her grandfather cry, ran off in search of
+Gladys, who had been every one's refuge since her marriage.
+
+She and Owen were at the front door, receiving Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero, who had just arrived.
+
+'Aunty, grandfather is crying,' said the child. 'You said you wished he
+would cry; but I don't like it. I think he is crying for poor mamma, who
+is in heaven, and can't come to him.'
+
+All hurried into the parlour.
+
+They found Mr Prothero holding one of his son's hands, and shaking it
+nervously, and Mrs Prothero holding the other, and vain attempts to
+speak.
+
+'Brother Jo! sister-in-law! Just in time. If our Netta was but here!'
+said Mr Prothero. 'Mrs Jonathan shall read the letters. It was she who
+got him the curacy.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan was not a little surprised to be greeted by having two
+letters thrust into her hands, and being requested to read them.
+
+'This one first, sister-in-law.'
+
+At any other time Mrs Jonathan would have resented the epithet of
+sister-in-law, but she now swallowed it, and began to read as follows:--
+
+     'MY DEAR ROWLAND,--I should have written to you earlier, but I
+     could not do so until a question that has been pending ever since
+     you left was decided. Deputations and round-robins have been
+     issuing from this parish by unanimous consent, and tending to St
+     James'. For once High Church and Low Church have united in paying
+     you the greatest compliment you can have paid just at present,
+     viz., in requesting the bishop to give you the living of which you
+     have been more than ten years curate. I believe it is pretty nearly
+     settled that you are to be our new rector, and that I shall have to
+     knock under, and solicit you to continue me in the curacy. I
+     congratulate you from my heart; so does my wife; so, I am sure, do
+     rich and poor around us. There never was a more popular
+     presentation. May God prosper your labours as a rector as He has as
+     curate.
+
+     'Give our love to my niece, Gladys, and kind regards to all the
+     rest of your family, with a kiss to Minette, and believe me, most
+     faithfully yours,
+
+     WILLIAM JONES.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero had begun to read this letter with a firm voice.
+It faltered before she got half way through it, and nearly failed before
+she completed it.
+
+'Read the other before you say anything,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+She began accordingly, clearing her throat and eyes at the same time.
+
+     'MY DEAR SIR,--I have great pleasure in offering you the living of
+     which you are now curate, vacant by the lamented death of Mr
+     Stephenson. I assure you that the united request of your friends
+     and parishioners was but the echo of my own will, as I have long
+     known and appreciated your untiring labours for the good of the
+     souls committed to your care, particularly during the long illness
+     of the rector, when you were of necessity brought more prominently
+     forward.
+
+     'Praying that God's blessing may rest on you and your
+     parishioners,--I remain, my dear sir, faithfully yours,
+
+     'LONDON.'
+
+'Rowland! my dear nephew!' exclaimed Mr Jonathan Prothero, 'this is
+incredible! Such a living, without interest, personal application, much
+acquaintance with his lordship--'
+
+'You forget, my dear,' said Mrs Jonathan interrupting her husband in his
+speech, and herself in an embrace she was about to give Rowland; 'you
+forget that Rowland frequently met the bishop at Sir Philip Payne
+Perry's, and was not without interest, I am proud to say.'
+
+'And I am proud that he has got on by honest merit,' said Mr Jonathan.
+
+'And so am I, uncle, much obliged as we are to the "three green peas,"'
+said Owen. 'Let us shake hands upon it, Rowly, and here's Gladys waiting
+for a kiss; she'll be running away from me again to be your district
+visitor, or Sister of Charity, or whatever you call it. Quite grand to
+have a near relation a London rector; I am half a foot taller already.'
+
+'Kiss me, Uncle Rowland; I am very glad the bishop has written you such
+a nice letter,' said Minette. Rowland took the child up in his arms.
+'Grandma Jenkins is crying so in the corner,' she whispered; 'is it for
+papa, or poor mamma?'
+
+Rowland's attention was instantly recalled to Mrs Jenkins, who was,
+indeed, crying and sobbing very much. He pointed her out to his mother,
+who at once went to her.
+
+'Oh! I am thinking of your Rowlands and my Howels, so different!' said
+the wretched mother; 'he to be beginning life so rich, and your son with
+nothing; and now! oh, anwyl! oh, anwyl!'
+
+'Come with me, cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero kindly; 'come
+upstairs, and I will make you some tea, and then Owen shall send you
+home.'
+
+Mrs Prothero and Mrs Jenkins left the room, followed by Gladys, who was
+soon making the required beverage.
+
+Whilst congratulations were still going on in the parlour, Miss Gwynne's
+voice was heard in the passage.
+
+'Not a word to Miss Gwynne, or indeed to any one, of my having the
+living, to-day at least,' said Rowland, leaving the room hastily, and
+repeating his request to Gladys in the hall.
+
+'I can only stay a few minutes,' said Miss Gwynne, when she had shaken
+hands with the party in the parlour, 'I wished to ask how Mrs Prothero
+is, and to see you, Mrs Jonathan. I have been delayed at the school, and
+it is nearly dusk already.'
+
+'Oh, don't go yet, Miss Gwynne,' said Minette, creeping up to her, and
+getting on her lap, 'it is so nice with you. Poor mamma is gone to
+heaven, Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Yes, love,' whispered Miss Gwynne, kissing Minette, 'but we will not
+talk of it before your grandfather, you see it grieves him.'
+
+'But you won't go; it is moonlight now--a pretty moon--I see it. It will
+light you home.'
+
+The 'pretty moon' rather frightened Miss Gwynne, who said that if she
+did not go, she would have the servants in search of her.
+
+'Will you allow me to walk with you, Miss Gwynne?' said Rowland; 'it is
+too late for you to return alone.'
+
+'Thank you, I shall be really obliged, if I am not taking you from your
+friends. I am a much greater coward than I used to be. London lamps
+spoil one for country roads. Tell your grandmother that I will come
+again to-morrow and see her, Minette.'
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland left the house together. Mr Prothero saw them to
+the door, and watched them up the road.
+
+'Strange times!' he said to his brother, when he returned to the
+parlour. 'Rowland walking with Miss Gwynne quite familiar. I hope he
+isn't too forward; to be seure he don't offer his arm, or go near her;
+but it seems out of place their going together in that way at all.
+Gwynne, Glanyravon is a proud man, perhaps he 'ouldnt like it; but
+Rowland is so grand and so good now, that I daren't say a word.'
+
+'Oh!' said Mrs Jonathan, drawing herself up to her fullest height, 'a
+Rugby boy, and an Oxford man is a companion for any lady--and a London
+rector is a match for any lady in the kingdom, allow me to assure you,
+Mr Prothero; and Rowland has been in quite as good, or better society in
+town, than you can meet with in this neighbourhood. Sir Philip is quite
+in the first circles.'
+
+'And Rowland isn't spoilt by it, brother,' said Mr Jonathan. 'He is a
+son and nephew we have reason to be proud of.'
+
+Thus, in the midst of heavy sorrow, a joy came to the inmates of
+Glanyravon Farm. A sunbeam through the shadows.
+
+Such, too, is life!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+THE DISINHERITED.
+
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland walked on quietly together for a little space.
+There was something in the heart of each, unknown to the other, that
+seemed to close up speech. It was nearly five o'clock, and a January
+evening; but for the 'pretty moon' and the white mist from the river,
+and the frost-bitten snow on the roads, it would have been dark; but it
+was really a fine, bright night. That river-mist rose from the meadows
+beneath like a large lake, and the moonlight pierced through it and
+mingled with it.
+
+It was such a night as lovers of a healthy, natural tone of mind might
+rejoice in; frost and snow being no refrigerators of true, honest
+warmth, but rather tending to keep it alive, by exhilarating the spirits
+and clearing the atmosphere.
+
+Rowland broke the silence, and so clear was the air, that his own voice
+startled him.
+
+'I am going to London to-morrow, Miss Gwynne; may I give Mrs Jones some
+hope that you will soon be back again?'
+
+'I fear not,' said Freda; 'my father wishes me to remain at home, and I
+have decided upon doing so.'
+
+'Not entirely?' asked Rowland, in a voice that all his self-command
+could not render calm.
+
+'I believe it is so settled. He makes a great point of it. Lady Mary is
+equally urgent, and I have promised. Do you not think it is right?'
+
+'I suppose so; but what shall we do without you?'
+
+Rowland spoke as he felt, from his heart. Miss Gwynne was touched by the
+words and tone.
+
+'I shall be very sorry,' she said, simply. 'I never was so happy as in
+that dingy old square.'
+
+Rowland felt that his new living, with all its increased
+responsibilities, would be a heavy burden to him without Freda's ready
+energy to lighten it. He did not at that moment pause to think how
+closely even our highest duties are entwined with our affections, and
+thereby lowered to earth--but so it is. The conscientious man does them;
+but a helping hand, a friendly voice, a loving word, is a wonderful aid
+towards doing them with a cheerful spirit.
+
+There was silence for a few minutes between Rowland and Freda, and their
+quick steps slackened. At last:
+
+'I thank you from my heart, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland, for all your
+kindness to my dear sister. It must cease, alas! but it will never be
+forgotten.'
+
+'Poor Netta! my old playfellow! I was only too thankful to be of any
+service. I wish we could have saved her.'
+
+'God knows best. Her husband is in Newgate gaol.'
+
+Rowland said this with a great effort; Freda started, and there was
+again a brief silence.
+
+'Miss Gwynne, I have long wished to say to you, how much I have felt
+your devotion to the schools and poor of our parish. Now that we are
+about to lose you, perhaps, I may do so. Glanyravon will gain what our
+poor East End loses.'
+
+'Thank you. If I leave London in a better spirit than I entered it, I am
+in great measure indebted to you for it.'
+
+'To me!'
+
+'Yes. I do not wish to flatter, or to be religiously sentimental; but
+your practical, simple sermons, and your still more practical life have
+done me much good. Now we will not compliment one another any more.'
+
+'Oh, Miss Gwynne! you do not know what you do when you say such words
+to me.'
+
+'I simply tell the truth.'
+
+'I, too, have another truth to tell, which, if not told now, will never
+be told.'
+
+Freda's heart beat quick, and her face flushed. She was thankful that
+silence concealed the one, and night the other. But the truth was not
+what the heart whispered, and the pulsation slackened.
+
+'Years ago--I know not how many years, the time seems so long, and yet
+so short--I insulted you by words that should never have been said. We
+were on this very drive, near this very spot--the same moon was looking
+down upon us. This very tree was over our heads. Do you remember? You
+do--alas! you must. Pride, most improper pride in one who should be a
+teacher of humility, has prevented my alluding to the subject ever
+since.'
+
+Rowland paused, and he and Freda stood still beneath that old oak, so
+well remembered by both. She did not speak; she could not for the
+moment; and Rowland continued,--
+
+'Those words, which called forth your severe and deserved reproof,
+should never have been said; but your kindness, the hour, the scene, my
+own excited feelings, my--in short, they were called forth
+involuntarily, but were wholly inexcusable. I forgot my birth and
+position, and was punished accordingly. Pride has kept me silent ever
+since. Pride has prevented my saying that I am sorry now that I so
+forgot myself then, and pride has made me cold and reserved to you, when
+I saw clearly that you wished to be my friend, and have since proved
+yourself such. Will you forgive me?'
+
+Freda did not, as when they once before stood beneath that huge oak,
+draw herself up to her full height, and make an indignant answer. She
+trembled, and glanced very timidly into the face that looked down upon
+hers. There, in the cold moonlight, with the icicles hanging from the
+old tree, and the frost-spirit hovering near, she read that face more
+truly than she had done in the genial summer moonshine, and wished those
+words had never been spoken. She said, gently but decidedly,--
+
+'Mr Rowland, it is I, not you who ought to crave forgiveness. You did me
+an honour of which I was not deserving, and, therefore, I could not
+appreciate it. I have repented of those proud words almost ever since. I
+am heartily ashamed of them, and beg you to try to forget that they were
+ever uttered.'
+
+Once more there was a momentary silence, then Rowland said firmly,--
+
+'Miss Gwynne, you must understand that I only regret the boldness of my
+conduct, and that I did not conceal my feelings from you as from the
+rest of the world. I do not regret the feelings; do not apologise for
+them. They were my own, engendered by nature and circumstances, given me
+by God, as part of my portion of trial in this world; they grew with me
+from childhood, ever since I used to play with you at the vicarage--they
+were fostered by your father's kindness and my own self-esteem, as well
+as by your presence, which I ought to have fled; they are with me still,
+have never left me, will be my weakness and my strength so long as this
+earthly warfare lasts.'
+
+'And is it really so?' said Freda, a large tear glittering in the eyes
+into which the moon, the frost-spirit, and Rowland were equally looking.
+
+Two hands were tightly clasped that had hitherto scarcely dared to touch
+each other; two hearts were for ever united, that hitherto had been as
+far estranged as Vesuvius and the icebergs.
+
+I know that many cynical and sentimental readers will ask if there is no
+danger of the pair of lovers taking cold on an evening in January,
+whilst thus mutually discovering the 'eternal passion' in the presence
+of the 'Erl-king.'
+
+Rowland and Freda seem to ask the same question, for, loosening that
+close grasp of hands, and without one word of love, they walk hastily
+towards the house. Rowland talks rapidly the whole way, interrupted by
+an occasional sentence from Freda. Readers, there is no proposal, no
+acceptance. The conversation is as follows:--
+
+_Rowland._--I have just received letters from the Bishop of London and
+Mr Jones offering me the living, and telling me that the parishioners
+wish me for their rector. I am most thankful now, for it puts me in a
+very different position--it allows me to hope, and with less
+presumption.
+
+_Freda._--It makes no difference to me, you are yourself whether rector
+or curate. But I rejoice for your sake, and to know that they appreciate
+you.
+
+_Rowland._--You will know and believe that it was Miss Gwynne, Freda,
+the woman, not the heiress, that I have loved so long and so well.
+
+_Freda._--I am no longer an heiress; you are far the best off.
+
+_Rowland._--I am most thankful. Had this wide park still been yours, I
+could never have said what I have dared to say to-day; but let me repeat
+once more your words that I may remember who I am--a farmer's son, your
+father's tenant.
+
+_Freda._--A clergyman, a gentleman, and a Christian.
+
+_Rowland._--My brother-in-law a--a--felon.
+
+_Freda._--Yourself not changed by your brother-in-law's crimes.
+
+_Rowland._--If then in the course of another year our present painful
+position should be forgotten, or at least, at rest, when I am
+established at the rectory as rector, when I can come forward on my own
+responsibility, when, in short, I can say without compunction all I now
+feel, may I hope?'
+
+_Freda._--Then as now, you may be certain.
+
+They were on the steps before the door of the house; again their hands
+were firmly clasped.
+
+_Rowland._--Till then, farewell, and God bless you.
+
+_Freda._--Will you not come in?
+
+_Rowland._--No, I would rather not now.
+
+_Freda._--Then God bless you, and be with you during your coming trial.
+
+And thus they parted, happy, and having perfect faith in one another.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE CONVICT.
+
+
+Forgeries of all sorts are so much the taste of genteel rogues of the
+present age, that the reader will readily dispense with a detailed
+account of the trial and conviction of Howel Jenkins. Any one of the
+various cases that fill those columns of the _Times_, devoted to such
+criminalities, will give a very good general idea of his. All that his
+mother's remnant of his father's hoarded wealth could do, was done, to
+prove him guiltless, but in vain. Counsel pleaded, some of his turf
+friends, themselves of doubtful reputation, spoke to his character, and
+he sat through his trial as imperturbably as if he had been at a
+dinner-party. The prosecutors, Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio
+Simpson, met with deserved reproofs for allowing themselves to be
+swindled, almost before their faces, out of money and property to an
+enormous amount.
+
+Long before his father's death, Howel had begun a system of betting-book
+cheating, and forgery on a small scale, which had ceased for a short
+time when he came into his enormous wealth, but recommenced as that
+wealth dwindled. Numerous instances came out from various sources whilst
+he was in America,--all his former associates being ready to leave his
+setting sun, for the rising one of his accusers.
+
+Sir S. Spendall and Sir H. Simpson were sole prosecutors, and between
+forgeries on banks, and in betting-books, and the unjust acquisition of
+Spendall Lodge, Howel was found guilty of forgeries to the amount of
+some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, and sentenced to transportation for
+fourteen years. So much general villainy transpired amongst the set in
+which these crimes were committed, and the prosecutors themselves were
+so weak and dissipated, that the sentence was supposed to be less severe
+than it might have been under other circumstances.
+
+The nefarious conduct of Mr Deep as Howel's attorney, and the enormous
+interest he was found to have received, caused him to be struck off the
+rolls, and very little evidence was wanting to prove him an accomplice
+in Howel's villainy. However, it was not forthcoming, and so Howel
+suffered alone.
+
+It was generally rumoured that Howel had forged his mother's name, at
+various times, to a very large amount; but, as she vigorously denied the
+fact, and acknowledged every signature as her own, the case was, of
+course, not brought forward.
+
+In spite of her manifold exertions in his favour, in spite of all
+Rowland's efforts, Howel positively refused to see either of them before
+the trial took place. He declared to his mother, through his attorney,
+that if he saw her, she would take away some of that nerve and courage
+so necessary to establish his innocence; and to Rowland, he politely
+hinted that he did not wish to see him at all.
+
+As the trial was almost immediate upon the imprisonment, they did not
+press the point. Rowland and Mr and Mrs Jones, pitying Mrs Jenkins in
+her evident misery, would have had her remain amongst them, but she
+insisted on taking a lodging near the gaol, that she might, at least, be
+in her son's neighbourhood, and hear from his attorney and others of his
+health daily.
+
+He was always reported to be well, and in good spirits, and indeed was
+so, to all appearance. He ate, drank, and slept much as if he had never
+committed crimes that at one period would have brought him to the
+gallows; and to the last moment of his leaving the prison for his trial,
+jauntily talked of what he should do when he was out of 'that confounded
+hole.'
+
+It was with great difficulty that Rowland persuaded Mrs Jenkins to
+remain in her lodging during the time of the trial, which he attended
+himself, more on her account than his own; for he was so fully convinced
+of Howel's guilt, that he knew he should only witness his degradation.
+
+In the court he fell in with Captain Dancy, who told him that he had
+wished to say a good word for Howel on his wife's account, for whom he
+entertained a great respect; but that Howel had positively refused any
+aid whatever from him. He thought this strange, as he owed him a large
+sum of money, and he had not brought forward his claim. Rowland thought
+it strange too, not knowing then, that Howel had one soft part in his
+hard nature, and that was love for Netta.
+
+Howel bore the summing up of the judge and his severe reprimand with
+indifference. He seemed slightly moved when the sentence was pronounced;
+but recovering perfect calmness, he said aloud, so that the whole court
+could hear,--'If I am guilty, my prosecutors are guilty, and all the
+speculators in the world are guilty.'
+
+When Rowland went to Mrs Jenkins' lodging after all was over, he found
+Mrs Jones with her, her husband having been with him during the trial.
+Mrs Jones had been endeavouring to prepare the poor mother for the
+probable sentence, but nothing could persuade her that 'her Howels, so
+clever, so genteel, who dined with the Queen and Prince Albert, and was
+handsomer than the Prince, for she had seen him,' could be transported
+for forgery.
+
+When Rowland told her the truth, as gently as he could, the effect it
+had upon her was quite different from what he had expected. She burst
+into a passion, not of grief, but of rage. She had been drinking brandy
+before Mrs Jones went to her, and had been greatly excited the whole
+morning, as she had also been on the previous day, the trial having
+lasted two days. At the climax, the true nature of the woman showed
+itself, and the friends who surrounded her thought she was insane.
+
+Judge, jury, witnesses, prosecutors, and finally every member of the
+Prothero family came in for a share of abuse of the coarsest kind.
+Rowland felt thankful that the greatest part of it was uttered in Welsh,
+and that, therefore, Mrs Jones could not understand it, although the
+strong guttural, made stronger by uncontrolled passion, was enough, in
+itself, to frighten any one. Happily, she was surrounded by Christians
+who pitied her, and did not leave her in her sin and sorrow to the
+strange people who came, uncalled, to see what was the matter, and who
+would fain have remained; but Rowland told them, decidedly, to go away.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones, also, withdrew at Rowland's request when the outburst
+had somewhat subsided, and left him to reason with the wretched,
+maddened woman alone.
+
+He let the fury wear itself out, and then stood by to hear his
+unfortunate sister and his father abused as the primary causes of
+Howel's downfall.
+
+'If he didn't be marrying beneath him, he 'ould be holding up his head,
+and looking for a lady, who do be keeping him in his place. And Netta
+Prothero so 'stravagant! ach a fi! and Prothero, Glanyfavon, who was
+turning against him, and kicking me out of his house. Shame for you all,
+Rowland Prothero! your own cousin and brother-in-law! and no one to be
+saying a word to help him. Oh, anwyl! my boy! my Howels! What 'ould his
+poor father be saying if he was knowing all! and how his money was going
+and all mine too! I shall be going to the Eunion, and then you'll be
+feeling satisfied, Rowland Prothero! and your mother, and that Gladys,
+and all so grand! 'll be looking down upon me. And my Howels over the
+sea! 'sported for fourteen years, and I 'ont be living to see him come
+back again. Anwyl! anywyl!'
+
+Here tears came, and Mrs Jenkins sank upon a chair, and covered her face
+with her hands.
+
+Rowland let them flow for a time, and then putting his hand kindly on
+her shoulder said,--
+
+'Aunt 'Lizbeth! you must try to keep up for Howel's sake. He will like
+you to visit him now, perhaps,'
+
+The kind tones touched a gentler chord in the poor woman's heart, and
+she looked up at Rowland, like one awaking from a dream.
+
+'Seure! Mr Rowland Prothero! I'm thinking you're too fine for us now. A
+clergy and a rector! oh seure! you'll not be going to see my poor
+Howels!'
+
+'Yes, I will, if you will try to be calm. I will see him first, and
+prepare him for your coming; I will not even ask his permission but go
+to him. I can gain admittance at once, I know, both as a clergyman and
+relation.'
+
+'Now! go you directly! tell you my Howels--'
+
+'I don't think I can go to-night. It is too late--but to-morrow I will
+go, on condition that you compose yourself, and return with me to my
+lodgings.'
+
+'I 'ont be going to your lodgings, I 'ouldn't be leaving my Howels for
+the world.'
+
+'You cannot see him to-night, you must not stay with the people of this
+house after what you said to-day, or they will take advantage of your
+being alone, to make you say more. I cannot remain here to-night, and I
+am the only friend you have in town to whom you could go.'
+
+'Treue, for you, Rowland Prothero. There's my Lady Simpson was asking me
+to stay with her, when my Howels and I was having money enough to buy
+her presents, and her son and doater did go to Abertewey when they did
+like--and now, not wan of all the fine folks do come and say, "How was
+you, Mrs Jenkins?"'
+
+Rowland ventured to repeat a few verses from Scripture, and to beg her
+to turn her mind to better thoughts. Then he induced her to put on her
+bonnet and cloak and go home with him, promising to bring her back the
+following day, and retaining the lodging for another week.
+
+They passed a miserable evening. It was in vain that Rowland strove to
+comfort or advise his guest. She did nothing but abuse justice, and
+lament her son's past grandeur.
+
+The following day, Rowland fulfilled his promise. He left her at her
+lodging and went to the gaol.
+
+He had previously obtained full permission of the authorities, through
+the chaplain, who was well-known to him, to visit Howel when he liked,
+and to give him the letters left for him by his deceased wife. The
+chaplain had told him that the prisoner was quite indifferent to all
+that he said to him on religious subjects, and listened to them, if,
+indeed, he listened at all, with a scoffing, incredulous, hardness of
+manner, that was more painful than mere carelessness.
+
+When Rowland entered the cell, Howel was sitting with his back to the
+door, and did not turn or take any notice of the incomers. He had a
+piece of paper before him, and a pencil in his hand, over which he
+seemed rather to be dreaming than writing. The gaoler closed the door,
+having orders to remain without, and left the cousins alone.
+
+Rowland stood some time irresolute in the gloomy cell, but finding that
+Howel did not move, he went round in front of him, and said,--
+
+'Howel!'
+
+The word was quite sufficient. He started up, and whilst the blood
+rushed to his face, said coolly,--
+
+'To what am I indebted for the honour of a visit from Mr Prothero? I
+think I sent you a message to the effect that I am not now in a position
+to receive company. My chambers are anything but suited to convivial
+society, and I prefer solitude just at present. I have already had the
+benefit of clergy, and do not need any of your sermons, excellent as I
+am told they are. Indeed, divinity was always out of my line.'
+
+'I come to fulfil the dying request of your wife and my sister, which
+that letter will explain,' said Rowland, calmly and gravely, placing an
+open letter on the table.
+
+Howel's countenance changed at once--the flush of passion passed away,
+and left a painful pallor, whilst the sarcastic mouth became compressed
+into a marble rigidity. He sat down again, and pushing aside the paper
+that had previously been before him, drew the letter towards him. He put
+his elbows on the table, and shrouded his face so that Rowland could
+not see him, and bending over the letter, gazed on the writing without
+attempting to read, as one might gaze on a spirit without daring to
+speak to it. The letter was, indeed, a voice from the dead, and dated
+the very day before that on which Netta died. Its contents were as
+follows:--
+
+     'MY DEAR BROTHER,--I intend leaving Glanyravon, and all my dear
+     relations, to go in search of Howel, who, you know, is my husband;
+     and therefore to be loved and obeyed before any one else. If I die
+     before I find him, as perhaps I may--my heart being so bad--I wish
+     you to see him when he comes back, and to give him the accompanying
+     sealed packet yourself. Nobody knows how I have loved him all my
+     life, and perhaps if I had been better tempered and less jealous,
+     he might have stayed at home, and not been obliged to go away for
+     debt. But when I have found him, I will be very loving and patient,
+     and then we shall be happy together again. If I don't find him,
+     however--if I die first--will you, dear brother, talk to him as you
+     have talked and written to me, and then I may meet him again in a
+     happier world, where I am praying and striving to go, through the
+     atonement of Him who died for sinners--even for me and Howel, who
+     are both great sinners--yet not too great to be saved. Thank you,
+     my dear, dear brother, for showing me the way to heaven, and for
+     all your goodness to me and Minette--(my poor Minette, I must leave
+     her, but you will all take care of her better than I have done).
+     Thank you, I am very sorry that I was such a wilful, perverse
+     sister, when you tried to do me good.
+
+     'God bless you for ever and ever--you and all--Your loving but
+     afflicted sister, NETTA JENKINS.'
+
+Rowland sat down at one end of the cell, on the iron bedstead and that
+he might not seem to be watching Howel, took a small Testament from his
+pocket and began to read. This, too, he had brought for Howel. It was
+the one Netta had used, as long as she lived, and in it she had written,
+'To be given to my dear husband, if I die.--Netta.' She had marked many
+passages, and appended her initials to each of the marks.
+
+Rowland could not read long. It was impossible not to see the trembling
+of that iron man who sat before him; the heaving breast and the
+convulsed hands. And yet Howel did not read the letter. He saw the
+familiar handwriting once more of the only thing he had ever
+loved--loved and murdered--and he sat transfixed before it.
+
+At last Rowland rose, and going to him, put his hand on his shoulder.
+He started as if Netta's spirit had appeared, and looked up wildly.
+Seeing Rowland, he struggled for self-possession and again shrouding his
+face, began to read.
+
+Rowland kept his hand on his shoulder, gently pressing it, as if to
+assure him of sympathy. He felt him trembling beneath his touch.
+
+As he stood thus his eye fell on the paper that Howel had had before him
+when he entered the cell. He could not help seeing the words, 'From my
+cell in Newgate--my judge and jury.' Underneath this heading appeared to
+be the commencement of a poem, and beneath that were caricatures of a
+man in a large wig, and of others, with every variety of nose and chin.
+
+This had been Howel's occupation within four-and-twenty hours of his
+conviction!
+
+Three times Howel turned the sheet of paper that he was reading, as if
+he had not understood the words that were written on it, and then he
+uttered a groan, so deep and loud, that Rowland could restrain himself
+no longer, but said,--
+
+'Howel, for her sake, listen to me, her brother. Look on me as your
+friend, your brother.'
+
+Howel looked up, and for one moment there was remorse and agony in his
+face; the next, no stone was harder and colder.
+
+'Brother!' he said, with a voice of icy sarcasm, 'you have shown
+yourself my brother of late! I saw you in the court, cold and
+calculating; not a word for this, your _brother_! Bah!'
+
+'What would you have had me say?' asked Rowland, recovering his
+composure, and glancing from Howel to Netta's letter.
+
+'I understand you; you mean that I murdered her. I did, virtually. Then
+why be hypocrite enough to call me brother?'
+
+'She forgave you, and called you husband.'
+
+'Because she--she loved me.'
+
+There was another involuntary groan, and a brief silence.
+
+'Where are her papers? Give them me, and go,' said Howel imperatively.
+
+Rowland put a neatly-sealed packet on the table, on which was written,
+'For my husband, Howel Jenkins;--to the care of my brother, Rowland
+Prothero. Janetta Jenkins.'
+
+'This, too, she left for you,' said Rowland, putting the small
+Testament, originally her mother's, on the table. Again the stony lips
+trembled, the eyes softened. 'Howel, Howel, for her sake!' once more
+ventured Rowland.
+
+There they lay--the letter, the packet, the Testament. All that was left
+to him of the once bright, loving, and lovely creature, who had been
+devoted to him all her life.
+
+He turned the leaves of the Testament mechanically; touched the
+packet--shuddered; then leaning his head upon his folded arms on the
+table, burst into an uncontrollable agony of grief.
+
+'She is--she was--where?' he said, after a short interval, rising from
+his seat, and beginning to pace the cell.
+
+'Her soul is in heaven, I hope and believe; her body rests in Llanfach
+churchyard, under the large hawthorn bush near the vicarage gate.'
+
+Often and often had Howel gathered Netta bunches of May from that very
+tree that now sheltered her remains.
+
+'Tell me--tell me all,' he said, 'from the time I left her, till--how
+you found her--everything.'
+
+'You must sit down, Howel, and hear me patiently if you can.'
+
+Howel sat down on the bedstead, and again covering his face with both
+hands, listened; whilst Rowland took the seat he had left, and fulfilled
+his bidding.
+
+He told him everything that had happened to Netta, from the period of
+her being left in the lodgings in his parish, until her death at the
+farm. He felt that the one hope of softening Howel, or doing him any
+good, was through his love for his wife; he therefore narrated simply
+what she had suffered and said; he told how that she had been hourly
+expecting him back, until his one short note; how she had listened for
+his footsteps, and refused to leave the place where he had left her,
+until he came. All that her friends had done for her, was introduced
+incidentally; Howel understood that she had been taken to her relations
+again, as the prodigal son to his father, but he was not told so.
+
+Rowland did not spare him, however, as regarded Netta. He knew him to be
+utterly callous as to the follies and crimes of his life; he must,
+therefore, be made conscious of their weight, through their effects upon
+others; he knew that they had been the cause of Netta's death, and this
+would show him the enormity of sin if nothing else would.
+
+As he detailed the wanderings of poor Netta's mind, and then her anxious
+inquiries of him of the way of salvation for Howel, as well as herself,
+he was visibly affected. Not even his determination that Rowland should
+not see his emotion could conceal it; but he did not speak a word. He
+listened to the end, and then, without uncovering his face, he said in a
+voice tremulous from emotion,--
+
+'Thank you; now go; and come back to-morrow; I would be alone with her.'
+
+'And to-morrow I must bring your mother,' said Rowland
+
+'No, no, let me see you alone,' was the hasty reply.
+
+'God bless you, Howel, and grant you His help,' said Rowland, passing
+before the stooping figure.
+
+There was no reply, so, with a heavy sigh and an inward prayer, Rowland
+left the cell.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+THE PENITENT HUSBAND.
+
+
+The following morning, Rowland again took Mrs Jenkins to her lodging and
+left her there. It was with very great difficulty that he persuaded Mrs
+Jenkins to remain behind, and only under a promise to prevail upon Howel
+to see her immediately after his interview with him.
+
+As he expected, he found Howel almost as cold and impassive as on the
+previous day. But he fancied that this was an assumed manner, and that
+he could trace workings of more natural feelings underneath. He was at
+least civil to him, and instead of receiving him as before, said,--
+
+'I thought you would never come; but I suppose prosperous people are
+never in a great hurry to visit the unfortunate. Ha! ha! Certainly my
+reception-rooms are not very inviting.'
+
+'I came as soon as I could gain admittance. I wish you would believe,
+Howel, that I am very anxious to be of any use to you that I can. You
+know that you refused to see me before.'
+
+'And it is no great compliment now; this confounded place will kill me.
+I have been haunted by spectres all the night, five thousand times worse
+than a voyage to Australia. That will be amusing, ha! ha! But to have my
+father in one corner, and--and Netta in the other,--and that cursed
+money rolling about everywhere, just as it did--well, never mind that!
+but hanging outright would have been better. Don't preach; it is no
+good; I am far beyond that, and I know you have your sermon ready; but
+your presence is some relief after such a night. I tell you what it is,
+Rowland, if you are a better and a happier man than I, it is because you
+had honest parents; it is no merit of yours, and no fault of mine.'
+
+'Howel, I claim no merit; but we are all responsible for our own
+actions, God forgive those who set a bad example: they will have to
+answer for it.'
+
+'Pshaw! Do you think I meant that? I mean that if my father hadn't
+heaped up all that gold--bah! the word makes me sick,--and denied me a
+sixpence whilst he lived; and if I hadn't seen my mother rob him
+whenever she could, and learnt from her to do the same, I shouldn't be
+here now! No, I should be a plodding shopkeeper, or at least a country
+lawyer, or doctor, and should have been living in a house with three
+steps to it, and a portico, by this time, with--don't suppose I regret
+such a house--but Netta! oh, God! Netta!'
+
+Howel beat his forehead with his hand, and pointed to the corner of his
+cell.
+
+'There she is! there she has been all the night. Pale as when I laid her
+on her bed that miserable day!'
+
+'Howel! you loved Netta, I see, and believe it now,' said Rowland.
+
+'You do! And why not before? Ah! I see. Because I have never done
+anything to prove it. But I did not know how I loved her until I knew
+how she loved me.'
+
+'Would you prove it now, if you could?'
+
+'Would I? Why do you mock me by such a question?'
+
+'Because she, being dead, yet speaks. Her last wishes, thoughts, words,
+writing, were for you.'
+
+'Do I not know it? Have I not read? All night have her words not haunted
+me?'
+
+'And her prayers, Howel? Shall they be forgotten? And that Book in which
+she wrote last, will you not read it?'
+
+'I don't know. I tried last night, and I could not. I have never read
+the book since I wrote Greek at school.'
+
+'Netta begged you to read it.'
+
+'What is that to you, Rowland Prothero? Who put you over me as judge and
+counsellor?'
+
+'Netta. As spiritual counsellor, at least; and in her name, since you
+will not let me appeal to you in a Higher name, I command you to listen
+to me.'
+
+Rowland saw that he had gained an advantage by appealing to Netta, and
+that Howel checked the irony that was on his tongue, out of reverence
+for her name. At once he spoke as an ambassador in that Higher name he
+had feared to use before.
+
+Rowland had had ten years' experience of men as bad and worse than
+Howel, and had learnt how to speak to them, and to seize the mood of the
+listener. He knew Howel well; and he, therefore, used the strong and
+powerful language of the Bible, as the priests, prophets, and apostles
+used it--as the word of God to man. Not diluted by their own
+reflections, but in its bare and grand simplicity. He had not made the
+Bible his study in vain. He knew how to bring it to the heart of men
+with a power that none 'could gainsay or resist,' Even Howel, sceptic,
+scoffer as he was, listened in spite of himself.
+
+Rowland was a humbler man than he had been, when he used, years before,
+to argue with Howel, and endeavour to convert him to the truth. He was
+equally right in his views then, but he gave them forth more
+dogmatically, and allowed self to peep in; now self was wholly swallowed
+up in the Word itself; and so Howel gave heed as to God, and not to man.
+
+He laid bare Howel's heart to himself, for the first time that it had
+ever been so exposed, and then showed him the denunciations of the law
+against sin. He did not spare him. He knew that the only way to save
+such a man was by bringing him to know himself first, and then to ''
+preach repentance and remission of sin.'
+
+In his energy and longing to rescue him from destruction, he stood
+before him as one sent to tear up his unbelief by the roots not to dally
+with it.
+
+'Flee from the wrath to come,' might have been the text of his
+discourse, as it was that of the Baptist.
+
+When he paused, as if for breath, Howel exclaimed,--
+
+'Enough! enough! Stop! I can hear no more; you have opened to me the
+gates of hell wide enough.'
+
+'And now I would open those of heaven. Let us pray.'
+
+Rowland's eyes flashed such a fire as Howel had never seen in them
+before; his voice and words had a command that he had never heard.
+Perforce he obeyed. And there, in that narrow cell, actuated by fear,
+rather than remorse, astonishment rather than contrition, bowed by a
+will yet stronger than his own, Howel fell on his knees beside his
+cousin, and listened to a prayer for pardon and help, that might have
+melted the heart of a Nero.
+
+At first he heard as in a dream, then his ears were opened, then his
+heart. And at last Rowland's spirit breathed within him the blessed
+words, 'Behold he prayeth.'
+
+It is not for us to look into the heart of the criminal, and decide how
+God works in it. Even Rowland could not tell the ultimate effect of his
+preaching and prayers. All he knew that from that day Howel welcomed him
+to his cell as the one hope of his life. He was awakened to a sense of
+his condition, and Rowland thanked God, and took courage.
+
+As the meetings and partings of parent and child--however wicked they
+both may be--in the cell of a felon, simply harrow the feelings of the
+reader, I will pass over those of Howel and his mother. Some
+recrimination, and much grief on the one side--some remorse, and much
+misery on the other. Rowland did what he could for both until the last
+parting was over. And then he left the mother to the care of Mrs Jones
+to accompany the son on board the ship that was to convey him to his
+convict home.
+
+We are not to suppose that the 'Ethiopian's skin' was changed because it
+was pierced. Howel continued outwardly proud, scornful, and hard to the
+last; but Rowland witnessed the struggle that went on within to maintain
+that bearing, and knew that some good might arise even out of the
+spendthrift and the forger.
+
+'You will take care of Minette amongst you, for her mother's sake,' he
+said to Rowland.
+
+'And for yours, and her own,' was the reply.
+
+'Tell her not to hate her father. You who never told her mother of my--I
+suppose I must use the word--crime, will be as gentle as you can in
+letting the child know who and what her father is. I thank you all, more
+for keeping _her_ in ignorance till death, than for all the rest.'
+
+'And for _her_ sake, Howel, you will read that book, and pray to be kept
+from temptation.'
+
+'What temptation shall I have? I shall be more inclined to pray to be
+thrown into temptation.'
+
+'Oh, Howel!'
+
+'Well! This convict ship and the ocean, and chains and hard labour at
+the end, don't seem very inviting. I know it has been my own fault and
+my father's, but that doesn't make it better; however, I will try. And
+if ever I get back to Old England again a reformed character, will you
+lend me a helping hand, or turn your back upon me?'
+
+'Give you the hand of friendship and brotherhood.'
+
+'Thank you; and don't let them quite desert my mother. Bad as she is, I
+am worse, and I have ruined her; a worse thing that than getting a
+little money out of those turf-dupes and idiots, though hers was
+ill-gotten wealth.'
+
+'We will take care of your mother amongst us as well as we can. My
+mother never forsakes an old friend.'
+
+'Give my love to her; she was kind to me and to my child. All the rest
+have deserted me, and wished me hanged. But I have to thank you, who
+always despised me, for being here now, and for your anxiety about me.
+Rowland, you are a better fellow than I thought you, and you have helped
+to rid me of some of those spectres that haunted me night and day. You
+must go! I know it. Alone! alone! with this crew! Is this Heaven's law
+or man's? and I was not made for this. I shall destroy myself--I must--I
+will. Good-bye! oh Rowland! cousin! brother! remember me, for God's sake
+and for hers!'
+
+The hands of the minister of the Gospel and the felon were clasped for
+a few seconds, as if they could never unlink, and then, with a heavy
+groan, Howel sank down upon some timber that was near him, and covered
+his face with his hands. Thick tears filled Rowland's eyes as he stooped
+over his wretched cousin, and again whispered, 'God bless you, cousin
+Howel, God bless you.'
+
+And so they parted.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+GLADYS REAPING HER FRUITS.
+
+
+Our story began at Glanyravon, in the cheery month of June, and at
+Glanyravon, in the same cheery month, we will end it.
+
+I must beg my readers to pass over in their imaginations one
+twelvemonth, of which I do not mean to say anything, and to accompany me
+to the gate at Glanyravon Farm, where they first made acquaintance with
+Mrs Prothero and Gladys. A hasty glance will suffice to show that all is
+much the same at this said gate as it was ten years ago, save and except
+that the extraneous accompaniments are changed. Instead of a group of
+Irish beggars and a dying girl, it is surrounded by a party of
+well-dressed peasants in high, smooth hats and striped flannel gowns.
+Moreover, it is surrounded by an arch of evergreens and flowers, of most
+tasteful form and beautiful colour.
+
+We will not linger here at present, but pursue our way along the road.
+We meet more peasants, in holiday costume, talking and laughing
+together, with Miss Gwynne's school children in their scarlet cloak and
+best frocks. They all seem to be lingering about, with nothing to do,
+and enjoying their idleness and June holiday as thoroughly as the
+greatest philanthropist in the world could desire. As we approach the
+entrance of the Park, we see another magnificent arch spanning the road.
+We turn to the large iron gates, and they, too, are circled with laurels
+and roses.
+
+We walk through the gates, and to the right, far in amongst the trees,
+are long lines of tables covered with white, and bearing the remains of
+a huge feast, at which, we take it for granted, the people we have met
+have been regaled. Scattered here and there amongst the oaks, elms, and
+ashes are more peasants and school children amusing themselves
+variously.
+
+We pursue our way up the drive until we come to the memorable oak,
+under which words were spoken greatly influencing the fates of two of
+the individuals in whom I have been endeavouring to interest my readers.
+From this venerable tree to another, almost as venerable, hangs another
+wreath, flanked with banners. We reach the house, and another garland
+entirely surrounds the door. White roses and lillies of the valley make
+the air heavy with their breath, drawn out by the attractive rays of the
+beaming afternoon sun.
+
+We enter the hall, and peep into the different rooms. In the dining-room
+is the remains of an ample repast. At the head of the table is an
+enormous cake, covered with silver doves and ornaments of all kinds;
+servants are drinking the remains of champagne out of glasses and
+bottles with healths innumerable. In the library and hall, children in
+white frocks, with silver bows fastened to them, pattering to and fro in
+unchecked excitement. In the drawing-room we pause, and listen to the
+conversation that is passing between Mr Gwynne, Lady Mary, Colonel and
+Mrs Gwynne Vaughan, and Sir Hugh Pryse.
+
+'I am so thankful it is over, and that it has all gone off so well,'
+says Lady Mary.
+
+'Really, Lady Mary,' says Mr Gwynne, 'great thanks are due to you for
+the admirable manner in which you managed everything. I think it was
+wonderful that we amalgamated, and all that sort of thing, don't you,
+Gwynne?'
+
+Colonel Vaughan replies, yawning,--
+
+'I don't know what on earth we shall do without Freda! And she to throw
+herself away upon that stupid London parish, where all her charming
+manner and talent will be lavished upon ragged schools and missionary
+meetings. I wish she had never come back.'
+
+'Oh, Gwynne, I'm thure Mr Prothero ith very nithe, and tho gentlemanlike
+and good and handthome. And, you know, clergymen are ath good ath any
+one in London.'
+
+'Prothero is better than most, I think,' says Sir Hugh, 'because there
+is no humbug about him. And I'm sure, since Freda wouldn't have me, I'm
+glad she had him, though I never guessed she liked him; I used to think
+she liked you best, Vaughan.'
+
+The colonel sighs.
+
+'Oh! I never flattered myself so far, I wish--'
+
+'Certainly, I could not have believed the Protheros were such superior
+people,' says Lady Mary. 'As to Mr Owen and his wife, they might be
+introduced into any society.'
+
+'Thweetly pretty, Gladyth ith, I never thought tho much of her before,'
+lisps Mrs Vaughan. 'Tho interethting the looked in that dreth, the one
+the wath married in, my maid thaith.'
+
+'I was obliged to call at the farm myself, to induce old Prothero and
+his wife to come,' says Mr Gwynne, 'Freda wished it so much; I cannot
+say I did: you see it was rather awkward. But he did not change his old
+manner towards me--or--in fact--you know, Sir Hugh he might have been--'
+
+'Bumptious,' breaks in Sir Hugh; 'exactly, not a bit of it. They're
+better behaved. Besides, there was Mrs Jonathan to support the honour of
+the family, and her husband the learning.'
+
+'Yes,' says Lady Mary; '' it is a comfort that they are really
+gentlefolks. And Mr and Mrs Jones too--in short, with the exception of
+the parents, after all, there is no great objection. Many girls make
+worse matches. Only they live so near.'
+
+Here little Harold comes bouncing into the room, followed by the other
+children.
+
+'Mamma! papa! do you know I am going to marry Minette, I told her so;
+her name is Victoria, after the Queen, she said. I shall go to see her
+to-morrow; she is bigger than Minnie, and looked prettier in her veil.
+Didn't Dot look funny in a veil? Dot nearly cried, but Aunt Freda gave
+her some cake. Why did Mr Prothero come, papa? isn't he a farmer?'
+
+'And isn't your papa a farmer? and am not I a farmer, Master Harold?'
+exclaims Sir Hugh, catching the boy up in his arms.
+
+'I am so sorry Aunt Freda is going away,' says quiet little Minnie to
+her mother.
+
+'And tho am I, my dear.'
+
+'And tho am I, mamma,' lisps Dot, exactly as lisps her mamma.
+
+'I hope she will be happy,' says Mr Gwynne, aside to the colonel; 'do
+you think she will?'
+
+'Yes, I am sure she will; she is evidently sincerely attached to Rowland
+Prothero, and he to her. He is a good man and a gentleman, one cannot
+deny that. Pshaw! why am I so sorry she is gone? we shall miss her
+dreadfully after this twelvemonth.'
+
+'Thank you, Gwynne; she has been very good and kind to us all; so much
+improved, and she told me she owed it all to Rowland. Well, I liked him
+from the first. You saw the Bible his school children gave him, and the
+presents from his parishioners and the letter from the bishop, so
+complimentary, you know, so flattering, and all that sort of thing. God
+bless them,'
+
+Mr Gwynne very nearly begins to cry, and Colonel Vaughan feels inclined
+to join; but by way of consoling himself, says,--
+
+'I shall go and see the Protheros sometimes now. I never saw anything in
+my life so lovely as that younger Mrs Prothero.'
+
+'Take care, my dear,' cries Lady Mary to her daughter; 'the colonel is
+going to visit the fair Gladys.'
+
+'Oh! I thant allow that, Gwynne, the ith much too pretty.'
+
+'Let us go out and look at the people before dinner,' says Colonel
+Vaughan; 'I must say it was cruel of Freda to refuse to have a party.
+This is fearfully dull; the vicar and his wife, or Mr and Mrs Jones
+would have been better than nobody.'
+
+'Much obliged!' says Sir Hugh.
+
+As all the party go into the Park, we will follow them, and leaving them
+there, retrace our steps to the farm.
+
+There is high tea going on in the parlour, and a pleasant, cheerful
+party they are, assembled round the tea-table. Gladys in the
+wedding-gown, with a colour on her cheeks and a light in her eyes that
+were not there in former days, presides. Owen divides his attentions
+between her and some object in the corner of the room; first jumping up
+to peep into this curtained curiosity, and then returning to put cream
+into the tea-cups, hand the cakes and bread and butter, or do any and
+everything that his loving and lovely Gladys asks him, with whom he is
+just as much in love as ever.
+
+Mr Jones and Mr Prothero sit on either side of Gladys, and seem to vie
+with one another in showing a father's and uncle's affection to her.
+Next to Mr Jones we have Mrs Prothero, looking more like what she looked
+when first we saw her, than she has done for years. Then Mr Jonathan and
+Mrs Jones; and between Mrs Jones and Owen we are glad to see poor Mrs
+Jenkins, very kindly treated by her neighbours, and dressed in the
+_moiré_ and a handsome shawl; then Mrs Jonathan, in the richest of
+silks, and the loveliest of caps; and, finally, Minette between her and
+her grandfather; completing a 'round table' more cheerful and natural
+than that of King Arthur.
+
+Through the open window and white netted curtains--Gladys' treasured
+work--the roses and sunbeams look in together, and the distant mountains
+are blue and hazy as the sky. Flowers are on the mantel-piece and
+tables, bridal-favours are scattered here and there. Above all, there is
+a large white and silver bow, surmounting that 'curiosity' in the
+corner, towards which all eyes occasionally turn. Perhaps we may as well
+peep within the little white curtains.
+
+There lies a wee baby, fast asleep, with its tiny hand outside the
+coverlet, and its lace cap on the little pillow. 'Netta,' is the name of
+that small fragment of humanity. Owen and Gladys' first-born.
+
+Having surveyed the company, we will listen to their conversation.
+
+'Well, father, don't you feel vain-glorious to-day?' says Owen,
+stopping suddenly on his way to the cradle, and pulling his father's
+grey whisker.
+
+'I feel very thankful that it is all over, and very unnatural.'
+
+'Not unnatural, David, bach,' says his wife.
+
+'Yes, unnatural. It was never intended for Miss Gwynne to be my
+daughter-in-law, and I breakfasting at the Park. I felt like a hog in
+armour, fidgeting inside and out.'
+
+'Perhaps it was never intended for me to be your daughter, either,' says
+Gladys, looking archly at the farmer.
+
+'Treue for you, my dear. That was a piece of luck that came without my
+seeking, and I like it all the better for that reason, I suppose.'
+
+'I am sure you may rejoice in the present Mrs Rowland Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jonathan; 'and you certainly need not imagine, for one moment, that
+she is degrading herself by marrying your son. In London he is in the
+first society, and meets people constantly, on equal terms, who would
+quite throw your Lady Marys into the shade. Does he not, Mr Jones?'
+
+'I cannot quite enter into these points, ma'am,' says Mr Jones; 'but he
+and his bride are as well suited to one another as any young people I
+ever saw, and will be a blessing to their parish and their friends.'
+
+'Besides, if you come to family, brother David,' says Mr Jonathan, 'ours
+is of considerable antiquity, and I cannot think how it got Anglicised
+into Prothero. You know I have been enabled to trace it back to
+Rhyddrch, or Rhodri, a prince who fought with and frequently defeated
+Ethelbald. You may not be aware, Mrs Jones, that our name, properly
+Prydderch, means Ap Rhyddrch, and that we owe it to this illustrious
+source.'
+
+'Now, aunt,' exclaims Owen, 'never mention the Payne Perrys again. Why,
+you cannot light a candle to us. I am sure your Herefordshire Perry
+can't date back to the conquest, and here are we long before it. What
+date, uncle?'
+
+'720, Owen. And I wish you, as the eldest son, would begin to write your
+name in the proper way. I contemn, absolutely, this altering our fine
+old language into that jargon of Anglo-Saxon, Danish, Norman, and
+French, now yclept English.
+
+'Very well, uncle, let us spell it R, H, Y, D, D, R, C, H,--eight
+consonants without the aid of one single vowel. I declare the very name
+is courage itself,--no auxiliary forces. Gladys, I beg you will always
+sign yourself so when you write to Mrs Jones; and be sure you spell your
+own name as it ought to be spelt,--G, W, L, A, D, Y, S. Even this shows
+the weakness of the female sex; you do require one little vowel to help
+along the consonants,'
+
+'Ha, ha, ha!' shouts Mr Prothero, 'he has you now, brother Jo.'
+
+'Not at all. Owen seems to have forgotten that w and y are vowels. But
+he never had a taste for study, Rowland is quite different; and our dear
+niece, Claudia, is much better suited to him than to Owen, for she
+appreciates the wisdom of a past age.'
+
+'The little hypocrite,' cries Owen. 'She doesn't--'
+
+'I never could have supposed Lady Mary could be so affable,' interrupts
+Gladys, fearing a dispute.
+
+'She can be anything she likes,' says Mrs Jones. 'She pressed me and Mr
+Jones to stay there to-day, but I could not have done so without Freda.
+She was especially kind all last week, and resolved to go through
+everything properly. I told her that your uncle could only stay two
+clear days, and that we had promised to spend them here. It is such a
+relief to be here, Mr Gwynne and Mrs Gwynne Vaughan are very well; but
+her ladyship's constant tact and effort to do exactly the right thing
+are wearying.'
+
+'Do my Laddy Marry be very grand? Grander than Laddy Simpson, Mrs
+Jones?' asked Mrs Jenkins, in an undertone, of her neighbour. She has an
+infinite awe of Mrs Jonathan.
+
+'I don't think I ever saw Lady Simpson,' says Mrs Jones,
+
+'Not be seeing Laddy Simpson! Well, it is no loss for you. She was as
+ugly an 'ooman as I ever was seeing. I am hating the Simpsons, and no
+wonder. But Miss Gwynne is a lady,--Mrs Rowland Prothero, I am meaning.
+She was coming to see me the other day, and says she, "I know you have
+been unfortunate Mrs Jenkins, fach! and no fault of yours." And she was
+giving me this new white shoal. And, seure, if it wasn't for Rowland
+Prothero and she, I 'oudn't be in that tidy cottage by there, with Mrs
+Owen and my grandoater coming to see me and reading to me; and Mrs
+Prothero too, is seure, and bringing me something nice, and my Griffey
+with hundreds of thousands, Mrs Jones, as you was knowing,'
+
+Mrs Jenkins gradually gets excited, as she finds Mrs Jones listens, and
+by degrees she gains the ear of the rest of the party, who all, in spite
+of Gladys' efforts to divert their attention, turn to her when they hear
+the words 'Rowland and Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'I must be telling you now, Mrs Jones, ma'am,' continues Mrs Jenkins,
+'that I am not forgetting all your kindness to me up in London, when
+every one else was turning away. Ach a fi! and they 'joying themselves
+at Abertewey.'
+
+Mrs Jones presses Mrs Griffey's arm, and whispers 'hush!'
+
+'To be seure! I was forgetting. But, indeet, Rowland Prothero did be
+more than a son to me, and if Miss Gwynne was my own doater she couldn't
+be kinder. She was buying up enough of my beauty furniture to fill the
+little cottage. I did be finding it out 'esterday, and seure it was
+their wedding present to a poor, childless widow, as 'ould be in the
+Eunion, and I with hundreds and thousands!'
+
+'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins!' growls Mr
+Prothero.
+
+'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles,' says Mrs Prothero,
+brushing a tear from her eye.
+
+'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much!' says Minette, to the great relief
+of the rest of the party.
+
+'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx,' says Mr Prothero,
+patting the child's back gently.
+
+'Oh! but he told me he should marry me, and that Colonel Vaughan said he
+was my uncle.'
+
+'Children and 'oomen all alike,' says the farmer; 'thinking of marriage
+as soon as they can speak. Gladys, why don't you teach the child
+better?'
+
+'It was the champagne, father,' says Owen. 'My full impression is, that
+a few glasses more and you would have kissed Lady Mary. I wish we had
+brought a glass for you to drink the bride and bridegroom's health, Aunt
+'Lizbeth.'
+
+'Oh, I have been drinking that pain!'
+
+A sudden little cry in the corner prevents any allusion to the occasion
+on which Mrs Jenkins drank champagne.
+
+Gladys has her baby in her arms in a few seconds. The infant is attired
+in her christening robe and cap, and seems to add a new beauty to the
+sweet and gentle Gladys. All eyes are directed towards them, all hearts
+warm towards them. Minette is instantly kissing her little cousin, even
+Mrs Jonathan takes its tiny hand, as Gladys carries it round in her
+mother's pride and joy.
+
+'Your grandchild and my grandniece, Mr Prothero,' says Mr Jones, 'may
+she grow up as good as her mother.'
+
+'Amen!' replies Mr Prothero.
+
+And with this word we end our story. The wedding wreath--the
+christening-robe--the shroud! Again the wreath and the robe! Such has
+been our tale, and 'such is life!'
+
+
+
+
+Printed by
+Morrison and Gibb Limited
+Edinburgh
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***
+
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gladys, the Reaper, by Anne Beale</title>
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Gladys, the Reaper, by Anne Beale</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Gladys, the Reaper</p>
+<p>Author: Anne Beale</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 10, 2005  [eBook #15315]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>GLADYS, THE REAPER</h1>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" width='490' height='700' alt="Frontispiece" /></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>ANNE BEALE</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>AUTHOR OF</p>
+<p class='center'><i>FAY ARLINGTON</i>, <i>SIMPLICITY AND FASCINATION</i>,<br />
+<i>THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER</i>, ETC. ETC.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class='center'>... standing like Ruth amid the alien corn</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h6>Griffith Farran Browne &amp; Co. Limited<br />
+35 Bow Street, Covent Garden<br />
+London</h6>
+
+<h4>1881</h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr />
+
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+
+<ul>
+<li> &nbsp;</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FARMER'S WIFE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FARMER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MISER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FARMER'S SON.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MISER'S WIFE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SQUIRE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MISER'S SON.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE IRISH BEGGAR.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SAILOR.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SEMPSTRESS.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE WIDOW.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MILLIONAIRE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MILLIONAIRE'S WIFE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SERVANT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE COLONEL.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE NURSE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CURATE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE HEIRESS</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE BROTHERS.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE GOVERNESS.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PREACHER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE LOVER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FUGITIVE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FRIEND.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MISSIONARY.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE LADY'S MAID.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PATRON.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PATRON'S WIFE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE MAN OF THE WORLD.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE TEMPTER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE RIVALS.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE LADY IN HER OWN RIGHT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FIRST-BORN.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SPENDTHRIFT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FORGER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE ACCOUNTANT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FORGER'S WIFE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SISTER OF CHARITY.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE NIECE.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE BETROTHED.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE HEIR.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PENITENT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE RECTOR.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE DISINHERITED.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CONVICT.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PENITENT HUSBAND.</li>
+<li> <a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII.</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;GLADYS REAPING HER FRUITS.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>GLADYS, THE REAPER.</h2>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" ></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FARMER'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is an evening in June, and the skies that have been weeping of late,
+owing to some calamity best known to themselves, have suddenly dried
+their eyes, and called up a smile to enliven their gloomy countenances.
+The farmers, who have been shaking their heads at sight of the unmown
+grass, and predicting a bad hay-harvest, are beginning to brighten up
+with the weather, and to consult upon the propriety of mowing to-morrow.
+The barometer is gently tapped by many a sturdy hand, and the result is
+favourable; so that there are good prospects of a few weeks' sunshine to
+atone for the late clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Sunshine: how gracious it is just now! Down yonder in the west, that
+ancient of days, the sun throws around him his evening glory, and right
+royally he does it. The rain-covered meadows glow beneath it, like so
+many lakes&mdash;the river looks up rejoicing, and the distant mountains are
+wrapped in garments dyed in the old king's own regal colours. The woods
+look as smooth and glossy as the braided locks of maidens prepared for
+conquests; and the roads and paths that wind here and there amongst the
+trees, are as gay as little streamlets in the sun's reflected light.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a rainbow leaps, as it were, out of the river, and spans, with
+its mighty arch, the country scene before us.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class='stanza'><div>'A rainbow at night</div>
+<div>Is the shepherd's delight;'</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>so the proverbially-grumbling farmers will have another prognostic to
+clear their countenances.</p>
+
+<p>Perchance the worthy man who inhabits the farm we have just reached, may
+be congratulating himself upon it, as he jogs home from market this
+Saturday evening. If he could look upon his homestead with our eyes, I
+feel sure he would cease to despond. How cheerily the wide, slated roof
+gleams forth from amongst the trees, and returns the warm glance of the
+sun with one almost as warm, albeit proceeding from a very moist eyelid!
+How gladly the white smoke arises once more, spirally, from the large
+chimneys, after having been so long depressed by the heavy atmosphere!
+and how the massive ivy that covers the gable end, responds to the songs
+of the birds that warble their evening gladness amongst its gleaming
+leaves! The face of the dwelling is as cheerful as are the sun, river,
+mountains and meads, that it looks down upon from its slight elevation.
+Every leaf of the vine and pyrus-japonica that covers its front, is
+bedecked with a diamond; and the roses, laburnums, nasturtiums, and
+other gay flowers in the garden, drop jewels more freely than the maiden
+in the fairy tale, as they glisten beneath the rainbow.</p>
+
+<p>This is what we see from the hawthorn lane below the house; but walking
+up into the highroad at the back, the scene changes, and just as our
+sympathies with beautiful nature were called forth below, so are they
+instantaneously assailed by our fellow-creatures above.</p>
+
+<p>We come to the substantial gate that is the entrance to the pretty farm,
+and a curious and a motley group is there. We see such groups almost
+daily, here in Carmarthenshire; but as all the counties of England and
+Wales are not thoroughfares for the Irish from their country to England,
+we will describe these poor people as graphically as we can. There is
+evidently a consultation going on amongst them, and the general
+attention is directed to one individual of their party.</p>
+
+<p>This is a young girl of some seventeen or eighteen years of age. She is
+seated on the ground, and leans her back against the stone wall that
+flanks the substantial gate afore mentioned. To judge from her general
+appearance she can scarcely belong to the ragged set that surround her,
+for there is an attempt at neatness and cleanliness in her attire,
+though it is poor enough, that the rest cannot boast of. She wears a
+cotton gown, shawl, straw bonnet, and shoes and stockings, which were
+once respectable and seem to have been originally intended for her.
+True, they are all worn and shabby-looking. The gown is faded, the
+bonnet very brown, and the shoes have holes in them; but they indicate
+a mind, or station, at least a degree above those of her companions. Her
+head is so inclined upon her breast, that it is difficult to see more
+than a pale face underneath the bonnet; but a pair of thin white hands
+that rest listlessly upon her lap, still tend to induce the notion that
+the girl cannot quite belong to the wild-looking company with which she
+is mixed up.</p>
+
+<p>Right in front of her, and looking alternately from her to a man to whom
+she is talking, stands a middle-aged woman of good-natured but terrified
+aspect. A checked and ragged handkerchief confines her black, rough
+hair&mdash;a torn red cloak covers a portion of her body, and a curious
+collection of rags and tatters makes a vain effort to shelter the rest.
+In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up,
+its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in
+munching and holding a crust of bread. At the feet of the woman are
+sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, and a tin
+saucepan, are the most conspicuous. The man to whom she is talking is a
+tall, gaunt specimen of Irish poverty and famine. He holds a rake and
+pitchfork in his hand, and leans upon them for support. Gazing into his
+face is a rough, surly-looking youth, who seems cordially to agree with
+all that he says.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against the wall that flanks the gate on the side opposite that
+which supports the girl, are another man and woman, who cast from time
+to time pitying glances at the pale face beneath the straw bonnet. These
+are as raggedly picturesque in their attire as the rest&mdash;a short red
+petticoat, a blanket substituted for a shawl, and a bundle on the back,
+distinguish the female; a long great coat and short trousers the male.
+They are deep in conversation upon the common theme. A young man of more
+stalwart figure stands beside the girl, and failing to attract her
+attention, kneels down on one knee and speaks low to her. A little boy
+is seated at her feet, alternately stroking her hands, and stirring up a
+small puddle of water with a short stick. Two other children are engaged
+at a little distance in making a lean cur beg for a mouthful of bread,
+which the generous urchins would evidently rather share with the dog
+than eat alone.</p>
+
+<p>The one prevailing feature of the party is rags, and how they hold
+together no tongue can tell.</p>
+
+<p>At last there is a general movement, as well as general clamour of
+voices and much gesticulation. All, old and young, with the exception of
+the girl, gather round the woman in the red cloak, and seem to be urging
+her to do something that she does not like to do. They point to the
+girl, and the appeal is not in vain.</p>
+
+<p>The woman moves slowly and somewhat sulkily towards one of the boys,
+takes him by the hand, and returning to the gate, opens it, and walks
+down the good broad road that leads to the farm, the boy trotting by her
+side. We watch the bright red cloak till it disappears amongst the trees
+that surround the house; and turn again to wonder what can be the matter
+with the girl. She neither moves nor speaks, although her kindly
+companions in turn endeavour to attract her attention.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of a few minutes the red cloak is again seen coming up the
+road, closely followed by another figure. We soon hear sounds of earnest
+pleading, in a broad Irish brogue, from our friend of the red cloak. As
+they approach the gate sound distinctly the words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It's all thrue, my leddy&mdash;as thrue as the blessed gospel. I'm afeered
+she's dyin' if yer honour's glory won't lend us a hand.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know how to believe you, my good woman, for some of you come
+every week and deceive me with all kinds of stories.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' she's Welsh, yer honour. She's come to find out her friends, my
+leddy! God bless ye, ye've a kind eye and a gintle voice,'</p>
+
+<p>Red cloak spoke the truth. The woman who is now added to the group has
+truly 'a kind eye and a gintle voice.' She is short and small of form,
+of middle age and matronly appearance; neatly and even handsomely
+dressed, as becomes the mistress of one of the largest and wealthiest
+farms of a country where large farms are rare. She has a handsome,
+placid face, and looks as if the world had moved on quietly and happily
+ever since she had been on its surface. Her dark eyes, that must once
+have been bright and piercing, are softened down to gentleness by the
+quieting hand of time; and the black hair is slightly streaked with
+white by the same unsparing fingers. But for this, age would seem to
+have little to do with the comely dame who is now bending her
+neatly-attired head before the shabby-looking girl against the wall,</p>
+
+<p>'What is the matter with you, my poor girl?' says the 'gintle voice,'</p>
+
+<p>These kind words have a power that the equally kind ones of the rough
+friends around had not. The brown straw bonnet is raised from the
+breast, and we perceive that the girl is neither dead nor sleeping. We
+perceive something more&mdash;a pair of the most painfully melancholy, and
+beautiful violet eyes that we ever looked into, which are languidly
+uplifted to the farm-lady. With the words, 'I am very tired, ma'am,' the
+eyes reclose, and we see long black fringes of soft hair rest upon the
+pale, thin cheek. The ready tear of compassion springs to the matron's
+eyes, as she stoops still lower to feel the pulse in the wan hand.</p>
+
+<p>'What is the matter with her?' she inquires, turning to the bystanders.</p>
+
+<p>'Tis tiert all out she is, my leddy. We come by say from Watherford to
+Milford, and thin, yer honour, we come on foot all trough Pembrokeshire,
+and County Carmarthin, and now she's jist kilt.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what is she going to do? Why do you come away from Ireland at all?'</p>
+
+<p>'Och, my leddy, shure we're starvin' there. And we jist come to luk for
+the work in the harvest, an' we're goin' to Herefordshire to git it. An'
+plaase yer honour's glory, she come wid us to this counthry to luk for
+her mother's relations that's Welsh, my leddy, small blame to thim,
+seein' her mother married an Irishman, and come to live in our
+counthry.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will give you a night's lodging, and that is all I can do for you,'
+says the gentle mistress of the farm.</p>
+
+<p>'The Lord bless ye, my leddy, the holy angels keep ye, the blessed
+Vargin and all the saints&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, hush! hush!' exclaims the good woman, highly shocked. 'Help the
+poor girl, and come with me.'</p>
+
+<p>The woman went towards the girl, and trying to assist her to rise,
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Gladys, asthore! An' shure, my leddy, she's a thrue Welsh name.
+I'll help ye, my darlin', there! Och! an it's betther she is already, as
+soon as she heerd of a night's lodgin'.'</p>
+
+<p>The young man who was kneeling by the girl just now, goes to her other
+side, and succeeds in supporting her by putting his arm round her waist,
+whilst the woman holds her by one arm; and thus they follow the good
+mistress of the farm, followed in their turn by the rest of the party.</p>
+
+<p>They move slowly down the road, underneath the fine oak and ash trees
+that shelter the back of the farm, until they reach a large farm-yard,
+wherein some thirty fine cows, of Welsh, English, and Alderney breed,
+are yielding their rich milk at the hands of some three or four
+rough-looking men and women who are kneeling down to get it.</p>
+
+<p>'Come here, Tom,' cries the mistress, authoritatively.</p>
+
+<p>Tom gives a knowing wink to the nearest girl, mutters, 'Irish again,'
+and goes to his mistress.</p>
+
+<p>'See if there is good clean straw spread in the barn, Tom, and make
+haste.'</p>
+
+<p>Tom goes to a large building outside the farm-yard, whither his mistress
+and the rest follow him.</p>
+
+<p>'Plenty of straw, ma'am, good enough for such folk,' says Tom.</p>
+
+<p>'Spread some more, and shut the window in the loft.'</p>
+
+<p>This is done in a slow grumbling way.</p>
+
+<p>The barn is a large, clean, airy building, that must look like a palace
+to these ragged, way-worn people.</p>
+
+<p>'Now you may sleep here to-night, provided you go off early and quietly
+to-morrow morning. There is a good pump down below, where you can get
+water to wash yourselves, and at eight o'clock I shall lock the barn
+door; my husband always insists upon that.' Thus speaks the mistress.</p>
+
+<p>'Heaven bless his honour, we're all honest. We wouldn't harm a hair of
+your blessed heads. We heerd o' ye many a time, and o' the good lodgin'
+and supper&mdash;the sun shine upon ye&mdash;ye give to the poor Irish on their
+thravels.' Thus answers the Irishwoman.</p>
+
+<p>'You tell one another then! And this is why we have more calls than any
+one else!'</p>
+
+<p>'The Lord love ye, and why wouldn't we? 'Tis the good as always gets the
+blessin'.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst this little conversation is going on, the girl, Gladys, is laid
+upon the shawl-blanket of the woman who wears that singular attire, and
+a pillow, half rags, half straw, is contrived for her head. The bonnet
+is taken off to increase her comfort, and, as her head falls languidly
+back upon the rough pillow, a wan, thin face is disclosed, that, from
+the regular outline of the profile, must be pretty, under happier
+circumstances, and is interesting.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the guests prepare to make themselves comfortable in different
+ways, the kindly farm-lady leaves them, amid many and enthusiastic
+blessings, and returns to the house.</p>
+
+<p>In less than half-an-hour she reappears, followed by a female servant,
+both carrying tokens of a true hospitality that expects no return. She
+goes towards the poor girl with a small basin of good broth and a plate
+of toasted bread, such as might tempt the palate of a more dainty
+invalid; whilst the servant places a can of real Welsh broth, smelling
+strongly of the country emblem, the leek, in the midst of the hungry
+crew who are scattered over the barn. To this she adds various scraps of
+coarse bread and hard cheese, which she draws from a capacious apron,
+and evidently considers too good for the luckless vagabonds before her.
+She is soon, however, as much interested as her mistress in the sick
+girl, to whom the latter is administering the warm restorative. Spoonful
+after spoonful is applied to her lips, and greedily swallowed though
+with evident effort. The toasted bread is soaked in a portion of the
+broth, and is also devoured as speedily as offered, with an avidity made
+still more painful by the difficulty of swallowing, occasioned by some
+obstruction in the throat.</p>
+
+<p>'God help you, poor girl,' says the good Samaritan, as she puts the
+last mouthful to the lips of the patient.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes unclose, and a tear falls upon the wan cheek, as a murmured,
+'Thank you, my lady,' is faintly heard.</p>
+
+<p>The 'lady' turns away with a heavy sigh, whilst the servant begins to
+arrange the blanket-shawl and rags more comfortably, and finally takes
+off her large linsey-woolsey apron to make a softer resting-place for
+the head and neck of the girl. The grateful friends that stand around
+now bless the servant as zealously as they blessed her mistress, and if
+she understood the language in which the warm Irish hearts express their
+gratitude, she would probably wonder who 'the Vargin and all the holy
+saints and angels' are, that are invoked for her sake.</p>
+
+<p>Again the farm-lady goes away, and returns bearing a small bottle of
+medicine, that she bids the red-cloaked woman give the sick girl in
+about an hour. She then leaves her patient and motley guests to their
+supper and night's repose, followed by such prayers as the poor alone
+know how to utter, and perhaps how to feel.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" ></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FARMER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The rainbow was a true prophet; the sun that went down so gloriously
+last night amid the half-dried tears of a lately weeping earth, has
+arisen this morning with a resolution to dry up all the remaining tears,
+and to make the Sabbath as it should be&mdash;a day of rejoicing. Sunrise
+amongst the hills and valleys! I wish we all saw it oftener. Not only
+would the glorious spectacle make us wiser and better, but the early
+rising would be not only conducive to health and good spirits, but to
+the addition of a vast amount of time to the waking and working hours of
+our very short life.</p>
+
+<p>All nature arouses herself by degrees, as the great source of light
+rises from his couch, curtained with rose and daffodil-coloured drapery.
+As these gorgeous curtains spread east and west, and he takes his
+morning bath in the clouds and vapours, rises up the proud monarch of
+the farm-yard, as if in bold rivalry, outspreads his fine plumage in
+emulation of the rose and daffodil curtains, and bids him welcome with a
+voice so loud and shrill, that he must almost hear it from his domed
+throne above. More arbitrary in his kingdom than the sun in his, this
+grand Turk insists on arousing all his subjects; and the sleepy inmates
+of his harem withdraw their heads from beneath their wings, and, one by
+one, begin to smooth their feathers, and to descend lazily from their
+dormitories. A faint twittering is heard amongst the ivy-leaves, in
+answer to 'the cock's shrill clarion,' and in a few seconds, the little
+sleepers amongst the oak and ash trees take it up, and by the time the
+sun has come out of his bath, and the cock has ceased crowing, there is
+a full chorus of heart stirring minstrelsy round about the quiet farm.
+Down below in the meadow, the cattle begin to shake off the dew-drops
+from their hides, and to send forth a plaintive low as they slowly seek
+their early breakfast in the spangled grass, or by the steaming river.
+Away among the hills, the faint bleat of the sheep echoes from heath to
+heath, whilst their white fleeces dot the plains. Over the face of happy
+nature creeps a glow that seems to come from the heart, and to make her
+look up, rejoicing, to the sun as part of herself, and yet a type of the
+Great Creator.</p>
+
+<p>But whilst this Sabbath morning hymn thus rises, betimes, to the throne
+of Him who sits beyond the sunbeams, tired man sleeps on. The farmer's
+household is still slumbering, and after a week of hard labour, taking
+an additional hour's repose on that day which was graciously appointed
+as a day of rest. Scarcely can the sun peep in through the drawn
+curtains and shutters of the windows, and no song of birds, or low of
+cows, seems as yet to have reached the closed ears of the sleepers.
+Master and men alike obtain the bounteous gift of sleep so often denied
+to the less laborious rich.</p>
+
+<p>We are wrong in supposing that all are slumbering in the farm-house.
+Quietly the mistress steps out of the back door which she has
+noiselessly opened, as if afraid of disturbing her household. As the
+brisk little figure moves across the farm-yard, it is instantly
+surrounded by a flock of poultry that seem intuitively to expect an alms
+at her hand, as do the poor Irish who haunt her dwelling. But she has
+nothing to give them thus early in the morning, and scarcely heeds their
+cackling and crowing. The fierce house-dog, however, will be noticed as
+bounding through the poultry, and knocking down one luckless hen, he
+jumps upon his mistress, and almost oversets her also. The 'Down Lion,
+down,' of the 'gintle voice,' serves only to make him more
+demonstrative, as he gambols roughly on her path as she proceeds towards
+the barn.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero&mdash;such is the name of our farm-lady&mdash;had been haunted all
+night long by visions of the poor Irish girl. She had not slept as
+soundly as the other members of her family, because there was a
+fellow-creature suffering within her little circle. Although she had
+lived nearly fifty years in the world, and had been variously cheated
+and imposed upon by beggars of all kinds, her heart was still open to
+'melting charity,' and liable to be again and again deceived. As she
+stopped before the barn door with the key in her hand, Lion began a low
+growl. He could never get over his antipathy to Irish beggars, and all
+his mistress's influence was necessary to prevent the growl becoming a
+bark. She put her ear to the door and listened, but no sound disturbed
+the stillness within. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. At
+last she thought she heard a feeble voice say something which she
+interpreted into 'Come in,' and she turned the key in the lock of the
+door and opened the top half of it. She looked in, and saw all her
+mendicant guests in profound repose, excepting the girl Gladys, who
+endeavoured to rise as she perceived the kindly face, but fell back
+again immediately. She unclosed the other half of the door, and
+carefully excluding Lion, by shutting it after her, walked softly across
+the barn to the rough couch on which Gladys lay. She appeared to be in
+the same state of exhaustion as on the previous night; and if she had
+noticed Mrs Prothero at all, the transient effort was over, and she
+remained with closed eyes and listless form, whilst the good woman
+looked at her and felt her pulse. Then her lips moved slightly, as if
+wishing to say something, but emitted no sound. What was to be done for
+one in such a helpless state? Mrs Prothero's kind heart sank within her.</p>
+
+<p>As she did not like to disturb the weary wretches, who were sleeping so
+soundly in their rags amongst the hay and straw, she prepared to leave
+the barn; but as she moved away, the girl's eyes unclosed, and glanced
+dimly at her through a film of tears. Nourishment seemed the only remedy
+that presented itself to her mind. She smiled kindly at the girl,
+murmured 'I will come again,' and went through the sleepers towards the
+door, pausing, however, to look at the peaceful face of the baby, as it
+lay on its mother's arm, covered with the old red cloak.</p>
+
+<p>She returned to the house, and went to the clean, large dairy, where she
+took a cup of the last night's milk, already covered with rich cream,
+from a pan and went with it to the back kitchen, where was a fire, kept
+up all night by means of the hard Welsh coal, and heat-diffusing balls.
+She warmed the milk, procured a piece of fine white bread, and once more
+returned to the barn.</p>
+
+<p>She administered these remedies to her patient, who swallowed them with
+the same avidity and difficulty as she had done the broth. She fancied
+she again heard the words, 'God bless you, my lady,' but they were so
+faint that she was not sure.</p>
+
+<p>Again she threaded her way amongst the sleepers, and left the barn. She
+went into her garden, and walked for a few moments amongst the flowers,
+as if for council. The bees were beginning to hum about the hives, and
+the butterflies to flit amongst the flowers. She stood and looked at the
+beautiful scene before her&mdash;the woods, hills, river, and above, the
+morning sun&mdash;and offered up a prayer and thanksgiving to the Giver of
+all good things. Her thoughtful face brightened into a smile, and her
+walk became more brisk as she left her garden, and went again into the
+farm-yard.</p>
+
+<p>The cow-man was bringing up the cows to be milked, and he looked
+astonished as he greeted his mistress. So did the two ruddy, disheveled
+farm maidens, who had barely turned out of their beds to milk the cows,
+and had paid small attention either to their toilet or ablutions.</p>
+
+<p>The house was perfectly quiet as she entered it, and she crept upstairs,
+and into her bedroom very softly, for fear of disturbing any one.</p>
+
+<p>'Where in the world have you been, my dear?' greeted her, in a gruff
+voice from amongst the bed-clothes, that covered a large old-fashioned
+bed, hung with chintz curtains.</p>
+
+<p>'Go to sleep and don't trouble, Davy, <i>bach'</i>, [Footnote: A Welsh term of
+endearment, equivalent to 'dear,' pronounced like the German.] quietly
+replied the brisk little dame.</p>
+
+<p>'Go to sleep, indeed! Easier said than done, when one wakes up in a
+fright, and finds you gone, nobody knows where. Now where <i>have</i> you
+been? You 'ont let one sleep, even of a Sunday morning.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, now, don't get into a passion, my dear&mdash;I mean, don't be angry.'</p>
+
+<p>'What have I to be angry about when I don't know what you've been
+doing?'</p>
+
+<p>This was said in an injured tone, as if the heart under the bed-clothes
+were softer than the voice.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You thought what?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was
+uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she
+had been doing wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes,
+ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel.</p>
+
+<p>'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner
+of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our
+money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of
+good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!'</p>
+
+<p>'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give
+her a lift home.'</p>
+
+<p>'But if she has no home?'</p>
+
+<p>'Then let her go to her parish.'</p>
+
+<p>'But they don't seem to have any parishes in Ireland.'</p>
+
+<p>'No parishes! I suppose that's the geography the vagabonds teach you?
+Well you pay dear enough for your lessons. But I tell you what, Mary,
+you just go and tell 'em all to decamp this minute.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the girl is too weak and ill.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then send her to the Union, I say, and they are bound to forward her.'</p>
+
+<p>'But a Sunday! and the House miles away! Oh, Davy, we really cannot do
+it to-day!'</p>
+
+<p>'What with the Irish, and one charity and another, I declare there's no
+peace in life! Name o' goodness, 'oornan, why do you harbour such folk?
+If the girl's too ill to go on with her gang, they must leave her at the
+Union, or else get the overseers to send for her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you just go and look at her?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I 'ont, and that's plain speaking!'</p>
+
+<p>Here the red face, and white night-cap and tassel, suddenly, disappeared
+amongst the bed-clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero considered a few minutes, and again left the room, and went
+to the barn. Here, all was confusion and consultation. They had tried to
+help Gladys to rise, and the girl could not stand.</p>
+
+<p>A clamour of voices assailed Mrs Prothero, who was bewildered by the
+noise, and terrified at the remembrance of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>'My good people, I don't know what to advise,' she said at last.</p>
+
+<p>'She don't want to laive Carrmanthinshire, my leddy.'</p>
+
+<p>'We'll be ruined intirely if we stop till she's cured, yer leddyship!'</p>
+
+<p>'Niver a frind in the worrld, yer honour.'</p>
+
+<p>'Her mother and father, sisthers and brothers, all dead of the faver
+and the famine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody left but her relations in Carrmarrthinshire, and, maybe, they're
+all dead and buried, yer honour's glory.'</p>
+
+<p>'And what'll we do wid her, poor sowl?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was looking compassionately on the poor girl, whilst
+sentence upon sentence was poured into her ear; and as the death of her
+relation was mentioned, she fancied she perceived a movement in her
+seemingly impassive features. She opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs
+Prothero, who went to her, and seeing her lips move, knelt down by her
+side.</p>
+
+<p>'Let them go, and send me to the workhouse, if you please, my lady,' she
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero once more left the barn, promising to return shortly, and,
+with trembling steps, again sought the apartment where her lord and
+master was reposing. A very decided snore met her ear. She stood by the
+bedside, and looked at the tassel, which was the only portion visible of
+her better half. She sat down on a chair; she got up again; she fussed
+about the room; she even opened the drawers and took out the Sunday
+attire of that Somnus before her. But nothing she could do would arouse
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At last she gently touched the face. A louder snore was the only reply.
+She gave a nervous push to the shoulder, and whispered into the
+bed-clothes, 'My dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, what now?' growled the justly irritated sleeper.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear, I am very sorry, but the poor girl is too ill to move, and I
+really don't know what is to be done.'</p>
+
+<p>'Upon my very deed, if you are not enough to provoke a saint!' broke out
+Mr Prothero, now fairly sitting up in bed. 'If you will encourage
+vagrants, get rid of 'em, and don't bother me. I'll tell you what it is,
+Mrs Prothero, if all of 'em are not off the farm before I'm up, I'll
+give 'em such a bit of my mind as 'll keep 'em away for the future; see
+if I don't.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero saw that her husband was redder in the face than usual, and
+she had a very great dread of putting him in a passion; still she
+ventured one word more very meekly.</p>
+
+<p>'But the girl, David?'</p>
+
+<p>'What's the girl to you or me! we've a girl of our own, and half-a-dozen
+servant girls. We don't want any more. Send her to the Union.'</p>
+
+<p>'How can we send her?'</p>
+
+<p>'Let the rascally Irish manage that, 'tis no affair of mine; but if you
+bother me any more, I vow I'll take a whip and drive 'em, girl and all,
+off the premises.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, David,' said Mrs Prothero, submissively, and with a heavy
+sigh: 'but if the girl should die?'</p>
+
+<p>She walked across to the door, paused on the threshold, and glanced
+back; but there was no change in the rubicund face. She went into the
+passage, and slowly closed the door, holding the handle in her hand for
+a few seconds as she did so. She walked deliberately down the passage,
+pausing at each step. Before she was at the end of it, a loud voice
+reached her ear. She joyfully turned back and re-entered the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, David?' she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'If the girl is really bad, send her in the cart, or let her have a
+horse, if you like,' growled Mr Prothero. 'Only I do wish, mother, you
+would have nothing to do with them Irishers.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, my dear,' said the quiet little woman. 'Then if the rest go
+away, I may manage about the girl?'</p>
+
+<p>'Do what you like, only get rid of 'em somehow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you needn't thank me! I'd as soon send every one of 'em to jail as
+not; but I can't stand your puffing and sighing just as if they were all
+your own flesh and blood.'</p>
+
+<p>'We're all the same flesh and blood, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'd be uncommon sorry to think so. I've nothing but Welsh flesh and
+blood about me, and should be loath to have any other, Irish, Scotch, or
+English either.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>'That 'ooman 'ould wheedle the stone out of a mill,' continued the
+farmer, rubbing his eyes, and deliberately taking off his night-cap,
+'and yet she don't ever seem to have her own way, and is as meek as
+Moses. She has wheedled me out of my Sunday nap, so I suppose I may as
+well get up. Hang the Irish! There is no getting rid of 'em. She's given
+'em a night's lodging, and a supper for so many years, that they come
+and ask as if it was their due. But I'll put a stop to it, yet, in spite
+of her, or my name isn't David Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>When Mr Prothero came forth from his dormitory, he was in his very best
+Sunday attire. As he walked across the farm-yard in search of his wife,
+there was an air about him that seemed to say, 'I am monarch of all I
+survey.' Indeed, few monarchs are as independent, and proud of their
+independence, as David Prothero of Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>He was a tall, muscular man, of some fifty years of age. He was well
+made, and of that easy, swinging gait, that is rather the teaching of
+Dame Nature, than of the dancing mistress or posture master. His face
+was full and ruddy, betokening health, spirits, and that choleric
+disposition to which his countrymen are said to incline, whether justly
+or unjustly is not for me to determine. His hair had a reddish tinge,
+and his whiskers were decidedly roseate, bearing still further testimony
+to a slight irrascibility of temperament. But he was a good-looking man,
+in spite of his hair and whiskers, which, as his wife admired them, are
+not to be despised.</p>
+
+<p>'Where's your mistress, Sam?' roared Mr Prothero across the farm-yard.</p>
+
+<p>'In the barn, master,' answered a man, who was eating bread and cheese
+on the gate, and swinging his legs pleasantly about.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell her I want her,'</p>
+
+<p>In answer to the summons, immediately appeared his worthy helpmate. She
+carried a very beautiful half-blown rose in her hand, which, as soon as
+she approached her husband, she placed carefully in his button-hole,
+standing on tiptoe to perform this graceful Sunday morning service.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, mother,' said Mr Prothero, smiling, and looking down
+complacently on his little wife.</p>
+
+<p>What went with all his lecture upon the profligacy of Irish beggars? I
+suppose it was silently delivered from his breast to the rose, for none
+of it came to his lips, though it was quite ready to be heard when the
+rose made her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>All the Irish are gone except the girl, Davy, <i>bach</i>' said quiet Mrs
+Prothero, 'and they are gone to the Overseer to tell him about her, and
+I will see that she is sent to the workhouse to-night, that is to say if
+I can.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you fed and clothed the ragged rascals?'</p>
+
+<p>'I just gave them some scraps for breakfast, and indeed their blessings
+did me good,'</p>
+
+<p>'I should think they must. People that left a dying girl behind 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'They promised to come back and see after her when the hay-harvest is
+over. They are going into Herefordshire to get work, and she, poor
+thing, is looking for her relations in this county, and meant to get
+work here.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I want my breakfast. I promised brother Jonathan to go to church
+to-day. He is going to preach a charity sermon for the Church Building
+Society, and wants my shilling. He and Mrs Jonathan are to come
+to-morrow, you know, my dear. I hope in my heart everything is as fine
+as fippence, or my lady 'll turn up her nose.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't make things neater, Davy.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said by Mrs Prothero, in a desponding tone, quite different
+from her former quiet cheerfulness, and she accompanied the words by
+rubbing her hands nervously one over the other.</p>
+
+<p>'There now, don't look as if you were going to be smothered. Mrs
+Jonathan isn't so bad as all that. I wish to goodness Jonathan hadn't
+married a fine lady. But then she brought him a good fortune, and it's
+all the better for our children.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want her money.'</p>
+
+<p>'But if it wasn't for her, my dear, Rowland would never have had an
+Oxford edication.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'd as soon he had gone to Lampeter, or been made a good Wesleyan
+minister, and then he might have been content to stay in Wales, instead
+of going off to England.'</p>
+
+<p>'There, there! never mind! He'll be a bishop some day; and though you do
+still incline to the chapel, you'll be proud of that. Now, name o'
+goodness, let's have some breakfast.'</p>
+
+<p>With this peculiarly Welsh interjection, Mr Prothero turned towards the
+farm, and, followed by his wife, went to the desired repast.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" ></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER.</h3>
+
+<p>'Nobody has come for that poor girl, Netta, and I have'n't the heart to
+send her away,' said Mrs Prothero to her only daughter Janetta, towards
+the close of the Sunday, the morning of which we noticed in the last
+chapter.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure, mother, you have been plagued quite enough with her already.
+You have neither been to church nor chapel, and scarcely eaten a morsel
+all the day. I can't imagine what pleasure you take in such people.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wouldn't care if your father was at home; but I don't quite like to
+have her into the house without his leave, and she is not fit to be left
+in the barn.'</p>
+
+<p>'Into the house, mother! That wild Irish beggar! Why, father would get
+into a fury, and I'm sure I should be afraid to sleep in the same place
+with such a creature.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, my dear child! when will it please the Lord to soften your heart,
+and teach you that all men and women are brothers and sisters.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never, I'm sure, in that kind of way.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the mother and daughter continue their conversation about Gladys,
+of which the above is a specimen, we will glance at Janetta Prothero,
+the spoilt daughter of Glanyravon Farm.</p>
+
+<p>She is decidedly a pretty girl? some might call her a beauty. She has
+dark eyes, black hair, a clear pink and white complexion, a round,
+dimpled cheek, a fair neck, a passable nose, and a very red-lipped,
+pouting mouth. She is small of stature&mdash;not much taller than her
+mother&mdash;but so well-formed, that her delicate little figure is quite the
+perfection of symmetry. Her movements are languid rather than brisk like
+her mother's, and she either has, or is desirous of having, more of the
+fine lady in her manners and appearance. We discern, as she talks, more
+of obstinacy than reason, and more of pride than sense, in her
+conversation, and the face rather expresses self-will than intellect,
+although not deficient in the latter.</p>
+
+<p>We are led to suppose, from the appearance of the room in which the
+mother and daughter are located, that Miss Janetta is somewhat
+accomplished; more so than young ladies in her position commonly were
+some thirty or forty years ago. This is a large parlour, with some
+pretensions to be called a drawing-room. True, the furniture is of
+old-fashioned mahogany, the sofa of hair, the curtains of chintz, and
+all that appertains to the master and mistress of the house, of solid
+but ancient make. But the square piano, the endless succession of
+baskets, card-racks, etc., the footstools with the worsted-work dog and
+cat thereon emblazoned, the album and other books, so neatly and
+regularly placed round the table, and above all, three heads in very bad
+water-colours that adorn the walls&mdash;all proclaim the superior education
+of the daughter of the house, and her aspirations after modern
+gentility.</p>
+
+<p>We will just take up the thread of the conversation of the mother and
+daughter at the end of it, and see what conclusions they have arrived
+at. In a somewhat doggedly excited tone, Miss Janetta says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother, I know that father would be very angry, and that she
+might give us all low Irish fever. I shouldn't wonder if she brought a
+famine with her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Remember, Netta, who said &quot;and if ye have done it unto the least of
+these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'If those people are one's brethren, as father says, the sooner we
+disown our relations the better.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Miss Janetta was uttering this unchristian speech, and greatly
+shocking her mother thereby, a young man entered with a book in his
+hand, and throwing himself on the sofa, began to read. It was soon,
+however, evident that he was listening to the conversation, although he
+professedly kept his eyes on his book. Poor Mrs Prothero continued her
+efforts to enlist her daughter on the side of charity, but did not
+greatly prevail. The young man did not interfere, probably being aware
+that it is better to let two women finish their own quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Again, however, they were interrupted by the appearance of a fourth, and
+more animated personage.</p>
+
+<p>'Good evening, Mrs Prothero. How do you do, Netta?' exclaimed the new
+comer, shaking Mrs Prothero's hand, and pulling Netta's curls. Hereupon
+the young man arose from the sofa, and bowing profoundly, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Good evening, Miss Gwynne,' with a tone as grave as his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, Mr Rowland,' said the young lady, who we now
+introduce in form as Miss Gwynne of Glanyravon Park.</p>
+
+<p>With a very becoming grace, she advanced and held out her hand to Mr
+Rowland Prothero, eldest son of the good farmer and his wife, just
+returned from Oxford. Mr Rowland slightly touched the hand, bowed again
+gravely, and placed a chair for Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought I should never come here again,' said that young lady,
+turning from Mr Rowland with a nod and a 'thank you,' and retreating
+towards the window where the mother and daughter were standing, 'what
+with the rain, and poor papa's nervous complaints, and all the affairs,
+I declare I have been as busy as possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Miss Gwynne, I am sure you will agree with me,' cried Netta,
+suddenly brightening up and getting animated 'Do you think it right to
+encourage those Irish beggars?'</p>
+
+<p>'Right! no, of course I don't.'</p>
+
+<p>'And do you think people ought to allow them to come into the house&mdash;to
+take them in, and to&mdash;to shelter them in short?'</p>
+
+<p>'Decidedly not. I hope you don't do such things, Mrs Prothero?'</p>
+
+<p>There was a wicked twinkle in a merry eye as this was said.</p>
+
+<p>'The truth is, Miss Gwynne,' said Mrs Prothero, slowly rubbing her hands
+one over another, 'there is a poor Irish girl in the barn almost dying,
+and it is impossible to send her to the Union to-night, or to leave her
+where she is.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I'll write an order for the Union in papa's name. You can't believe
+a word those Irish say. You had better get her sent off directly.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said with the air of command and decision of one not accustomed
+to have her orders disputed.</p>
+
+<p>'But, Miss Gwynne, if you only knew&mdash;' began the overwhelmed Mrs
+Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'I know quite well. We are obliged to commit dozens of them as vagrants,
+and I should not at all wonder if we should not be compelled to have
+you taken up some day for harbouring suspicious characters.'</p>
+
+<p>The tears stood in Mrs Prothero's kind eyes. She had not much authority
+amongst the young people apparently.</p>
+
+<p>'There, mother! I knew Miss Gwynne would agree with me.'</p>
+
+<p>'And do you think the law of Christian charity would agree with you,
+Netta?' here broke in a grave and stern voice from the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>Both the young ladies coloured at this interruption? Miss Gwynne with
+mortified dignity, Netta with anger. Mrs Prothero cast an appealing
+glance at her son, who came forward.</p>
+
+<p>'She may have my bed, mother,' said the young man, colouring in his
+turn, as he met Miss Gwynne's defiant glance, that seemed to say, 'Who
+are you?'</p>
+
+<p>'How very absurd, Mr Rowland,' said that young lady, laughing
+scornfully. 'I suppose, according to your law of Christian charity, we
+must fill our houses with all the Irish beggars that come through
+Carmarthenshire! A goodly company!'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you seen this poor girl. Miss Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, certainly not, but I know by heart all she has to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you would but just see her,' said Mrs Prothero entreatingly not
+daring to contradict the heiress of Glanyravon Park, who had a will of
+her own, if Mrs Prothero had not.</p>
+
+<p>'With the greatest pleasure; but I know all the &quot;my leddy's,&quot; &quot;yer
+honour's,&quot; and &quot;the sweet face o' ye,&quot; that I shall hear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't go, Miss Gwynne, you may take the fever. I wouldn't go for the
+world,' cried Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'I am not afraid of fevers or anything else, I hope,' said Miss Gwynne
+contemptuously. 'You will be afraid of catching a toothache from
+infection next,' and herewith she left the room, followed by Mrs
+Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>During their short absence, Mr Rowland Prothero read his sister a very
+proper lecture for a clergyman, on Christian charity and filial
+obedience, to which she listened with pouting lips and knitted brow, but
+with no answering speech, good or bad. She was not silent because she
+had nothing to say, but because she was afraid of her brother, who was
+the only person of whom she was afraid. Her feelings, however, found
+vent in the leaves of a rose that she was pulling to pieces and
+scattering ruthlessly.</p>
+
+<p>The lecturer on Christian charity was a tall, gentlemanly-looking young
+man, whose apparently habitual gravity of deportment warmed into
+earnestness and animation as he talked to his sister. He looked and
+spoke as if his soul were in the words he uttered, and as if it had
+been choice and not compulsion that led him to become a minister in
+Christ's family.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance of Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne was a great relief to
+Netta. She looked up briskly at the latter, as if sure of sympathy, and
+if eyes full of tears could give it, she certainly was satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Rowland Prothero perceived the tears, and retired to his sofa, taking
+up his book and pretending to read.</p>
+
+<p>'Can I help you, Mrs Prothero? There does not seem a moment to lose. I
+will send for a doctor, or do anything I can,' said Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, dear Miss Gwynne,' replied Mrs Prothero, 'I will put her in
+Owen's room.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who can we get to bring her in? Shall I go and fetch one of the men?
+Netta, do get some one to help us.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will help you, if you will allow me,' said Mr Rowland, rising from
+his sofa, and looking at Miss Gwynne with a glance of warm approval.</p>
+
+<p>'Pray do; now; at once. I will go with you whilst your mother prepares
+the room. You could carry her quite well, for she is as thin as a ghost;
+I never saw such a wretched girl.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne hurried to the barn, followed by Rowland. They found Gladys
+with a farm-servant by her side, apparently either dead or asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland Prothero knelt down, and took her up gently in his arms, Miss
+Gwynne assisting. The poor girl unclosed her eyes, and looked wistfully
+at the face that was bending over her.</p>
+
+<p>'You are with friends, and in God's hands,'said Rowland gently, as the
+eyes languidly reclosed.</p>
+
+<p>He carried her upstairs to his brother's room, and having placed her on
+the bed, left her to the care of his mother and Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst they were employed in getting her into bed, a house-servant came
+to say that Miss Gwynne was wanted. She found a footman awaiting her,
+who told her that his master had sent him in search of her, and was in a
+state of great anxiety about her. She ran up to Mrs Prothero for a few
+minutes.</p>
+
+<p>'Really papa is too absurd, too provoking,' she said with a vexed voice;
+'he has sent after me again, and I am sure he must know I am here. Let
+me hear if I can be of any service, Mrs Prothero; I will send anything
+in the way of medicine or nourishment. Good-bye, I will come again
+to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr and Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, come to-morrow,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, they are to dine with us on Wednesday, and told me they meant to
+sleep here. Good evening. Dear me, how wretched that poor girl looks.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne was soon hastening homewards, heedless of the splendid sky
+above, or the glowing fields beneath. She was making reflections on the
+excellence of Mrs Prothero, the silliness of Netta, the precision of
+Rowland, and the misery of the girl Gladys. Thence she turned her
+thoughts upon herself, and suddenly discovered that she had been too
+decided in at once ordering any person to the workhouse, without at
+first knowing the case.</p>
+
+<p>'But it is no wonder that I am too decided sometimes, when my father is
+so dreadfully weak and vacillating,' she said to herself; 'indeed I do
+not think, after all, that one can be too decided in this irresolute
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>This very decided young lady is the only child and supposed heiress of
+Gwynne of Glanyravon, as her father is usually called. She is an
+aristocratic-looking personage, with a certain I-will-have-my-own-way
+air, that you cannot help recognising at once. She is rather taller than
+most tall women, and the tokens of decision in her carriage, eyes,
+voice, and general deportment would be disagreeable, but for the extreme
+grace of her figure, the unaffected ease of her manner, and the
+remarkable clearness and sweetness of her voice. She is handsome, too,
+with a noble forehead, sensible grey eyes, glossy chestnut hair, and a
+very fine complexion. The many of her nominal friends and admirers who
+at heart dislike her, prophesy that in a few years she will be coarse,
+and say that she is already too masculine; but the few who love her,
+think that she will improve both in person and mind, as she rubs off the
+pride and self-opinionativeness of twenty years of country life against
+the wholesome iron of society and the world. But we shall see.</p>
+
+<p>At present she is fortunate enough to rule everybody she comes in
+contact with; her father, his servants, his tenants, the poor, the very
+mendicants that come to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly there is something very charming in her appearance, as she
+hurries up the fine old avenue that leads to her ancestral home. The
+ease of her port, the graceful dignity of her extreme haste, the
+heightened colour, and the glowing eye, are all very handsome, in spite
+of the coarseness in perspective. The poor footman can scarcely keep up
+with her; he has not found the last twenty years at Glanyravon
+productive of the same lightness of step to him, as to his young
+mistress, and wishes she were a little less agile.</p>
+
+<p>A handsome country house in a good park has not often in itself much of
+the picturesque. Ruskin would not consider Glanyravon, with its heavy
+porch, massive square walls, and innumerable long windows, a good
+specimen of architectural beauty; still it is a most comfortable
+dwelling, beautifully situated; and the magnificent woods at the back,
+and grand view in front, would make the most unartistic building
+picturesque in appearance if not in reality.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne ran up the broad stairs, through the large hall, and into a
+good library. Here a very tall, thin, sickly-looking man was seated in
+an easy-chair.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Freda, I am so thankful you are come!'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear father, how I wish you would not send for me the very moment I
+go out. I really cannot be pestered with servants. It fidgets me to
+death to have a man walking and puffing after me.'</p>
+
+<p>'But just consider, my love, the lateness of the hour.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is scarcely eight o'clock now, papa, and as light as possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am too nervous, my love, to bear your being out alone.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne rang the bell authoritatively, and the footman entered.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell Mrs Davies to send some jelly, and whatever strengthening things
+there are in the house, to Glanyravon Farm immediately,' she said; then
+turning to her father, added, 'do you know, papa, Mrs Prothero has taken
+in a sick Irish girl, and I have abetted it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You, child! I hope she has no infectious disease; it quite alarms me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I really don't know. But Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero are going to
+Glanyravon to-morrow, and remember you invited them to dinner on
+Wednesday.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very sorry! that man kills me with the antiquities of the Welsh
+language, and heaven knows what old things that happened before the
+flood. But you must entertain them. I suppose we had better ask young
+Rowland.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, papa! He is so dreadfully quiet and stiff, and thinks there is only
+one man who ever went to Oxford, and he is that man; and I can't endure
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps not, my dear&mdash;indeed, perhaps not.'</p>
+
+<p>'If we ask him, we must ask Netta. She has come home quite accomplished
+from boarding school, and would do in a quiet way. Mrs Jonathan would be
+pleased, and you know she <i>is</i> a lady, though awfully particular. I
+can't endure her either.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you could invite Lady Mary, and Miss Nugent to meet them?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think they would like it. They would not object to the two
+clergymen, because, as Lady Mary says, 'You see, my dear, the cloth is a
+passport to all grades of society;' but they would not approve of Netta.
+That is to say, Lady Mary would think herself insulted if we introduced
+her sweet Wilhelmina to a farmer's daughter.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is a very superior woman, my love, and understands etiquette, and
+all that sort of thing, better than any one I ever met.'</p>
+
+<p>'She seems to me to understand her own interests, papa, as well as most
+people. But I will tell her that Sir Hugh and the Protheros are coming,
+and that we have asked Netta, so she can accept or decline as she
+likes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think it wise, my dear, to put yourself so much on a level with
+Miss Prothero, as to invite her?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! she understands how we are very well. It will be a source of pride
+and satisfaction to her, without making her presume more than before;
+and the vicar and his lady will like the attention.'</p>
+
+<p>'I dread the vicar. His genealogies are too much for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I can put up with the vicar's antiquities, but not with the young
+vicar's pedantic Oxonianism. He does think so well of himself, and quite
+rules every one at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! that is very fatiguing, I should think.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish he would fall in love with Miss Nugent, and she with him, and
+carry off her forty-thousand pounds. She is silly enough for anything,
+and it would be such a downfall to her mother's pride.'</p>
+
+<p>'Her mother is much too careful, my dear, and by far too superior a
+woman. And Miss Wilhelmina is very accomplished and all that sort of
+thing, you know, and likely to make a fine match. She is very pretty,
+too.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; she and Netta Prothero would run in harness. Pretty, silly, rather
+affected, and having drawn each four or five drawings, and learnt six
+tunes on the piano. Only the one is more fashionable than the other. Do
+you know, papa, Miss Nugent can play the Irish and Scotch quadrilles,
+and Netta '<i>Ar hydy Nos,</i>' with small variations. We will have a
+concert; you know I have asked the Rice Rices?'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, my dear. Now I think I will read a sermon to the servants,
+so just ring the bell.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" ></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MISER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Whilst Mr Gwynne is reading his sermon, and Mrs Prothero is nursing the
+mendicant Gladys, an event is passing in the neighbouring country-town,
+involving matters of interest to her, and those belonging to her. In a
+small bedroom over a little huckster's shop, an old man lies dangerously
+ill. By his side is seated a middle-aged woman watching. In a dark
+corner, behind the bed, stands a man, who is so deep in shadow that you
+scarcely know whether he is young or old.</p>
+
+<p>The room is small and shabby, and contains apparently few comforts for
+one nearly approaching his last hour.</p>
+
+<p>There is a tap at the door, upon which the man behind the bed goes out,
+and returns, almost immediately, followed by Rowland Prothero. He goes
+towards the bed, and stooping down, whispers to the sick man.</p>
+
+<p>'Father, you wished to see Rowland&mdash;he is here.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland advances, and takes the seat vacated for him by the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The three inmates of the room are Mr and Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and their
+only son, Howel. They are cousins of the Protheros, Mrs Jenkins being Mr
+Prothero's first cousin, and the members of the younger generation being
+consequently second cousins.</p>
+
+<p>Griffith Jenkins motions to his wife and son to leave the room, which
+they do immediately. Rowland kneels beside his bed, the better to hear
+what he has to say. He appears, however to revive, and is distinct
+enough in his enunciation of the following words, though very slow.</p>
+
+<p>'My son Howel is come back, Mr Rowland, and do promise to be study.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very glad to hear it; it must be a great comfort to you,'</p>
+
+<p>'But I am not seure of him. He will be spending my money that I have
+been takking such pains to make.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope he may do good with it, Uncle Griff.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good! no such thing. Squander, squander! Spend the beauty gold! Will
+you promise me to see to it? tak' care of it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I, Uncle Griff! I have no power with Howel. Would it not be better to
+pray to God to guide Howel, and trust in a higher power than mine?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jenkins put a long, thin, bony hand out of bed, and grasped
+Rowland's hand tightly. He fixed two keen black eyes upon him, and, as
+he half raised himself in bed, displayed a withered face, the most
+remarkable feature of which was a very prominent, hooked nose, like the
+beak of a large bird.</p>
+
+<p>'You wasn't thinking I was going to die, was you, Rowland? I 'ont just
+awhile, see you. But tell you your father there's more gold than he is
+thinking of; and Howel'll be a husband for any one, much less for Miss
+Netta. Promise me to be lending him a hand, if he do keep constant to
+your sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sorry, Uncle Griff, that I cannot promise anything for Howel. If
+he grows steady as you say, there can be no objection; but he must prove
+it first. Would you like me to read to you, and pray to Almighty God,
+for Christ's sake, to change his and all our hearts?'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't be wanting a parson, but a relation, sir; and I don't be going
+to die yet. Look you here. There's money in the bank&mdash;there's more in
+mortgages on Davies, Llansadwn, and Rees, Llanarthney&mdash;there's more on
+loan to Griffiths, Pontardew&eacute;,&mdash;Jones, Glantewey,&mdash;Pugh the draper,
+Llansant&mdash;and others. And there's a box beside. Mind you, I 'ont die
+yet, but I tell you, because I can trust you; and Howel don't know
+nothing.'</p>
+
+<p>'May I write it down for you, Uncle Griff; or would you have a lawyer?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no. I've had enough of law in paying for Howel, and nothing come of
+it. But you may be writing down a little. Here, in that chest, there's
+pen, ink and paper; tak' you my keys, and open you it.'</p>
+
+<p>Griffith Jenkins took from under his pillow a bunch of keys, and
+fumbling amongst them, gave one to Rowland, with which he opened the
+chest, and procured the necessary writing apparatus.</p>
+
+<p>'Give you me my keys&mdash;quick, quick!' cried the old man, again hiding
+them somewhere in his bed.'</p>
+
+<p>At his dictation, Rowland wrote a list of the different moneys he
+possessed in various places, and was utterly astonished to find that he
+had soon written down between sixty and seventy thousand pounds.
+Everybody knew that Griffith Jenkins was rich, but nobody had guessed
+how rich he was.</p>
+
+<p>'Now say, &quot;I give and bequeath to my wife, 'Lizbeth Jenkins, ten
+thousand pound out of the aforesaid mortgage on Jacob Davies Llansadwn's
+property.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'Is that all, Uncle Griff?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I sha'n't say no more.'</p>
+
+<p>'And the box of gold?'</p>
+
+<p>Again the miser grasped Rowland's hand, and fixed his keen eyes on his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ont be dying yet, and I 'ont be putting that down to-night. Tell you
+your father what there is, without the box, and without more mortgages
+and loans; but don't you be talking to anybody about it. Mind you, not
+to Howel nor to 'Lizbeth: promise me.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland promised.</p>
+
+<p>The miser fell back exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>'And now Uncle Griff, may I pray for you? Only think how soon you may be
+called to your account, to say exactly how you have employed your time,
+and the talents given&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I have done plenty&mdash;plenty&mdash;all out at interest, at five, six, even ten
+per cent.; none wrapped up in a napkin. I don't be calling a box a
+napkin, Rowland Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'May I call in Mrs Jenkins and Howel, and pray for you? Think; oh think,
+of the great Judge, and great Mediator. O God, have mercy upon us,
+miserable sinners!'</p>
+
+<p>As Rowland said this, he clasped his hands, and looked upwards, in
+unutterable supplication. The old man was alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't be going to die, but you may call 'em in.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland rose and obeyed. Mrs Jenkins appeared with a candle in her hand.
+The old man rose with an effort as she drew near the bed.</p>
+
+<p>'Put&mdash;out&mdash;the&mdash;candle,' he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>As the night was fast drawing in, Mrs Jenkins hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>'Put&mdash;out&mdash;the&mdash;candle,' repeated the dying man, with a still stronger
+effort to rise and extinguish it himself. 'The ruling passion strong in
+death' must be attended to, and the light was extinguished.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland Prothero clasped his hands with a groan, and repeated aloud a
+prayer from the service for the dying. The terrified wife knelt down by
+the bed in the deep gloom, and in the still deeper gloom behind, the son
+buried his face in his arms, and leaned upon the little table.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Rowland Prothero was praying from the very depth of his heart for
+the soul that was thus awfully passing to its account, they were all
+aroused by the last fearful struggle between death and life of him who
+had made gold his god. For some time they feared to rekindle the light,
+but at last they ventured. It was but to witness the last dread pangs of
+one who had made wife and son secondary to the great absorbing passion
+of avarice; and now he was constrained to depart from the scene of his
+toil, and to leave all that he had grovelled for behind him, for ever!</p>
+
+<p>We will not dwell upon the awful hours that succeeded his final words.
+He neither spoke nor was conscious again. Light and dark were alike to
+him. Save that he grasped something in his right hand with an iron hold,
+reason and power had left him; death was still fighting with life, and
+gradually gaining the last great victory.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours afterwards, and when that victory had been gained, the scene
+was changed in that small house. The chamber of death was deserted, and
+the wretched clay of the miser, decently covered with a white sheet, lay
+heavy and still, where the spirit that formerly animated it had been
+accustomed to brood over the miserable gains of its clays and years on
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>In the small sitting-room below, behind the little shop where these
+gains had been begun and continued for half-a-century or more, sat the
+widow, surrounded by a score of gossips, who had left their beds and
+homes at daybreak to condole with her.</p>
+
+<p>It would have been much more unnatural than natural if Mrs Jenkins had
+grieved at heart for the husband she had lost. Married, or rather sold
+to him, when he was fifty and she thirty, she had lived five or six and
+twenty years of pure misery with him. She had starved with him, when she
+could not pilfer from him, and had endured patiently all these years
+what seemed past endurance in expectation of the closing scene. She had
+married and lived upon the prospect of his death, and it was come at
+last; and now that it was come, the awfulness of that last struggle
+overpowered her, and she wept and lamented as copiously as if her
+husband had been the kindest and most liberal in the world. Still, she
+was free, with competence, she hoped, in perspective? and this thought,
+together with the ever all-pervading one of her idol, her treasure, her
+only son, and his expectations, more than counterbalanced that of the
+death she had witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>'Come you, don't you be takking on so,' said one old woman soothingly,
+as the widow rocked herself to and fro, and held her handkerchief to her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'Tak' you this drop o' tea,' said another, 'it'll be doing you good,'</p>
+
+<p>'The Lord will be having mercy on his soul,' said a third, whose
+conscience was large when she was offering comfort.</p>
+
+<p>'There now, keep up your spirits, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' said a fourth,
+entering with a comfortable glass of gin and water that did seem of an
+exhilarating nature.</p>
+
+<p>'There's a comfort Howel will be to you now!' said a fifth triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>'Deed to goodness, Griffey Jinkins was a saving man, and you have lost
+him, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' began the friend with the gin and water; 'but
+I am seeing no use in takking on so. When John Jones died, he was
+leaving me with ten children, and they have all come on somehow. And you
+have only wan son, and he is so ginteel! Drink you this, my dear, and
+don't be down-hearted.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins turned from the tea to the gin and water with no apparent
+reluctance, and swallowed a portion of it. Revived by the beverage, she
+responded to the condolences of her friends by more rockings, sobs, and
+applications of the handkerchief and finally unburdened herself of her
+grief in the following manner.</p>
+
+<p>'My son Howel, oh yes, he'll be a blessing to me, I know. Says I to my
+poor Griffey&mdash;oh, dear, only to be thinking of him now!&mdash;says I, &quot;Let us
+be giving Howel a good eddication, and he so clever as never was, and
+able to be learning everything he do put his mind to, and never daunted
+at nothing&mdash;grammar, nor music, nor Latin, nor no heathen languages, and
+able to read so soon as he could speak, and knowing all the beasts in
+the ark one from another, when he was no bigger than that,&quot; says I, to
+my poor Griffey; &quot;oh, annwyl! we have only wan child, let him be a
+clargy, or a 'torney, or a doctor, or something smart,&quot; and says he, &quot;I
+can't afford it.&quot; He was rather near or so, you know, was my poor
+Griffey; but I never was letting him rest day or night, and the only
+thing he wasn't liking was being much talked over. So says I, &quot;Come you,
+Jinkins, bach,&quot;&mdash;he liked to be called by his sirname&mdash;&quot;if you do larn
+Howel well, he'll be making his fortune some day,&quot; for he do say so, he
+do be always saying, &quot;I'll be a great man, and get as much money as
+father.&quot; I eused to put in the last words of myself, for Howel never was
+taking to making money, but 'ould as soon give it away as not. Only poor
+Griffey&mdash;oh dear! oh dear!&mdash;was never knowing that, because I did be
+hiding it from him as much as I could.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the widow talks on in this strain to her sympathising friends,
+her son and Rowland Prothero are in another small room of the house,
+engaged in a very different style of conversation. The room in which
+they are is worth a few words of description, not for any beauty or
+desert of its own, but for its heterogeneous, contents. You would think
+a small music warehouse, a miniature tobacco shop, or branch depot of
+foreign grammars and dictionaries were before you. Every kind of musical
+instrument seems to have met with a companion in this tiny apartment.
+Here are a violin, violoncello, horn, and cornopean; there an old Welsh
+harp and unstrung guitar. On this shelf are pipes of all sorts and
+sizes, forms, and nations&mdash;the straight English, the short German, and
+the long Turkish; on that are cigar-boxes, snuff-boxes, and
+tobacco-boxes of various kinds and appearances. Scattered about the room
+are play-books without number, from Shakspeare to the dramatists of the
+present day; and, interspersed with these, collections of songs of all
+countries and of all grades of merit. Some few novels, mostly French,
+live with the plays and songs; and Latin, French, German, Italian,
+Welsh, Spanish, and English grammars and dictionaries take up their
+abode in every available corner. A quantity of fishing tackle and a gun
+are thrown upon the window seat, and an embroidered waistcoat, blue
+satin cravat, and a pair of yellow kid gloves lie on an unoccupied
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>From the general appearance of this room, the imagination would conceive
+great things of its inmate. All we shall here say is that he is one who
+has the reputation of being a natural genius, and firmly believes that
+he is one.</p>
+
+<p>As all natural geniuses are supposed to have something very remarkable
+in their appearance, we will just take a sketch of the miser's son, as
+he alternately leans on the table or stalks about the room during his
+earnest conversation with his cousin. He has decidedly sentimental hair;
+long, black, shining, and with a tendency to curl; he has what might be
+termed poetical eyes, bright, piercing, and very restless; the sharp,
+aquiline nose of his father, slightly modified; and a mouth and brow
+which curl and knit in a manner that may be poetic, but might be
+disagreeable, under less soothing influences. That he is very handsome
+no one could dispute, and it is equally certain that he has an air much
+above the position in which he was born; but the expression of his face
+inspires distrust rather than confidence, and conveys the impression
+that there is more of passion than feeling beneath the fiery eyes and
+compressed mouth.</p>
+
+<p>A great contrast to this family genius is presented in the person of his
+cousin Rowland, now addressing him earnestly and seriously upon the
+grave subjects naturally uppermost at such a time. He, too, is
+sufficiently good-looking, with an open, though grave, cast of
+countenance, fine, soft, hazel eyes, and a tall, manly figure. By
+'sufficiently good-looking,' I mean that he is neither very handsome nor
+ugly, and when his lady friends debate upon his outer man they generally
+wind up by saying, 'Well, if he isn't handsome, he is very genteel.'</p>
+
+<p>We are not going to repeat here the well-known fable of the 'Hare and
+the Tortoise,' but something of the character of those animals may be
+found in the cousins. At their first dame's school, as well as at the
+more advanced grammar school of their little town. Howel was always able
+to beat Rowland in swiftness, whilst Rowland effectually distanced
+Howel in the long run. It was Rowland who carried off the prizes, when
+study and prolonged endeavour were necessary to obtain them, whilst
+Howel eclipsed all his contemporaries, if a theme were to be written, or
+a poem learnt.</p>
+
+<p>Such differences are so frequent, and have been so often discussed that
+it is scarcely necessary to pursue the contrast further; but the result
+at the present stands thus. Howel, the elder of the two, has dipped a
+little into everything; has gained a reputation for genius; has been
+articled to an attorney&mdash;but is in no apparent danger of becoming
+one&mdash;has written various articles for the county papers, and has had the
+pleasure of seeing them printed; has acquired a smattering of several
+languages, and various styles of music; and has proved himself an
+admired beau amongst the ladies, and a favourite boon companion amongst
+the gentlemen. He has been idolised and spoilt by his mother, and
+stinted and pinched by his father, and having no very great respect or
+admiration for the talents or conduct of either parent, has not tried
+much to please them, save when it suited him.</p>
+
+<p>The result of all this, if not already apparent, will doubtless be seen
+hereafter, for, at four or five and twenty, conduct and principles begin
+to establish themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland Prothero is very much the reverse of all this. From a child he
+had a desire to enter the Church, which desire was fostered by his uncle
+and aunt into a resolution, when he grew old enough to resolve. As they
+very nearly adopted and educated him, his parents made no objection, and
+as they were ambitious to raise their family in worldly position, they
+spared no expense.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was reckoned dull, but plodding, at Rugby, whither his uncle
+sent him. However, his dulness and plodding were more successful than
+the brightness of many, since they managed to gain a scholarship at
+school, which helped him at Oxford. He was called proud and obstinate,
+and he was both. Pride and obstinacy were the characteristics of his
+family, but in him they fortunately tended to good: inasmuch as his
+pride generally led him to do well, and his obstinacy kept up his pride.</p>
+
+<p>At present, it would be difficult to say whether he is a young man
+likely to shine in the path he has chosen, or to walk quietly along it
+unnoticed. His friends do not anticipate anything remarkable, but they
+expect him to be slow and sure. He did very well at college, but gained
+no greater honours than the respect and goodwill of those he was known
+to. Query&mdash;Is not that worth as much, morally, as a first class?</p>
+
+<p>At home, he is understood by few. He has not many associates, because,
+either from his own fault, or some mental peculiarity, he cannot fall in
+with those who are immediately about him; and consequently is rather
+feared by his acquaintances and reckoned proud, stiff, and
+conceited&mdash;above his birth, in short.</p>
+
+<p>With him, as with Howel and every one else, the course of years will
+show the man. 'Handsome is that handsome does.'</p>
+
+<p>'The fact is, Rowland,' said Howel, as he suddenly stood still in one of
+his rapid walks across the room, 'you and I never could agree in
+anything, and never shall.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope we may yet agree in many things,' said Rowland gently. 'At
+present, all I wish you to do is to pay your debts, go to London, take
+out your stamps, and become an attorney.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am the best judge of that, and shall be my own master now. At all
+events, I can make some people ashamed of themselves.'</p>
+
+<p>'I only wish to advise you for your good, now that you are your own
+master. Your poor father begged me&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Rowland, I can't stand any more about my father. Everybody knows
+what he was, and, I suppose, nobody expects me to live in the same line.
+I am emancipated, thank heaven! and the world shall soon know it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Still, he was your father.'</p>
+
+<p>'No one knows that better than I do, I should imagine; but if you expect
+me to mourn as others do for a parent, you will be disappointed. He
+never showed me one token of love, or acted by me as a father from the
+day of my birth till his death.'</p>
+
+<p>'At least he has left you and your mother handsomely provided for, and
+with his last words, hoped that you were now very steady.'</p>
+
+<p>'He did! I wonder who dares to say that I am not steady? But how do you
+know how we are provided for?'</p>
+
+<p>'He begged me to write down what he was worth. I will give it you at
+some future period, but not now.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why not now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because I think it is scarcely yet a time to consider money matters.
+After the last duties are performed you shall have the paper. Part of
+his property is written down, but a box of gold and some other sums he
+did not name. After that last sad scene one can scarcely think of
+anything earthly. Oh, Howel! I wish you would consider the shortness and
+uncertainty of life, and what is its end.'</p>
+
+<p>'So awful do I consider its end that I mean to enjoy it while it lasts.
+But don't go off with the impression that I was not shocked and
+frightened with what we have just seen. It is one thing to read and
+write about a death-bed and another to witness it. But I cannot weep or
+pray as some people can.'</p>
+
+<p>'You might do both if you would only seek aright.'</p>
+
+<p>'There, enough! I am past being preached to as a naughty boy, and can
+now look forward to some enjoyment without robbing my own father, or
+getting my mother to rob him, to procure it. But I shall never forget
+that last struggle? no, never.'</p>
+
+<p>Here, with a face of horror, Howel began his restless walk again.
+Rowland sat in melancholy silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Rowland,' suddenly broke in Howel, 'how is Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite well, I thank you,' answered Rowland gravely.</p>
+
+<p>'I have not seen her for a long time? will you remember me to her?'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot promise to do so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think me a fiend, sir, that my name cannot be mentioned to my
+cousin? I will manage to convey my own remembrances.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, you know how it is? I do not mean to be unkind. If only you
+would give up your old life, enter your profession, and begin another&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'That is as I choose. I shall be glad of the paper you wrote for my
+father, and then you and I, Rowland, are best apart.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye then, Howel? perhaps some day you may know that I wish you
+well. I will bring the paper at the funeral.'</p>
+
+<p>'For heaven's sake stay, or send some one else! I cannot bear to be
+alone here? his ghost will haunt me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then let me read to you.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel assented gloomily and threw himself on the bed in the corner of
+the room. Rowland took a small Testament from his pocket and resolutely
+read several chapters.</p>
+
+<p>During the reading Howel fell asleep.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" ></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FARMER'S SON.</h3>
+
+<p>At about ten o'clock on Monday morning Miss Gwynne rode up to the door
+of Glanyravon Farm, and, dismounting, entered the house. She was
+attended by a groom, and told him that she should not be long.</p>
+
+<p>'How is that poor girl, Netta?' were her first words on entering the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>'Very ill indeed, I believe,' said Netta, rather sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>'Where is your mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'She has been with the Irish beggar all the morning, and all night too.
+I don't know what father and uncle and aunt will think.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you ask your mother whether I can see her for a few minutes?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, you must come and dine with us on Wednesday, with your uncle and
+aunt.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you,' said Netta, brightening up as she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sure I scarcely know whether she will behave rightly,' muttered
+Miss Gwynne, tapping her hand with her riding-whip.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero soon appeared.</p>
+
+<p>'You good, clear Mrs Prothero!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, running up to her
+and taking both her hands. 'You look quite worn out. How is that poor
+girl?'</p>
+
+<p>'Alive, Miss Gwynne, and that is almost all,' was the reply very gravely
+uttered.</p>
+
+<p>'Can we do anything? Did Dr Richards come?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Miss Gwynne, and was very kind. He has been again this morning.'</p>
+
+<p>'I came to invite Mr Rowland and Netta to dinner on Wednesday, with Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Miss Gwynne, I will tell Rowland; but I really think Netta
+had better not go.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have just told her of the invitation.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear me! I am really very sorry. I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne, but it
+will put ideas into her head above her station.'</p>
+
+<p>'We shall be very quiet.'</p>
+
+<p>The conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rowland. He
+drew back on seeing Miss Gwynne, and bowed, as usual, profoundly. She
+also, as usual, advanced and held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'My father begged me to ask if you would come and dine with us on
+Wednesday,' said Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, I am much obliged,' stammered Rowland, whilst a bright Hush
+overspread his face, 'I shall be very happy, if I am not obliged to be
+elsewhere. Mother, poor Griffith Jenkins is dead. I have been there all
+the night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dead! I had no idea he was so ill! Oh, Rowland, how did he die?'</p>
+
+<p>'Just as he lived, mother. With the key of his coffers so tightly
+clasped in one hand that it was impossible to take it from it after he
+was dead. And the said coffers hidden, nobody knows where. But poor Mrs
+Jenkins has no friend near who can be of any real comfort to her. I wish
+you could go to her for a few hours.'</p>
+
+<p>'This poor girl, Rowland&mdash;what can I do with her? And your uncle and
+aunt coming.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think I can manage my uncle and aunt till your return. As to the poor
+girl I really know not what to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! if you will trust her to me, Mrs Prothero, I will nurse her till
+you come back!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne eagerly. 'I assure you I can
+manage capitally, and will send back the horses, and a message to papa.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid it would not be right&mdash;I think the girl has low fever&mdash;Mr
+Gwynne would object.'</p>
+
+<p>'I assure you it would be quite right, and I don't fear infection and
+papa would let me do just as I like. In short, I mean to stay, and you
+must go directly. Is young Jenkins at home, Mr Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, he returned a few hours before his father's death.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose that horrid old man died as rich as Croesus, and, according
+to custom in such cases, his son will spend the money.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish he had not got it,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'That is scarcely a fair wish, mother. Let us hope that he will do well
+with it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never, never. He was not born or bred in a way to make him turn out
+well.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing is impossible, mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'You must take care of Netta, Mrs Prothero. But now do go to that
+wretched Mrs Jenkins, and leave the poor girl to me, and Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan to Mr Rowland. I hope you have been studying the antiquities of
+Wales at Oxford, Mr Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>This was said as Mrs Prothero left the room; and Rowland was startled
+from a rather earnest gaze on Miss Gwynne's very handsome and animated
+face, by this sudden appeal to him, and by meeting that young lady's
+eyes as they turned towards him. A slight blush from the lady and a very
+deep one from the gentleman were the result. The lady was indignant with
+herself for allowing such a symptom of female weakness to appear, and
+said somewhat peremptorily,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Will you be so good as to tell Jones to take the horses home, and to
+let my father know that he must not wait luncheon, or even dinner for
+me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Excuse me, Miss Gwynne,' said the young man, recovering his composure,
+'but I do not think my mother would be justified in allowing you to
+attend upon that poor girl.'</p>
+
+<p>'Allowing me! Really I do not mean to ask her. I choose to do it, thank
+you, and I will speak to the servant myself.'</p>
+
+<p>It was now Miss Gwynne's turn to grow very red, as, with haughty port,
+she swept past Rowland, leaving him muttering to himself.</p>
+
+<p>'What a pity that one so noble should be so determined and absolute. Let
+her go, however. Nobody shall say that I lent a hand to her remaining
+here. In the first place she runs the risk of infection, in the second
+every one else thinks she degrades herself by coming here as she does.
+Still, her desire to take care of the girl is a fine, natural trait of
+character. I must just go and look over the <i>Guardian</i>. A curacy in
+England I am resolved to get, away from all temptation. Yet I hate
+answering advertisements, or advertising. If my aunt's friends would
+only interest themselves in procuring me a London curacy, I think I
+should like to work there. That would be labouring in the vineyard, with
+a positive certainty of reaping some of the fruits.'</p>
+
+<p>The soliloquy was interrupted by the reappearance of Mrs Prothero,
+dressed for her walk.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, you ought not to let Miss Gwynne stay.'</p>
+
+<p>'I! my dear Rowland! Do you think she would mind what I say to her?'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne entered.</p>
+
+<p>'I have sent off the servant, and now let me go to the girl.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said with the decision of an empress, and with equal grandeur
+and dignity was the bow made with which she honoured Rowland as she made
+her exit, followed meekly by Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>A short time afterwards she was alone by the bedside of the sick girl.
+Every comfort had been provided for her by Mrs Prothero, and Miss Gwynne
+had little to do but to administer medicines and nourishment.</p>
+
+<p>'Is there anything I can do for you, my poor girl?' she said, leaning
+over her bed. 'Anything you have to say&mdash;any letter I can write&mdash;any&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'If&mdash;you&mdash;would&mdash;pray&mdash;my lady,' was the slow, almost inarticulate
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>Pray! This was what Miss Gwynne could not do. 'Why,' she asked herself,
+'can I not say aloud what I feel at my heart for this unhappy creature?
+I never felt so before, and yet I know not how to pray.'</p>
+
+<p>She went to the head of the stairs, and called Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you ask your brother whether he will come and read a prayer to the
+poor girl?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds after there was a knock at the door. She opened it and
+admitted Rowland. He went to the bed, and began to whisper gently of the
+hope of salvation to those who believe. Gladys opened her eyes, and
+caught the hand extended to her.</p>
+
+<p>'More&mdash;more,' she murmured. 'Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland read the Office for the Sick, from the prayer book, and she
+responded inwardly, her lips moving. Miss Gwynne came to the bed, and
+kneeling down, joined in the prayers.</p>
+
+<p>Again Rowland spoke soothingly to the girl of the need of looking to
+Christ, the Saviour, alone in the hour of her extremity; and she
+murmured, 'He is my rock and my fortress.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you trust wholly in Him?'</p>
+
+<p>'In whom else should I trust? All human friends are gone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not all, you have friends around you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have I? Thank you, sir? God bless you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will come again and read to you when you are able to bear it.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland said this and withdrew, without speaking again to Miss Gwynne,
+or even bowing as he left the room.</p>
+
+<p>'He certainly reads most impressively,' thought Miss Gwynne; 'I could
+scarcely believe he was not English born and bred; but still he is quite
+a Goth in manners, and I am sure he thinks no one in the country so
+clever as himself.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland met Netta at the foot of the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, I really am ashamed to think that you can allow Miss Gwynne to
+wait upon that girl in your own house.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sure, Rowland, Miss Gwynne needn't do it if she didn't choose. I
+don't want to catch the fever, and I never will run the risk by nursing
+such a girl as that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Surely, Netta, you cannot be our mother's daughter, or you could not
+use such unchristian expressions.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm no more unchristian than other people, but you're always finding
+fault with me.'</p>
+
+<p>The conversation was interrupted by a loud knocking at the house door,
+and Farmer Prothero's voice was heard without, calling,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, mother, where are you? Here we are, all come!'</p>
+
+<p>Netta flew to open the door, and was soon industriously kissing a lady
+and gentleman, who had just alighted from a little four-wheeled
+carriage, and were waiting, with her father, for admission. Rowland,
+also, in his turn, duly embraced the lady, who seemed much pleased to
+see him. They brought in various packages, and proceeded to the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>'Where's mother, Netta?' exclaimed Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland answered for her.</p>
+
+<p>'She is gone to Mrs Griffey Jenkins, father; perhaps you have not heard
+that Uncle Griff is dead.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not I, indeed. Well! he's as good out of the world as in, though I'm
+sorry for the old fellow. But what'll we do without mother? She's always
+nursing somebody or other, either alive or dead.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland turned to his aunt, and said that his mother begged him to
+apologise for her necessary absence for a few hours.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall do very well, I daresay,' said the aunt, whose countenance wore
+a somewhat austere expression.</p>
+
+<p>She was a lady of middle age, who prided herself upon having a first
+cousin a baronet. Her father, a clergyman, rector of a good English
+living, was the younger son of Sir Philip Payne Perry, and she an only
+child, was his heiress. Mr Jonathan Prothero had been, in years gone by,
+his curate, and had succeeded in gaining the affections, as well as
+fortune, of the daughter, and in bringing both into his native country.
+He had the living of Llanfach, in which parish Glanyravon was situated,
+and lived in very good style in a pretty house that he had built
+something in the style of an English vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan Prothero, or Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, as she was usually
+called, was tall and thin, very fashionably dressed, with a very long
+face, a very long nose, very keen greenish grey eyes, a very elaborately
+curled front, a very long neck, very thin lips, and very dainty manners.
+She was proud of her feet and hands, which were always well shod,
+stockinged, gloved, and ringed, and as these were the only pretty points
+about her, we cannot wonder at her taking care of them. People used to
+say she would have been an old maid, had not a certain auspicious day
+taken the Rev. Jonathan Prothero to her father's parish, who, having an
+eye after the fashion of servants of a lower grade, to 'bettering
+himself,' wisely made her a matron. Having no children of their own,
+they lavished their affections on their nephews and niece, and their
+money on their education.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Rowland,' said Mrs Jonathan, 'I think I have agreeable news for
+you. I wrote to my cousin, Sir Philip Payne Perry, whose wife's brother
+is, as you know, high in the church, and received this answer.'</p>
+
+<p>She put a letter into Rowland's hands, and watched his countenance as he
+read it.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear aunt, how very good of you!' exclaimed Rowland; 'the very
+thing I wished for. Oh, if I can only get it, I shall be quite happy. A
+curacy in London, father! Just read this. Sir Philip thinks I might not
+like it in the heart of the city, but that is really what I wish. Plenty
+to do all the week long. Oh, aunt, how can I thank you enough?'</p>
+
+<p>'By making every effort to advance yourself in life, and to rise in the
+world, my dear nephew,' said Mrs Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you think, uncle?' asked Rowland, turning to Mr Jonathan
+Prothero, who was seated in the window, with a large book before him,
+that he had brought from the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>'He! what! what did you ask?'</p>
+
+<p>'Only what you think of this London curacy that my aunt has been so kind
+as to write about.'</p>
+
+<p>'Me! I! Oh, capital! just the thing in my humble opinion. If you get it,
+you will be able to go to the Museum, and look up the old genealogy we
+were talking about. Do you know I have made a remarkable discovery about
+Careg Cennin Castle. It was built&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, my dear, just now; we were talking of Rowland's curacy,'
+interrupted Mrs Jonathan, who generally managed all business matters.</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure, my dear, to be sure, you know best,' said Mr Jonathan
+absently, resuming his book.</p>
+
+<p>'For my part, sister,' said the farmer, 'I 'ould rather he had a curacy
+in his own country, and so 'ould his mother; but he's so confoundedly
+ambitious.'</p>
+
+<p>'Aunt, won't you come upstairs and take off your things?' asked Netta,
+interposing, for once in her life, at the right time.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, my dear, I should be very glad,' and they accordingly
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>'Father,' began Rowland, as soon as they were gone, 'I think it right to
+tell you, that we were obliged, out of sheer charity, to take that poor
+Irish girl into the house. It was impossible to move her without risk of
+instant death.'</p>
+
+<p>'And upon my very deed, Rowland, if this isn't too bad,' cried the
+farmer, stamping his foot on the floor, and instantaneously swelling
+with passion. 'As if it wasn't enough to have paupers, and poor-rates,
+and sick and dying, bothering one all day long, without your bringing an
+Irish beggar into the house. I never saw such an 'ooman as your mother
+in my life; she's never quiet a minute. I 'ont stand it any longer; now
+'tis a subscription for this, now a donation for that, then sixpence for
+Jack such a one, or a shilling for Sal the other, till I have neither
+peace nor money. Come you, sir, go and turn that vagabond out directly,
+or I'll do it before your mother comes home, hark'ee, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't father, really.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I will.'</p>
+
+<p>Off stalked the farmer in his passion, crying out in the passage,
+'Shanno, come here!'</p>
+
+<p>A servant girl quickly answered the summons.</p>
+
+<p>'Where's that Irish vagabond?'</p>
+
+<p>'In Mr Owen's room, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>Upstairs went the farmer, leaving Shanno grinning and saying, 'He, he,
+he'll do be turning her out very soon, she will, he, he.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland ran upstairs after his father, calling out gently, 'Stop,
+father, Miss Gwynne&mdash;' but the father was in the bedroom before he heard
+the words, and had made the house re-echo the noise of his opening the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>He was instantaneously checked in his career by seeing Miss Gwynne
+advance towards him, with her finger in the air.</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Mr Prothero,' she whispered, 'she is asleep. Look here; gently,
+very gently.'</p>
+
+<p>She led the enraged farmer by one of his large brass buttons to the
+bedside, where the white-faced Gladys lay. She looked so much like a
+corpse, that he started back affrighted. Then Miss Gwynne led him out
+into the passage, and seeing from his angry face the state of the case,
+instantly said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It was I who had her brought here, Mr Prothero; and by-and-by I will
+get her sent back to her parish, but until she is better we must take
+care of her.'</p>
+
+<p>At these words from the all-powerful Miss Gwynne, Mr Prothero was fain
+to put such check upon his rising choler as the shortness of the notice
+would allow. He could not, however, fully restrain the whole of the
+invective that had been upon his lips a short time before.</p>
+
+<p>'No offence, Miss Gwynne? but 'pon my soul, I'm sick to death of my
+missus's pensioners and paupers, and I'm determined to have no more of
+'em. You may do as you please, miss, at your own house, and I'll do as I
+please in mine.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Rowland popped his head out of a neighbouring bedroom</p>
+
+<p>'Father, Miss Gwynne is taking upon herself a risk and encumbrance that
+should be wholly my mother's. She has nothing to do with the girl,
+beyond showing her great kindness.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really, Mr Rowland Prothero,' began Miss Gwynne, drawing herself up to
+her fullest height, 'I wish you would allow me to manage my own
+affairs.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, yes, Rowland. What, name o' goodness, have you to do with Miss
+Gwynne? I'm ashamed of the boy. I really beg your pardon, miss, but I
+believe he's so set up by having a chance of going to London, that he
+don't know whether he stands on his head or his heels. Go you away,
+Rowland, directly. I won't have you interfaring with me.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne could not help laughing as she saw Rowland's sense of duty
+struggle with his pride at this authoritative mandate; but she was very
+much surprised to see him bow politely to her and walk away. She
+wondered whether anything on earth could have induced her to obey a
+similar order.</p>
+
+<p>She followed Mr Prothero downstairs and made herself so agreeable to him
+and Mrs Jonathan, that they quite forgot Mrs Prothero's absence, until
+the sudden return of that good woman set all matters right, and enabled
+Miss Gwynne to leave the farm.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" ></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MISER'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p>'I must have money,' said Howel Jenkins as he sat alone with his mother
+in their little parlour, the evening after Mrs Prothero had left them.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear, there will be plenty when we can find it, be you sure of that.
+I do know well enough that your poor father was having a chest full,
+only he was keeping his door locked and barred so that I couldn't see
+him at it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But surely, mother, you must have some idea where my father kept his
+gold. If I don't pay a man in London by tomorrow's post, I shall be in
+jail before a week is over my head.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mercy! Howel, bach! Now don't you be spending the mint o' money that'll
+be coming to you, there's a good boy, before you do know what it is.
+Remember Netta! You'll be as grand as any of 'em now, if you do only
+begin right, and are being study and persevaring, and sticking to your
+business. I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be a councillor some day. Only
+to think of me, mother of Councillor Jenkins! You may be looking higher
+than Netta, and be marrying a real lady, and be riding in your coach and
+four, and be dining with my Lord Single ton, and be in the London
+papers; and I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be visiting the Queen and
+Prince Albert again, and behaving your picture taken to put into your
+own books and the &quot;'Lustrated.&quot; I always was saying I 'ould be making a
+gentleman of you, and I have.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, mother, before I can do anything like this I must pay my debts and
+make a new beginning. I will marry Netta, now, in spite of the whole
+tribe of Davids and Jonathans, and they shall see us as much above them
+as&mdash;as&mdash;money can make us. Now, mother, we must have a search for the
+money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not whilst your father is in the house, Howel; I should be afraid. Be
+you sure his spirit'll be looking after the money till the funeral's
+over.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense; where are the keys? We'll have a turn at the old bureau
+anyhow. Money I must have, at once, and Rowland is as obstinate as a pig
+about what the governor told him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeet, and indeet, Howel, you had better don't. Suppose it 'ould bring
+him to life again?'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll risk that. Give me the keys.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins handed a bunch of keys to her son with trembling fingers.</p>
+
+<p>'Tak you a drop of spirits first. It do show how rich they are thinking
+us now. There's Jones, the Red Cow, and Lewis, draper, are letting us
+have as much credit as we like; and they 'ouldn't let us have as much as
+a dobbin or a yard of tape before poor Griffey died.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel drank a wine-glass of raw brandy and went upstairs with the keys
+in his hand. He crept stealthily into that room where the miser breathed
+his last, as if fearful of arousing the body within the drawn curtains.
+He proceeded to the bureau and tried the various keys of the large bunch
+that he now grasped for the first time in his life. At last one key
+entered the lock and turned in it. Hush! there is a sound in the room.
+He turns very pale as he glances round. He sees no movement anywhere.
+The curtains are so still that he almost wishes the wind would stir
+them. He opens the bureau and again looks wistfully round. He is almost
+sure that the curtains move. 'Coward that I am,' he cries, 'what do I
+fear?'</p>
+
+<p>He turns again, and, looking into the bureau, sees that all the open
+divisions are filled with papers, and imagines what must be the contents
+of the closed and secret compartments. As he touches one of these a
+tremor seizes him, and he fancies that a hand is on his shoulder. He
+starts and turns, but the curtains are motionless as ever. He goes into
+the passage and calls, 'Mother, come here. Quick! I want you directly.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins comes upstairs, looking as pale as her son.</p>
+
+<p>'Just help me out with this bureau, mother; I cannot examine it in this
+room, you have put such ridiculous notions into my head.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm afraid, Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense, come directly, or I must get some one else.'</p>
+
+<p>The pair went into the room and tried to move the bureau that had stood
+for nearly fifty years in that corner untouched, save by the husband and
+father, now lifeless near them. It was very heavy, and scarcely could
+their united strength move it from its resting-place. They finally
+succeeded, however, in dragging it towards the door, in doing which they
+had to pass the foot of the bed. Unconsciously they pushed the bed with
+the corner of the bureau and shook it. They nearly sank to the ground
+with terror, expecting, for the moment, to see the miser arise, and
+again take possession of his treasures. The mother rushed into the
+passage, the son again called himself a coward, and, with a great
+effort, pushed the bureau through the door and shut it after him.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mother, help to get it into my room. One would think we were
+breaking into another man's house, instead of taking possession of our
+own property.'</p>
+
+<p>With the whole of their joint strength they succeeded in getting the
+heavy piece of furniture into Howel's room, where, having first locked
+the door, they proceeded to examine its contents. Disappointment awaited
+them; they could find nothing but papers. Deeds, mortgages, bills,
+letters, accounts, were arranged in every open and shut division. The
+drawers contained nothing else, and the little locked cupboard in the
+centre, the key of which was found upon the bunch, also enshrined
+nothing but a few very particular documents.</p>
+
+<p>'These papers could not have made the bureau so heavy,' said Howel,
+biting his nails. 'There must be secret drawers.'</p>
+
+<p>He pulled out the drawers and papers, and threw them on his bed. He
+tried to move the bureau, and found it almost as heavy as ever.</p>
+
+<p>'I am thinking, Howel, bach, that cupboard don't go through to the back
+of the bureau,' suggested Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>Howel seized the poker and aimed a blow at the cupboard; the mahogany
+did not give way, but they fancied they heard a chinking sound within.</p>
+
+<p>'I am thinking,' said the mother, 'that it must be a double bureau. It
+is looking so much broader than it do seem.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel examined it, and began to think so, too; he took some carpenter's
+tools down from the shelf, and set to work to try to pierce the back of
+the bureau with a gimlet, in order to see if the gimlet would appear on
+the other side.</p>
+
+<p>He worked the implement through a portion of the wood, and then found
+its course stopped by some still harder matter. He had recourse to his
+penknife, with which he hacked a hole in the wood, large enough to find
+that there was an inner back of iron, or some kind of metal. Each new
+obstacle served only to inflame his impatience, and to provoke his
+temper. He forgot the bed in the next room, and everything else in the
+world except the attainment of his object, and running downstairs,
+returned with a large sledge-hammer that he found in the coal-hole. With
+his strength concentrated in one blow, he swung it against the back of
+the bureau, and had the satisfaction of finding his wishes gratified.
+The concussion moved some secret spring somewhere, for as the piece of
+furniture tottered on its foundation, and fell forwards against the bed,
+out rolled such a profusion of gold, as led Howel to believe, the 'El
+dorado' was found at last. Mother and son lifted up their hands in
+astonishment; gold pieces were in every corner of the room, scattered
+here and there like large yellow hail.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of the blow, however, and the subsequent fall of the bureau
+had alarmed a neighbour, and before one piece of the tempting gold had
+been picked up, there was a loud knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Say the house has fallen in; the inquisitive fools!' exclaimed Howel,
+as his mother left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Howel began to fill his pockets with gold pieces, and opening a box,
+pushed as many as he could hastily gather up into it also. There were
+thousands upon thousands of sovereigns upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>'It was old Pal, the shop,' said Mrs Jenkins, returning to her golden
+harvest, 'she was up nursing next door, and heard the noise. I tell her
+it was the table falling down.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mother, as soon as all is over, I must go to London and clear off
+my debts with some of this money; but I must see Netta first.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why don't you be putting it in the bank, Howel, bach? It will make a
+gentleman of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'There's enough besides to make me a gentleman, if I am not one already;
+and I promise you, that when I am clear again I will come back and make
+all the rich men in the country hang their heads. But I want to see
+Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Write you a bit of a note, and I will manage to send it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pick up the money, mother, and I will write the note.' Mrs Jenkins
+proceeded to obey her son, whilst he unlocked a desk, and wrote the
+following hasty lines:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I must be in London next Monday. I must see you before I leave. Meet
+me at the old place in the wood by the little Fall, Sunday evening,
+during church time.'</p>
+
+<p>He folded the note without signing it, and gave it to his mother,
+without adding any address.</p>
+
+<p>'Seal it mother, and deliver it, or rather send it by some one you can
+trust.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll manage that. Now pick you up some of the money. Here's a hundred
+pound in my apron now, and gracious me! the lots more!'</p>
+
+<p>'If you will keep the hundred pounds in your apron, mother, and let me
+have the rest, I shall be satisfied.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what'll you be doing with all this goold?'</p>
+
+<p>'Preparing to make you the mother of Councillor Jenkins, or of a famous
+man of some sort or other. What do you say to a poet or a prime
+minister?'</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ould rather you do be a councillor, than anything&mdash;like Councillor
+Rice, Llandore.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I shall perhaps, be a judge with all this money, and I daresay my
+father&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Here a vision of the bed in the next room stopped the young man's
+speech, and shuddering slightly, he kicked a heap of sovereigns that lay
+near his foot, and sent them rolling into different corners of the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Take away the ill-gotten gain, mother, it will never prosper; you had
+better go to bed, and I will do the same. I suppose it would be
+impossible to sleep with that yellow usury on the floor. I should have
+Plutus at the head of the imps of darkness about my bed, instead of
+&quot;Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,&quot; that I used to pray to &quot;bless the bed
+that I lie on.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't talk so fullish, Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why it was you taught me all that Popery.'</p>
+
+<p>'The Lord forgive you, Howel, I never did see the Pope, and 'ould sooner
+teach you the Methodist hymn book.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, never mind, let us go to bed.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll go down and sit by the fire. Lie you down here. God bless you, my
+boy, give your poor mother a kiss.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night, mother, or rather good morning,' said the son, bending down
+carelessly to be embraced by the parent who would sacrifice her life for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs Jenkins had left the room, Howel hastily collected the gold
+that was scattered about, and tossed it, without counting it, into the
+box already mentioned, which he locked, and put the key in his pocket.
+He then lay down on the bed without undressing, and tried to sleep. In
+vain, no sleep would come to 'steep his senses in forgetfulness.' The
+bed in the next room, with its grim, gaunt inmate, was constantly before
+his eyes. If he dozed for a moment, the miser, his father, and the gold
+he had for years longed to obtain possession of, haunted him, and made
+him start like a thief, as if taken in the act of stealing the coin now
+by inheritance his own.</p>
+
+<p>'Cursed gold!' he exclaimed at last, jumping from the bed, 'what shall I
+do with it? Pay my debts, and turn a sober man? I will try. If 'Netta
+will have me, perhaps I may; indeed I am sure I could. We will come here
+and cut a dash first, however. I should like to humble some of our Welsh
+aristocrats by showing them how the son of Griffey Jenkins can eclipse
+their genealogies, by the magic power of the Golden God. I will stay
+over the funeral, then off to town and get rid of my pressing debts;
+then pay Levi and Moses, and all my debts of honour; then set myself up
+in clothes and jewels, and come home and carry off Netta; and, finally,
+have a year's pleasure at least. Take Netta to the continent, and teach
+her to <i>parlez-vous</i> a little more fluently than she does now, and to
+assume more aristocratic manners; in short&mdash;in short&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>The soliloquy was interrupted by the sudden explosion of some substance
+under his feet, upon which he accidentally trod as he was pacing up and
+down the room. He swore an oath that emanated from his fear, and thought
+that the lower regions had actually opened to receive the gold he was
+meditating upon, since fire and smoke accompanied the noise, together
+with a smell of gunpowder. He rushed out of the room, just as his
+mother, alarmed by the sound, was running upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>'They will carry him off before the funeral,' he cried, as his mother
+asked what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>Ashamed of his cowardice, he made an effort to return to the room,
+followed by his mother. There was such a strong smell of sulphur that
+both recoiled.</p>
+
+<p>'What fools we are!' exclaimed Howel, forcing himself to enter. He
+stooped to examine the floor, and to his amusement and disgust, found
+the remains of a cracker, which had burst beneath his foot-tread. There
+were several others scattered about, that had been unnoticed, because
+they looked simply like bits of paper. These had evidently been placed
+by his father amongst the gold, in the hope of frightening any one who
+might wish to finger it, and had rolled out with the treasure they were
+intended to protect.</p>
+
+<p>Mother and son again left the room, the latter locking the door as he
+did so, and putting the key in his pocket. They descended to the little
+parlour below stairs, where they finished the night, alternately dozing
+in their chairs, and talking, and occasionally supporting themselves by
+draughts of the different liquors that were spread upon the table near
+them. In spite of his best efforts to throw aside such thoughts, Howel
+could see nothing all that night but the gold, the father who had won
+it, and the poor wretches who had been ruined in paying usurious
+interest for it.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" ></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SQUIRE.</h3>
+
+<p>The dinners at Glanyravon were always unexceptionable. Mr Gwynne was a
+bit of an epicure, and kept a capital cook, and his daughter liked to
+see everything done in good style. Even Mrs. Jonathan Prothero declared
+that the dinner-parties at her cousin's, Sir Philip Payne Perry's, were
+scarcely more agreeable or better managed.</p>
+
+<p>Still, at the dinner in question, all the elements were not quite well
+amalgamated. Although the dishes were so discreetly seasoned, and the
+<i>entremets</i> so exquisitely prepared, that the most fastidious critic of
+the gastronomic art would not have found a grain too much of any one
+ingredient, there was a less judicious mixture amongst the guests.
+Nothing could be more perfect than the bearing of the host and hostess.
+Mr Gywnne was a gentleman, even in his peculiarities&mdash;fastidiously a
+gentleman&mdash;and comported himself as such to every one. But he was too
+nervous, and had too low a voice to put his guests at ease: one half did
+not hear him at all, and the rest were slightly afraid of him on account
+of this extreme fastidiousness, his nervous complaints and his being
+very easily tired, or bored. Miss Gwynne was more successful at her end
+of the table, but she rather annoyed some of her guests by being too
+much bent on bringing out her friend Netta, and playing her off against
+Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>She was, however, very polite to all, and, for so young a woman, made a
+very agreeable and fascinating hostess. So, apparently, thought all the
+gentlemen, as they principally addressed their conversation to her, and
+had manoeuvred, particularly the young ones, to sit as near her as
+possible. The Rev Jonathan Prothero had the place of honour at her
+right, and did not take up much of her time. He appeared to be deep in
+the speculation concerning the ancient castle of which we have already
+heard, and was learnedly descanting upon it to Mrs Rice Rice, a lady on
+his other side. The said Mrs Rice Rice, having <i>un oeil aux champs, et
+l'autre &agrave; la ville,</i> was ostensibly listening to him, whilst she was
+really attending to her son, who was making visible efforts on the heart
+of the heiress, Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>The Rice Rices were people of family and fortune, living in the
+neighbouring town. Mr Rice Rice was in the law, and was at that moment
+engaged in discussing the affairs of the deceased Mr. Griffith Jenkins
+and his quondam articled pupil, Howel, with Rowland Prothero across Miss
+Nugent. He was a portly well-to-do-looking man, with a bald head and
+good-humoured countenance. His wife was even more portly than himself,
+and sat, in black velvet and marabout feathers, as stately as a princess
+at a drawing-room. The task of keeping up the family reputation of the
+ancient house of Rice Rice devolved in a great measure on this lady,
+assisted by her daughter; and, it must be said, that if any one could
+have doubted the antiquity of this honourable race after an hour's
+conversation with this enthusiastic pair he must have been a sceptic
+indeed! Family pride is a common weakness, but one could almost call it
+the stronghold of Mrs. Rice Rice, just as the various arch&aelig;ological and
+historical glories of Wales and the Welsh was the fortress of Mr.
+Jonathan Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>It was into these towers of strength that these worthies retreated on
+all occasions. One saw the bulwark in Mrs. Rice Rice's ample, immoveable
+figure, and in the glance of the eyes that looked over the somewhat
+mountainous cheek; one saw it in a certain extension of the chin, turn
+of the mouth, and slightly <i>retrouss&eacute;</i> nose. One saw it, above all, in
+her manner to the Protheros.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Jonathan Prothero was quite as capable of sustaining the
+dignity of the Philip Payne Perrys as the Welsh lady that of the Rice
+Rices, and a satirist might have made a clever caricature of these
+patriotic dames&mdash;the one thin and stiff, the other stout and stiff&mdash;- as
+they compared their family honours.</p>
+
+<p>But the lady of undoubted rank and pretension of the party is Lady Mary
+Nugent, who can afford to patronise or throw over-board whomsoever she
+will. She is seated next to Mr Gwynne, and is lavishing a considerable
+share of good looks and eloquence on that gentleman. Still in the prime
+of life, elegant, refined, pretty, and a skilful tactician, she is a
+dangerous rival of the young ladies, and is not wholly innocent of a
+desire to eclipse them. She and her daughter are dressed very nearly
+alike, in some white and light material, and at a little distance she
+might pass for the fair Wilhelmina's elder sister. A profusion of
+ornaments, too well arranged to appear too numerous, alone distinguish
+mother and daughter. She has a handsome profile and a captivating
+manner, two dangerous things in woman; but therewith she has an
+occasionally malicious expression of eye and mouth, that somewhat
+impairs the effect of the captivation.</p>
+
+<p>Her daughter is like her in profile, but has not her fascination of
+manner. She is, however, beautiful as a statue, with chiselled features
+and marble complexion. But she does not at present appear to have
+character enough to possess the clever malice of her mother. This may
+possibly come with suitors and rivals, who generally draw out all the
+evil, and sometimes much of the good, of woman's nature.</p>
+
+<p>She is now simpering and blushing and saying pretty nothings between
+Rowland Prothero and a certain Sir Hugh Pryse, who, on their respective
+parts, think her a goose, being attracted elsewhere. Sir Hugh is
+exerting his lungs to their utmost, and much beyond the boundaries that
+etiquette would vainly try to impose upon them, in endeavouring to
+attract the attention of Miss Gwynne; whilst Rowland is, as we before
+said, discussing the death of Mr Jenkins and the prospects of his son.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the most uncomfortable person at the table is Netta, who really
+does not quite understand how to behave herself in the new atmosphere in
+which she finds herself. She never was at a dinner-party before, never
+waited upon by grand servants, never surrounded by such gay people; and,
+in spite of her ambition to eclipse by her beauty the Misses Nugent and
+Rice Rice, she feels and looks rather awkward. Miss Gwynne does all in
+her power to reassure her, but she sits, looking very pretty&mdash;by far the
+prettiest person in the room&mdash;and very ill at ease, until the ladies
+adjourn to the drawing-room, and she takes refuge in the pictures of the
+drawing-room scrap-book and her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>The gentlemen arrive in course of time, which they must do, linger as
+long as they will over the delights of port and politics, and then the
+various schemes and thoughts engendered at the dinner-table are brought
+to light over the coffee-cup.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne patronisingly singles out Rowland Prothero, who, reserved by
+nature, feels doubly so amongst the ill-assorted elements around him.</p>
+
+<p>'Have you seen that poor girl since I was last at your house, Mr
+Prothero, and how is she to-day?' inquires the heiress.</p>
+
+<p>'She asked to see me yesterday, and I went to her. She seemed more
+composed, and liked being read to; but she is in a very precarious
+state.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is your father more reconciled to her being with you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all. And it certainly is very unfortunate. But he would not
+allow her to be neglected now she is thrown on his kindness.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish she had never come,' interposed Netta, who had ventured to cross
+the room to Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Have you heard of the great catch you are all likely to have, Miss
+Gwynne?' here broke in Sir Hugh Pryse, of stentorian reputation.</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know what you mean,' said Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, Mr Rice Rice tells me there is more than a hundred thousand pounds
+to be raffled for by all the young ladies in the country. They have
+simply to put themselves into the lottery, and only one can have the
+prize.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never knew you so figurative before. Sir Hugh.' 'Don't pay any
+attention to him, Miss Gwynne,' said a fresh addition to the circle that
+stood round that young lady's chair. 'He means that old Griffey Jenkins,
+the miser, is dead, and that Howel comes into all his immense wealth.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne gave her head such a magnificent toss that her neck looked
+quite strained.</p>
+
+<p>'I do not imagine many <i>young ladies</i> will purchase tickets in that
+lottery,' she said, with a stress upon the 'young ladies.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have no doubt there are dozens who would, and will, do it at once,'
+responded Sir Hugh. 'And quite right too. Such a fortune is not to be
+had every day.'</p>
+
+<p>'But it is gentlemen, and not ladies, who are fortune-hunters,' said
+Miss Gwynne, changing her tone, when she suddenly perceived that Netta's
+face and neck were crimson.</p>
+
+<p>But the subject was become quite an interesting piece of local gossip,
+and, one after another, all the party joined in it.</p>
+
+<p>'Howel Jenkins might make anything of himself if he would but be
+steady,' said Mr Rice Rice.</p>
+
+<p>'Except a gentleman by birth,' said his lady.</p>
+
+<p>'Or the least bit of an arch&aelig;ologist,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero. 'I
+tried one day&mdash;you will scarcely believe it, Mr Gwynne&mdash;to make him
+understand that Garn Goch was an old British encampment, but he would
+not take it in.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, really; I do not very much wonder myself, for I cannot quite &quot;take
+in&quot; those heaps of stones and all that sort of thing,' responded the
+host.</p>
+
+<p>'What can they find to interest them in that sort of person?' asked
+Lady Mary in an aside to Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne overheard it, and answered for her father.</p>
+
+<p>'He is a young man of great talent, very rich, very handsome, and has
+had a miser for a father. Is not that the case Mr Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>'I&mdash;I&mdash;really, it is scarcely fair to appeal to me, as he is a
+relation.'</p>
+
+<p>'And do you never say a good word in favour of your relations?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope so, when they deserve it,' said Rowland resolutely, glancing at
+his sister, who was biting her glove.</p>
+
+<p>'If I may be allowed an opinion,' said Mrs Jonathan decidedly, also
+glancing at poor Netta, 'I should say that Howel Jenkins was a complete
+scapegrace. What he may yet turn out remains to be proved.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, that is putting an end to him at once,' said Miss Gwynne, 'and I
+think we had better play his funeral dirge. Lady Mary, will you give us
+'The Dead March in Saul,' or something appropriate? Never mind, Netta; I
+daresay cousin Howel will turn out a great man by-and-by;' this last
+clause was whispered to Netta, whilst the young hostess went towards a
+grand piano that stood invitingly open, and begged Lady Mary Nugent to
+give them some music.</p>
+
+<p>That lady played some brilliant waltzes, after which, her daughter
+accompanied her in the small bass of a duet.</p>
+
+<p>'Pon my soul, that's a pretty girl, that little Prothero!' said Sir Hugh
+Pryse to young Rice Rice. 'I never saw such a complexion in my life.
+Roses and carnations are nothing to it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Rather a vulgar style of beauty, I think,' said Mr Rice Rice, junior,
+taking up an eyeglass, and finding some difficulty in fixing it in his
+eye. He had lately discovered that he was nearsighted, to the great
+grief of his mother, who, however, sometimes spoke of the sad fact in
+the same tone that she used to speak of the Rice Rice, and Morgan of
+Glanwilliam families. She herself belonged to the latter.</p>
+
+<p>'I vow she's lovely!' cried the baronet, so emphatically that every one
+in the room might have heard him. Most of the ladies, doubtless, did,
+and appropriated the sentiment, but, by-and-by, Netta was triumphant, as
+he went and sat by her, and complimented her in very audible terms.</p>
+
+<p>She blushed and coquetted very respectably for a country damsel, and
+wondered whether a poor baronet, or a wealthy miser's son would best
+help her to humble the pride and condescension of the Nugents and the
+Rice Rices.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Lady Mary Nugent was playing, Mr Gwynne very nearly went to
+sleep, and Rowland Prothero, who liked nothing but chants, and a solemn
+kind of music that he chose to think befitting a clergyman, was, in his
+turn, looking over the drawing-room scrap book. Miss Gwynne gave her
+papa a sly push, and whispered, that she believed Mr Rowland Prothero
+played chess.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne aroused himself, and challenged his young neighbour. Miss
+Gwyne, assisted by all the gentlemen, brought the chess-table, and the
+game soon began.</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt that there is nothing in the world more selfish, more
+absorbing, more disagreeable to every one excepting the players, than
+chess. Mr Gwynne began his game half asleep; Rowland began his in a very
+bad temper. The former was glad of anything that could keep him awake,
+the latter was disgusted at having been made the victim of Miss Gwynne's
+anxiety to preserve her father from falling fast asleep in the midst of
+his guests. But, by degrees, the one was thoroughly aroused, and the
+other forgot his annoyance. Both soon ignored the presence of any human
+being save himself and his opponent.</p>
+
+<p>Music and talking sounded on all sides, but they made no impression on
+the chess-players. Lady Mary performed all her most brilliant airs and
+variations in vain, as far as Mr Gwynne was concerned; and Rowland was
+even unconscious that Netta had resolutely played through all the small
+pieces she had learnt at school at the particular request of Sir Hugh
+Pryse.</p>
+
+<p>'That game will never finish,' at last exclaimed Lady Mary, approaching
+Mr Gwynne. 'How can any one like chess?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne kept his finger on a piece he was about to move, glanced up,
+but did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>'They tell me you ought to have at least five or six moves in your eye
+whilst you are making one,' said Sir Hugh. 'For my part, I always find
+one move at a time more than I can manage. It certainly is the dullest
+game ever invented.'</p>
+
+<p>'Chess is a game of great antiquity,' said the Rev. Jonathan
+sententiously. 'It is supposed to have been invented in China or
+Hindustan, and was known in the latter place by the name <i>Chaturanga</i>,
+that is, four <i>angas</i>, or members of an army.'</p>
+
+<p>'The army must be proud to send such members to parliament,' said young
+Rice Rice, with a consciousness of superior wit, in which the remainder
+of the party did not appear to participate.</p>
+
+<p>'True, young gentleman,' said Mr Jonathan, 'and well she might, for they
+were elephants, horses, chariots, and foot-soldiers; but what such
+members of an army have to do with parliament, I should be glad to hear
+you explain. I do not remember mention being made of parliament till the
+twelfth century. It was first applied to general assemblies in France
+during the reign of Louis the Seventh; and the earliest mention of it in
+England is in the preamble to the statute of Westminster in 1272. It is
+derived from the French word <i>parler</i>, to speak.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then,' said Miss Gwynne, 'there must be some truth in what I have
+heard, that the first parliament was composed of women.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good, good, 'pon my soul!' roared Sir Hugh.</p>
+
+<p>'But Sir William Jones says of chess,' continued Mr Jonathan, in the
+same unchanged tone and manner, 'that the Hindus&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, my dear, pray do not let us hear anything of Sir William Jones; I
+am sick to death of all the Jones',' interrupted Mrs Prothero, causing a
+diversion, and a suppressed laugh at her expense, instead of at young
+Rice Rice's, who had made the last sally upon Mr Jonathan, and a
+somewhat mortifying retreat.</p>
+
+<p>It was remarkable, that whoever made a sly attack upon that worthy, with
+a view to a joke, was sure to have the tables turned upon him, by the
+matter-of-fact way in which his joke was received, refuted, and cut to
+pieces.</p>
+
+<p>'I assure you, my dear, there have been many very celebrated Jones', Sir
+William at the head of them. He was a great Oriental scholar. Then there
+was Inigo Jones, the architect; and John Paul Jones, the admiral; and Dr
+John Jones, the grammarian, born in this very county; and&mdash;and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'That celebrated Mr David Jones, Mr Prothero, whose locker was so deep
+that I am sure he must have been a relation of the admiral,' suggested
+Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Truly so, my dear&mdash;but I have read&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid I must trouble you to order my carriage, Mr Gwynne,' said
+Lady Mary, looking impatiently, first at the chess-table, secondly at
+her daughter, who was engaged in animated nonsense with Mr Rice Rice,
+junior; and thirdly at Sir Hugh, still occupied in making Netta blush.</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon; one moment, Lady Mary; I must just castle my king.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you had better put an end to the game, papa,' said Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Not for the world, my dear. What do you say, Mr Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>'I should certainly like to finish it, but perhaps we are
+inconveniencing others.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, yes, to be sure. Then will you come and dine with me to-morrow, and
+we will finish it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, I shall be very happy,'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Rice Rice, junior, and Sir Hugh wished that they were good chess
+players. It was quite an honour to be invited to a family party at
+Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>'Put the chess-table into the book-room, Winifred, and lock the door.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne actually rose in the excitement of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>'If the servants come they will disturb the men, and&mdash;and&mdash;all that sort
+of thing, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne and Rowland carried the chess-table into a small room,
+opening into the drawing-room, and duly locked the door after them.</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you are fond of chess,' said Miss Gwynne for want of
+something to say.</p>
+
+<p>'Very,' said Rowland laconically, and she little knew what was passing
+in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Always the same thoughts when in her presence&mdash;thoughts of mingled
+approbation and dislike. But she cared little what he thought of her.</p>
+
+<p>'Dry and pedantic, and very disagreeable,' was what she thought of him.</p>
+
+<p>'Your nephew is rather a sinking-looking young man,' were Lady Mary's
+words to Mrs Prothero, during his temporary absence.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, he is very clever and gentlemanlike. He gained high honours at
+Oxford, and my cousin. Sir Philip Payne Perry, is going to procure him a
+London curacy,'</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary looked still more favourably upon Rowland when he returned,
+with a flush on his face, from the book-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you know that young Prothero is a very handsome young man?' she said
+to Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Very handsome,' said Miss Gwynne, remembering her intentions for
+Wilhelmina. And the carriages were announced.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" ></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MISER'S SON.</h3>
+
+<p>It was Sunday evening, and all the inmates of Glanyravon Farm were
+either at church or chapel, with the exception of Netta and one of the
+servants, who remained to watch the sick Gladys. Netta said she had a
+headache, and preferred staying at home. By way of curing it she put on
+her best bonnet and went for a walk. As soon as she was out of sight of
+the house she set off at a pace that did not bespeak pain of any kind.
+She soon struck out of the country road, with its hedges of hawthorn,
+into a field, and thence into a small wood or grove, almost flanking the
+road. The warm June sun sent his rays in upon her through the trees, and
+helped them to cast checkered shadows upon her path, lighting up, every
+here and there, a bunch of fern or flowers, and brightening the trunks
+of the interlacing trees. As she saw the lights and shadows dancing
+before her she became serious for a moment, and fancied they were like
+the will-o'-the-wisp, and portended no good; but she soon quickened her
+pace, and at the first opening went out again into the road, where the
+sun was uninterrupted in his gaze, and her few fanciful thoughts took
+flight.</p>
+
+<p>She glanced furtively into one or two cottages as she passed them, and
+the absence of all inmates seemed to reproach her for her Sunday evening
+falsehood. At last she reached a small cross-road or lane, down which
+she turned, heedless of the profusion of wild roses that actually
+canopied the way. Another path, narrower still, and thickly bordered
+with blackberry bushes in full blossom, brought her to what seemed a
+large mass of brambles, low underwood, and occasional young oaks. There
+were, however, little patches of grass here and there amongst the
+thicket, and into one of these she got with some difficulty. This was
+the hall from which diverged one or two little passages, that looked so
+dark, narrow, and brambly, that they appeared inaccessible. But Netta
+managed to push aside some briars with her parasol and enter one. Almost
+at her first footstep she tore her pretty muslin dress, but folding it
+closer round her, she pushed her way. The smart pink bonnet was in great
+danger, but escaped uninjured.</p>
+
+<p>At last she found herself on the brink of a deep ravine, almost
+precipitous, and heard the sound of rushing water beneath her. Large,
+gloomy trees outspread their brawny arms on each side of this gorge and
+lovingly embraced above it, so that the rays of the sun were again
+thwarted in their purpose, and turned and twisted about before they
+could glance upon the dark waters below.</p>
+
+<p>Netta did not know all the tangles and tears she was to meet with when
+she set out on her walk. She had not visited this spot for some time,
+and then she had taken a more frequented path, on the other side of the
+ravine. She looked around, and down into the depth below, but she could
+see nothing but trees and brushwood. She was not strong-minded, so she
+began to be afraid. However, summoning up her courage, she pushed into
+a kind of broken stony path, down the side of the gully, and at the
+expense of a few more rents in the muslin dress, and some scratches on
+her hands, she succeeded in scrambling to the bottom.</p>
+
+<p>Here was a wild and beautiful scene. A waterfall rolled from a height,
+over rocks and brushwood, down into a foaming stream beneath, that
+rushed, in its turn, over huge stones through the dark ravine.</p>
+
+<p>As Netta stood almost at the base of the waterfall, and on the edge of
+the rapid brook, something like reflection took possession of her
+volatile mind. There was a solemn gloom and grandeur about the scene
+that reminded her of the Sabbath she was desecrating, and therewith of
+her parents, and her duty to them. For a moment&mdash;only for a moment&mdash;she
+thought she would return, and strive to atone for the falsehood, by
+giving up the object of her evening wandering. But a bright gleam of
+sunshine darted through the trees&mdash;the stream foamed and leapt towards
+it&mdash;the waterfall sparkled beneath&mdash;the arrowy fern glittered like gold,
+and Netta's heart forgot her duty, and thought of her recreant lover.
+Her repentance must come in gloom, her sin in sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>She plucked a bunch of the wild roses that hung around and above her,
+and dashed them petulantly into the stream. She watched them as their
+course was interrupted by the large masses of rock, and they were tossed
+here and there by the angry mischievous water. At last they hung
+trembling on a huge stone, stranded, as it were, on their impetuous
+course. Again, for a moment, a serious comparison arose in her mind, and
+she wondered whether her life might be like that of the flowers she had
+cast away from her? whether she might be carried, by the force of
+contending passions, and left to wither upon some hard shore that as yet
+she knew not of. Such ideas naturally present themselves to the mind of
+all who are not wholly devoid of imagination and when the rapid stream
+again bore, away the bunch of roses, and Netta saw them no more, she had
+quite believed that such would be her course upon the troubled waters of
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>But she was not long left to speculate upon her future. Whilst her eyes
+were yet fixed upon the spot whence the roses had vanished, she felt a
+hand on her shoulder, heard a voice call her name, and starting round,
+saw her cousin Howel behind her. He had crept so softly down that she
+had not heard him, and she uttered a sharp cry that sounded like one of
+terror, as she suddenly felt his touch.</p>
+
+<p>'A strange greeting, Netta,' were the first words, after they had shaken
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>'You frightened me, and why were you not here sooner? I have been
+waiting an hour,' was the rejoinder, in a tone of voice that belied the
+radiant joy of the young face.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Netta seemed to recollect something that brought a shadow over
+the sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>'Cousin Howel, I&mdash;I am very sorry for you. Poor Uncle Griff! How is
+aunt?&mdash;and you&mdash;you look ill, Howel; what is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>It was difficult for Netta to know what to say about the death of the
+miser. She was not sorry, and she could not tell how her cousin felt.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes; my mother is pretty well. I have been ill, but shall soon be
+all right again. Netta, how long is it since we met?'</p>
+
+<p>'A twelvemonth next Friday.'</p>
+
+<p>'You remember the day, dear Netta. Then you do not hate me, although
+they have done their best to make you do so, by calling me gambler,
+spendthrift, drunkard, and all the charming etceteras.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no, Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Take off that bonnet, and let me see if you are altered.' He unfastened
+the strings, and let the long black curls fall over the girl's neck.
+'No, you are only prettier than ever, cousin Netta. How would you look
+in lace and pearls, and all the goodly array of a fine lady?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know, Howel; but tell me what you wanted me for.</p>
+
+<p>'Just let me twist this bunch of roses into your hair first, to see how
+an evening toilette would become my pretty cousin Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel had torn a spray from the rose-bush at their back, and he inserted
+it carelessly amongst the curls.</p>
+
+<p>'How well you look, Netta. I should like to see you in a ball-room. We
+will go together to plenty of balls, if you will only consent.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't like those roses, cousin,' said Netta hastily, 'they are
+unlucky I think,' and she tore them from her hair, and threw them, as
+she had done the previous ones, into the brook. 'Now let us see where
+they will go.'</p>
+
+<p>'We have not time, Netta, and I do not know why I am fooling away the
+hours. You must answer all my questions truly and plainly. I am become a
+rich man, how rich I do not myself know; and I mean to let every one
+belonging to me see that I can spend my money like a gentleman, and be
+as grand as those who have hitherto lorded it over me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Particularly the Rice Rices and Lady Mary Nugent,' interrupted Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Would you like to be grander than they, Netta? have a finer carriage,
+more beautiful clothes, a handsomer house, plate, jewels, servants, and
+all sorts of magnificence?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes, of all things in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you shall be my wife, Netta, and we will soon see whether we
+cannot be as grand as the grandest.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, cousin!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, dear Netta; tell me, are you changed?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, cousin.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I ask your father's consent, and he gives it, will you marry me?'</p>
+
+<p>'You know we settled that long ago, cousin Howel; but father will not
+consent, unless&mdash;unless&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw, but if I ask his consent, and he refuses it, will you marry me
+then, dear Netta, dear, dear cousin?'</p>
+
+<p>Howel fixed his large, piercing eyes upon Netta, who coloured and
+trembled, and murmured, 'Oh, Howel, I don't know&mdash;how can I?'</p>
+
+<p>'How can you? Who is to prevent you? We can marry and go abroad, and
+return and ask pardon, and I will take a fine house, and they will be
+only too proud to own us?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not father, Howel, unless&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Unless I become a steady fellow, and settle down, as I mean to do, if
+you will marry me. But if you refuse me, I shall just go on as I am, or
+put an end to my wretched life perhaps.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, don't be so wicked,' cried Netta, bursting into tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Then, Netta, you must give me your promise to be mine, whether your
+father consents or not, whenever I write you word, through my mother,
+that I will have a carriage ready at the corner near the turnpike. But I
+can settle all particulars at the proper time, provided only you
+promise. Remember, you have told me hundreds of times that you will be
+my wife, and neither father nor mother should prevent it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know&mdash;I cannot tell whether it would be right.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not right to save me from destruction, to make me what I ought to be,
+to cleave to your husband as if he were yourself, in spite of parents or
+relations! I am sure, Netta, that you are taught to do all this;
+besides, you cannot help it, if you love me. You know that I would have
+married you when I had nothing, as readily as I will now that I have
+tens of thousands, and surely this deserves a return?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta began to sob.</p>
+
+<p>'You know how it is, Howel. I am afraid of father, and could not bear to
+annoy mother, but&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But you love me better still, Netta; so do not cry, and we will be as
+happy as the day is long. Will you promise me?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta sobbed on and hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>'I am going to London to-morrow, cousin Netta, to pay debts, and make
+myself clear of the world. If you will promise, in a few months I will
+return for you; we will travel, we will do anything in the world you
+like; I shall have plenty of money, I shall probably write a book when
+we are abroad, which will make me famous as well as rich; we will come
+home and astonish the world. If you do not promise, I shall never come
+here again, and shall probably live a gay, wretched life on the
+continent, or elsewhere, and be really the good-for-nothing fellow I am
+thought to be;&mdash;will you promise, dear cousin Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>Howel knew well how to assume a manner that should add force to the
+feelings he expressed, and rarely did he employ his powers of persuasion
+in vain, particularly with the fair sex, never with his cousin, to whom
+he was really attached, and who was wholly devoted to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta,' he added, in a low, sad voice, 'I fear, after all, you do not
+love me, and I have very few who care for me in this world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do not say this, cousin,' sobbed Netta, 'you know I always promised&mdash;I
+always said&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;will do anything in the world you wish me, cousin
+Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Even if your father refuses?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I will not care for any one but you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, dear Netta; now I know that we shall be happy, and you shall
+have everything you can desire.'</p>
+
+<p>'Stop, cousin; I shall not marry you because you are rich, or great, or
+likely to be as grand as other people&mdash;though I should like to put them
+down, just as well as you&mdash;but because we have loved each other ever
+since we were little children, and I could not care for any one
+else&mdash;not even if Sir Hugh Pryse were to ask me.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel was both touched and amused.</p>
+
+<p>'You are a good, kind, little cousin, Netta; but what can you mean about
+Sir Hugh?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta tossed her head, and looked vain-glorious.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I dined at Glanyravon on Thursday, and the Rice Rices, and Nugents,
+and Sir Hugh were there; and Sir Hugh was very attentive to me, and said
+a great many things to me. And he has been at our house since, and has
+met me in the road, and been as polite as possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'But he is desperately in love with Miss Gwynne, or her fortune; so you
+need not alarm yourself, my little cousin.'</p>
+
+<p>'You need not alarm <i>yourself</i>, you ought to say,' and Netta again
+tossed her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I am not jealous. Sir Hugh, with his loud voice, vulgar manners,
+and stupid fat face, could not light a candle to me, and as to his
+title, I will back my fortune against that.'</p>
+
+<p>'It sounds very grand to be called my lady.' Netta said this to pique
+her cousin, and she succeeded; but she did not expect to provoke the
+storm that she raised. The dark brow lowered, and he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, I am in no mood to be trifled with. If you wish to be 'my lady,'
+take Sir Hugh, if he will have you; but I go halves with nobody. Now is
+the time to resolve; I shall never ask you again; and whatever your
+opinion may be upon the subject, I consider that I do you as great
+honour in asking you to be my wife, as if there were fifty Sir Hughs at
+your feet.'</p>
+
+<p>It was now Netta's time to pout and look cross. She generally did before
+her private interviews with her cousin ended. Their quick tempers were
+sure to inflame each other.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure I don't care whether you ask me again or not. It is not such
+a great favour on your part.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well; then &quot;your ladyship&quot; has probably decided in favour of
+this,' and Howel made a face to represent Sir Hugh swelling his cheeks
+to their utmost extent. Netta tried to smother a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure he is quite as good looking as you are, with your cross face.
+You are enough to frighten one out of one's wits.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you had any, Miss Netta. But come, this is absurd. Is it to be Sir
+Hugh in perspective, or cousin Howel at once?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta was still pouting, fidgeting with her parasol, and restlessly
+pushing her foot through the grass and flowers, when they were startled
+by a voice crying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Is that you, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>Both looked up in affright, and, to their extreme disgust, perceived
+their very sedate brother and cousin, Rowland, threading his way down
+the opposite side of the ravine. He was soon at the bottom, and in less
+than a minute had crossed from stone to stone over the brook, and stood
+by the side of his sister.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, what can you be doing here?' he asked abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>'I came for a walk,' was the somewhat hesitating reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Then, perhaps, you will have no objection to walk home with me,' said
+Rowland, looking reproachfully at Howel. He met a defiant glance in
+return.</p>
+
+<p>'Howel,' he said, 'I do not think my father would approve of Netta's
+meeting you here, and, I therefore, must beg to break up an interview
+that had been better avoided.'</p>
+
+<p>'Whatever right your father may have, sir, to prevent my seeing your
+sister, at any rate you have none,' was Howel's indignant reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Then I shall take a brother's right, and in the absence of my father,
+assume his place. Netta, you know you are doing wrong; come with me.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta hesitated, but her brother's manner was authoritative, and she
+felt that she dared not disobey.</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what it is, Rowland, you have always assumed a tone with me
+that I neither can nor will brook,' passionately exclaimed Howel.' I beg
+you to account for your conduct, and to understand that I will have
+either an apology or satisfaction for your ungentlemanly proceedings.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never apologise when I have done no wrong; and as for satisfaction,
+as you understand it, I have not the power of making it. I will not
+desecrate the Sabbath by an unseemly quarrel amidst the most beautiful
+works of creation, nor offend my sister's ear by recrimination. If you
+have any real regard for her, you will allow her to go home quietly with
+me, and remember that we are all relations, and ought to be friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'Friends we can never be. The only friend I have in your family is Owen,
+except, perhaps, Netta, who is turned by one and the other of you, like
+a weathercock by the winds.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, cousin Howel,' began Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'We have had enough of this,' said Rowland calmly. 'If you choose to
+come and see us as a relation, in a straightforward manner, Howel, we
+should be glad to see you, but underhand ways are equally disagreeable
+to us all.'</p>
+
+<p>'How remarkably condescending!' said Howel with a sneer. 'But I will not
+waste time with a canting, Methodist parson like you. I wish you as many
+converts as you desire, but not myself amongst them. Remember, Netta!
+Good bye. I suppose your most excellent brother will allow us to shake
+hands.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta held out her hand, and as Howel shook it, he again repeated the
+word 'remember.' Rowland advanced a pace or two, and partly extended his
+hand. Howel turned abruptly away, and with a contemptuous glance, merely
+said, 'Good day to you,' The brother and sister took an opposite course
+to his, and had to cross the brook, whilst he pushed his way through the
+briers that had impeded Netta's path. He turned and watched them as they
+stepped from stone to stone, and finally ascended the ravine. Netta
+looked round, and he kissed his hand to her, to which she responded by
+nodding her head; but Rowland neither turned to the right nor left.</p>
+
+<p>'Meddling coxcomb!' he exclaimed, 'what is there in him that commands
+the attention and respect that I fail to obtain with ten times his
+talents?'</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a few minutes musing, whilst the music of the waterfall
+insensibly soothed his irritated mind.</p>
+
+<p>'Why should I care for Netta, who could marry any one I like?' were his
+thoughts. 'I suppose because she really loves me, and because they all
+oppose me. Well, supposing I do turn over a new leaf, and spend the gold
+my father got so usuriously, in doing good! That would be making a use
+of a miser's money, rarely, if ever, made before? and might be worth the
+trial, if only to work a new problem, whether ill-gotten wealth could
+conduce to moral health. I should like to out-Herod that puppy Rowland,
+and make a saint of myself out of a sinner. That would be working out
+two problems at once. I wonder whether Netta will help me to solve
+them?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta, meanwhile, was receiving a very severe lecture from her brother,
+to which she did not condescend to reply, until he spoke of what his
+father would say to her meeting Howel clandestinely,</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you are not going to be cross enough to tell father,' said
+Netta'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall certainly think it my duty to tell him,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Then you are an unkind, unfeeling, unnatural brother,' cried Netta,
+bursting into tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you promise not to meet Howel again without my father or mother's
+consent?' asked Rowland, relenting,</p>
+
+<p>'I won't promise anything? and Howel is a thousand times nicer and
+kinder than you are. You have no feeling for any one. I wish Owen were
+at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, you are very unjust? you know I only wish your good.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I suppose you wish Howel's good, too. Just as his father is dead,
+and he meaning to be good, and only wishing to see me before he goes to
+London, and having plenty of money to do what he likes, and intending to
+pay his debts with it, and&mdash;- and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Here sobs and tears came to the rescue of the voluble words that would
+soon have worn themselves out&mdash;for Netta had no great flow of language.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was perplexed. He was fond of his sister? he wished Howel well?
+he did not know whether it would be best to let them marry or not. If
+they were prevented, they would either take French leave, or hate all
+their relations? and if they married they would not be happy, he was
+sure. But he knew it was wrong to deceive his parents. In this uncertain
+state of mind they reached home, through, the little hawthorn lane
+before described. Mrs Prothero was on the look out for them, she having
+returned from chapel and missed them.</p>
+
+<p>Netta ran past her mother into the house, without replying to her
+question concerning her headache, and Rowland at once related to his
+mother what he had seen of Howel and Netta's private interview, which
+that good lady was very much distressed to hear.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" ></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE IRISH BEGGAR.</h3>
+
+<p>Glanyravon farm was anything but a quiet home during the ensuing week.
+Mrs Prothero thought it right to inform her husband of what had passed;
+and he blustered and raged even more than he had ever done about the
+Irish beggars. Everybody thought proper to try to convert Netta, but
+none of them knew the indomitable obstinacy of her character, and all
+signally failed. Even Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had their turn, and drove
+over on purpose to canvass the matter; but as the elders disagreed upon
+the various points at issue, it was no wonder that all remained much as
+it was before the unfortunate meeting we have mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>'For my part,' said Mrs Jonathan Prothero, when all were assembled,
+except Netta, in family conclave, 'I cannot see so much against the
+young man after all. Such a fortune as his is not to be met with every
+day, and I must say he is very handsome and clever.'</p>
+
+<p>Here we must remark that this lady's sentiments had undergone a change,
+since it had been rumoured that Howel was worth more than a hundred
+thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what it is, ma'am,' roared the farmer, 'if he were worth his
+weight in gold, he 'ouldn't be a good match for any prudent 'ooman. To
+my certain knowledge he drinks and gambles, and he shall never have my
+consent to marry Netta so long as I live, and you may tell him so.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know enough of him, sir, to have any communication of the kind
+with him,' said Mrs Jonathan, stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear,' interposed mild Mrs Prothero, 'if he gets steady, and settles
+down, it might be better to let them marry, than to make them miserable
+for life.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Study</i>! miserable! mother, you're a&mdash;I beg your pardon, but when
+Howel's study, I'll turn to smoking cigars. Why, the very night of his
+father's funeral he was half drunk, instead of being decent for once.'</p>
+
+<p>'He couldn't care much for his father, my dear; you must make
+allowances.'</p>
+
+<p>'An odd man, that Griff, brother David,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero, as
+if just awaking from a dream. 'Do you remember when we were lads
+together, and used to go up to Garn Goch looking for treasures? I knew,
+even then, that it was an old British encampment, and began to speculate
+upon its date, and so on; you used to hunt rabbits, and provoke me by
+overturning the walls, but Griff got it into his head that there was
+money buried somewhere, and never ceased digging for it. At last he
+found an old coin of very ancient date, and seeing that I wished to have
+it, he bargained with me, until he got all the money I had for it. Of
+course the coin was worth any money, and satisfactorily proves that Garn
+Goch was an old British encampment at the time of the invasion of the
+Romans.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, brother, you <i>are</i> by the head! That old coin is nothing but a
+well-used sixpence.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have every reason to believe, and I am supported in my opinion by
+various antiquaries, that it bears the inscription either of Cunobelin
+or Caractacus. There is a decided C, and we are told that money was
+coined in Britain in the time of Cunobelin.'</p>
+
+<p>'And how on earth did he get up to Garn Goch?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, you know that Caractacus commanded the Silures, or people of South
+Wales, against the Romans, and that they held out bravely, I have no
+shadow of doubt that Garn Goch was one of their strongholds.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what can Garn Goch have to do with Netta and Howel? Brother, I
+always shall say you are by the head with your antiquities.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I think you had better let them marry, I really do. It's no good
+opposing young people, when they will have their own way at last.'</p>
+
+<p>'I sha'n't send for you to consult with again. Mother, go and bring
+Netta here, and let us see what she has to say for herself.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Davy, would it not be better to speak to her privately?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not a bit. I can't say a word when I am alone with her, but I could
+give her a bit of my mind when you are all present. Why don't you go,
+and not stand looking as if you was as much by the head as brother Jo.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs Prothero perceived that her husband was determined to have
+Netta publicly reprimanded, so, much against her will, she left the
+room. Rowland was preparing to follow, not liking the prospect of a
+scene, when his father peremptorily called him back.</p>
+
+<p>'Stay you, sir. If you was the better for going to Oxford, you'd try to
+teach your sister how to behave, instead of cutting off the moment
+you're wanted.'</p>
+
+<p>'I really do not think, father, that a public reproof is likely to make
+Netta change her mind. You would do better to talk quietly to her.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs Prothero returned, followed by Netta, looking as sulky as she
+possibly could, and with the traces of tears on her face. There was an
+awkward silence for a few seconds, during which both Mr Prothero and
+Netta were getting redder and redder, and their inner man
+correspondingly choleric. At last the father began the strife.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, I say, Miss Netta,' there was a pause for a few minutes. 'Do you
+hear, miss?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, father, I hear very well,' said Netta, and muttered to herself in
+continuation, 'who could help it?'</p>
+
+<p>'You hear very well&mdash;I should think so. You hear a good deal you've no
+business to listen to. Do you mean to give up that scamp Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>No reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Now it's no use for you to stand there and say nothing, for an answer I
+will have.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think he's a scamp,' said Netta boldly.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs Prothero trembled, and looked imploringly at Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Netta, you should not contradict your father,' said Mrs
+Jonathan, with a severe look.</p>
+
+<p>'You don't think he's a scamp. Then you mean to have him, I suppose?'
+said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't say that, father. But I don't see why I may not speak to my
+own cousin.'</p>
+
+<p>Every one was surprised at Netta's answers. Like her father, she could
+talk better before numbers. She had done nothing but cry when her mother
+had reasoned with her.</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, miss. All I can say is, that if you meet him again
+I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;' the good farmer did not know what he would do. He
+was not prepared to say.</p>
+
+<p>'He is gone to London, father,'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you promise not to meet him any more, you good-for-nothing girl,
+you? You most disobedient daughter!'</p>
+
+<p>Again Netta was silent.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you promise your father, Netta,' said Mrs Prothero, gently, 'not
+to meet Howel again, or have anything to say to him, without his
+consent?'</p>
+
+<p>Still Netta was silent.</p>
+
+<p>'He may reform, you know,' suggested Mrs Jonathan, 'and then you may be
+allowed to marry,'</p>
+
+<p>'No chance of that,' roared Mr Prothero, advancing towards Netta, taking
+her by the arm, and looking as if a few more of her rejoinders would
+bring her a good shaking. 'Do you mean to promise, miss?'</p>
+
+<p>'Father, you're hurting me,' said Netta petulantly. 'You needn't pinch
+me so.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero relaxed his hold. He doated on this obstinate, pretty,
+wilful child of his&mdash;the only girl, and whose temper was the very
+facsimile of his own.</p>
+
+<p>'It's you're hurting me most, Netta, by rushing into certain misery.
+Will you promise?'</p>
+
+<p>Again he took hold of the arm.</p>
+
+<p>'One would think you were a Papist, father, and this the Inquisition,'
+said Netta, growing learned under the torture of her father's grasp,</p>
+
+<p>'Well said, Netta,' broke in Mr Jonathan, aroused by any allusion to any
+subject out of the present. 'A cruel court that perhaps more properly
+called Jesuitical than Papistical.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero gave Netta a slight shake, which shook more passion into
+both of them, and frightened Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Once for all, Netta, will you promise to give up that scamp of a cousin
+of yours, Howel Jenkins?' roared the father.</p>
+
+<p>'I won't promise anything at all,' replied Netta doggedly; and freeing
+herself from her father, she ran to her uncle as if for protection.</p>
+
+<p>'You won't!' said Mr Prothero, pursuing her, 'then I tell you what it
+is. The moment you are known to keep company with him, you may find some
+other home than this; and if you determine to marry him, you shall be no
+longer a daughter of mine. I'll never, as long as I live&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, hush, David, hush, please,' said Mrs Prothero, putting her hand
+on his arm. 'Netta will not disobey us, I am sure. But it is her
+obstinate temper; she never would say anything she was commanded to
+say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you ought to have taught her better. She is a good-for-nothing
+girl, and I'll&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, you had better leave the room,' said Rowland, opening the door,
+through which Netta gladly escaped. '&quot;Fathers, provoke not your children
+to wrath,&quot;' he added, turning to his father. 'You will do nothing with
+her at present. She is worked up to a spirit of resistance by too much
+argument, and the more you say the more obstinate she will become.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are all as obstinate as mules,' said Mr Prothero; 'I can't think
+who you turn after. And then to have the impudence to say I was a
+Papist! Why, I'd rather be a Methody preacher any day. And you to
+encourage her, brother Jonathan. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>Brother Jonathan started up from his dream of Garn Goch and the
+Inquisition, to repudiate the imputation of encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>'I was merely glad to find that she knew anything about the Inquisition,
+and had any information at all in her head; generally speaking, women
+know so little. I assure you, David, it was far from me to wish to
+encourage her in disobedience, or to offend you; so give me your hand.'</p>
+
+<p>The brothers shook hands very warmly, and in so doing, the contrast
+between them was very great. The farmer I have already described. The
+clergyman was a remarkable specimen of the 'dry-as-dust' species. Very
+tall, very thin, with very loose joints, seemingly hung together on
+wires, and a very prominent nose. He had acquired the habit of poking
+his chin and looking on the ground, as if he were always in search for
+something, which he possibly was, as he never despaired of finding some
+antiquity or curiosity at any moment. It must not be augured from his
+devotion to antiquarian lore that he made a bad clergyman On the
+contrary, he was always ready at the call of the poorest parishioner,
+regular in his visits to the sick, charitable in no mean degree, and
+humble in his deportment to rich and poor. True, his sermons were
+somewhat dry, and occasionally too learned for the greater portion of
+his flock; but he made up for this by the simplicity of his conversation
+when he talked to them at their own houses.</p>
+
+<p>He seldom was seen without a sort of school-boy satchel at his back,
+containing a small hammer and other useful tools, which, it was
+believed, had actually carried his lesson-books years ago. All the
+villagers knew his strong-and-weak point, and he rarely appeared amongst
+them without having various stones and imaginary curiosities presented
+to him, particularly by the young people. Many of these stones found
+their way into his bag, and it was not to be wondered at that he had a
+somewhat round back, as he frequently carried a load upon it, that a
+beast of burden would not have rejoiced in.</p>
+
+<p>He and Mrs Jonathan were a remarkable pair; one of those ill-assorted
+couples that you wonder at. 'How in the world did they come together?'
+was the usual question, the philosophic reply to which would have been,
+that theirs was actually one of the 'Matches made in heaven.' The
+gentleman got money to enable him to follow the bent of his genius
+without anxiety for his daily bread, and therewith a stirring wife to
+take care of him and his house; the wife got her great desideratum, a
+husband, and therewith the desideratum of all women, her own way.</p>
+
+<p>But we must return to Netta and the other belligerents. As nothing more
+was to be made of her at present, they let her alone, perhaps the wisest
+thing they could do, and sat down to dinner. Netta declined eating, and
+consequently was left to her own reflections. Mr Prothero inquired
+anxiously of his wife, when he had cooled a little, whether he had
+really hurt Netta when he took hold of her arm; to which Mrs Prothero
+replied with unusual severity, 'No, perhaps it had been better if you
+had; she wanted some trial or punishment to bring down her proud
+spirit.'</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the evening, a little before Mr and Mrs Jonathan left
+Glanyravon to return home, Miss Gwynne came to inquire for the poor
+Irish girl. She joined the party in the parlour for a short time, and
+gave a message from her father to Rowland, to the effect that he was
+very anxious for another game of chess, and begged him to come and dine
+at the Park on the morrow. Of course Rowland was only too happy, and the
+rest of the party too proud.</p>
+
+<p>'Papa is disgusted at your having beaten him the other night,' said Miss
+Gwynne to Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'I think Mr Gwynne got tired,' said Rowland modestly.</p>
+
+<p>'What affectation,' thought Miss Gwynne, as she said, 'oh, no! he says
+you are the best player.'</p>
+
+<p>'I disclaim that entirely,' said Rowland. 'I merely beat two games out
+of three, and we had not time for another.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland had been, according to promise, to dine and play chess with Mr
+Gwynne; Miss Gwynne had dined with them, but had left them after dinner
+to follow their own devices, whilst she had followed hers, and did not
+reappear during the evening. Mr Gwynne had reproached her for her
+absence, and she had declared that she hated to be so long without
+talking, and that chess and young Prothero were perfect antidotes to
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>'That ancient, Saracenic game, as Mr Jonathan Prothero calls it, played
+by a Goth,' she said, 'is beyond my store of politeness.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne went to see the poor Irish girl; they found
+her rather better, and able to speak to them with some degree of
+composure. The fever and its accompanying delirium had abated, and the
+danger was past; but, as is usual in such cases, extreme weakness was
+the result.</p>
+
+<p>'God bless you, my ladies,' she murmured, as Miss Gwynne stooped over
+her to inquire how she did, and Mrs Prothero took her thin hand. 'I am
+better, thank ye; I can see and understand, and know now all that you
+have done for the wretched beggar.'</p>
+
+<p>Here the poor girl's tears began to flow.</p>
+
+<p>'We only wish to see you get well,' said Miss Gwynne softly, 'and then
+we can help you to find your friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have no friends in the world miss, asthore; my father died years ago,
+and my mother, brother, and sister all died of this horrible famine and
+pestilence! oh me! oh me!'</p>
+
+<p>The tears flowed still faster, and Mrs Prothero begged her to be silent,
+and not to excite herself; but with restless eagerness she went on, as
+if anxious to pour forth her sorrows whilst she felt the strength to do
+so. It was remarkable that her English was very good, and that, with the
+exception of an occasional Irish epithet of endearment, you would
+scarcely have discovered her country. Indeed, the Welsh peculiarities of
+expression and accent sometimes appeared, so that it would have been
+difficult to say where she was born or brought up.</p>
+
+<p>'I am going to look for my friends, if I live, and then, may be, I may
+be able to repay you for your kindness to me, a poor, wretched wanderer
+on the face of God's earth. If you'll be pleased to listen whilst I have
+the strength, I will tell you my story.</p>
+
+<p>'My mother was a Welshwoman, born in some part of South Wales; she was
+the daughter of a clergyman, and respectably brought up. Her father
+taught her a great many things that we ignorant people in Ireland used
+to think a great deal of. Oh, she was a good and tender mother to me,
+ladies, avourneen.</p>
+
+<p>'My father was an Irishman, and a fine, handsome man. He was a soldier,
+a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers, and used to be called Corporal
+O'Grady. He was going through this country to Ireland, to visit his
+friends, on leave, when he first saw mother, and fell in love with her,
+and she with him. She knew that her father would not be willing that
+they should marry, so she ran away with him to Ireland. They travelled
+about for some time with his regiment, but, after I was born, mother
+went to settle in Ireland with father's family, and there she had three
+other children, two boys and a girl. After this my father was wounded in
+India, and got his discharge and his half-pay. He became a kind of
+under-agent for a gentleman that lived in England, so we were very well
+off as long as he lived; but he died when I was about twelve years old,
+and then mother did not well know what to do. I remember my father's
+death, and all our trouble, as if it was yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>'She set up a little school, and for some years did pretty well. She
+could teach all that the farmers' daughters wanted to learn, and I
+helped her; so we managed to live. It was a hard struggle sometimes, but
+everybody was kind to widow O'Grady and her orphans; God reward them.</p>
+
+<p>'But the bad time came for poor Ireland; the famine visited us, and
+then the pestilence! Ye have heard enough of the horrors, without doubt,
+but not half of what they really were. We were all starving, dying&mdash;I
+saw enough people die to make me wish myself dead hundreds of times, to
+be hidden from the sight; but I was fated to live. You, ladies, in your
+charity, have saved me again; but oh! if it were not wicked, I should
+wish myself with my mother, brothers, and sister in heaven.'</p>
+
+<p>Here the poor girl's sobs choked her speech, and Mrs Prothero entreated
+her not to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>'Only one word more, my ladies, and I have done. When they were all
+gone&mdash;all&mdash;all&mdash;and I only left, I did not care what became of me. I
+went about amongst those stricken down with the fever; but, woe is me, I
+never caught it. I fasted from morning to night, day after day, but I
+could not die of starvation; nothing would kill me. I was alone in the
+wide world, yet it would not please God to take me to another, much as I
+prayed to Him.</p>
+
+<p>'Before mother died she told me to go into Wales, and try to find if she
+had any relations left. It was all she said, or had strength for; and
+before she got ill she seldom talked of her friends. All that I know of
+them I heard from my father when I was quite a child. He told me that
+mother had written to her father when she settled in Ireland, and that
+her letter had been returned with a note, saying that he was dead, and
+his only son gone away, no one knew where. This was her brother, and my
+uncle, but I do not know where to find him, only I am come to seek them,
+that I may do her bidding.'</p>
+
+<p>'And what was your mother's name?' asked Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Margaret Jones, ma'am,'</p>
+
+<p>'My poor girl, there are hundreds of that name in South Wales. But we
+will make inquiries for you, and when you are better&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I am better now, thank you, ma'am. To-morrow I think I may go on my
+way. I would not trouble you any more; a poor beggar like me is not
+fit&mdash;oh dear! oh dear!'</p>
+
+<p>'Now I insist on your being quiet and going to sleep, and forgetting all
+those horrors,' said Miss Gwynne, assuming her most decided voice to
+hide her emotion. 'You are not to go away to-morrow; but I daresay in a
+few days you will be able to do so, and we can help you a little. But
+your best plan now is to get as strong as you can whilst you have the
+opportunity,' and herewith Miss Gwynne put a large spoonful of jelly
+into the girl's mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was wiping her eyes, and stifling a rising sob behind the
+curtain, which caused Miss Gwynne to become very severe, and to utter
+something about giving way to foolish weakness which aroused Mrs
+Prothero, and made the patient bury her head beneath the bed-clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne beckoned to Mrs Prothero, and they left the room together.
+Upon asking for Netta, Miss Gwynne was let into the secret of the family
+troubles and consultations, and greatly fearing to be made a party in
+the lecturings overhanging the luckless head of the offender, she took a
+hasty leave of Mr and Mrs Jonathan, and begging Mrs Prothero not to be
+too hard upon Netta, or to let her son Rowland preach too many sermons,
+went her very independent way.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" ></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER.</h3>
+
+<p>'You will oblige me by remaining at home this evening, my dear,' said Mr
+Gwynne to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>'That I assuredly shall, papa,' was the reply, 'for dear Miss Hall is
+coming to-day, and that princess of bores, Miss Nugent, has invited
+herself to tea. I certainly do wish Rowland Prothero would fall in love
+with her. She is quite ready for the <i>premier venu</i>, be he prince or
+peasant.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does not Lady Mary come, my dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I am thankful to say she is gone to spend a few days with the
+Llanfawr family.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very glad Miss Hall is coming, Freda. I wish she would live with
+you; it would be very pleasant, and a protection for you, and all that
+sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, do ask her, dear papa. I have tried a thousand times to persuade
+her to come here and live with us for ever; but I think she will not
+come on my invitation.'</p>
+
+<p>'I could not possibly ask her, my dear. I should break down at the first
+word; we never were very familiar. She is stiff, and I am
+nervous&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;I really could not summon courage.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall had been Miss Gwynne's governess during a few years of her
+education era, and had succeeded in entirely gaining her affections, as
+well as a small portion of ascendancy over her determined will. She had
+left Glanyravon to reside with an aged father, who, having lately died,
+left her again under the necessity of seeking a situation. Miss Gwynne
+had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost
+immediately.</p>
+
+<p>She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage
+that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in
+great excitement, and scarcely allowed her <i>ci-devant</i> governess to
+alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces. Mr Gwynne followed
+somewhat more leisurely, and received Miss Hall with his usual nervous
+reserve of manner, but great courtesy. She responded most warmly to the
+embraces of Freda, and quietly to the welcome of Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>We will not give a minute description of the new comer, because she is
+not quite a person to be described. She is neither very good-looking nor
+very plain, neither very old nor very young, neither very tall nor very
+short, neither very talkative nor very reserved, neither very much
+over-dressed nor very much under-dressed, neither very merry nor very
+grave. Freda used to say that she was the personification of gentle
+dignity and serenity, and in the days of her Italian studies called her
+occasionally <i>La Dignit&agrave;</i>, but more frequently <i>La Serenit&agrave;</i>, which
+epithet would sometimes be abbreviated into Serena, or Sera, or Nita, or
+anything but Miss Hall, which the love of the impulsive pupil, so hard
+to obtain, and so great when obtained, thought much too formal.</p>
+
+<p>When Freda took Miss Hall to the delightful apartment she had been
+adorning for her for a week past, the first impulse of the older lady
+was to throw herself upon the neck of the younger, and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Dearest Serena, I have been so very sorry for you,' was all that Freda
+could say.</p>
+
+<p>For a minute there was silence, when Miss Hall, recovering herself,
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Freda, this is all so kind of you. If anything could console me
+for the loss of my last earthly support, it is such affection as yours.'</p>
+
+<p>We will pass over the long conversation of those two friends, its
+melancholy and its mirth, for there was much of both, and bring them to
+the dinner-table and Messrs Gwynne and Rowland Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not
+flow easily. Mr Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarrassment Miss Hall's
+natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make
+herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited,
+were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees,
+however, they thawed a little. Mr Gwynne wished to say something that
+would set his young chess opponent at his ease, and said the very thing
+likely the most to confuse a shy man. He made a personal remark and paid
+a compliment.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure your uncle and&mdash;and your father, of course, must have been
+much gratified, and so forth, at your gaining that fellowship at
+Oxford.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think you labour under a mistake,' said Rowland, looking more than
+usually confused when he saw Miss Gwynne's eyes turned upon him; 'I
+merely gained a scholarship at Rugby, which is really nothing. I did not
+even try for a fellowship.'</p>
+
+<p>'Conceited!' thought Freda. 'I suppose he thinks if he had tried he
+would have got one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Were you not at Baliol?' asked Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I went there because my aunt had a fancy for the college, her
+father having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College
+and tried for a Welsh fellowship, which is more easily obtained, because
+there are few competitors.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you know anything of Mr Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked
+Miss Hall.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we
+became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is he clever?'</p>
+
+<p>'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to shine at the
+bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an
+invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have
+time before I go to be ordained.'</p>
+
+<p>'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in
+the corner of her eye.</p>
+
+<p>'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a
+blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a&mdash;a great deal
+of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever,
+or I mean a&mdash;an enterprising woman.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question,
+yet thinking it incumbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter
+glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so
+dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from
+Mr Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not
+help smiling, but said with much spirit,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt
+of gratitude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to
+London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.</p>
+
+<p>'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?'
+said Mr Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day?
+Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most
+respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.</p>
+
+<p>Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr Rowland Prothero. She
+was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with
+him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was
+to be ordained by the Bishop of London.</p>
+
+<p>There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in
+due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they
+found Miss Nugent awaiting them.</p>
+
+<p>'Whose <i>beaux yeux</i> do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked
+Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent
+lisped.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you call his <i>beaux yeux</i>? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess
+again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Young Rithe Rithe?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wrong again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not Captain Lewith?'</p>
+
+<p>'Some one much nearer home.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr Howel Jenkinth, who, they
+thay, will be quite a grand man.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr Rowland
+Prothero?'</p>
+
+<p>'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am
+thure he is very <i>gauche</i> and countrified.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in
+excellent society, and is going at once to a London living&mdash;curacy I
+mean, but it is all the same.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been
+lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho
+interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black
+hair, and thuch a beautiful voice. Ith Mr Prothero going to Tht
+Jameth'th?'</p>
+
+<p>'You shall ask him yourself; I daresay he will like you to seem
+interested.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you going to Tht Jameth'th, Mr Prothero?' inquired Miss Nugent,
+when that young man entered the room shortly after.</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand what you mean.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mith Gwynne thaid you were going to a London curacy; I thought it might
+be Tht Jameth'th.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe not. If I go to London I shall probably be in the city&mdash;a
+very different locality to St James's.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! when we are in town we alwayth go to Tht Jameth'th, it ith thuch a
+nice church.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda perceived that Miss Nugent's interest fell as soon as she found
+that Rowland was going into the city. She also saw a smile lurking about
+Rowland's mouth when he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I have never been in London; but I suppose St James's is one of the
+fashionable parts.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yeth, very. Numberth of grand people go to Tht Jameth'th; don't you
+with you were going to be curate there instead of the thity?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was grave in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'I should wish to labour wherever there is the largest field to work in,
+Miss Nugent, whether in the city or St James's.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yeth, to be sure, I believe there are loths of poor people in Tht
+Jameth'th. I onthe went by chance into thuch a nathty alley clothe by
+Tht Jameth'th Threet. Thuch dirty children!'</p>
+
+<p>'Alas,' said Miss Hall, coming to the rescue of Rowland, who was looking
+quite distressed, 'we cannot go many steps in the London parishes, be
+they fashionable or unfashionable, without entering a &quot;vineyard&quot; amply
+wide enough for any one who wishes to work in it, whether priest or
+layman.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland looked round brightly and pleasantly at Miss Hall. Freda could
+not help noticing the sudden animation in a face that she had considered
+a minute ago almost heavy.</p>
+
+<p>'When are we to have our game at chess?' interrupted Mr Gwynne. 'The
+poor of London is a subject I quite dread to hear discussed, it is so
+hopeless. One can do no good, and what is the use of tormenting oneself
+about it here in Wales.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, papa! they want very decided measures; plenty of police, active
+magistrates, and I don't know what besides,' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Would you allow me to supply what you have omitted?' asked Rowland;
+'they want Christian sympathy, Christian teaching, brotherly kindness,
+and the aid of the rich and powerful.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda considered Rowland's finale to her sentence impertinent and was
+about to take up the defence of her magisterial system very warmly,
+when she met a glance so earnest and appealing, and withal so beautiful
+in its earnestness, that she could not find in her heart to answer it by
+a hard look or word; so, for want of better reply, she went to prepare
+the chess-table.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish you joy of that Saracenic game,' she said ironically, as her
+father and Rowland sat down to chess, not perhaps quite by the wish of
+one of the pair.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought you liked chess, Freda?' said Miss Hall.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, pretty well, when I can get any one who does not beat me. I hate so
+to lose a game that I think it is better not to play at all than to run
+the risk of feeling in a passion, and not being able to give vent to
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps the better plan would be to control the passion,' said Miss
+Hall.</p>
+
+<p>'Impossible! I am sure it must be just such a feeling as a good general
+would have if he lost a battle, after having done his best to win it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose the best general is always the calmest, both in victory and
+defeat,' murmured Rowland, without taking his eyes from his men.</p>
+
+<p>'If you would oblige me by not talking,' said Mr Gwynne nervously; 'I
+can never play if my opponent talks.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon,' said Rowland; 'I know it is very disagreeable.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you too tired to visit some of your old haunts, Serenit&agrave;?' said
+Freda. 'By the way that would be a good name for Mr Prothero's ideal
+general.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not quite,' began Rowland, but was silent in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Freda, are you going out? I really am sorry to stop your
+amusement, and so forth, but I cannot play,' said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Exactly, papa; we will go directly if Miss Hall likes.'</p>
+
+<p>The three ladies left the room, and, as Rowland glanced after them, he
+very decidedly wished that he might be permitted to accompany them. One
+other great wish he also had at his heart, the conversion of Miss Gwynne
+to a purer and higher tone of mind. He did not, we grieve to say, bestow
+a similar pastoral thought on Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>'That position of your queen at such an early stage of the game must be
+an oversight, I think. Excuse me, but I could not take such an unfair
+advantage,' said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was roused at once. He gave himself up to his game, and an hour
+afterwards, when the ladies returned from their walk, and candles were
+ordered, it was still in progress, but he had the best of it.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you sing for us, Serena?' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you sing a duet with me?' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>The duet was sung, and another and another and another, and Rowland lost
+the game.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne arose, very much elated and rubbing his hands gently,
+according to his wont.</p>
+
+<p>'How do you feel, general, defeated?' asked Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Very much like a subaltern,' said Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you sing, Mr Prothero?' asked Miss Hall; 'all the Welsh are so
+musical that I think there are few who have not voices.'</p>
+
+<p>'I sometimes sing chants and sacred music; but I know very few songs,
+and those old ones.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you will take the bass of some of these old glees. Here is &quot;The
+Chough and Crow,&quot; &quot;When shall we three meet again,&quot; &quot;The Canadian Boat
+Song,&quot; &quot;The Sicilian Mariner,&quot; and I know not how many more,' said Miss
+Hall, turning over the leaves of a thick old book full of glees.</p>
+
+<p>'I will do my best,' said Rowland, and the glees began in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>All the Protheros were musical, and Rowland had a very fine clear voice.
+Miss Hall was right in saying that the Welsh are a musical people;
+Rowland was a happy example. He had been studying Church music a good
+deal, and learning to take different parts, so he acquitted himself very
+creditably in the glees, all of which he had either tried or heard sung.
+Freda was quite astonished. She had a great taste for music herself, and
+a good voice, but would never sing with any one but Miss Hall, a piece
+of wilfulness that her father occasionally reproached her with. The
+addition of Rowland was rather agreeable to her, as it enabled them to
+sing the glees that she was fond of. She no longer objected to the
+chess, and when her father proposed giving Rowland his revenge on the
+morrow, she added, 'And then we can wind up with a few more glees.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland bowed his thanks and departed.</p>
+
+<p>During the ensuing month there were frequent chess and glee clubs at
+Glanyravon. What the effect such associations had upon Rowland he never
+confided to any one, but when Miss Hall expressed her opinion that 'Mr
+Prothero was a sensible, unaffected young man, but shy,' Freda
+condescended to say, 'Well, he is not quite such a Goth or half as
+affected as I fancied he was, but he has a very good opinion of himself,
+nevertheless.'</p>
+
+<p>In due course Rowland went to London to be ordained, and so ended the
+chess and glee clubs.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" ></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SAILOR.</h3>
+
+<p>Argument and persuasion were alike thrown away upon Netta Prothero. She
+would make no promises, no concessions; she stood her ground with the
+obstinacy of a Cadwallader. Her father stormed for about a week, when he
+got tired of the subject and of Netta's resolute manner and cross face,
+and gave it up. He heard that Howel had started for London, having put
+his affairs in the hands of an attorney, and that it was not at all
+unlikely that he would marry some lady of rank. He laughed heartily at
+the notion. It was also rumoured that he meant to return and take a
+place in the neighbourhood, stand for the county, and be one of the
+greatest men in South Wales. In short, the enchanter, the merlin, the
+open sesame, the omnipotent sorcerer <i>gold</i> was to work the miracles to
+which Howel had been so long looking forward. And the gossips were not
+far wrong. Gold is truly a famous master-key to all hearts and to all
+companies.</p>
+
+<p>But whilst the gossips&mdash;and who is not a gossip in a country
+neighbourhood?&mdash;whilst the gossips were settling Howel's future so
+comfortably and respectably for him, he was dispensing his gold amongst
+gamblers and the like&mdash;paying debts of honour as they are called.</p>
+
+<p>However, Mr Prothero thought it not unlikely that what the gossips said
+might prove true, and was therefore tolerably comfortable about his
+spoilt pet, Netta. When his anger and her pouting had subsided, matters
+went on much as usual for a time at the farm. Even the blaze that was
+kindled at the incursion of the Irish girl, had well-nigh gone out, and
+Mr Prothero had nearly forgotten her existence.</p>
+
+<p>She, meanwhile, was slowly recovering under Mrs Prothero's kind care.
+One day, that good woman was sitting with her in the little room that
+had been allotted to her, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Is there anything you could think of that would amuse you, my dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'If I might&mdash;' Gladys began and paused.</p>
+
+<p>'Pray, go on, do not be afraid to ask.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I might only make up that cap for you, ma'am, I should be so proud.
+I used to make caps at home.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was manufacturing a cap for herself, and had a certain
+womanly fear as to how it would turn out, if transferred to other
+fingers; but she did not like to refuse the request, so she resigned it
+into the thin hands of Gladys. She was almost immediately called away,
+and did not return for some hours. When she again visited her invalid
+she found her quite excited with her work that she had just completed.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, what a pretty cap!' said Mrs Prothero, quite astonished at the
+taste displayed. 'I must just run and show it to Netta&mdash;I am so much
+obliged to you.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero left the room and soon returned, followed by her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Can you trim bonnets as well as make caps?' asked Netta, forgetful of
+infection when her personal interest was involved.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, miss, a little,' replied Gladys modestly.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish you would trim mine for me to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, thank you, miss! If you will only let me try I shall be so
+grateful.'</p>
+
+<p>'She does not seem like a beggar after all,' thought Netta. 'Who taught
+you to work so nicely?' she said aloud.</p>
+
+<p>'I was apprenticed to a mantua-maker and milliner for six months, miss,
+and after that I worked for the neighbours.'</p>
+
+<p>'How could you work for them, when they are all rags and tatters?'</p>
+
+<p>'There were some farmers' wives, miss,' said Gladys, colouring slightly,
+'and the clergyman's family, and the steward's&mdash;I used to work for
+them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then how came you here?'</p>
+
+<p>'People couldn't work, or pay for work, miss, when every one was
+starvin' around them.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero looked at Netta reproachfully. The girl was not really
+hard-hearted, so she changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay you can knit and mark samplers?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, miss, mother taught us to do that at school.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think, Netta,' interrupted Mrs Prothero, 'that she must go to bed
+now. She looks tired, and has been up long enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'What a fuss mother makes about the girl,' muttered Netta as she left
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>The following day the bonnet was tastily trimmed under Netta's
+superintendence, and work enough hunted up to employ Gladys for a month
+at least. Netta even found an old cotton gown, which she presented to
+her in return for her labours. It was not long enough, but Gladys
+thought she might be able to lengthen it.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst her convalescence and Netta's needlework were thus progressing,
+there was an arrival at the farm. One evening the family were assembled
+in the large hall, their usual sitting-room. Mr Prothero was reading the
+newspaper at a small round table, with an especial candle to himself.
+His worthy wife was mending or making shirts. At another round table,
+not very far off, Netta had some work in her hands, and one of Captain
+Marryat's novels open before her.</p>
+
+<p>'Why don't you do your work instead of reading those trashy stories,
+Netta?' suddenly exclaimed Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'I am working, father,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Pretty working sure enough. What nonsense have you got reading now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Peter Simple, father, oh it is so funny.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! it was that stupid stuff, and 'The Pilot,' and 'The Spy,' and I
+don't know what else, that sent Owen off to sea. I suppose it's there
+you learn all your nonsense. I wish you would read the cookery book, and
+help your mother to take care of the house and dairy, instead of doing
+what's no good in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>A loud knocking at the door interrupted a rather pert reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Who on earth is that at this time of night?' exclaimed the farmer,
+throwing down his paper.</p>
+
+<p>'Shanno,' called Mrs Prothero into the passage, 'ask who it is before
+you open the door.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's no great things,' suggested Netta, 'for they're knocking with a
+stick, and not with the knocker.'</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness, what's the row?' said the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>'Who's there?' demanded Shanno, in the passage.</p>
+
+<p>The answer did not reach the hall, but Shanno came rushing in, 'It's
+them Irishers again, master, upon my deet, they do be here for ever.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give me my stick!' exclaimed Mr Prothero, 'if I don't give them a
+lesson my name isn't David.'</p>
+
+<p>He seized a stick and went into the passage, followed by his wife,
+murmuring, 'Oh, David, bach,' and by Netta as far as the door, from
+which she peeped down the passage.</p>
+
+<p>'Who's there?' roared the farmer in a voice of thunder.</p>
+
+<p>'May it please yer honour, I'm cowld and hungry. Long life to yer honour
+and her leddyship, if yell only give the loan o' yer barn, or maybe yer
+loft, or&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll show you the way to my barn, you idle, good-for-nothing scamp,'
+cried Mr Prothero, opening the door, and levelling a blow with his stick
+into the moonlight, that must infallibly have knocked down any one less
+agile than the man for whom it was intended. As it was, the unwelcome
+visitor jumped aside, whilst the portly farmer tripped himself up by his
+own impetuosity, and fell upon the threshold. Mrs Prothero and Netta
+screamed, and Shanno took hold of the beggar's arm, to prevent his
+escape. But the beggar had pulled Mr Prothero up, and was beginning to
+sympathise with him in broad brogue, when that valiant anti-Irishman got
+hold of his stick again, and began to belabour the unoffending party's
+back most manfully.</p>
+
+<p>'Enough's as good as a faist, yer honour,' cried the stranger, skipping
+from side to side, and evading the blows very skilfully; 'pon my sowl,
+yer honour 'ud do for a fair or a wake. 'Tis madam as has the heart an'
+the conscience for the poor Irish, an' miss, too, asthore!'</p>
+
+<p>The impudent fellow ran round to where Netta stood, who, in terror, went
+into the house, followed by the man, and after him, the rest in full hue
+and cry.</p>
+
+<p>'Tin thousand pardons, miss,' said the man, taking off his hat and
+confronting Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen! Owen!' screamed Netta. 'For shame upon you, you naughty boy,' and
+therewith Netta and the unexpected guest were hugging one another, most
+lovingly.</p>
+
+<p>''Tis the mother will give the poor Irisher a lodgin' and a drop o' the
+cratur,' cried that mother's well-beloved eldest born almost catching
+her up in his arms, and smothering her with kisses. 'And the masther
+isn't so hard-hearted as he looks,' he added, shaking the astonished
+farmer by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen! oughtn't you to be ashamed of yourself?' cried the farmer,
+laughing aloud, and rubbing his right leg.</p>
+
+<p>'Not kilt intirely, yer honour! didn't I take you all in, that's all!'</p>
+
+<p>'Where did you come from? How did you come? When did you leave your
+ship?' were the questions reiterated on all sides of the welcome guest.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll tell you all that to-morrow. At present I am dying of cowld and
+hunger, and haven't broke me fast since morning. Let me show you how the
+locker stands.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen emptied his pockets, and from a corner of one of them turned out a
+solitary halfpenny.</p>
+
+<p>'I shouldn't have had that if old Nanny Cwmgwyn hadn't given it to me
+just now. But I'll tell you my story to-morrow in character.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not an improved one anyhow,' said Mr Prothero with a gathering frown.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't lecture to-night, Datta, bach; you shall have an hour on purpose
+to-morrow, when I promise to listen to edification. 'Pon my word it is
+pleasant to be at home again. How I long to sleep in my comfortable bed
+once more.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mrs Prothero's countenance fell, and Netta looked malicious.</p>
+
+<p>'Not likely to sleep there to-night, boy,' said the farmer; 'mother has
+got visitors.'</p>
+
+<p>'Visitors!' exclaimed Owen, 'and gone to bed already! what sleepy
+people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Some of your friends of the cowld and hungry sort,' said the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>'Not mother's old friends, and my relations, the Irish beggars?'</p>
+
+<p>'Singular number, and a young lady!' said the farmer with a sneer and a
+puff of the tobacco with which he was beginning to solace himself, at
+the sight of the bread and cheese that were appearing.</p>
+
+<p>'A poor girl, Owen, who was taken ill,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'I understand it all, mother; never mind, she's welcome for once,
+provided I get a good bed, but to-morrow she must turn out.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, my dear,' said Mrs Prothero submissively; for Owen, though a
+prodigal, was the eldest son, and generally had his own way.</p>
+
+<p>'Now don't be frightened at my appetite,' said Owen, sitting down to
+cold meat and strong ale.</p>
+
+<p>'Bless you and your appetite,' said Mrs Prothero, kissing his forehead;
+upon which he jumped up again, and hugged her with all his heart.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Netta, let us go and see about the sheets,' said Mrs Prothero,
+smoothing her dress.</p>
+
+<p>The mother and daughter left the room, and were not long in preparing
+the best bedroom for Owen. This done, they hastened back to the hall,
+where they found diminished ham and increased smoke, Owen having lighted
+a short pipe, and taken to smoking with his father, over a large jug of
+ale.</p>
+
+<p>'We must have your adventures to-night, Owen,' cried Netta, as she
+entered, 'and you must tell us why you came home so very shabby. I
+suppose you have been wrecked on a desert island.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure,' said Owen, laying down the pipe. 'But I must go out and
+find my wardrobe, and all my valuables, that my hospitable Daddy there
+caused me to throw down, when he gave me such a warm welcome.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen disappeared, but soon returned with a box in his hands, apparently
+of some weight, and a bundle slung across his shoulder, suspended on a
+walking stick. Putting down the box he began to sing,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+'A handkerchief held all the treasure I had.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>whilst he flourished his walking-stick and bundle over his mother's
+head. When he had finished his song, he put down his bundle and went to
+the box.</p>
+
+<p>'I have shown you the size of my wardrobe, now allow me to show off the
+rest of my fortune and stock in trade. Father, you shall have the first
+peep. Let me put my box on the table, and the light&mdash;so. Now, stoop,
+so&mdash;look through that glass, so&mdash;and&mdash;have you got the right focus?
+Yes!&mdash;To the right, you beholds the gallant 'ero, Lord Nelson, him as
+lost his harm, a just fallin' in the harms of Capen 'Ardy and
+Victory.&mdash;To the left&mdash;but first his lordship is a singin' &quot;England
+expects every man to do his dooty.&quot; To the left&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, if that isn't as pretty a picture and as much like life as
+anything I ever saw,' said Mr Prothero, interrupting the showman. 'Come
+here, mother; Netta, look here.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero glanced into the box, which was nothing more nor less than
+a penny peep-show, and Owen began again.</p>
+
+<p>'To the right you beholds,' when Netta, impatient, looked through a
+second glass, and exclaimed in ecstasy, 'Where did you get this, Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>In answer, the scene shifted, and Owen recommenced.</p>
+
+<p>'Here you beholds Lisbon, that wast city, or rayther what wos Lisbon
+after the great earthquake. See the ruins all around, and the women and
+children a screamin'; and the priests a-prayin'&mdash;those men in robes is
+priests, papishers, like them Irish beggars.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Owen,' interrupted Mrs Prothero. 'Look, father, do look here!'</p>
+
+<p>While Mr Prothero and Netta gazed admiringly, Mrs Prothero was off and
+returned with Shanno, Mal, and Tom the boy, who were all in a broad grin
+of delight at the arrival of their prime favourite, Owen.</p>
+
+<p>He, meanwhile, is in his element; begins with Lord Nelson again, and
+makes the whole party take turns. Then he goes to Lisbon; afterwards he
+has The Queen of the Cannibal Islands; The Great Fire of London; a
+portrait large as life of the immense fat man Daniel Lambert, at sight
+of which the servants all exclaim 'Ach!' and a variety of other splendid
+designs, which we decline to enumerate. Suffice it to say that they all
+draw forth the approving commendations of the spectators, from Mr
+Prothero, master, to Tom, serving-lad.</p>
+
+<p>When the peep-show has been duly exhibited, Netta again demands her
+brother's history, and a particular account of how he procured the show.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! there is not much to tell,' says Owen, 'and I won't tell that
+unless father promises to keep his lecture till to-morrow. I hate a
+sermon late at night, but don't so much mind it in the morning. Don't
+look so serious, mother; I don't mean a clerical preachment. Do you
+promise, father?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, there, as you like,' said Mr Prothero, laughing? 'but I wish you
+hadn't made me break my shin.'</p>
+
+<p>'Here's a patch of diaculum, father. I hope you have not really hurt
+yourself?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, wild goose. Now, let's have the story.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, here goes. Since this time twelvemonth I have been a voyage to
+Australia and back: seen Sydney and Botany Bay, and my brethren the
+convicts; done a little in the mercantile way: speculated in gin and
+'baccy on my own account, and helped the captain. Came home as first
+mate of the 'Fair Weather,' and had enough of tailoring in the worst
+voyage I ever made. We were almost wrecked more than once, and almost
+starved for the last month, owing to the time the leaky old hulk took in
+the voyage. When we landed in Plymouth we had a spree, as you may
+suppose, and soon spent most of our money. I and a messmate were to
+travel together as far as Swansea, so we just saved money enough to pay
+our way, and enjoyed ourselves with the rest; but, as ill luck would
+have it, we fell in with a poor Welsh woman, who had come to Plymouth in
+the hope of meeting her husband, and being disappointed, and having
+spent all her money, she didn't know how to get back to her home again.
+Of course we couldn't leave a fellow-countrywoman in distress, so we
+gave her what we had: enough to pay her journey home, and a few
+shillings over. We then sold some of our clothes, and stumbling upon a
+man with this old box in his arms, we bargained with him, and bought it
+for twelve shillings. He wanted a pound, but we beat him down.</p>
+
+<p>'Having thus a fortune in our possession we set out with our peep-show,
+and thought of getting interest for our money. We have been about three
+weeks journeying from place to place; and I assure you we have seen a
+good deal of life. We unfortunately spent the interest of our fortune as
+it came in; but, as you will perceive, I have brought the whole capital
+home with me. When we entered a town on a fair or market-day, we made a
+great deal of money, but then the temptations to spend were all the
+greater. I used to have all the labour of the imagination, for my friend
+Jack Jenkins had not the gift of eloquence; so we agreed that I should
+be showman, and he porter&mdash;a division of work that we thought quite
+fair. When we arrived at Swansea I gave him all the money we had in
+hand, and he resigned the peep-show to me, and so we parted company; he
+to go to his friends in Glamorganshire, I to come on here.</p>
+
+<p>'I had a rare lark on my way home. I went to uncle's, and finding aunt
+in the garden, slouched my hat over my face, and began my story. She
+ordered me off the premises instantly as a vagrant. I went round to the
+back door and got a penny a-piece from the servants, who were quite
+delighted. Then I met uncle, and telling him that I had a wonderful box
+of antiques to exhibit, he gave me sixpence, and with great curiosity
+poked his proboscis against the glass. It was worth something to see
+him. I at once put a picture of Stonehenge, and afterwards one of
+Herculaneum into the box, that I had bought on purpose for his benefit.
+I went through the history of the Druids, and managed a touch of Garn
+Goch and the Welsh castles with a strong and masterly nasal, that so
+delighted the worthy vicar, that he actually invited me in to see his
+museum. I excused myself by saying that my wife was waiting for
+me&mdash;mother, that was my only fib, I assure you&mdash;and hastened away, lest
+in his delight at finding an itinerant arch&aelig;ologist, he should ask my
+wife to see his museum as well. The rest of my adventures you had the
+honour and glory of sharing, so I must beg to say they are at an end.
+And now I am really and truly and soberly come to settle at home for the
+remainder of my days, and to become a farmer in good earnest if father
+will take me into partnership. The two things I like best in the world
+are, the rolling sea by moonlight and a field of golden corn in broad
+sunshine, of a fine day in autumn.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you naughty boy!' cried Netta, as Owen ended his story.</p>
+
+<p>'A fine sturdy farmer you would make,' said Mr Prothero, trying to
+stifle a very hearty fit of laughter, that burst out at last in spite of
+himself. 'I'm glad you took in brother Jonathan, or he'd have had the
+laugh against me.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero had a tear in her eye as she smiled sadly, and shook her
+head at the darling son who had caused her nothing but love and grief
+since he was born; but the tear was soon kissed away, and the smile
+turned into a cheerful one by that son's merry lips.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" ></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SEMPSTRESS.</h3>
+
+<p>Owen Prothero, like his sister Netta, had been very much spoilt by his
+father during his childhood and boyhood. Indeed it would have been
+difficult not to have spoilt him. Handsome in person, and frank in
+manners, he was a general favourite. His uncle, the vicar, quite
+idolised him, and would have lavished a fortune on his education had he
+been of a studious nature. His mother, alone, conscious of his many
+faults, strove to correct them, and to counterbalance the undue
+admiration he received on all sides, by impartial justice in her praises
+and reproofs.</p>
+
+<p>But we have not much to do with his boyhood, which was wild and
+untameable; beyond the fact that, when sent by his good uncle to Rugby
+with a view to his becoming a clergyman, he resolutely declared his
+intention of going to sea, and ran away from school to effect his
+purpose. He was captured, however by the masters, and a sharp look-out
+kept upon him for the future, which prevented further escapades.</p>
+
+<p>He did not make brilliant progress in his studies, though he was clever
+enough, and accordingly his aunt persuaded her vicar to adopt her
+favourite nephew, Rowland, in his stead, and to let Owen go a voyage or
+two in a merchant vessel, to cure him of his love for a seafaring life.</p>
+
+<p>It was Mr Prothero's wish to have one of his two sons a farmer, he did
+not much care which, so it was with some difficulty that Aunt Jonathan
+induced him to listen to her proposal of making a clergyman of Rowland.
+He yielded at last, however, in the hope that when Owen had had enough
+of the sea, he would come and settle at home, since, next to this, his
+favourite hobby, he professed to like farming.</p>
+
+<p>Owen was about fifteen when he first went to sea&mdash;he was just
+seven-and-twenty when he came home with the peep-show. During the
+intermediate twelve years he had been all over the world: not merely as
+a sailor, but as an adventurer, traveller, speculator, merchant, and
+wandering Jack-of-all trades. As quickly as he made money, so he lost
+it, spent it, or gave it away; and when he had no other resource, he
+worked as a common sailor, or labourer, until some lucky chance opened a
+passage for some fresh excitement. There is this to be said in his
+favour. During this long period he was never chargeable to his father in
+any way. If he got into difficulties, he got out of them pretty easily:
+if he was in want of bread, which had been frequently the case, his
+friends at home knew nothing of it. Beyond the regular new outfit, in
+the way of clothes, that his mother made for him each time that he
+returned home, he had never had anything from his parents, and
+resolutely refused it if offered. Always cheerful, hopeful, in high
+spirits, open as the day, affectionate, and attractive, he was a welcome
+guest wherever he went. Did he come home in rags, or as now, with a
+peep-show in his arms, or as once before, with a hurdy-gurdy and
+monkey, all his old friends made merry, and gave parties in his honour.
+And whatever the state of his wardrobe or exchequer, he was sure to be
+in the fields the following day, reaping, hay-making, ploughing, sowing,
+or even milking, as either of these, or similar avocations, came in his
+way. Nobody could be angry with him, and his father's lectures, and his
+brother's reasonings all melted away before the row of white teeth that
+he was for ever displaying in his joyous laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Of middle height, athletic, sunburnt&mdash;with hands almost as brown as his
+merry brown eyes&mdash;with black, long, curly hair, a bushy beard, and
+plenty of whiskers, a bronze neck from which, in sailor fashion, the
+blue and white shirt-collar receded&mdash;and a broad forehead, showing all
+kinds of bumps, particularly those of locality over the bushy black
+eyebrows&mdash;Owen Prothero was as fine a type of an English sailor as could
+be found the broad seas over.</p>
+
+<p>He was in the habit of falling desperately in love with at least one out
+of every five or six girls that came in his way, and of making frightful
+havoc in the hearts of females of all ranks and ages. Netta's general
+inquiry was,&mdash;'Well, Owen, who is the last new love?' to which Owen
+would gravely reply, by a recapitulation of the charms of some fair
+damsel on whom his affections would be for ever fixed, could he only
+afford to marry. All his beauties had bright eyes, bright complexions,
+mirthful smiles, and were very 'jolly,' which seemed to be the word
+including all that was necessary to make a woman charming in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'So, Netta, Howel has come into a fine fortune!' he began one morning,
+when he and his sister were alone together. 'I suppose he won't think of
+little cousin Netta now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! indeed,' was Netta's reply with a toss of the head.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish he was here now. He is a fine fellow in his way. I do like
+Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'I knew you would say so,' exclaimed Netta. 'You are a kind, dear
+brother. They are all turned against him, even mother, who can take in
+the scum of the earth, and make much of a wretched Irish beggar, and
+will not ask Howel here, who is a gentleman,'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! oh! that's the way the wind blows. So you do not forget cousin
+Howel, Miss Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I assure you; and I won't forget him, that's more.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bravo! Netta. I admire a girl of spirit. But, perhaps now he is so rich
+he will not think of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose that depends upon whether I choose to think of him. They say
+he is coming down soon, and that he will be the grandest man in the
+county.'</p>
+
+<p>What Netta had heard rumoured came to pass in due time, Mr Howel
+Jenkins did come from London, and established himself in the best hotel
+of his native town, throwing out hints as to the probability of his
+taking a certain beautiful park in the neighbourhood. He was soon
+supplied with the best horses, dogs, and general appointments of any man
+in the county; and being really clever, handsome, and sufficiently
+gentleman like, had made his way into society that had hitherto been
+closed to him. Like Prince Hal, he eschewed most of his former
+companions and appeared to be beginning life anew, in a new world. The
+country rang with rumours of his enormous wealth, which, considerable as
+it was, report nearly doubled. Indeed he himself scarcely knew what he
+was worth, as he was continually finding memorandums of moneys out at
+high interest, of which his father had not chosen to speak to Rowland,
+but which his carefully secreted books and papers proved, as well as the
+knowledge of Mr Rice Rice, who had been his attorney.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the autumn the Irish girl was quite convalescent and,
+although not strong, had recovered from the fever, and was regaining
+some degree of health. As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta
+did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should
+remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen's wardrobe was in a decent
+condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half
+lumber-room, half work-room, as shirt-maker in ordinary to the son and
+heir. He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father
+kept at a distance from the bone of contention.</p>
+
+<p>However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when
+Mrs Prothero was sitting stitching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better
+half made his appearance suddenly in the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,' he exclaimed?
+'I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded
+hedge.'</p>
+
+<p>As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who
+had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly. Mr
+Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not
+suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, young 'ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me. You've got a
+new manty-maker, mother; where's Jane Morris, name o' goodness?'</p>
+
+<p>'We're only making shirts for Owen, father,' replied the wife meekly,
+dreading an outburst.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst
+Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs
+Jonathan will be as proud as Punch. Rowland has been ordained by the
+Bishop of London himself, and &quot;passed a very good examination,&quot; or
+whatever they call it. He has taken lodgings up in London, and preached
+his first sermon in a great church that 'ould hold three of ours. He has
+dined with the rector, and been to call on Sir Philip Payne Perry,&mdash;the
+three green peas as Owen calls him&mdash;and I wonder what even Mrs Jonathan
+'ould desire more?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero read, her dear son's letter with tears in her eyes, the
+sudden sight of which caused sympathetic tears to flow from the eyes of
+the poor work-girl, much to the surprise of Mr Prothero, who chanced to
+look round to see whether his coat was finished.</p>
+
+<p>'Hang the 'oomen,' he muttered to himself, 'they can't read a bit of a
+letter without blubbing. How long will that take you to do?&mdash;what's your
+name?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, if you please, sir,' said Gladys, looking up from her work. 'I
+shall have finished it directly, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys? Gladys what?' asked Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys O'Grady, sir,' was the reply whilst the mending was coming to a
+close.</p>
+
+<p>'Where on earth did you pick up such names as that?'</p>
+
+<p>'One was my mother's, and the other my father's, sir,' said Gladys,
+rising and presenting the coat with a deep curtsey.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was absorbed in her letter.</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness where did your father get such a name? and where do
+you live?'</p>
+
+<p>The girl bent her head over the coat she held in her hand, and her tears
+fell upon it.</p>
+
+<p>'There, never mind? give me my coat. Thank you. Why, Lewis the tailor
+'ouldn't 'a mended it better. Why, girl, where did you learn tailoring?'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother taught me to mend everything, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'There then, take you that old hat and see if you can make as good a job
+of sewing on the brim as you done of the coat. Mother, come you here, I
+want to speak to you.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero left the room, and Mrs Prothero followed.</p>
+
+<p>'Who's that girl, mother? I never saw her before,' were his first words
+in the passage, whilst pulling to the coat that he had begun to put on
+in the work-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, David, you see&mdash;it is&mdash;there now, don't be angry.'</p>
+
+<p>'Angry! what for? Hasn't she mended my coat capital, and isn't she as
+modest looking a young 'ooman as I ever saw?'</p>
+
+<p>'She is very delicate, but she works night and day. Indeed, she does
+more in a day than most girls in a week Owen wanted some shirts, you
+see&mdash;she made that cap you admired so much, and that new gown of
+Netta's; and has more than paid for&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But who the deuce is she?'</p>
+
+<p>'There now, don't be angry, David. 'Tis that poor Irish girl that was so
+ill of the fever.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll never believe she's Irish as long as I live&mdash;she's too pretty and
+tidy and delicate and fair. She's no more Irish than I am, mother, and
+you've been taken in.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is Welsh on the mother's side. But are you very angry, David?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I don't mind her doing a little work in an honest way like that.
+I'm not such a fool. When she has done the work send her off, that's
+all. Poor soul! she does look as if she had been dead and buried and
+come to life again. Mother, you're a good 'ooman, and God bless you!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero looked up into her husband's face with an expression of
+such love and joy as must have delighted a much harder heart than that
+spouse possessed. Don't laugh, gentle reader, at the conjugal embrace of
+that middle-aged pair, which seals the quarrel about the Irish girl; but
+believe me, there is more real sentiment in it than in most of the
+love-scenes you may have read about.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero took advantage of her husband's approval of Gladys's
+exterior to send her out into the garden in the evening to breathe the
+air, and afterwards into the fields. The girl's strength gradually
+returned, but with it there appeared to be no return of youth or hope. A
+settled melancholy was in her countenance and demeanour; and when Netta
+rallied her on being so sad and silent, her reply was, 'Oh, miss, there
+is no more joy or happiness for me in this world! all I love have left
+it, and I am but a lonely wanderer and an outcast!'</p>
+
+<p>When the shirts were finished, it was time to think of her departure,
+for she had exhausted all the sewing-work of the house. Mrs Prothero
+could not bear to turn the friendless, homeless girl adrift on the
+world. She ventured upon the subject one day at dinner.</p>
+
+<p>'What will become of her, David? And she so beautiful! I declare I think
+I never saw a prettier girl.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother, who will you call pretty next?' said Owen, who had seen
+her once or twice by chance. 'Why, she has no more colour in her face
+than this tablecloth, and I don't believe she has any eyes at all; at
+least, I never saw them; but I mean to try whether she has any some day,
+by making a frightful noise when she drops me that smart curtsey in
+passing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure we want hands badly enough in the wheat field, said Farmer
+Prothero. 'If the girl could pick up her crumbs a little by harvesting,
+you could keep her a while longer, and then send her off in search of
+her relations.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, David. I will ask her what she can do,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Not much in that way, I am pretty sure,' said Netta. 'How should those
+wretched Irish, who live on nothing but potatoes, know any thing about
+the wheat harvest?'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there, my girl,' said Mr Prothero, 'but I daresay mother
+will make believe that she knows something.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother' found the object of their conversation that very evening in the
+wheat field, sitting under a tree, at work. She had sent her out for a
+walk, and this was her exercise. Owen and Netta were with their mother,
+and as they approached, Gladys rose, curtseyed, and was going away, when
+Owen made an unnatural kind of whistle, as if to frighten away some cows
+in the distance. Gladys started, and with a terrified face glanced at
+him. He found that she had very beautiful, violet eyes, with lashes so
+long and black, that when she looked to the earth again they made a
+strange contrast to her pale face.</p>
+
+<p>'What sad, uncomfortable eyes,' thought Owen; 'I must have another
+glance at them by-and-by. If she had a colour she might be pretty, as
+mother says, but it makes one ill to look at her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think,' said Mrs Prothero, addressing Gladys, 'that you could
+manage to help in the harvest; My husband says he will employ you, if
+you can.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, thank you, my lady! I would do my best, and if I could only stay
+here longer under any circumstances&mdash;I should&mdash;oh, be so thankful!'</p>
+
+<p>This was said with much hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, then; if you will try to-morrow we shall be able to judge
+what you can do.'</p>
+
+<p>'She don't look strong enough to bind the sheaves,' said Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'I will try, sir, if you please,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'What is the name of the friends you are seeking?' asked Owen with a
+glance at his sister.</p>
+
+<p>'Jones, sir,' replied Gladys, again looking at Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps there is a David in the family?' asked Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe that my grandfather's name was David,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, if you walk through Carmarthenshire, and just ask every one you
+meet if they know David Jones, I am sure you would find him. It is
+astonishing what a powerful name David Jones is. I know a Rev. David
+Jones very well? a clergyman too&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! if you could only tell me where to find him. I would go anywhere
+for my poor mother's sake!'</p>
+
+<p>The girl clasped her hands and looked imploringly at Owen. He was
+silenced by the appeal of the eyes he did not believe in. Mrs Prothero
+glanced at him reproachfully, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It is such a common Welsh name that I am afraid it would be no guide to
+you, unless you would remember the place where he lived.'</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay it began with Llan,' broke in Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'I am almost sure it did,' said Gladys; 'but mother never liked to talk
+of the place,'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you say, mother, to writing to the Rev. David Jones, Llan.,
+etc., Carmarthenshire?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta laughed aloud; she could not help it; whilst Gladys again looked
+upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen,' whispered Mrs Prothero, taking her son's arm and leading him
+away, 'what is a joke to you is death to her, remember that.'</p>
+
+<p>'There, don't be angry, mother; I will help her to do her work
+to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'He was as good as his word, and the following day resolutely kept near
+the poor, timid girl, aiding her to bind up the full-eared corn, and
+carrying it himself for her to the mows, into which they were hastily
+forming the sheaves for fear of rain. He could not resist occasionally
+alluding to Mr David Jones, but receiving no encouragement to carry out
+the jest, and finding her as silent and shy as a frightened child, he
+gave up the subject, and with it all attempt at conversation. He
+declared afterwards that she worked like a slave, and knew all about
+harvesting as well as anybody, only she was not strong, and that she was
+the dullest Irish woman he ever saw in his life, since even the beggars
+had a bit of fun in them. Indeed he didn't believe her to be Irish, or
+credit a word of her story; but, as to beauty, he began to agree with
+his mother, for if she had only a colour she would be as pretty a girl,
+with as graceful a figure, as anybody need wish to see.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer declared that she had well earned her supper; and that if
+mother thought she would do, she might keep her instead of Betty, after
+Hollantide; the said Betty having signified her intention of getting
+married at the matrimonial season of the year. Mrs Prothero said she
+would think it over, but she was afraid she was not strong enough for
+hard farm service. It was evident that Gladys had taken a step into the
+kind heart of the worthy farmer.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" ></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WIDOW.</h3>
+
+<p>'Whose grand groom is that, half afraid to ride through the yard?' asked
+Mr Prothero, as he and his son Owen were standing by the big wheat-mow,
+awaiting the arrival of a load of corn.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll go and see what he wants,' said Owen, and off he went.</p>
+
+<p>He returned, bearing a note for his father.</p>
+
+<p>'He says he is Mr Griffith Jenkins's groom, and waits for an answer.
+Howel doesn't do the thing by halves anyhow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Griffith Jackanapes!' said the farmer, breaking the seal of the note
+hastily, and reading it.</p>
+
+<p>Owen watched his countenance assume an angry expression, and then heard
+him utter a very broad Welsh oath.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell that feller there's no answer,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'What is it about father? you had better let mother see it first.'</p>
+
+<p>'The impudent young ass! does he think I am to be taken in by all that
+gold and plush? He shall never have my consent, and you may tell him so,
+Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come into the house a minute, father, and let us see the note.'</p>
+
+<p>They went into the house, the farmer giving an indignant grunt at the
+groom as he passed.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, come here!' he roared as he entered the parlour, followed by
+Owen.</p>
+
+<p>The obedient wife left her kitchen and went to her husband.</p>
+
+<p>'Read you it out loud, Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen read.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'SIR,&mdash;Being in a position to marry, and to marry any lady in the
+     county, I think you need not be surprised at my now aspiring to the
+     hand of your daughter, to whom I have been many years attached. I
+     beg, therefore, to say that my object in writing to you is, to ask
+     your permission to pay my addresses to her, and to make her my
+     wife. My attorney will see to any arrangements you may require as
+     regards settlements, which are matters of no importance to me,&mdash;I
+     remain, sir, your obedient servant,</p>
+
+<p class='right'>'HOWEL GRIFFITH JENKINS.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>'The impudent scoundrel!' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, father, I don't see&mdash;' began Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'You don't see, sir, I daresay you don't. Wasn't he as near ruining you
+as possible! Didn't he teach you to gamble, and fleece you, and lead
+you into all kinds of mischief? Didn't I forbid him the house for it?
+Didn't he rob his own father, and make his mother miserable? Didn't he
+drink and keep company with the worst profligates of the country? Didn't
+he as good as rob me, sir, out of a ten-pound note when he was a bit of
+a boy, and when I found it out, called it a lark? Do you think a great
+fortune will all of a sudden change such a chap as that into an honest
+man? No, what's ill got is ill spent, and old Giffrey Jenkins's money
+'ill never turn to good account. He that grinds the poor, and goes
+against scripture as a usurer, 'ill never find his son do well. Howel
+shall never have my consent to marry Netta, and there's an end of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But suppose they are determined,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Then I'll wash my hands of 'em for ever, and vow Netta's no girl of
+mine. Go you, Owen, and send off that fine yellar-band, sent to astonish
+me, and tell him I'll have nothing to do with his master nor him.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, father, you must write!'</p>
+
+<p>'Write! not I: but stop, I'll write. Bring the paper. Haven't you got
+any with a fine gloss, and coloured?'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, David, bach, if you would only consider a little. I am really
+afraid of the consequences.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mother, my mind's made up, and you won't wheedle me in this
+matter. So, here's the pen and ink,'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero sat down and wrote the following reply to Howel's note:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'HOWEL,&mdash;You have had my answer before now, and you may have it
+     again. When I know you're out-and-out a changed man, I may think
+     differently; but I don't know it yet, so you shall not have my
+     consent to marry Netta. One hundred pounds of steadiness and
+     honesty is worth a hundred thousand pounds of gold. I wish you
+     well, but if you was king of England you shouldn't have my girl as
+     you are now.'&mdash;Yours to command,</p>
+
+<p class='right'> 'DAVID PROTHERO,'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>'There, mother, there's my mind,' said Mr Prothero, giving the note to
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, David, I believe you are right, only Netta is so determined!'</p>
+
+<p>'Determined, is she! Then I'll lock her up. Take that to yon
+yellar-band, Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen took the note to the servant</p>
+
+<p>'Tell your master that I am coming to see him this evening,' he said,
+and soliloquised thus when the man was gone. 'Howel is a good fellow, I
+believe, only a little extravagant and gay. I must tell him not to be
+down-hearted about Netta. Why, the girl isn't worth such a bother? I
+never saw one that was yet. It would take a great deal of time and
+trouble to work me up into that kind of thing&mdash;and at least a dozen
+girls. Netta's very pretty, to be sure, but she has a will of her own,
+and so has Howel. I am sure they would soon fight. As to father, he is
+as obstinate as a mule. And Howel with such a mint of money! But I like
+father's pride, and I must say I reel proud of him for it. I would never
+give in just because a man has suddenly got a fortune.'</p>
+
+<p>When Owen had arrived at this conclusion, he perceived Netta coming
+towards him.</p>
+
+<p>'What did that servant want, Owen?' she asked when she came quite near?
+'and what were those two notes about?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dare say you know, Miss Netta. It is all over with you for this
+present. Howel has popped the question, and father has refused him.'</p>
+
+<p>If Owen had ever been really in love, he would have spoken less abruptly
+on such a delicate subject, as he found, when he saw Netta turn pale,
+then red, then burst into tears and run away from him into the house.</p>
+
+<p>He followed her, somewhat distressed, to the door of her bedroom. He
+knocked gently, but received no answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, let me in, I have something to say to you,'</p>
+
+<p>No reply, but a passionate sobbing audible.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, dear Netta, I am so sorry for you. Let me in.'</p>
+
+<p>He tried the door, but it was locked.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, if you don't let me in I'll go and fetch mother directly. One,
+two, three, and, now, open the door, I'm going. One, two, three, and
+away!'</p>
+
+<p>He walked down the passage, and heard the door opened behind him.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, come here, I will let you in,'</p>
+
+<p>'There's a good little sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't palaver me, sir,' burst forth Netta, as soon as her door was
+closed. 'You are all unfeeling, unnatural, cruel, selfish, hard-hearted
+heathens! You don't care for me or Howel any more than as if we were
+strangers. Father don't mind what he drives me to, and mother cares more
+for that Irish beggar than for me&mdash;I know she does. I did think you
+would be our friend, and now you are as stiff and unfeeling as Rowland.
+Seure you are,'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, if I was a parson like Rowland, I'd marry you to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, why don't you try to bring father round. You know he thinks more
+of you than of anybody else.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's no use trying; nobody but mother has any influence with father,
+and she is not sure that 'tis right or good for you and Howel to marry.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is cruel and unkind,' sobbed Netta; 'I don't believe any one really
+loves me but Howel,'</p>
+
+<p>'Stick to that, Netta; 'I for one haven't a spark of affection for you.
+All father wants is to get rid of you, and that is why he is in such a
+hurry for you to make such a grand match!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! indeed! he and all the rest of you are as jealous of Howel's good
+fortune as you can be,&mdash;you know you are. And you wouldn't like to see
+me a grand lady, grander than Miss Rice or Miss Nugent even. Won't I let
+them know I'm somebody, and not to be looked down upon any more, that's
+all!'</p>
+
+<p>Hereupon Netta wiped her eyes, and walked up and down the room grandly,
+whilst Owen burst out laughing,</p>
+
+<p>'I beg you to go out of, my room, Owen!' said Netta, stamping her foot
+and getting into a passion. 'One can't expect manners or sympathy from
+seafaring porcupines like you. Go away directly. Why, John James, the
+carter, is genteeler than a great coarse sailor such as you. Go you
+away, I say.'</p>
+
+<p>'You ought to have said a seafaring dolphin or whale; they don't pay
+twopence a week to learn manners, like you land-lubbers. When you want
+me you may send for me.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen went off very much offended, leaving Netta to cogitate upon the
+cruelty of her relations.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of that afternoon, a very well-dressed woman, in the
+deepest of sables, was seen going down the road to the farm. She went
+round through the garden to the glass-door, disdaining the yard, knocked
+a great many times, to the great astonishment, of Shanno, and was at
+last admitted, as Mrs Griffith Jenkins. Shanno, all reverence at sight
+of the crape bonnet, crape veil, and widow's cap, ushered her into the
+parlour, feeling that a chasm now lay between her and the dame she had
+last seen in a high-crowned Welsh hat, striped flannel gown, and checked
+apron. Having duly dusted a chair with her skirts, Shanno glanced at Mrs
+Jenkins, and was about to leave the room, when Mrs Jenkins said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Tell you your missus that I am coming on particular business and wish
+to speak with her in private. Here, stop you, Shanno, where is Miss
+Netta? I 'ouldn't mind giving you a shilling to tell her I was wanting
+to see her before I am seeing her mother.'</p>
+
+<p>The shilling was offered, and received with much satisfaction and an
+intelligent grin, and in less than five minutes Netta was with Mrs
+Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'Deet to goodness, and you do look very poorly, Netta, fach!' said that
+worthy, 'Howel was telling me to see you, and to be giving you this
+note. Give you another to Shanno before I will be going away, and I will
+give it to my Howel. Annwyl! you shall be seeing my Howel, now; how he
+do look a horseback. Beauty seure! he do say you will have a horse, too.
+There, go you? tell Shanno to tell your mother that I do be glad to see
+her, let her tak' care how she do refuse you again.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta escaped with her note, and was soon succeeded by Mrs Prothero, who
+shook hands in a trembling, frightened way with Mrs Jenkins, who, on the
+contrary, strong in the consciousness of fortune and new apparel, was
+perfectly self-possessed. She began at once.</p>
+
+<p>'I am coming about my Howel and your Netta, Mrs Prothero Howel is in a
+fine temper, keeping noise enough, I can tell you; and I should like to
+be knowing why he isn't good enough for your doater, Mrs Prothero; him
+as is worth hundreds of thousands, and is as like to be coming a member,
+and to be riding in his own carriage, and to be dining with the Queen
+for that much! and seurely, he don't be good enough for Miss Prothero
+Glanyravon Farm! Ach a fi! some peoples do be setting themselves up! my
+Howel, too! So handsome, and genteel, so full of learning! Name o'
+goodness what would you have, Mrs Prothero, Glanyravon Farm?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins paused with a long emphasis on the farm.</p>
+
+<p>'I am very sorry, Mrs Jenkins,' began trembling Mrs Prothero rubbing one
+hand nervously over the other, 'but my husband is afraid that Howel is
+not quite steady enough for such a giddy young thing as Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Study! why, tak' your time and you'll be seeing how study and pretty he
+do behave. On my deet, and I 'ouldn't say that, if I wasn't as seure as
+I'm alive, he haven't took a drop too much, nor said a wicked word, nor
+keep no low company since his poor dear father was dying. Ah, Mrs
+Prothero! you was being very good to us when I was losing my poor
+Griffey. Who'd be thinking what a heap of money he'd be leaving, and
+Howel'll be building a good house for me? and seure, I must be dressing
+in my best, and having servants to wait on me? and, bless you, nothing
+as my son Howel's can be getting is too good for his poor old mother!'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very glad to hear he is so kind,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Then what do you say about Netta, Mrs Prothero, fach?' sharply asked
+Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'To tell you the truth, I have very little power; my husband made up his
+mind and wrote the note without consulting me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then maybe I could be seeing Mr Prothero?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid it would only lead to something unpleasant between you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you needn't be taking the trouble to be afraid, ma'am! I am calling
+my Howel as good or better as your Netta. There was a time when you
+might been looking higher, but now I conceit it, it will be us as do
+condescend. There's Miss Rice Rice, and the Miss Jamms's, Plas Newydd,
+and Miss Lawis, Pontammon, and Miss Colonel Rees, and Miss Jones the
+'Torney, and Miss Captain Thomas, and I 'ouldn't say but Miss Gwynne,
+Glanyravon, do be all speaking, and talking, and walking, and dancing
+with my Howels! There's for you: and yet he do like his cousin Netta
+best he do say.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you wish to see David, Mrs Griffey, I will call him,' said timid Mrs
+Prothero, at her wits' end for anything to say or do.</p>
+
+<p>'Seurely I am wishing to see him,' said Mrs Jenkins majestically.</p>
+
+<p>David had not come in from his farm, so there was nothing for it but to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to take off her bonnet and have some tea, to which that
+lady graciously consented. When the crape shawl and black kid gloves
+were removed Mrs Prothero perceived a large mourning brooch, containing
+a gloomy picture of a tomb, set in pearls and diamonds, and surrounded
+by the age, death, etc., of the lamented deceased; and a handsome
+mourning ring, displaying a portion of iron-grey hair, also set in
+pearls and diamonds, and surrounded with an appropriate epithalamium.
+Mrs Prothero sat 'washing her hands in invisible soap,' whilst she saw
+these ensigns of grandeur in the once mean, ill-dressed Mrs Jenkins, and
+heard of all that 'her Howels' was about to effect.</p>
+
+<p>Owen came in, and with due gravity admired the mourning insignia, and
+examined the dates, age, etc., of the defunct Griffey. He went so far as
+to venture upon a distant allusion to the future.</p>
+
+<p>'I never thought those caps so becoming before, Aunt Jenkins,' he said,
+eyeing her from head to foot, and wondering that he had never previously
+been aware of what a good-looking woman his Welsh aunt was.</p>
+
+<p>A Welsh aunt, be it understood, is your father or mother's cousin, and
+Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero were first cousins.</p>
+
+<p>'Isn't Davies, Pennycoed, that you used to tell us was once a lover of
+yours, a widower?' continued Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, not displeased, 'you are always for
+jokes, but I do mean never to marry again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't make any rash vows; a young woman like you!'</p>
+
+<p>Here Netta having dried her eyes, joined the party, and shortly after
+Mr Prothero's voice was heard.</p>
+
+<p>'After tea!' whispered Mrs Prothero to Mrs Jenkins, as she went out to
+meet her husband. 'Here's Elizabeth Jenkins, David, come over to see us,
+and she is going to stay to tea. I think she wants to speak to you
+afterwards.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very glad to see her; but Howel sha'n't have Netta a bit the more for
+that.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero put on a smart coat, brushed his hair, and came into the
+parlour, as became one about to meet a grand lady.</p>
+
+<p>'How d'ye do, cousin 'Lizabeth? Glad to see you looking so well; welcome
+to Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>They shook hands, and as Mrs Jenkins made rather a grand attempt at a
+curtsey, Owen looked at Netta, and showed his white teeth; but Netta was
+as grave as a judge.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was as much struck with the improvement in the widow's
+appearance as his son.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, I declare, cousin 'Lizabeth, you look ten years younger than you
+did when I saw you last. Do you mind when we two used to go nutting
+together? If 'twasn't for my good 'ooman there&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I was just saying so, father,' interrupted Owen; 'don't you think
+Davies, Pennycoed&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I am not having no intentions of marrying again,' simpered the widow;
+'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all
+conscience.'</p>
+
+<p>The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven
+buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper
+honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.</p>
+
+<p>As Shanno was very busy and very dirty, Mrs Prothero, during her
+preparations in the kitchen, was at a loss to know who was to wait if
+anything was wanted. Gladys chanced to be there, and said modestly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'If I could do, ma'am, I would soon make myself neat in Miss Prothero's
+gown; and if I might just take in the tray instead of you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Gladys, I am sure you will do,' and Gladys was installed.</p>
+
+<p>'There is nothing that girl cannot do,' thought Mrs Prothero, as she
+arranged everything on the tea-table as neatly and properly as Mrs
+Prothero could have done herself.</p>
+
+<p>'What a tidy girl you have!' said Mrs Jenkins. 'Do she mean to be
+staying over Hollantide? I am wanting a servant.'</p>
+
+<p>All eyes were turned on Gladys as she came into the room again, but as
+hers were always fixed on what she was carrying, or on her mistress, she
+was not aware of the sudden attention she excited.</p>
+
+<p>'Irish beggars!' muttered Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'One of mother's godsends,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'What a beautiful piece of snow,' thought Owen.</p>
+
+<p>After tea Mr Prothero invited Mrs Jenkins to go and see his fine fat
+cattle. The pair went together, leaving an anxious trio behind them.</p>
+
+<p>Farmer Prothero was a man of few words when his mind was made up, and
+was not long in beginning the subject each had at heart.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sorry, cousin 'Lizabeth, that I can't let Netta marry just now.
+She's too young, and Howel isn't the lad to study her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his
+poor father's death.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted,
+then he may have Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in
+the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero!'</p>
+
+<p>'Let him marry 'em all, I don't want him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you won't let Netta marry my Howels?'</p>
+
+<p>'If he's study in two years, and they are both in the same mind, they
+may marry, and be hanged to 'em! I never was so bothered in my life.
+But, between ourselves, I think it's just as likely your son Howel 'ould
+be study in two years as my son Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, name o' goodness, we don't want Miss Netta! No 'casion to be
+waiting!'</p>
+
+<p>'Then don't wait, 'ooman! Who wants you to wait?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins hurried back into the house, and left Mr Prothero with his
+cattle.</p>
+
+<p>'I must be going now, Mrs Prothero&mdash;my son Howels too! Thousands and
+thousands of pounds. Netta, come you upstairs, my dear, whilst I am
+putting on my bonnet.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was not duenna enough to accompany them upstairs, and
+consequently Netta gave a note to Mrs Jenkins, cried a little, and
+helped her to abuse her parents.</p>
+
+<p>'Never you mind, Netta, fach,' were the last words, 'Howels don't be
+meaning to give you up.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good evening, ma'am; good evening, Mr Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, as she
+made the attempt at a curtsey, that caused Owen to show his white teeth
+again.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh dear, dear! what will be the end of it?' said Mrs Prothero to Owen
+as Netta sulked upstairs. 'I wish Rowland was at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very complimentary to your eldest son!' said Owen, laughing.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" ></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MILLIONAIRE.</h3>
+
+<p>Nearly a twelvemonth passed, and an autumn morning again hovered over
+Glanyravon Farm. It would seem that all the inmates of the homestead
+were sleeping; but there was one already awake and moving furtively
+about. It was Netta, not usually such an early riser. The curtains of
+her trim little bed and window were drawn aside to admit all the light
+that a September twilight could cast upon the chamber in which she had
+slept since her childhood. A lovely bunch of monthly roses and some
+leaves of dark green ivy alone looked in upon her in the uncertain
+gloaming, as if imaging her present and future. She was dressing herself
+hastily, but with care, in her very best attire. She stood before the
+glass braiding and arranging her dark glossy hair, that luxuriant
+ornament of her bright, rosy face; then she put on the blossom white
+lace habit-shirt and striped pink and drab silk dress, her kind father's
+last gift, and the smart shawl and pink bonnet were duly arranged
+afterwards. Whatever the early visit Netta was about to make, it was
+evidently a premeditated one. When the attire was quite complete, and
+she had surveyed herself in the glass, she suddenly paused and looked
+around her. In a moment she was putting her room to rights, and pushing
+stray articles of dress into drawers, until all was quite neat; then she
+paused again, and glanced at a letter that was lying on her little
+dressing-table. Turning hastily away from this she opened the window and
+looked out. The sun had not yet arisen, though there was a streak of
+light, forerunner of his advent, on the horizon. Mountains, rivers,
+fields, and woods were all wrapped in a cold, grey mist, but still it
+was not dark. Netta tore the bunch of roses from the bough and put them
+in her bosom, then re-closed the window. She took up a large shawl that
+was lying on a chair, and a small package from underneath and
+dexterously arranged the shawl so as to fall over the parcel, as she
+held both in her hand and on her arm. Again she paused a moment and
+glanced around her. Her face was flushed, and there was moisture in her
+dark eye.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, pause a little longer and consider, poor Netta! But no. The sudden
+flash of sunlight into the room terrifies the thoughtless child, and she
+goes hastily into the passage. Quietly she closes her door; stealthily
+she creeps along. She makes no sound as she steals, like a thief,
+through the house where she was born some eighteen summers ago. Before
+one closed door she pauses again&mdash;listens. She can hear the breath of
+the sleepers within. She is on her knees, and represses with difficulty
+a rising sob, 'Mother! mother! forgive me! God bless you!' she whispers,
+as she once more rises and runs down the remainder of the
+passage&mdash;downstairs&mdash;through the hall&mdash;through the parlour, and out by
+the little glass door into the garden. In spite of her tears, haste,
+agitation she cannot pass that bed of carnations&mdash;her mother's
+treasure&mdash;without stopping to gather one fresh and dripping with the air
+and dews of night. Innocent flowers! they will see her mother that very
+day; but what of the stray, wandering rose of Glanyravon? Through the
+garden, and out by the little wicket into the lane; across a field
+sparkling with dewdrops; over a stile; down another lane; over another
+stile, and into another field! Here she pauses and glances round. A dark
+figure at the opposite side of the field seems to assure her that all is
+well. She runs quickly across the meadow, and within it, under shelter
+of the hedge, near a half-open gate, stands Mrs Griffith Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'Where is Howel?' asks Netta hastily.</p>
+
+<p>'He did write yesterday to say he 'ould bring the carriage from Swansea
+to meet us at Tynewydd, and he was sure to be there by six o'clock,'</p>
+
+<p>'Let us make haste then, Aunt 'Lisbeth. Why didn't he come here himself?
+I have a great mind to turn back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come you, Netta, fach! we'll soon be there. See you the letter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not now&mdash;not now,' cries Netta impatiently, walking along the high road
+as fast as she possibly can. Mrs Jenkins keeps up with her, but is soon
+out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>'There's Jack Trefortyn; he'll be sure to tell. Aunt 'Lisbeth, I will
+turn back. Father will be after me. It is too bad,' sobs Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'We are near by now, Netta, fach. Come you!'</p>
+
+<p>The little woman quickened her pace into a short run to keep up with
+Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Here's the turnpike; we'll be at Tynewydd 'rectly.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see Tynewydd,' says Netta, straining her eyes to catch sight of some
+object far down the road; 'there is no carriage&mdash;I am sure there is
+none. Cousin Howel ought to be ashamed of himself.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta runs on very fast, leaving Mrs Jenkins far behind, until she
+reaches the turning to a lane that leads to a little farm called
+'Tynewydd.' She bursts out crying, and stamps her foot as she
+exclaims,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Does he think he's going to do what he likes with me because he's rich?
+I'll tell him he shall wait for me, I will!'</p>
+
+<p>Hereupon she turns back and runs faster than before towards Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'Come you, Netta, fach! He'll be here by now. Read you the letter.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta pauses a moment to read a letter held out to her by Mrs Jenkins.
+It runs thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I can't be with you to-day. Meet Netta at the appointed place, and walk
+to Tynewydd. I will be there with a carriage by six o'clock.&mdash;Yours,
+H.J.'</p>
+
+<p>'See you, Netta, it isn't six yet.' Mrs Jenkins pulls out a large gold
+watch, which, while Netta was running on, she has managed to put back
+half-an-hour. 'Five-and-twenty minutes to six, see you.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta turns again and hurries on.</p>
+
+<p>'There is Jones Tynewydd. If he should see me,' says Netta. 'Do make
+haste, Aunt 'Lisbeth.'</p>
+
+<p>They walk on for about a quarter of a mile, when carriage wheels are
+distinctly heard, and in a few moments a fly and pair is distinctly seen
+coming at great speed. The driver would have passed them, but Mrs
+Jenkins calls out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'A gentleman for Tynewydd inside?' Upon which he pulls up. Howel is out
+of the fly, and Netta lifted in before she knows what she is about. Mrs
+Jenkins is put in almost as quickly, and the fly turned and off again in
+less time than it takes to write it.</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, how could you? I was going back, and I wish I had,' sobs Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Howel kisses her and tells her to be a good little cousin, and she shall
+see London in no time. She clings close to him, and hides her face on
+his shoulder and sobs on. He draws her to him, and lets her grief have
+way. Few words are spoken for a time, but at last Netta dries her tears
+and says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I was so frightened, cousin, and I didn't think it would be so hard to
+leave mother without saying good-bye. Mother was always kind.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hide you, Howel! hide you, Netta! there's Mr Jonathan Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jenkins, shrinking back into the corner of the fly.</p>
+
+<p>Howel peeps out and sees Netta's worthy uncle, bag on back, setting
+forth on some arch&aelig;ological search.</p>
+
+<p>Howel and Netta lean back in the fly whilst he passes, little thinking
+whom the vehicle contains.</p>
+
+<p>'Uncle and aunt will be glad at least,' says Netta. 'Aunt says you are
+very clever and handsome, Howel, and wonders why father won't let us&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Marry, Netta&mdash;say the word. I suppose Aunt Jonathan found out my
+talents and beauty after I acquired my fortune.'</p>
+
+<p>After driving about ten miles they stop to change horses, and in the
+course of three or four hours arrive at the Swansea railway station,
+newly erected within the last few months. The scene is equally new to
+Netta and Mrs Jenkins, and whilst Howel goes to take their tickets they
+stand wondering and admiring. Neither of them has ever travelled by
+rail, and both are equally nervous at the prospect. They are just in
+time for the express, and soon find themselves seated in a first-class
+carriage. As it is a carriage of two compartments, Howel fastens the
+door between the two, draws down the blind, puts some coats on the
+fourth seat, and says they will now have it to themselves all the way to
+London.</p>
+
+<p>Netta seizes his hand and screams when the steam whistle sounds, and his
+mother falls down upon him from the opposite seat He laughs aloud, and
+seems in such buoyant spirits that the women laugh too; and very soon
+Netta has quite forgotten her home, as with her hand clasped in Howel's
+he unfolds to her his future plans and arranges hers.</p>
+
+<p>'Deet, and this is like a sofa in a drawing-room. I shall be asleep if I
+don't take care,' says Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'The best thing you can do, mother. I will awake you when we get to
+Reading, where the biscuits are made you used to sell, faugh! and be
+sure to show you Windsor Castle.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins obeys her son's wish, and is soon sleeping soundly.</p>
+
+<p>Howel then gives Netta the following intelligence, which, as it
+interests her, we will hope may be interesting to her friends.</p>
+
+<p>'The old gown you gave my mother, Netta, I sent to a celebrated house in
+town, and calling there the next day ordered a proper <i>trousseau</i> to be
+made for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'What's a <i>trousseau</i>, Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>'You little dunce. Why, what we call a <i>stafell</i> without the household
+furniture. So you will find a wedding dress and all kinds of dresses and
+garments without number awaiting you, for I gave the milliner <i>carte
+blanche</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'What's <i>carte blanche</i>, cousin? You are become so grand.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind&mdash;white paper with two meanings. And here is a present to
+begin with.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel takes a leather case from his pocket and puts it into Netta's
+hand. She opens it, and sees a beautiful little gold watch and chain.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you dear, kind cousin, Howel!' she cries; her eyes sparkling with
+delight. 'I have longed for one all my life.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you go back again, Netta dear?' asks Howel archly.</p>
+
+<p>The watch and chain are duly put on, and then Howel continues,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'To-morrow you will have a hard day's work. You must purchase a great
+many things that will be necessary for travelling that I could not buy.
+The rest we can get in Paris. I have invited my friends, Sir John and
+Lady Simpson, and their son and daughter, to the wedding, which I have
+fixed for the day after to-morrow. One of the reasons for my not being
+able to come to you yesterday was that I must be a fortnight in the
+parish where we are to be married before we are married. I just ran down
+by the night train, took the fly, and met you; and shall make up my lost
+night by sleeping in town, for certainly I slept nowhere yesterday.
+Can't sleep in a train like mother; always feel too excited.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't like those grand people,' interrupted Netta, pouting.</p>
+
+<p>'You will know them directly. But don't let out anything about the farm,
+or father and mother; papa and mamma now, little coz. Miss Simpson
+guesses it is an elopement, I think, but I haven't told her so. They are
+very great friends of mine; very grand people.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite like Lady Nugent, I suppose,' suggests Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite&mdash;grander indeed. Well, I have ordered the wedding-breakfast,
+carriages, everything. Never had such fun in my life. It was quite an
+excitement. You don't know half my talents yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Suppose brother Rowland were to hear of it?' says Netta, frightened at
+the idea.</p>
+
+<p>Howel laughs aloud, and awakes his mother.</p>
+
+<p>'He is east, we are west, my dear cousin. He is amongst the plebeians,
+we the patricians; he is <i>canaille</i>, we are <i>noblesse</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'What are they, Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>''Tis a pleasure to be hearing you talk, Howel,' says Mrs Jenkins,
+yawning and rubbing her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'I was saying, mother, that we are to have a grand wedding, and you must
+take care not to let anything come out about the shop, faugh! or,
+indeed, not talk much to the friends I have asked&mdash;Lady Simpson, for
+instance,'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes? you was telling me of her. Wasn't it when you was dining with
+Prince Albert wanst, and was wanting that money of my Griffey?'</p>
+
+<p>'Do hold your tongue, mother,' shouts Howel, shuddering; he always
+shivers when he hears his father's name.</p>
+
+<p>He sees a head trying to peep through the curtain, and thinks it best to
+hold his tongue for a time, then continues,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I mean, mother, don't mention my dining with the prince, or any of
+these old stories, to the Simpsons. You must both be very careful of
+what you say. I shall show you as much as I can of London to-morrow,
+mother, as you will be obliged to return the day after.'</p>
+
+<p>'Deet now, I did be thinking I should stay a week in London, now I am
+going there for the first time in my life? I'll be staying after you,
+Howel, bach. I've plenty of money now.'</p>
+
+<p>'You shall come up again to meet us when we return; but you must be at
+home to see to the house, and let us know what is said of our doings.
+You see we shall go direct to Paris, stay some time abroad, and then
+come and settle at home. Won't we astonish the county! Mr and Mrs Howel
+Jenkins will be no longer the Howel and Netta of old days; we shall be
+the upon, not the fawners!'</p>
+
+<p>'I'd scorn to fawn on any one, Howel,' says Netta indignantly; 'I never
+did in my life. I always gave Miss Rice Rice as big a stare as she gave
+me.'</p>
+
+<p>'You will be able to give her a bigger now,' laughs Howel. As they
+journeyed on, Howel pointed out all the different objects that were
+likely to interest his mother and Netta. Every one, or nearly every one,
+knows what an exciting event is a first journey to London, it matters
+not whether performed at eighteen or sixty-five. And if the first
+journey to London be also the first journey by rail, the wonder and
+excitement are doubled.</p>
+
+<p>When Howel had finished all his instructions concerning the future, he
+thoroughly entered into the present, and enchanted his companions by his
+general knowledge of the passing scenes, and the amusing stories he had
+to tell. Netta was more in love with him than ever before they reached
+town, and wondered that such a grand and clever gentleman could have
+kept constant to a little country cousin like herself. She had seen
+nothing of Howel during the most stirring years of his life, and could
+not have supposed what a change the mere commerce with the world could
+effect. She considered him far more agreeable than her brother Rowland,
+handsomer and more polished than Sir Hugh Pryse, and much more
+fashionable than Mr Rice Rice.</p>
+
+<p>At Swindon he treated them liberally, and loaded Netta with sweets to
+take with her to the carriage after she had swallowed her cold chicken
+and wine. As to his mother, knowing her peculiar tastes, he gave her a
+glass of brandy and water, upon plea of illness, which she took with
+evident pleasure; but fearing to attract the attention of the smart
+people around her, sipped so daintly, that it was not half finished when
+the signal to return to the carriages sounded, and Howel hurried her
+off.</p>
+
+<p>'Just let me put this piece of chicken and ham into my bag, Howel, and
+finish this drop,' she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>'Quick, mother, not a minute,' was all the answer she received,
+accompanied by a pull of the sleeve so imperative, that she was obliged
+to leave her half filled glass behind her.</p>
+
+<p>At the Oxford Station, Netta began to wonder what Rowland would think of
+her conduct.</p>
+
+<p>'Think!' said Howel, with a scowling brow, 'the prig! what right has he
+to think? He will know that three or four thousand a-year are somewhat
+better than a London curacy&mdash;ha! ha! and wish himself in my place, I
+fancy,'</p>
+
+<p>As they neared London, Netta was haunted by visions of her brother, the
+only person she really feared.</p>
+
+<p>'Suppose he should meet them! should find her out! Suppose the clergyman
+who married them should guess, from her name, she was his sister, and go
+and tell him?'</p>
+
+<p>Howel laughed heartily at this, told her to look out of the window at
+London as they entered it, and see whether she thought one parson would
+be likely to be met by chance by another.</p>
+
+<p>'This London!' exclaims Netta, 'I see nothing but the roofs of a lot of
+ugly black houses!'</p>
+
+<p>'Carmarthen is as fine, and Swansea finer!' says Mrs Jenkins, her face
+expressive of great disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>'Draw down your veils, and stand there whilst I get a cab,' says Howel,
+after they have descended upon the platform.</p>
+
+<p>Netta trembles all over, and fancies every tall man in black must be
+Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness what are all the people about?' says Mrs Jenkins. 'My
+deet, there do be a lot of carriages! And look you, Netta, at all the
+gentlemen's servants in blue and silver! Here's a place! big enough to
+hold our town. Look you at the glass&mdash;like a large hot-house. Seure all
+London isn't covered up like this!'</p>
+
+<p>'Here you are! all right&mdash;come along quick!' says Howel, taking them to
+a cab, and putting them in.</p>
+
+<p>'Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,' and off they go, as fast as the poor
+cab-horse can take them.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, what do you think of it, Netta?' asks Howel, as they drive through
+the magnificent streets and squares of the West End of London, where
+every house looks a palace.</p>
+
+<p>Netta was so bewildered that she could not answer; but Mrs Jenkins
+talked for both.</p>
+
+<p>'Look you! well to be seure! that's grander than I ever see. There's a
+church! Trees too! Who'd be thinking of trees in London? Well, name o'
+goodness, where are all they people going? That church 'ont hold 'em
+all! There's beauty! Is that St Paul's, Howel, bach! or the Monument? My
+Griffey was talking of them! There's houses! Seure that's Prince
+Albert's coach! There again! Where was all those carriages going? Ach a
+fi! that man was just driving into our horse. Howel, name o' goodness
+tell the coachman to tak' care. He'll be upsetting us. Yes, indeet,
+Netta, there's shops! One after another. Did you be buying Netta's
+wedding clothes there, Howel! Is that a play-house? No! not a
+gentleman's house? I 'ould like to see a play for wanst, if nobody 'ould
+tell our minister.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you are not too tired, I'll take you to-night, mother,' here broke
+in Howel. 'We may go, perhaps, after you have had some tea. What do you
+say, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'Anywhere you like, Howel,' said Netta, 'I am no more ready than if I
+was just starting.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pic what, Howel, was you calling this?' asked Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'Piccadilly, mother. One of the best parts of London.'</p>
+
+<p>'Deet, and I should think so. 'Tis like a 'lumination lights. There's no
+night here. Daylight all the year round. Trees again, like Glanyravon
+Park, and lights along by. There pretty&mdash;what a many carriages! Was they
+all going to the play? Soldiers, too, I am thinking! And more o' them
+gentlemen's servants in blue and white. Do all the servants in London be
+wearing the same livery, Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>'Those are the police, mother,' said Howel, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'The pleece! Well, I do be calling them handsome men. When will the
+noise stop, Howel? I can't hear myself speak, much less you and Netta.
+'Tis more noise than Hollantide fair! But maybe 'tis fairday here
+to-day, only I wasn't seeing no cattle. There for you! that man 'll
+upset us, seure he will.'</p>
+
+<p>'Here we are, mother,' interrupted Howel, as the cab stopped in Half
+Moon Street. 'Now, you must remember that the landlady is not to be in
+all our secrets.'</p>
+
+<p>'Seure, and this isn't half as grand as Pic&mdash;what's that long name,
+Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you walk upstairs, ma'am,' said a well-dressed woman who stood in
+the passage of the house at which they stopped.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, ma'am,' said Mrs Jenkins, making her very best curtsey to
+the landlady.</p>
+
+<p>'Is tea ready, Mrs Thompson?' asked Howel, hastening into the passage.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir!' replied Mrs Thompson, trying to catch a glimpse of Netta's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>'This way, mother,' said Howel, striding upstairs. 'You can send the
+traps into the bedrooms, Mrs Thompson. William, take them up.'</p>
+
+<p>This to a smart tiger, emblazoned in green and gold, belonging to
+Howel's private menagerie.</p>
+
+<p>'What a lovely room! what a beautiful fire!' cried Netta, as she
+followed Howel into a handsome first-floor drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there!' said Mrs Jenkins, surveying herself in the glass.</p>
+
+<p>Tea was ready, and a substantial repast besides, of which they all soon
+began to partake, and to which they did justice.</p>
+
+<p>'I do wish I had that drop of brandy I left in those grand rooms, I am
+feeling a pain,' began Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>Howel drew a flask from his pocket, and poured a little brandy into his
+mother's tea.</p>
+
+<p>'This must be the first and last time mother,' he said, as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished tea, Howel told them that their room was within
+the folding-doors, and that Netta would find a dress there for the play,
+and must make haste, if she meant to go. His mother, being in her very
+best black, wanted nothing but the widow's cap to complete her attire as
+chaperon. Howel lighted his cigar, and finished the brandy in the flask
+whilst the women were dressing. They soon returned, Netta looking really
+beautiful, in a new and fashionable white dress, elaborately trimmed
+with ribbons and lace.</p>
+
+<p>Howel went up to her and kissed her with infinite satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>'Won't we create a sensation at the Olympic,' he said. 'There will not
+be such bright eyes and lilies and roses to be seen there as yours,
+cousin Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother don't approve of plays, Howel!'</p>
+
+<p>'You must think of me, not mother now,' said Howel, ringing the bell and
+ordering a cab, which as soon as it arrived received our trio, and was
+driven to the Olympic, where they arrived in due time, and where we will
+leave them for the present.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" ></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MILLIONAIRE'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p>'Don't you be taking on so, Netta, fach! if you do be crying this way,
+your eyes 'll be as red as carrots, and Howel 'ont like it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Aunt 'Lisbeth, I can't help thinking of mother, and how she is
+vexing about me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Look you at yourself in the glass, Netta, fach! and you 'ont be vexing
+any more. I never was seeing such a glass as that before. Look you! you
+can see yourself from the beauty-flowers in the white bonnet&mdash;dear!
+there is a bonnet! and you was looking so well in it&mdash;down to them
+lovely white shoes on your foots, I never was thinking before you had
+such little foots.'</p>
+
+<p>This conversation takes place whilst Mrs Jenkins is engaged in dressing
+Netta for her wedding, and in endeavouring at the same time to soothe
+various ebullitions of grief that burst out ever and anon, between the
+different acts of the attiring. The girl cannot quite forget the friends
+she left behind her, when she so suddenly ran away from home. The appeal
+to her personal appearance is not, however, in vain. She looks in the
+cheval-glass which draws forth Mrs Jenkins' admiration, and thinks she
+has seldom seen anything so pretty as the reflection of her own person
+in her bridal dress. She hastily dries her eyes, and turns round and
+round several times to assure herself that all is right.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! Howel is knowing everything!' says Mrs Jenkins. 'Silks and laces,
+and flowers, and worked-handkerchiefs, and all as white as a lily! And
+your cheeks a deal redder than any I do see here along! My deet! but you
+do be looking genteel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do I look as if I had been crying, aunt?' asks Netta, wetting her eyes
+with lavender water. 'I'm afraid of Howel and those grand people. I wish
+he hadn't asked them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, for sham! Netta. There they are, I shouldn't wonder! Yes indeet!
+says Mrs Jenkins, 'I hear them talking on the stairs.'</p>
+
+<p>A knock at the bedroom door is followed by the entrance of two ladies,
+apparently mother and daughter; the former a portly and roseate dame,
+clad in the richest of brocades and white lace shawls&mdash;the latter a thin
+and somewhat yellow damsel, a tired in white and pink bonnet and mantle
+to match, evidently in bridesmaid's gear.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah I how charming! how beautiful! what a country-flower in London
+leaves!' exclaim the ladies, rushing up to Netta and kissing her. 'Good
+morning, Mrs Jenkins, your son has chosen a bewitching young person
+indeed!'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for your ladyship,' says Mrs Jenkins, making her very best
+curtsey, as the ladies alternately shake hands with her.</p>
+
+<p>'Your ladyship' is no less a person than Lady Simpson, the wife of Sir
+John Simpson, a gentleman who acquired that title on an occasion when
+William the Fourth, of blessed memory, was f&ecirc;ted in the city. Sir John,
+having made a considerable fortune in trade, and being blessed with a
+helpmate of an aspiring mind, has removed from his old neighbourhood to
+that of Hyde Park, where he is spending the money he earned on the
+general advancement of his family. This family consists of a son and
+daughter, who have been highly educated according to the general
+acceptation of the term. With the son Howel is very intimate, and
+through him he has long been known to the rest of the family; but it is
+only since his vast accession of wealth that he has had the
+distinguished honour of claiming Sir John and Lady Simpson as his
+particular friends. To them he confided his intended marriage with a
+beautiful cousin, who, for family reasons, was coming to London, he
+said, under his mother's protection, to be united to him. They had
+called on Mrs Jenkins and Netta the previous day, and were invited to
+the wedding in the various capacities of father, bridesman, and
+bridesmaid. Previously to their making his mother's acquaintance, Howel
+informed them that being Welsh, she naturally spoke the language of her
+country, and was so patriotic that she disliked any other; and said that
+they must not be surprised at her peculiar English, which was simply a
+translation of the Welsh idioms into what, to her, was a foreign tongue.
+He also gave his mother an hour's lecture upon her dress and deportment;
+and Netta a few hints as to her general behaviour, which, whilst it
+enchanted the elder, frightened the younger lady. Thus 'forewarned,' if
+not 'fore-armed' the forces of Simpson and Jenkins were thrown together.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Simpson is an average specimen of a vulgar woman aping gentility;
+her daughter of a would-be fine lady.</p>
+
+<p>After they have sufficiently admired Netta's dress, and put the
+finishing touches to it, Miss Simpson informs Netta of her duty as bride
+elect.</p>
+
+<p>'Of course, my dear, papa will take you to the hymeneal altar, and our
+friend Captain Dancy will take me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I hope there is no other stranger,' gasps Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Only a particular friend of my brother's and of Mr Jenkins'. Do not be
+alarmed, you shy little dove.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, fach!' whispers Mrs Jenkins, 'the ladies was knowing what is
+right'</p>
+
+<p>'Then my brother must take up Mrs Jenkins, and Mr Jenkins, mamma. I
+declare we shall be a charming party; and remember to take off your
+glove, dear, and give it to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'We had better go downstairs now,' said Lady Simpson. 'Bridegrooms are
+very impatient at these times.'</p>
+
+<p>Lady Simpson took the blushing, frightened Netta by the hand, and led
+her into the drawing-room. Truly the poor child did look like a lovely
+country rose, as Miss Simpson had not inaptly called her. Howel led her,
+proud of her beauty, to the portly Sir John, who patted her kindly on
+the cheeks, and reminded Netta so strongly of her father that the tears
+sprung into her eyes. Howel's frown soon checked them, and a thundering
+knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Mr Simpson, junior, and
+his friend, Captain Dancy, turned her attention from the father to the
+son. The look of decided admiration that the new comers cast upon her,
+quite revived her drooping spirits, and she smiled, curtseyed, and
+blushed as becomingly and naively as Howel could have wished.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Horatio Simpson was a young man very much adorned with chains, rings,
+studs, and black curls. He had, moreover, a very fine waistcoat, and was
+altogether well fitted by his tailor. His face was not unlike that of an
+otter. He used grand words when he spoke, but did not tire his
+companions by quite as voluble a tongue as did his mother. He was one of
+those fine gentlemen who would, or could neither plod nor dash at his
+studies, and who was quite willing to take all his knowledge second hand
+from any one who would kindly impart it.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dancy was so entirely his devoted friend, that he gladly gave
+him the advantage of his superior parts, in return for various favours
+which Miss Simpson also aided in conferring.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dancy is a tall, fashionable-looking man, with what Miss Simpson
+and her mamma consider a splendid figure. 'And such a lovely moustache!'
+Miss Simpson usually adds with a sigh. The moustache and hair are,
+however, inclined to red, and the face within them is not unlike that of
+a fox. Perhaps some of his friends might be surprised if they found him
+in the present company; but he would do anything to oblige Simpson and
+Jenkins, who are, in turn, always at his service, in more ways than one.</p>
+
+<p>After a little preliminary conversation, Mr Simpson offers Netta his
+arm; and followed by the rest of the bridal party, leads the way
+downstairs. A smart little liveried page is at the door, and two fine
+carriages are in the street, each with its horses and coachman
+ornamented with bridal favours.</p>
+
+<p>'We cannot make all our arrangements' as I could wish, whispers Howel
+to Miss Simpson, 'owing to circumstances; or I should have met you at
+the church from another house.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta, Mr Simpson, and the two ladies are in the first carriage, which
+soon arrives at St James's Church, followed by the other. How the
+bouquet in Netta's hand trembles, as she takes Mr Simpson's arm, and
+walks with him up the steps, and finally through the centre aisle to the
+altar! She has never been in a London church before, and the varied
+colours of that magnificent painted window strike her with wonder even
+now.</p>
+
+<p>Netta turns very pale as she stands by the altar, and waits until Howel
+comes up. Sir John whispers some kindly words, which so forcibly remind
+her of her father, that she can scarcely repress her tears. She glances
+at Howel, as he stands opposite, gazing at her, and sees that his
+handsome face is calm and determined. He smiles as she looks at him,
+which reassures her. A prettier bride could never stand before an altar;
+Howel feels this and is satisfied. And Netta has loved her cousin all
+her life, and thinks him perfect. She can truly say that she leaves
+father, mother, all for him.</p>
+
+<p>And these are the feelings with which they receive the first words of
+the earnest-spoken grey-haired priest, who tells them that they are
+assembled in the sight of God, to be joined indissolubly together.</p>
+
+<p>Netta once read through the marriage service years ago. She had
+forgotten it, and would have read it again, but she did not take away
+either her Bible or prayer book when she fled from her home, and did not
+like to ask Howel to buy her one. Now, as the clergyman continues his
+exhortation, the words sound to her as some solemn and wonderful address
+spoken for her alone. She listens in spite of a multitude of feelings
+that are struggling within her, and is struck with fear when she is
+adjured to confess, if there is any impediment to her being lawfully
+wedded. She knows that her father's anger and her mother's sorrow are
+broad impediments in her road to happiness.</p>
+
+<p>Her hand trembles, as he who holds the office that offended father ought
+to hold, takes it and places it in that of the clergyman It trembles
+still more as she hears the question put to her concerning her future
+conduct to him, so soon to be her husband, and to think she must audibly
+respond. Howel has already answered firmly and boldly, and she strives
+to say the final, 'I will,' firmly too, but her voice falters; she is
+too much absorbed in her own emotions to notice how carelessly and
+thoughtlessly Howel repeats his solemn promise to her after the
+clergyman, but she feels him press her hand and is reassured.
+Tremblingly, but in all earnestness of purpose, she makes her vow to
+'love, cherish, and obey' him whom she has resolutely chosen for her
+husband; and, as if touched by her manner, and by the searching glance
+of the clergyman, Howel becomes more serious as he places the ring on
+her finger and repeats the last words in those great and awful names,
+which it is sin to utter but with humility and prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Truly, as they kneel before the altar to receive the final blessing of
+the clergyman, they are a sight for much joy or much grief. Who shall
+say what the end will be? Two human beings joined in one to all
+eternity!</p>
+
+<p>As that prayer and blessing are being spoken, a bright flash of
+lightning darts through the church, followed by a heavy peal of thunder;
+suddenly a great gloom fills the sacred edifice, and a storm of hail and
+rain dashes against the windows.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Netta is superstitious and as easily frightened as a child; she
+starts and gives an involuntary little cry as the lightning flashes
+before her eyes, and the thunder seems to shake her as she kneels. She
+turns paler and paler as the storm continues, and can scarcely hear the
+concluding psalms, prayers, and exhortation, for her fear of the
+lightning which fitfully and at intervals slants through the painted
+windows.</p>
+
+<p>Stronger nerves than Netta's have been shaken by a thunderstorm on a
+wedding-day. Even Howel involuntarily quails at this evil omen, and Mrs
+Jenkins clasps her hands and mutters a Welsh proverb. She and Netta had
+been congratulating each other on the sunshine of the morning, and such
+a storm was bad indeed.</p>
+
+<p>However, the service proceeds, and then he who addresses the
+newly-married pair in God's name, makes himself heard in spite of the
+pattering hail. He seems the more impressive as he cannot but remark
+Howel's frowning brow and Netta's agitation.</p>
+
+<p>It is a relief to all the wedding-party when the last words are spoken
+and Howel leads his bride into the vestry. By this time tears are
+running fast down her pale cheeks, and Howel's efforts at encouragement,
+and the warm kiss he gives her, fail to dry them; Sir John Simpson's
+fatherly embrace rather serves to increase than diminish the emotion,
+and poor Netta is conscious that Howel must be very displeased.</p>
+
+<p>She mutters something about her great fear of lightning and thunder;
+signs her name even more stragglingly than usual, and is at last led by
+Howel through the church to the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't wonder she is frightened and nervous,' says Miss Simpson? 'I am
+sure I should have fainted if such a storm had come on at my marriage.
+It is&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense!' exclaims Howel, somewhat rudely, as they drive quickly
+through Jermyn Street, up St James's Street, down Piccadilly, and into
+Half Moon Street, without much farther conversation, whilst the storm
+rolls on. Netta hurries upstairs and gives way to a burst of sobs and
+tears; Howel follows, and knowing the best way to console her, takes her
+in his arms, and having told her that she is his own little wife now,
+begs her to remember all the grand things they are going to do.</p>
+
+<p>'You are a great lady now, Netta. We must astonish the little people
+down in Wales. Think of Paris, and that Lady Nugent and Miss Rice Rice,
+and all your old rivals will hear of your being there, and soon see you
+return smarter and richer than any one,'</p>
+
+<p>'But the storm, cousin Howel! All those solemn words! I am frightened to
+death!'</p>
+
+<p>'Silly little Netta! what has the storm to do with you and me? All our
+prosperity and happiness are beginning.'</p>
+
+<p>'But they say, &quot;Blessed is the bride the sun shines on,&quot; and that
+thunder and lightning are such a bad omen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be'&mdash;a fool, Howel was going to say, but he modified it into
+'Don't be such a silly little puss, but dry your eyes, and come and make
+yourself agreeable to our first visitors. <i>Ours,</i> Netta dear.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta did as she was bid, and in a short time was at the head of the
+table, on which a wedding-breakfast had been duly placed, according to
+the general rules laid down for such occasions. Howel had given <i>carte
+blanche</i> to a fashionable confectioner, and everything was as it should
+be for the quiet and private marriage of a man of large fortune. The
+cake was splendidly ornamented, the champagne iced, and the other viands
+and wines in keeping with them; the hired waiters vied with Sir John's
+servants in propriety of demeanour, and Howel's page was as pompous as
+pages generally are.</p>
+
+<p>All Netta's pride and ambition returned when she saw herself mistress at
+a table more luxuriously spread than that of Mr Gwynne, and she soon
+began to enjoy her new dignity very much.</p>
+
+<p>'I am to have a French maid when I get to Paris,' she said to Miss
+Simpson. 'Howel does not like to take one with us, and we shall form our
+establishment when we return.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel laughed in his sleeve when he heard this: he managed to hear every
+word that Netta uttered, and gave her an approving glance; he also saw
+that his friends, Captain Dancy and Mr Horatio Simpson, greatly admired
+his beautiful young wife, and little cousin Netta rose in his,
+estimation.</p>
+
+<p>'We shall soon meet in Paris, I hope,' said Captain Dancy. 'Simpson and
+I are going to run over next week. I should like to assist in showing
+you some of the lions, Mrs Howel Jenkins,'</p>
+
+<p>'Lions! name o' goodness don't tak' her to see them!' exclaims Mrs
+Jenkins, now put off her guard by fear.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! you have not that Welsh figure; it means&mdash;' began Miss Simpson, but
+she was interrupted by Mr Simpson proposing the health of the bride and
+bridegroom.</p>
+
+<p>The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too
+often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating
+beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on
+the subject of 'my son Howels,' when that gentleman gave her a look that
+silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at
+Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies went to their retiring-room, whilst the gentlemen drank more
+champagne, and arranged various Parisian amusements.</p>
+
+<p>It was understood that, as Howel had no friends to leave behind him for
+the final settlement of lodgings and the like, his guests were to depart
+before he and his bride left. They accordingly took their leave as soon
+as Netta reappeared in fashionable travelling costume. No sooner were
+they fairly gone than Howel set to work to pay and arrange; this done,
+he called Netta to look at their wedding cards. There were a great
+number directed to different friends, some to acquaintances in their old
+neighbourhood, and one to David Prothero, Esq., Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>Netta quailed but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the <i>Welshman,</i> and every
+one will see it:&mdash;&quot;On the 16th instant, at St James's Church,
+Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to
+Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon. Sir John
+Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was
+attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'Father will see that,' said Netta; 'he will be in such a passion.'</p>
+
+<p>'Serve him right,' replied Howel, and called the page and sent the
+letters to the post.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in. Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of
+champagne, together with a few other confections' in a stray hamper.</p>
+
+<p>'Make haste, mother,' cried Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute. We must be wishing you joy at home;
+and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand
+cake.'</p>
+
+<p>At last Mrs Jenkins and her hamper were ready, and the trio started for
+the Paddington Station.</p>
+
+<p>When they arrived there Howel took a second-class ticket for his mother
+as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-class from that place
+home. She was to sleep with some friends at Swansea.</p>
+
+<p>'We mustn't waste money, mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you, Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tell everybody at home of the grand wedding.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be afraid of that.'</p>
+
+<p>When Howel had seen his mother off, he and Netta drove to their station,
+and, per first-class carriage, with page in second, steamed off to
+Folkestone, which was to be the first stage of their life-journey.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" ></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SERVANT.</h3>
+
+<p>We must now leave Netta and her husband for a time, and return to the
+morning when Netta left her home to go forth in search of a new one.</p>
+
+<p>The breakfast-table was spread at the farm, and all were assembled
+except Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, go and call Netta,' said Mr Prothero, seating himself before some
+smoking rashers of bacon; 'she's always late, I'll say that for her.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen did his father's bidding, but returned exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'She is up and out of her room. There must be something wonderful to
+make her go out before breakfast.'</p>
+
+<p>'Such a lovely morning,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I daresay she is in the
+garden.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, let her find her way in,' said the farmer; 'she knows the hour,
+and we'll fall to. Say grace, mother, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero said grace, and the trio sat down to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>'I expect brother Jo and Mrs Jonathan to-day,' said Mr Prothero; 'they
+are going to a clerical meeting, and are coming here on their way back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear me!' said Mrs Prothero. 'What can we have for dinner?'</p>
+
+<p>'Eggs and bacon. What better?' said the farmer. 'But you needn't be
+afraid, they 'ont come till tea. Owen, I wish you'd just look out and
+see after that idle slut Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>Off started Owen with a piece of bread and butter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, why don't you make that girl more regular?' asked Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, David! you know she doesn't mind me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you should make her.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero could have said, 'You should have helped me to make her all
+her life,' but she refrained.</p>
+
+<p>'Can't find her,' cried Owen, returning.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps she is ill upstairs,' suggested Mrs Prothero, rising, and
+running up to her room.</p>
+
+<p>The room was empty, as we know, and Mrs Prothero was about to leave it
+again, when she went to the open window to see if she could espy Netta
+from it. She passed the dressing-table as she did so, and perceiving a
+letter, glanced at the direction. She was surprised to find it addressed
+to herself, and on a nearer examination saw that it was in Netta's
+handwriting. It was with a trembling hand and foreboding heart that she
+took it up and broke the seal After she had done this, she was some time
+before she could summon courage to open it. When she did so, her brain
+swam as she read the following words, written with trembling fingers:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'DEAR MOTHER,&mdash;I am going to marry cousin Howel. Father won't
+     consent, so we are going to London to be married. I hope you will
+     forgive me for not telling you, but I knew it was no good, as
+     father is so much against it. I am sure I shall be very happy, only
+     I should like to have been married properly at home; but it is not
+     my fault that father would not hear of it, and that Howel would not
+     wait. We are going to France and a great many other countries, and
+     it grieves me to think how long it will be before I shall see you
+     again. I hope you and father will forgive me? as Howel is a
+     gentleman with plenty of money, and we have loved one another all
+     our lives. I don't see why we were not allowed to marry like
+     anybody else, instead of being obliged to go so far away; I am sure
+     it would have been better if father had let us. Dear mother, you
+     were always very good to me, and I am sorry if I ever offended you;
+     but father called me bad names, and was very cross; he will be
+     vexed, perhaps, when he sees how grand and happy I am.</p>
+
+<p>     'Good-bye for a little time, my dear mother. Don't be very angry
+     with your dutiful, affectionate daughter,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; JANETTA.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The word 'dutiful' was scratched through and affectionate added.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs Prothero had read this letter, she turned very pale, and stood
+like one in a dream; she could not realise the contents. That Netta was
+wilful and obstinate she knew, but she had never known her guilty of
+resolute disobedience; she felt very faint, and sat down on a chair
+opposite the open door&mdash;she tried to rise to go downstairs to her
+husband, but found that her head was too giddy, and she could not move;
+she put her hand before her eyes, and became unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Gladys passed down the passage, and seeing Mrs Prothero
+in this strange attitude, went into the room and asked if anything was
+the matter. Receiving no answer, she put her hand tenderly on Mrs
+Prothero's, and removing it from before her face, saw that she was pale,
+and appeared to have fainted. She ran hastily downstairs, and finding
+Owen alone, told him that his mother was ill. He followed her upstairs,
+and soon perceived that Mrs Prothero was really in a kind of swoon.
+Whilst he supported her, Gladys brought water and such restoratives as
+she could procure; she begged him to go for his father, and whilst he
+was gone, succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero. At the sight of the open
+letter, however, she sank again into a fainting fit.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero and Owen appeared.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, what is the matter? Name o' goodness what is the matter?' said
+Mr Prothero in great alarm.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his
+father took his wife into his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero
+to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a
+letter.</p>
+
+<p>'How can you read now, you unnatural son?' he said sternly.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, father! father, Netta!' he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind her; think of your mother, ten thousand times as precious.'</p>
+
+<p>At last Gladys succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero to consciousness and
+when she found herself in her husband's arms, with Owen bending over
+her, she burst into a flood of hysterical tears, which partially
+relieved her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Netta! Netta!' was all she could say, when they asked her what was
+the matter.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind her, mother, but get better,' said Mr Prothero, his usually
+rosy face almost as pale as his wife's.</p>
+
+<p>'If you please, sir, we will lay her on the bed,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Not here&mdash;not here,' gasped Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>They took her to her own room, and Gladys said,&mdash;'Perhaps, sir, if you
+would leave her to me a little I could get her into bed, I am used to
+illness.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero looked at the girl, and saw her eyes full of tears, but her
+face was calm and pale, and seemed to indicate a self-possession that no
+one else present had.</p>
+
+<p>'I will come back again soon, mother,' he said as he left the room,
+followed by Owen.</p>
+
+<p>When they were gone, Mrs Prothero gave way to an uncontrollable grief,
+and threw herself upon the neck of the girl Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'What will he say? what will he do when he knows it all?' she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>'If you only hope and pray, ma'am, perhaps all will be right that
+troubles you now,' faltered Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'My only girl! to be so wilful, so disobedient!'</p>
+
+<p>'May I ask what has happened to Miss Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'She has run away with her cousin, and her father will never forgive
+her&mdash;never!'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! that was what my poor mother did; but she was happy with my father;
+and Mr Jenkins is rich and kind. Take comfort, ma'am, it may not be so
+very bad.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys managed to get Mrs Prothero into bed, who, happily, did not see
+the effect produced by Netta's letter on her husband. Whilst she was
+shedding quiet tears on her pillow, he was raging with furious passion
+to his son. Over and over again did he comment on every word of the
+letter, sometimes with keen irony, sometimes with a burst of rage, until
+Owen endeavoured to suggest pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>'Go after her! the ungrateful, disobedient, good-for-nothing hussey! No,
+not if she were stopping a mile off instead of whirling away in her
+grand coach and four nobody knows where. Let her go, the impertinent
+baggage! &quot;Father 'ont consent! father was very cross! father had better
+let us marry! he will be sorry when he sees how grand and happy I am!
+father called me bad names!&quot; I wish I had called her worse! she deserves
+every name that was ever written!'</p>
+
+<p>'But, perhaps,' suggests Owen, 'she will be happy, and Howel will be
+steady.'</p>
+
+<p>'Steady! hold your tongue and don't be a fool! Make a drunkard steady!
+make a bad son steady! make a gambler steady! make a horse-racer steady!
+make&mdash;make&mdash;make&mdash;hold your tongue, sir: don't say a word for the
+ungrateful girl&mdash;never mention her name to me again&mdash;I never wish to see
+her face more as long as I live&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero's passion choked his words. Could Netta have suddenly
+returned and seen her father shaking with suppressed grief, his face
+crimson with rage, and his hands and teeth clenched, and her mother
+pale and weeping on her bed, she would, I think, have paused longer
+before she caused them this great grief.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero returned to his wife before his passion was calmed. He found
+her sitting up in bed wringing her hands, and crying as if her heart
+would break.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mother, there's no good in this,' began the farmer. 'That girl
+don't deserve tears and lamentations, and I 'ont have 'em. We 'ont have
+the house turned upside down because a bad, obstinate, ungrateful
+daughter has run away with a miser's son, and a good-for-nothing
+spendthrift. Let 'em go, I say! I 'ouldn't stir a step to bring 'em
+back&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, David! dear, dear husband! if only you will find out that they are
+married; if only you would send some one to see that Howel marries her!
+This is all&mdash;all&mdash;all! I will never name her again! I will try to forget
+her&mdash;I will do all you wish! but for my sake, for yours, for all, for
+God's sake, see to this, or I shall die.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was cowed at once by this passionate burst of grief. He had
+never seen his submissive, patient little wife excited in this way
+before, for never before had she felt so deep a pain. Her only daughter!</p>
+
+<p>'God help me! God help me!' she sobbed, when she had controlled her
+great emotion. 'I know I have indulged her&mdash;spoilt her perhaps. I know
+she is proud and wilful, and obstinate; but oh! to disobey us all&mdash;to go
+off, she doesn't know where&mdash;with Howel, too, who has no religion,
+nothing to keep him pure and honest&mdash;this is too much! too hard! No,
+David, bach! it is no good to be angry now&mdash;if you won't go after her I
+must.'</p>
+
+<p>'Stop you, mother, stop you! we'll see the slut married anyhow; that is
+to say, Howel shall marry her&mdash;who ever doubted that? but I'll never set
+eyes on her again as long as I live, I 'ont.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Mr Prothero was speaking, Gladys, who had been waiting upon Mrs
+Prothero until that moment, slipped out of the room, and ran in search
+of Owen. She found him amongst servants making inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Owen, may I speak with you if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen followed her into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! sir, if you would go after Miss Netta, now that the master is
+willing, at once; may be you will save your mother's life. If she goes
+on this way, she will surely be very ill.'</p>
+
+<p>'What use would it be for me to go after her? The cow-boy saw her pass
+at about five this morning, and she is at Swansea by this time. My
+father ought to have let 'em marry, and get on together like other young
+couples.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, Mr Owen, the mistress is afraid&mdash;she wants to be sure&mdash;she would
+be happier, sir, if some one could see them married!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! that's the way the wind blows! You may tell mother that I'll try to
+track them&mdash;but it won't be of any use. At any rate it will calm her to
+think we are making the attempt. You write to my brother Rowland,
+Gladys, and tell him of this affair; but the truth is, we must make the
+best of it. They are off to London to be married, and 'tis no good to
+try to look for 'em there.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Shanno entered.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Owen, Mr Jones, Tenewydd, did tell Mr Thomas, Trefortyn, who did
+tell John, blacksmith, who did tell Betto, that he saw Miss Netta and
+Mrs Jenkins, tallow-chandler, this morning about six o'clock, and they
+did get into a carriage by there.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go and tell mother that Aunt Jenkins was with Netta, Gladys, and I'll
+go and see whether Mr Jones really saw her or not.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys returned to her mistress, who had become more quiet, and was
+trying to persuade Mr Prothero to go after the fugitives.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'and Mr Jones, of Tynewydd, saw
+Miss Netta this morning with Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and they got into a
+carriage together.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God that 'Lizbeth was with her,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'The deceitful, pompous old vagabond,' thundered Mr Prothero. 'She to
+connive and contrive! fit mother for such a son. They 'ont come to no
+good end. No, mother, I can't, nor I 'ont go after 'em; Netta has made
+her own bed, and she must lie on it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' whispered Gladys. 'Try to take comfort; there
+is One who can make all our rough ways straight, and will bring poor
+Miss Netta home again, if we pray for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'What's the girl preaching about?' said Mr Prothero, glancing sternly at
+Gladys, who was silenced at once. 'Now, mother, we mustn't let that
+undutiful girl upset us. I must go to the wheat-field&mdash;you must&mdash;' he
+looked at his wife, and changed what he was going to say to, 'lie in
+bed.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Davy, I can't lie in bed, I must go and look for Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, wife, I 'ont have none of this nonsense. You must either lie in
+bed or go about your work. The whole house sha'n't be turned
+topsey-turvey for a baggage like that.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero left the room, and his wife insisted upon getting up.</p>
+
+<p>'If you could pray for her, ma'am, you would be happier, and perhaps
+poor Miss Netta might be helped in a way we cannot see.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pray for me, Gladys, I cannot think or pray for myself, I am so
+bewildered.'</p>
+
+<p>The two earnest-minded women knelt down by the bedside, and Gladys
+offered up a simple prayer in her clear, strong language, for the 'poor
+lamb who had strayed from the fold;' in which the mother joined in the
+midst of her sobs and tears. When they arose from their knees, Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys, and said she would go downstairs, and try to
+work, and seek to keep her heart in prayer.</p>
+
+<p>And the day wore through, until the evening brought Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero. For the first time, Mrs Jonathan comforted her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, really, I do not see why you should be so very much distressed,'
+she said. 'Howel is a fine, clever young man, with plenty of money. He
+is sure to make his way into good society, and to place Netta in a
+superior position. Of course, it was very wrong of her to elope, very;
+but your husband is so obstinate that they knew he would never consent,
+and what else were they to do? I confess I should have done the very
+same thing. As to his not marrying her after all, that is absurd. He is
+devotedly attached to her, and he knows that with her beauty and spirit,
+she will soon be fit for good society.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jonathan was not so successful with his brother. After saying that he
+had seen a carriage and pair pass at about six that morning, he
+proceeded to offer consolation.</p>
+
+<p>'It is according to nature, brother. Since the creation, the man has
+cleaved to the woman and the woman to the man. You married according to
+your fancy, so did I; so have men and women ever since the world began.
+It may turn out better than you imagine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Brother Jo!' thundered the farmer, 'hold your tongue. I know Howel
+better than you do, or anybody else, except Rowland. I 'ont hear any
+more about 'em, and the less you say the better. She's no daughter o'
+mine any more.'</p>
+
+<p>With this Mr Prothero walked away, leaving his brother very much
+perplexed and distressed, but comforting himself with hoping that time
+would soften even his choleric relative.</p>
+
+<p>Owen returned about ten o'clock. He had ridden to the inn where Howel
+had changed horses, and learnt the name of the house whence the fly
+came; had left his own horse and taken another, and gone on to Swansea,
+where he found from the drivers that the trio had gone direct to London.
+Thinking it useless to try to track them farther, he returned, fully
+impressed with the wisdom of Howel in running off with what he couldn't
+get by fair means.</p>
+
+<p>'Such a row as father makes,' he soliloquised. 'Why, I should do the
+very same thing to-morrow. And Howel's a decent chap too; will be, at
+least, when he's sown a few more wild oats. But if Netta doesn't lead
+him a dance I'm mistaken. She's father all over. There's a difference
+between her and that Irish girl! My wig! if she isn't a quiet one. But I
+never saw such eyes as hers in all my life, or such a sweet temper. I
+wonder what father would say if I ran off with her, and took her a
+voyage or two to give her a little more colour. That's all she wants to
+make her a downright angel'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" ></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE COLONEL.</h3>
+
+<p>The next day it was evident to every one that Mrs Prothero was very ill.
+She had never had any very extraordinary misfortunes or troubles, and
+the elopement of an only daughter was an event to her so dreadful and
+unexpected that it seemed as bad, or worse, than her death. As nothing
+more was to be gleaned concerning Netta, and further inquiries were
+literally useless&mdash;indeed, Mr Prothero would not hear of their being
+made&mdash;Mrs Prothero gave way to her grief, and her husband's most
+passionate demonstrations of displeasure failed to frighten her into her
+usual calm submission to him and his humours.</p>
+
+<p>Owen paid a visit to Mrs Jenkins' abode, and heard from the servant left
+in charge that she was not expected home for some time. Owen bribed the
+woman to let him know when her mistress returned, and comforted his
+mother by assuring her that he would find out all about Netta from Aunt
+'Lizbeth, whose tongue was too well oiled to stop going.</p>
+
+<p>Mr and Mrs Jonathan offered to remain at the farm, but as they rather
+irritated Mr Prothero by their evident inclination to take up the
+defence of the offenders, Owen told his aunt that she had better write
+to Lady Payne Perry about Netta, as there was always a chance of great
+people hearing the news. Owen was very well aware that his aunt could
+not possibly write to her aristocratic cousin with the pens, ink, and
+paper in general use at the farm, and that she would be obliged to go
+to her davenport at the vicarage, where he already saw her, in
+imagination, with the finest satin letter paper before her, mending her
+pen into the most delicate of points.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly they took their leave, with a promise to return on Monday,
+and were soon succeeded by Miss Gwynne, who, having heard of the
+elopement, came to see Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'If you could prevail on the mistress to go to bed, ma'am,' said Gladys
+when she opened the door to her, 'I would be for ever thankful to you;
+she is much too ill to be about, and she has done nothing but mope and
+fret all day.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne went straight into the dairy, where Mrs Prothero was making
+butter.</p>
+
+<p>'So Netta has taken the law into her own hands, Mrs Prothero. So much
+the better; I shouldn't grieve about it if I were you. It is a grand
+thing for her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to disobey us and run away, Miss Gwynne? she would be better doing
+her father's bidding than marrying a lord, much less Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you are not going to make yourself ill and miserable about it.
+Since it is done, you may as well make the best of it; but you must go
+to bed and keep quiet, to-day at least. You are not fit to see all the
+people who are already on their way to condole or congratulate. You will
+have half the parish here before night; I passed old Nancy, Cwmriddle,
+hobbling down the lane, and she will be here shortly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I couldn't see them, Miss Gwynne.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you must go to bed to avoid it. Do be advised, you look so ill.'</p>
+
+<p>'When Miss Gwynne so far forgot herself as to be persuasive instead of
+commanding, she was irresistible. She put her hand so gently on Mrs
+Prothero's shoulder, and looked so kindly into her tearful eyes, that
+the poor woman began to cry afresh. The sound of a stick knocking at the
+back door completed the victory, and Mrs Prothero went sobbing upstairs,
+whilst Gladys opened the door to admit Nancy, Cwmriddle, and another
+gossip who had overtaken her. Mr Prothero came into the yard at the same
+time.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, sir, to be sure; only to think of Miss Netta,' began the old
+woman in Welsh.</p>
+
+<p>'If you're come here to talk about her, I'll thank you to go away again,
+and tell everybody you meet that they may have their nine days' wonder
+about us anywhere but here,' roared Mr Prothero into Nancy's ear, who
+was very deaf.</p>
+
+<p>The old crones, knowing Mr. Prothero well, turned away quicker than
+they came, and soon began to do his bidding, perceiving that he was in
+an 'awful way.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Prothero, do you know I have sent Mrs Prothero to bed,' began Miss
+Gwynne, advancing towards him; 'she looks so very ill and unlike herself
+that I am sure you must be careful of her for a time.'</p>
+
+<p>'All that ungrateful, good-for-nothing daughter of ours, Miss Gwynne.
+What would she care if she were to kill her mother? I know you are a
+true lady and a kind friend, miss, and have more sense than all the rest
+of the country put together, so I don't mind telling you what I think.
+Those that disobey their parents'll be seure to come to a bad end.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will hope the best, Mr Prothero; and you must remember that you have
+your sons to comfort you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Fine comfort to be seure. There's Owen as wild as an untrained colt,
+and Rowland such a grand man up in London that he 'ont know his own
+father by-and-by. Dining with bishops and rectors, and as fine as my
+lord. I always told my wife that all Mrs Jonathan's eddication was too
+much for us, and so it is turning out. We shall be left in our old age
+to shift for ourselves; one son at sea, without a shirt to his back;
+another preaching upon a hundred a-year&mdash;gentleman Rowland I call him;
+and the third in a workhouse, maybe. And all this because brother Jo
+must needs bring a fine lady amongst us, and with her nothing but
+grammar-schools, boarding-schools, and colleges. My wife always spoilt
+that girl.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you helped a little bit, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Gwynne,
+smiling, to stop the farmer's flow of words. 'But one couldn't help
+spoiling poor&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'There, don't you go for to take her part, miss. Name o' goodness, let
+alone the girl. Beg pardon for being so rude.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Gladys appeared, who had followed her mistress upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, the mistress is very ill. I think she would like to see you.
+Perhaps you had better have a doctor.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never had a doctor in my house since Netta was born, that's the trouble
+she brought with her; I'd as soon have an undertaker. Send you for a
+doctor, and everybody in the house is seure to be ill. He's infectious.
+Excuse me, Miss Gwynne, whilst I go and see what's the matter.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne waited until she heard Mr Prothero come down from his wife's
+room, calling busily for Owen, who was in the wheat-field, and telling
+him to go and fetch Dr Richards. She then called Gladys, and said she
+should have whatever her mistress could fancy from the Park, and that
+she would come again in the afternoon and see how she was.</p>
+
+<p>This done, Miss Gwynne went her own erratic way, which led her over
+stiles, and through fields, and into various cottages, where she
+alternately scolded, lectured, and condoled, accordingly as she thought
+their inmates deserved the one or the other. She rarely left them,
+however, without giving some substantial proof of the interest she felt
+in their wants and trials, either by promises of food or clothing, or by
+money given then and there. She finally anchored in a pretty
+school-house that she had lately prevailed on her father to build, close
+by the Park, where she found Miss Hall patiently superintending the
+needlework of the girls. She gave two or three quick nods to the
+children, and they curtseyed and bowed on her entrance, and then told
+Miss Hall it was twelve o'clock, and she had had quite enough teaching
+for one morning.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't see what use it is having a school, if half the children are to
+stay away,' she said to the mistress.</p>
+
+<p>'It is the harvest, ma'am; they stay at home to take care of the younger
+children; that is why we have so few.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, and half go to the Dissenting schools; I see them creeping out.
+Now, children,' turning to the terrified urchins, who were just about to
+leave the room, if I see any of you going to any other school but this,
+or going away from church to the meeting-houses, you shall neither have
+new frocks, hats, nor shawls, nor shall you come to the tea-party I am
+going to give you soon; do you hear?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, ma'am&mdash;yes, ma'am,' muttered the children as they curtseyed and
+bowed and slipped away.</p>
+
+<p>As Freda and Miss Hall walked through the park to the house, the former
+grew very excited in her manner.</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what it is, Nita,' she said, 'Lady Nugent is doing
+everything in her power to win papa, and as soon as Miss Nugent marries,
+or rather as soon as somebody marries her fortune, she will get papa to
+marry her, I am sure of it. She must propose for him herself, for he
+will never have the courage to do so; I see through her, and I am sure
+you must do the same. He is flattered by the constant attentions, and
+little notes, and insinuating manners of a very handsome, fashionable,
+agreeable woman; and she thinks Glanyravon Park and a man of fortune
+that she will be able to turn round her fingers, better than the
+jointure she will have to live upon when her daughter leaves her. I was
+actually disgusted with her yesterday; it was what I call a dead set; if
+he marries her I shall hang myself, for live with her I never will; I
+positively detest her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Freda; those are the old expressions of years gone by. But you are
+jumping at a conclusion.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all; papa always stands up for Lady Nugent and her insipid
+daughter. You know he is a thorough gentleman himself and does not
+understand such a maneuvering woman. I told him so the other day, and he
+was quite angry; and I am sure she sets him against me. Why will you not
+try to marry papa, if he must marry again? and you are the only person I
+could tolerate for a step-mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Freda,' said Miss Hall, laughing, 'your papa would as soon
+think of Miss Rice Rice as of me.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are quite mistaken, he has always admired you very much, only you
+are so dreadfully reserved with him. You won't see that he wants some
+one who can talk to and for him, to save him the trouble. This Lady
+Nugent does with the most contemptible tact; and does it so cleverly
+that nobody sees through her. If you will only try, and just propose at
+the right moment, I am convinced papa would have you. If he marries her,
+I say good-bye to Glanyravon for ever.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are so impetuous, Freda; I am sure your papa has never thought of
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not exactly in a downright way, nor will he till Lady Nugent makes the
+proposal; then he will be rather frightened at first, and finally think
+that she will head his table more gracefully than I shall, and be less
+dictatorial&mdash;and I shall go into a convent.'</p>
+
+<p>'Better marry yourself, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Marry who? The only person who would really care to have me, whether I
+had a fortune or not, is Sir Hugh Pryse, and I could no more marry him
+than&mdash;than&mdash;Mr Rice Rice, or Major Madox, who thinks only of the heiress
+of Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you have refused half-a-dozen more, and have not even taken the
+trouble to try to like any one of them!'</p>
+
+<p>'They were all in love with the Park, not with me; and I certainly never
+mean to try to like any one. It must be true love with me, or none at
+all. I shall die an old maid, and unless you will, just for my sake, try
+to cut out Lady Nugent, I daresay you and I will nurse the black cat
+together.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda's conversation was checked by the sound of horses' hoofs behind;
+she turned sound and saw a gentleman riding slowly up the drive. He soon
+overtook them, and raising his hat, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne! I am sure it must be Miss Gwynne; am I right?'</p>
+
+<p>Freda bowed.</p>
+
+<p>'You do not remember me! twelve years make a great difference! and you
+were a child when I left.'</p>
+
+<p>'Colonel Vaughan! Oh! I am so glad to see you!' claimed Freda. 'And
+papa will be charmed; we heard you were in England, but did not know you
+were in this county.'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan dismounted, and shook hands with Freda, evidently with
+all his heart, then glancing at Miss Hall, started, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes&mdash;no&mdash;I beg your pardon, surely not Miss Hall.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Miss Hall, colouring slightly, and holding out her hand, I
+am very glad to welcome you home again, but can well imagine you did not
+expect to see me here.'</p>
+
+<p>By this time they were at the house, and Freda was planning introducing
+Colonel Vaughan to her father as a stranger, and seeing whether he would
+recognise him or not.</p>
+
+<p>She accordingly preceded him to the study, and said to Mr Gwynne, 'A
+gentleman wishes to see you, papa.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne rose and made his bow, and motioned to a seat in his usually
+nervous manner.</p>
+
+<p>'How do you do, Mr Gwynne? Don't you know me?' said the colonel,
+standing up before him.</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon&mdash;no&mdash;I do not think I have ever&mdash;impossible! It
+cannot be my godson, Gwynne Vaughan?'</p>
+
+<p>'The very same!' said the colonel. 'I only came down last night, and
+this is the first place I have visited.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am very glad to see you, my dear fellow,' said Mr Gwynne, absolutely
+rising from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>'And this was what the bells were ringing for last night?' said Freda,
+looking flushed and handsome.</p>
+
+<p>'In spite of my poverty they did me that honour,' said the colonel. 'I
+heard the old place was likely to be let again, and so ran down to have
+a look at it first, and beat up my old friends. It was years ago that I
+went, a youth of nineteen, into the army, and twelve since I have been
+here, and I have been all the world over since then; but I come back and
+find everything much as I left it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But surely you will not go away again?' said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'I am not rich enough to keep up the old place as it ought to be kept,
+and the debts are not half wiped off yet, so I don't mean to settle down
+at present.'</p>
+
+<p>'But a little economy and that sort of thing would soon clear the
+property. You had better settle down.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think I should like it; besides, I hear there are negotiations
+going on between my attorneys and some other persons for a fresh
+tenant.'</p>
+
+<p>The luncheon-bell rang, and the party went into the dining-room; and
+whilst they are eating and talking we will examine the new comer.</p>
+
+<p>He is decidedly a handsome man. The most fastidious judge of masculine
+beauty could scarcely deny this fact. Tall, well made, of commanding
+figure and aristocratic appearance, black hair, a high rather than a
+broad forehead, well marked eyebrows, and black lashes so long that they
+half conceal the grey eyes beneath; an aquiline nose, and a well-defined
+mouth, with an expression slightly sarcastic; a chin so deeply indented
+with a dimple that, if the old saw be true, he must be a flirt or a
+deceiver; and withal, a manner so perfectly easy and self-possessed that
+you say at once court, camp, or cottage must be equally accessible to
+that man.</p>
+
+<p>There is a certain power in him that even a reader of character would
+scarcely understand for some time. Is it intellect? There is decidedly
+intelligence in the face, yet it is not highly intellectual; there are
+no disfiguring lines and cross lines, the furrows of study or thought.
+Is it mere health and animal spirits? He is neither particularly rosy
+nor overpoweringly cheerful. Does he read your mind at a glance? His
+eyes are penetrating, but not uncomfortably so. It is, we are inclined
+to think, that general and instinctive knowledge of the characters and
+tendencies of those with whom he converses, which commerce with the
+world, and a keen observation of men and manners, alone can give. He is,
+in short, a man of the world.</p>
+
+<p>When he first entered the army his father and an elder brother were
+alive. They, dying about three years after, left him in possession of a
+large but greatly encumbered property. It was estimated that it would
+take twenty years at least to clear the estate, and that only by letting
+it and never drawing upon the proceeds.</p>
+
+<p>The young heir was wise enough to retain his post as officer in Her
+Majesty's service, though not to sequester all his income for the
+payment of his father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's debts or
+mortgages. He spent about a fourth of it annually, and consequently the
+property was still greatly encumbered and he knew that to reside on it
+and clear it he would be obliged to live in a very humdrum style, or
+else add to the burden of debt already incurred. He preferred, remaining
+in the army, and being a general favourite in society, and having no
+near relations in Wales, it never occurred to him to spend his furloughs
+in his native county. He had always some distant land to visit, and
+either with his regiment or on leave had travelled nearly all over the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>His return was therefore an event of considerable interest to the
+neighbourhood in which his place and property lay; and, doubtless, Mr
+Gwynne was not the only person who wished Colonel Vaughan to settle at
+Plas Abertewey.</p>
+
+<p>When he was last at Glanyravon Park Mrs Gwynne was alive, Freda was a
+child of eight, and Miss Hall a very elegant and pretty young woman. Mr
+Gwynne Vaughan was then one of her numerous admirers; but there was
+apparently no remnant of his early passion left, if you can judge of the
+heart of a man, or his character at least, by his face or manner. Miss
+Hall was much more confused when she suddenly met him than he was when
+he first recognised her.</p>
+
+<p>Freda had always had a pleasant recollection of him. He had been very
+kind to her when she was a child, and an occasional letter to her
+father, or the intelligence, through the papers, of his distinguishing
+himself in India, or his gradual rise in the army, had kept alive a
+certain amount of interest in her mind for this old friend.</p>
+
+<p>She showed it at once, and delighted Colonel Vaughan by the perfectly
+natural manner with which she welcomed him, and the frank heartiness of
+her expressed wish that he should remain in the country now he had
+returned to it.</p>
+
+<p>'We have never had any one we cared for at Abertewey,' she said.
+'Sometimes it was an English family who came to ruin themselves in
+mining speculations; sometimes a sporting man who came for the hunting,
+shooting, and fishing; and now, if you don't stay, I daresay it will be
+a Manchester mill owner or some such person.'</p>
+
+<p>'Much nearer home, I fancy; but I believe it is a kind of secret, only I
+am so much like a woman that I cannot keep a secret. To my utter
+astonishment I find it is to be a son of old Jenkins, the miser! I
+remember the father, but the son was some years my junior. You need not
+mention this, however, as it may fall to the ground. He wanted to buy
+the place, but I am too patriotic still to wish to sell.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel Jenkins! little Netta! at Abertewey!' exclaimed the trio in
+concert.</p>
+
+<p>'True it is that mountains fall and mushrooms rise,' said the colonel
+laughing. 'But he has money, and as far as negotiations have gone, seems
+willing to pay, so I am content.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I am not,' said Freda. 'It will be odious, and I shall be so sorry
+for poor Mrs Prothero. You must settle there yourself, Colonel Vaughan.'</p>
+
+<p>'A poor lonely bachelor with no money!'</p>
+
+<p>'Hem&mdash;hem, you might find a wife, I should think,' suggested Mr Gwynne.
+'There is a beautiful girl in this neighbourhood with thirty thousand
+pounds at her disposal.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, papa!' said Freda frowning perceptibly, 'such an empty-headed,
+insipid idiot would be dear at a hundred thousand.'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan looked at Freda to see whether she was jealous, but
+could not quite understand the frown.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after luncheon he took his leave, with promises to make Glanyravon
+his head-quarters if he remained any time in the country.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII" ></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NURSE.</h3>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero continued very ill, and the doctor said there was no chance
+of her amendment until her mind was more at ease. Four days had passed,
+and no intelligence of Netta. Each day found her worse than the
+preceding, and brain fever was apprehended. Gladys nursed her day and
+night. Mr Prothero stormed and lamented by turns. Owen did what he could
+to assist and comfort all, and Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall sent every kind
+of nourishing food from the Park.</p>
+
+<p>On the fifth morning, Owen rode into the town in the vague hope that he
+should hear something of his sister, either through Mrs Jenkins's
+servant or the post. Mrs Jenkins had not returned, but there was a neat,
+smooth letter for his father, directed by Howel, with which he rode off
+homewards at full gallop. He longed to open it, but he dared not. He was
+fearful that his father would put it into the fire unread, so he formed
+twenty plans for securing it, which he knew he could not carry out;
+however, when he returned home and sought his father in the harvest
+field, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Father, I have a letter directed by Howel. Will you let me open it for
+mother's sake?'</p>
+
+<p>'If it is yours, do what you will with it? if it is mine, burn it
+unread.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, father, surely you would do something to save mother's life. Any
+news of Netta&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't name that girl to me, sir, or I'll horsewhip you!'</p>
+
+<p>'May I open the letter, father?'</p>
+
+<p>'Do as you will, but don't let me see it. The deceitful up-start! the
+pompous fool! the&mdash;the&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Owen waited for no more epithets but ran into the house, and stumbling
+upon Gladys in the passage, told her to come and see what the letter
+contained. When he opened the outer envelope and took out the beautiful
+little glossy note with its silver border and white seal, stamped with
+a small crest of an eagle, he burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'Cards, by jingo!' he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mr Owen, just let me cut round the neat little seal. I am sure your
+mother would like to see it,' said Gladys, joining involuntarily in the
+laugh, and taking a pair of scissors out of her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The seal was cut, and two cards were taken out, silver-lettered and
+silver-bordered, showing that Netta was now Mrs Howel Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys ran off with them without asking any questions, followed by Owen.
+They found Mrs Prothero crying, as she usually was when left alone.</p>
+
+<p>'I hope we have good news, ma'am,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'All right, mother. Cheer up! Netta is married at any rate,' cried Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God!' said Mrs Prothero, taking the cards and pressing them to
+her lips. 'But not a line&mdash;not a word from Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>'She would not dare to write, ma'am,' suggested Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose not? but why did she go away? Why did she leave me never to
+see me again?'</p>
+
+<p>The following day brought the <i>Welshman</i>, Mr Prothero's weekly treat,
+which it generally took him the week thoroughly to read and enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>Owen chanced to open it first, and, as is usually the case, stumbled at
+once upon the marriage of his sister. When his father came in he was in
+uncontrollable fits of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be angry, father, but I can't help it. Ha, ha, ha! D. Prothero,
+Esq. of Glanyravon! Oh, I shall die of it! Now, really, father, you
+ought to be proud.'</p>
+
+<p>'What are you making such a row about?' said Mr Prothero looking over
+Owen's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>His eye caught the words, 'Howel Jenkins, Esq., and Miss Prothero,
+Glanyravon, and Sir John Simpson. This was quite enough. He seized the
+paper with an oath, crumpled it up, and thrust it into the fire, and
+gave Owen such a violent blow on the back with his fist, that the young
+man's first impulse was to start up and clench his in return; however,
+his flush of passion cooled in a moment, and he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Come, father! remember it isn't I that ran away. Time enough to give me
+a licking when I do. I'm much obliged to you for letting me know what a
+strong father I've got.'</p>
+
+<p>'Once for all, Owen, take you care how you laugh upon that subject or
+name it to me. I can give and take a joke as well as most people, but
+not about that, sir, and from you. Name o' goodness, what d'ye think I'm
+made of!'</p>
+
+<p>The farmer walked out of the hall, and left Owen heartily sorry for
+having hurt his father's feelings, but chuckling over the fashionable
+marriage.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning he managed to procure another paper, and read his
+mother and Gladys the announcement, knowing full well that maternal
+pride must rejoice in the exaltation, whilst it wept over the
+disobedience of an only daughter.</p>
+
+<p>To the astonishment of every one, the following morning brought Mrs
+Griffith Jenkins to Glanyravon, attended by her maid-servant. Gladys
+answered the door to the thundering double-knock that resounded through
+the house, and was quite taken aback when she saw who the visitor was.</p>
+
+<p>'Is Mrs Prothero at home, young 'ooman?' asked Mrs Jenkins in a grand
+tone of voice.</p>
+
+<p>'My mistress is very ill, ma'am,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Ill! Since when?'</p>
+
+<p>'Ever since Miss Netta left, ma'am.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do Mr Prothero be in the house, or Mr Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>'They are out harvesting, ma'am.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tell you Mrs Prothero that I do bring message from Mrs Howel Jenkins
+for her, and that I was promising to give it myself.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys did not know what to do. She felt sure that Mr Prothero would not
+admit Mrs Jenkins under his roof, and that her mistress would be afraid
+to do so; however, she ventured to ask her to come in and wait a little
+time whilst she sent for Mr Owen. Fortunately, Owen was not far from the
+house, and Mr Prothero was riding to some distant part of his farm, so
+Gladys left Mrs Jenkins to Owen, and went upstairs to tell Mrs Prothero
+that she was in the house. Mrs Prothero was greatly agitated, but
+declared that she would see her at all risks, and tell her husband that
+she had done so. She begged Gladys to remain in the room during the
+visit, and to prevent a meeting between Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys went downstairs again, and found Owen telling Mrs Jenkins what he
+thought of Howel's and her own conduct.</p>
+
+<p>'My mistress would like to see you, ma'am,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm thinking I 'ont go near her now, you, Owen, have been so reude.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, for that much, you may do as you please, Aunt 'Lizbeth. I shall
+have the pleasure of going with you to my mother. You've pretty nearly
+killed her amongst you, and I don't mean to let her be quite put an end
+to.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you be showing the way, young 'ooman,' said Mrs Jenkins, rising
+majestically and smoothing down a very handsome silk dress, which she
+had carefully taken up before she sat down.</p>
+
+<p>Owen's wrath was turned to amusement</p>
+
+<p>'Did you think we hadn't a duster in the house, aunt? I can tell you
+you've pretty well dirtied that white petticoat.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys led the way to Mrs Prothero's room, and Mrs Jenkins and Owen
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sorry to see you so poorly, cousin,' said Mrs Jenkins, approaching
+the bed on which Mrs Prothero lay, looking flushed and excited.</p>
+
+<p>'What did you expect, 'Lizabeth Jenkins? when you have carried off my
+daughter&mdash;my child&mdash;my Netta! And caused misery in our house never to be
+mended.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, seure! One 'ould think we'd murdered Netta, 'stead of making her
+as grand as a queen, with a lord and a lady to be giving her away, and a
+captain to be at the wedding, and a gentleman in a waistcoat and chains
+and rings that do be worth a hundred pounds at least, and a young lady
+for bridesmaid in a shoall of lace, handsomer than your Miss Gwynne of
+the Park, and a wedding-cake covered with sugar, and silver, and little
+angels, and all sorts of things which I was bringing with me for you;
+and a clergy like a bishop to marry her, and a coach and horses to be
+taking her back and fore, and she looking as beauty and happy as ever I
+was seeing! And my Howel's as rich and fine as anybody in London, Prince
+Albert nothing to him, and might be marrying Miss Simpson, my ladyship's
+doter, if he wasn't so fullish as to be marrying your Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, aunt, it is our turn, if you please,' said Owen, as soon as Mrs
+Jenkins gave him time to speak. 'Will you tell my mother Netta's
+message?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am taking it very unkind that you should all turn upon me. David
+Prothero I 'spected 'ould be in a passion, but, stim odds! Netta said,
+cousin, that I wos to tell you she was sorry to be leaving you in a
+hurry, but that she had everything she could be wishing, gowns, and
+white shoes, and lace veils&mdash;seure you never wos seeing such a
+beauty&mdash;and a <i>stafell</i>&mdash;<i>trosy</i> they do call it in London&mdash;good enough
+for my Lady Nugent, and a goold watch and chains, and rings and
+bracelets, ach un wry! there's grand!'</p>
+
+<p>'But what did Netta say to me, cousin 'Lizbeth? I don't care if she was
+all gold from head to foot. I would rather have her here in rags,' said
+Mrs Prothero, bursting afresh into tears.</p>
+
+<p>'She's more likely to be here in satins and velvets, cousin,' said Mrs
+Jenkins, rising from her seat, and walking up and down, apparently in
+great wrath. 'What you think of my Howels and your Netta at Abertewey:
+And you to be all toalking as if we wos ail dirt. And they in France,
+over the sea, where I 'ould be going with them only I am so 'fraid of
+the water.'</p>
+
+<p>'There's a loss it would be, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if anything had happened to
+you! Suppose a shark had swallowed you up! gold watch, mourning ring,
+silk gown, brooch, and all? Those creatures aren't particular. But we
+haven't had all Netta's message yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'She was sending her kind love and duty to you, cousin, and was saying
+she was sorry to be leaving you, but my Howels was so kind as you, and
+she was as happy as could be.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did she cry, cousin? did she shed one tear?' asked Mrs Prothero,
+sitting up in bed, and looking at Mrs Jenkins with a quick, wild eye,
+quite unlike her usual quiet glance.</p>
+
+<p>'You needn't be looking at me so fierce, cousin, I didn't be killing
+Netta. Is seure&mdash;she did cry enough, if that's a pleasure to you. She
+was crying when she was meeting my Howels; she was crying when she was
+putting on her wedding gown; she was crying when the parson was
+preaching that sermon, and when the thunder and lightning did frighten
+her, seure, and no wonder&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Did it thunder and lighten when they were married? 'asked Mrs Prothero,
+through her sobs.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, indeet! I thoate I should be struck myself; but she was soon
+forgetting it at breakfast; they do call it breakfast, you see, but I
+never was seeing a grander dinner. Chickens, and tongue, and ham, and
+meats, and cakes, and jellies, and fruit, and wines, all froathing up
+like new milk, some sort of <i>pain</i> they was calling it; but I never did
+be seeing such good <i>pain</i> or tasting it before, he! he!'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't care about the dress or the dinner, or the grand people,
+cousin,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I pray God to forgive Howel for making our
+only girl run away from us like a thief in the night; and I would rather
+hear she cried for us whom she treated so badly, than that she was
+dressed in velvet and jewels. All those fine people and fine things
+won't make her happy, and her father will never forgive her, never. Oh
+dear! oh dear!'</p>
+
+<p>'What will I tell her, Mrs Prothero, when I do write to my son Howels?'</p>
+
+<p>'Tell her&mdash;tell her that my heart is breaking; but I forgive her. Beg
+her not to forget her parents, and, above all, not to forget her God.
+Poor child! poor silly, thoughtless child, she will never be happy
+again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeet to goodness, this is fullish! I shall go, Mrs Prothero. Good
+morning.'</p>
+
+<p>Just as Mrs Jenkins was making a kind of curtsey by the bedside Gladys
+said that she saw Mr Prothero riding up to the house.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you had better make haste, Aunt 'Lizbeth,' said Owen, 'it would
+not very well do for you and my father to meet.'</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ont be running away from any man's house, Mr Owen. I do hope I'm as
+good as your father any day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, pray make haste,' said Mrs Prothero, very much frightened.
+'Good-bye, cousin. Forgive me if I have been rude? I beg your pardon.'</p>
+
+<p>'This way, ma'am, if you please,' said Gladys, opening the door; but Mrs
+Jenkins was smoothing down her silk dress, and arranging her bonnet in
+the looking glass.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite ready for another husband, aunt; but you had better make haste,
+you don't know what you may come in for if you meet my father.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am not caring neither,' said the little woman, sweeping across the
+room and out at the door. At the top of the stair she met Mr Prothero,
+face to face. The effect of her appearance upon that worthy man is not
+to be described. She made a kind of curtsey and began to speak, but no
+sooner did she see his face than she held her tongue. Neither did words
+appear to come at the farmer's bidding, but very decided deeds did. He
+took the alarmed Mrs Jenkins by the two shoulders, literally lifted her
+from the ground, carried her downstairs a great deal faster than she
+came up, helped her along the passage much in the same way, and with
+something very nearly approaching a kick and an oath, turned her out of
+doors, and shut the door behind her with so violent a bang that it
+echoed through the house.</p>
+
+<p>Owen ran down stairs to receive the first brunt of his passion, and to
+prevent his going up to his mother. He allowed the words that came at
+last to have way, and then took all the fault on himself; said that he
+had admitted Mrs Jenkins to try to soothe his mother, and that she had
+done so, he thought.</p>
+
+<p>'Take you care, sir, how you let that 'ooman darken my doors again, or
+any one belonging to her. It'll be worse for you than for them,' said Mr
+Prothero, with a brow like a thunder cloud.</p>
+
+<p>His wrath was interrupted by the sound of wheels, and to Owen's great
+relief, he saw the head of his uncle's well known grey mare through the
+window. He ran out to admit him and his aunt.</p>
+
+<p>'We have just seen Mrs Jenkins, Owen,' began his aunt.</p>
+
+<p>'Not a word to father, aunt.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. But she stopped us and began telling us that she had been
+turned out of these doors, and would have the law on your father. She
+was furious; talked of Netta and Howel, and your mother, and Paris, and
+the wedding, all in the same breath, and would not let us go on until we
+had heard all. Neither of us spoke to her, but she stood at the horse's
+head and frightened me to death.'</p>
+
+<p>When they all went into the hall, they found that Mr Prothero was not
+there. Gladys came in and said he was with her mistress, but had not
+mentioned Mrs Jenkins.</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid she has made my mistress worse, sir,' she said to Owen.
+'She has been very faint ever since she left,'</p>
+
+<p>In truth she had made her worse, and when Dr Richards came to see her
+that afternoon, she was quite delirious. He shook his head, and declared
+that she had brain fever, and that the utmost quiet and freedom from all
+excitement were necessary for her. Poor Mr Prothero was beside himself,
+and the whole household was in great consternation. Serious illness had
+never visited either the farm or the vicarage before, and none of the
+Prothero family knew what it was. Not so Gladys, however. She did not
+wait to be directed or ordered, but took her post as nurse by her dear
+mistress's bedside. To her the doctor gave his directions, to her Mr
+Prothero turned for information, to her Owen came for comfort; and even
+Mrs Jonathan, who had scarcely ever spoken to her before, looked to her
+as the only hope in this time of uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>'I have seen all kind of fevers,' she would say to one and another as
+they questioned her, 'worse than this, and with God's grace the dear
+mistress will recover. I am not afraid to sit up alone with her, oh, no!
+It is better not to have too many in the room at once. Do not be uneasy,
+master, the delirium is not very bad. Yes, Mr Owen, you can do better
+than any one else, because you are calmer. No, ma'am, it is not an
+infectious fever&mdash;you need not be afraid,' and so from one to another at
+intervals she went, giving hope and comfort.</p>
+
+<p>During all that night and several successive ones, Gladys sat up with
+her beloved mistress. It was she who listened to her disturbed,
+delirious talk about Netta, and tried to console her; she who read the
+Bible to her, and prayed with and for her during the intervals of
+reason, and she who gave her all her medicines and nourishment.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mr Prothero could do nothing but wander from the fields to the
+house, and the house back again to the fields, followed by his brother
+like his shadow, who strove to comfort him in vain. Mrs Jonathan made
+jellies, and did her best. Owen was gentle and tender as a girl, and
+helped to nurse his mother with a love and care that Gladys could
+scarcely understand in the lighthearted, wild sailor.</p>
+
+<p>Before the end of the week, they wrote to summon Rowland, for Mrs
+Prothero's life was despaired of, and great was the anxiety and terror
+of all, lest he should come too late.</p>
+
+<p>'Pray for her, Mr Owen, pray for her. There is nothing else of any avail
+at such a time as this,' would Gladys say in answer to the young man's
+entreating glance.</p>
+
+<p>'If I were as good as you I could, Gladys. Oh, God! spare my beloved
+mother!' he would reply.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX" ></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CURATE.</h3>
+
+<p>Although it was a bright autumn morning, the stillness of death hovered
+over Glanyravon Farm. There was scarcely a sound to be heard within or
+without. The men in the yard moved about like spectres, and work was
+suspended in the harvest fields; whispers circulated from bedroom to
+kitchen, and from kitchen to outhouse, that the good and kind mistress
+whom every body loved, was on her deathbed; and how should they labour?
+All the talk of the farm-servants was upon subjects ominous of death.
+One said that he had heard Lion, the big watch-dog, howl long and loud
+before daylight; another that he had seen a corpse candle as he went
+homewards the previous evening; a third that she had seen her mistress
+all in white at her bedside, looking beautiful; a fourth that she had
+heard a raven croak; in short, if sighs and wonders could kill poor Mrs
+Prothero, there was little chance for her life. Where every one was
+usually so busy, so full of energy and spirit, there was more than a
+Sabbath calm. They were expecting some one, too, for Tom and Bill were
+looking down the road about every five minutes, whilst Shanno appeared
+now and again at the back door, and whispered 'Is he coming?' to which a
+shake of the head was a constant reply.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor had just gone into the house, and knots of men and women
+stood about with sorrowful faces; kind neighbours who came one after
+another to hear the last report as soon as he should again reappear. Mrs
+Prothero was greatly beloved, and no one could afford to lose her.</p>
+
+<p>'She was so bad last night that she was not expected to see the
+morning,' whispered one.</p>
+
+<p>'Couldn't take a drop of anything,' said another.</p>
+
+<p>'Is talking of Miss Netta for ever,' said a third.</p>
+
+<p>'There'll be a loss to every one. Mr Jonathan prayed for her in church
+last Sunday; if prayers'll save her she 'ont die, no seure.'</p>
+
+<p>'She gave me a jug of milk only Friday week.'</p>
+
+<p>'And was coming to see my John in the measles Wednesday before Miss
+Netta ran away.'</p>
+
+<p>'She's the death of her mother I always say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor master is nearly mad.'</p>
+
+<p>'And Mr Owen crying like a baby.'</p>
+
+<p>'And they do say that the Irish girl is better than a daughter to 'em
+all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush! I do hear wheels. Oh! if he do come, perhaps he may rouse her up
+a bit.'</p>
+
+<p>The gates were open, and before the last whisper was over Mr Gwynne's
+carriage was driving down to the farm. The bystanders drew back as it
+rolled through a part of the yard and stopped at the door. Rowland got
+out, and was in the house almost before any one could see him. He went
+into the hall, and there he saw Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, and Dr Richards.
+Miss Gwynne held out her hand, and said at once,&mdash;'Your mother is still
+alive.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God I!' exclaimed Rowland, giving a sort of convulsive gasp, and
+wringing the hand that pressed his.</p>
+
+<p>'Is there any hope?' he asked of Dr Richards.</p>
+
+<p>'The crisis is at hand, and she is insensible; it is impossible to
+say&mdash;if we could rouse her?'</p>
+
+<p>'I may go upstairs?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, but you had better let your father know you are come; he is in the
+outer room.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland went at once to what had been his own bedroom in former times;
+he opened the door gently, and there alone on his knees by the bedside,
+groaning audibly, was his poor stricken father. He went up softly to him
+and whispered, 'Father, it is I, Rowland!' and Mr Prothero rose, and in
+a few seconds went with him into the room where the beloved wife and
+mother lay.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland went up to the bedside, and took the place which Gladys silently
+vacated for him. He gazed upon what appeared to him to be death, but was
+really the prostration and insensibility that followed the delirium and
+fever of the past week. He bent down and kissed the cold forehead of his
+mother, then turned away, covered his face with his hands, and wept
+silently. Gladys whispered to him that there was still hope, and resumed
+her occupation of bathing the temples with vinegar, wetting the lips
+with wine, and administering tea spoonfuls of wine, which still
+continued to find a passage down the throat. Mrs Jonathan Prothero
+crept softly up to Rowland, and put her hand in his&mdash;Owen came to
+him&mdash;his uncle&mdash;all were there.</p>
+
+<p>But as soon as he had recovered from his temporary emotion, he went to
+his father's side, who had seated himself on a chair behind the curtain
+of the bed, and tried to comfort him. The presence of his second son was
+in itself a consolation to poor Mr Prothero; but he could not listen to
+his words.</p>
+
+<p>'Pray for your mother, Rowland,' was all he could say.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland knelt down with all those present, except Gladys, who joined in
+spirit and prayed. Never before had he known what it was to use the
+prayers of his church for one so dear to him; never before had he felt
+the great difficulty of reading them when his emotion nearly choked his
+utterance. But as priest and son he prayed fervently for his mother.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero seemed calmer after he rose from his knees, and ventured to
+lean over his wife to assure himself that she still breathed. There was
+an occasional slight pulsation scarcely to be called breath.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came in and felt her pulse. It was not quite gone, and whilst
+there was life there was hope.</p>
+
+<p>They stood round her bed watching the calm, pale face with a love and
+anxiety so intense that they could neither speak nor breathe. Gladys
+looked almost as pale as her mistress, and as the light fell upon her
+when she was leaning over her, she might have been the angel of death
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan Prothero drew Rowland from the room and insisted upon his
+taking some refreshment. He had travelled all night, and Mr Gwynne, at
+his daughter's request, had sent his carriage to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall were still waiting downstairs. They asked Mrs
+Jonathan if they could be of any use in taking Gladys's place whilst the
+poor girl got some rest; Mrs Jonathan said it was useless to urge her to
+leave her mistress for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland thanked Miss Gwynne for her kindness, and she said she would do
+anything in the world for Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>She and Miss Hall went away in the carriage that brought Rowland,
+promising to return again in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland had swallowed some coffee, he went back to his mother's
+room. As he walked from the door to the foot of the bed, she opened her
+eyes, and seemed for a moment to look at him; a thrill of hope shot
+through him. He went round and took her hand, and whispered, 'Mother!'
+Did she smile? He thought she did.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards her lips moved, and Gladys heard the name ever on
+them, 'Netta.' This was better, far better, than that death-like trance.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, dear mother,' again whispered Rowland, and once more her eyes
+opened and fixed on him, with something like consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>At last an opiate which the doctor had given took effect, and she slept;
+her pulse was so weak, and her breathing so faint, that at first the
+watchers thought she was passing away into that sleep from which there
+is no awakening; but it was not so. It was a weak troubled sleep; still
+it was a sleep.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees all left the room but Rowland and Gladys. Mrs Prothero's hand
+seemed to be clasping that of her son, as if it would not let go; and
+Gladys never moved from the bedside.</p>
+
+<p>She saw that there must be hope if real sleep came. As she sat down in a
+kind of easy chair that Owen had placed for her by the bedside, she
+thanked God for this amount of hope,</p>
+
+<p>'Sleep, Gladys, I will watch,' whispered Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>And truly the poor girl had need of rest. Scarce had she closed her eyes
+during that anxious week, and she knew well how necessary rest was to
+her. But she felt as if she could not sleep whilst this uncertainty
+lasted. All the anxious faces of the household flitted before her when
+she tried to compose herself. Her poor master, his brother, Mrs
+Jonathan, Rowland, but mostly Owen. He who had said the least, had shown
+the greatest self-command and done the most. His large kind eyes seemed
+to be looking at his mother or at her, and trying to anticipate their
+wants. His hands so brown and sinewy, yet so very gentle, seemed to be
+touching hers, as they had done when moving his mother or otherwise
+helping in the sick-room. His cheery voice seemed to be telling her not
+to weary herself so much, or to be thanking her for the care she
+bestowed upon his dear parent. In vain she tried to put aside this kind
+of haunting vision. Her mistress and Owen were painted on the
+over-strained retina, and she could not efface the picture. She prayed
+for them, for all. Then, as the afternoon sunlight faded away, and a
+twilight hue crept over the room, with just a flickering streak of light
+playing on the wall opposite to her, the death-beds of her father,
+mother, sister, and brothers rose up before her with a vivid reality
+that made her tremble, and forced tears from her weary eyes. The tears
+seemed a relief, and as they flowed quietly down her cheeks, and the
+coming shadows dispersed the visions of the living, dying, and dead
+faded away, a mist fell on her eyes and she slept.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland, meanwhile, watched his mother. During the twelve months that he
+had been a curate in a parish in one of the worst parts of London, he
+had seen much of the sick and the dying. He had seen poverty,
+wretchedness, and sin in their most dreadful aspects, and the peace and
+comfort of his mother's present condition were a great contrast to the
+riot and squalor of many a death room into which he had sought to carry
+the gospel message of mercy. Truly he felt thankful in his inmost soul
+that she, over whom he was watching with filial love, was ready at any
+moment to appear before the great Tribunal, because she 'believed and
+knew in whom she believed.' It was for Netta, his beloved and wayward
+sister, the cause of this first great family trouble, that he grieved
+the most, because he feared that she had entered upon that downward path
+that would lead her far astray from the one in which her mother had so
+long and happily trod. But he, too, knew where to apply in all his times
+of doubt and misgiving, and thither he went for comfort as the shadows
+fell around and night crept on.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a
+shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the
+watchers downstairs. Her step, light as it was, awoke Gladys. She
+started up, and looking on her mistress, clasped her hands, and
+fervently thanked God.</p>
+
+<p>'She is sleeping as calmly as a child,' she said. 'I am sure the worst
+is past.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan went out to tell the good news, and to beg the brothers to
+go to bed, which they did, after some demur. Gladys and Rowland watched
+on for about an hour longer, when Mrs Prothero opened her eyes and fixed
+them upon Rowland. She smiled as if she knew him, and when he bent over
+her and kissed her, murmured some faint words which he could not
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys gave her some jelly which she swallowed, and soon afterwards she
+slept again.</p>
+
+<p>'The crisis is over, she will recover, I hope, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys.
+'You can go to bed, sir&mdash;you had better. The mistress will want you
+to-morrow, and you can be of no use to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland felt the force of this, and again kissing his mother's forehead,
+and shaking Gladys by the hand, he went downstairs to Owen, who he found
+asleep on the sofa in the parlour. Supper was awaiting him, and Owen and
+he were soon seated over the fire, discussing their mother's illness and
+Netta's conduct.</p>
+
+<p>They had not met for three or four years, and there was much to say. Few
+brothers loved one another more tenderly than they did, despite the
+dissimilarity of habits, tastes, and occupations, and when they were
+together, all the secrets of their hearts were usually unfolded.
+Although Owen's wild roving nature had caused Rowland much anxiety,
+still he had perfect confidence in his honest, open character. Owing to
+early education Owen was not deficient in general acquirements. He knew
+a little Latin and Greek, and could read, write, and cypher well. Added
+to this, his knowledge of foreign lands was great, and of men and
+manners greater. Under a careless exterior, he had a considerable
+portion of talent and information, and Rowland was delighted to find in
+his sea-faring, roystering brother, a much more cultivated and sensible
+mind than he had expected. Rowland was beginning to be conscious of
+wishing to see all his family superior to what they were. Placed by his
+own profession amongst gentle-folks, and feeling in himself all the
+refinement of the class so called, he was often annoyed and pained to be
+differently situated from those who were nearest and dearest to him. He
+knew that in London he was received as an equal by men and women of rank
+and position, as well as by those of talent and learning; whereas, in
+the country, even Miss Gwynne, at whose house he visited, considered it
+a condescension to speak to him, whilst she looked upon those who
+belonged to him as people of another sphere. In spite of all his prayers
+for humility, and his striving after pure Christianity, Rowland was, and
+knew that he was a proud man, and all the prouder because his original
+station was beneath his present one. He felt that he must be humbled
+before he could be the pastor and disciple of One whose whole life was a
+lesson of humility. But the world knew nothing of this. He walked before
+it, and through it as a bright example of a young clergyman devoted to
+his work. Neither was he less devoted to his mother, dutiful to his
+father, or loving to his brother, because they were good, honest, plain
+farmers, and he a clergyman; or which was, perhaps, more to the point,
+because Miss Gwynne could not, or would not separate him from his
+family.</p>
+
+<p>When he and his brother and sister were children, they were constantly
+at the vicarage with their uncle and aunt, and Miss Gwynne was their
+playmate there, and had not known their inferiority. Now that he really
+was a man of education and a gentleman, in spite of all her kindness to
+his mother, she knew it full well. Why did he never consider what any
+one else in his own neighbourhood thought of him or his family? It was
+only Miss Gwynne&mdash;always Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Early the following morning that young lady came to inquire for Mrs
+Prothero, accompanied by Miss Hall. It was Rowland who gave them the
+joyful intelligence that his mother had had a good night, and was much
+more quiet. The real pleasure that shone from Miss Gwynne's intelligent
+and intelligible eyes, showed Rowland how fond she was of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>'And now,' she said, 'Miss Hall and I are come, resolutely bent on
+remaining with your mother, whilst your aunt and Gladys go to bed. We
+are quite determined, and you know I always have my way.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland bowed, smiled, and called his aunt, who, after some hesitation
+consented, and went upstairs to request Gladys to do the same, but
+Gladys was inexorable until Mr Prothero came in, and in his most decided
+manner insisted on her taking some rest. Mrs Prothero also murmured a
+'Go, Gladys fach!' and she kissed the dear cheek and went at once.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero took her place. He was alone with his wife, and the rough,
+loud man became gentle as one of his own lambs, as he bent over her and
+thanked God that she was better. A big tear fell from his eyes on her
+face, and he made an inward vow, that if her life were spared, he would
+never again say a cross word to her as long as he lived.</p>
+
+<p>She felt the tear, heard the kind words, and seemed to understand the
+vow, for she looked at him tenderly, and said in her low, weak voice,
+'God bless you, David!'</p>
+
+<p>From that moment he went out to his work with a lightened heart; the
+labourers read the good news that their mistress was better in his face,
+and heard it in his voice. Even Netta's disobedience was forgotten, if
+not forgiven, in the joy of feeling that the partner of more than half
+his life was likely to recover. And by degrees she did recover. That is
+to say, before Rowland was obliged again to leave her, she was able to
+go down into the parlour and sit at her work, 'quite like a lady,' as
+she expressed it. And even out of the evil of such an illness good had
+sprung. It had aroused all the sympathy and kind feeling of relatives,
+friends, and neighbours; but especially had it been beneficial in
+bringing out the womanly kindness that lay hid under the stiffness of
+pride in Mrs Jonathan Prothero, and in opening the hearts of the
+sisters-in-law towards each other. Mrs Jonathan forgot her cousin, Sir
+Philip Payne Perry, and helped to nurse, and learned to love her humbler
+connection, whilst the ever-ready tenderness of the simple farmer's
+wife, sprung up to respond to it like a stream leaping in the sunlight.
+Gladys, too, reaped the reward of her devotion, in the increased
+kindness of Mr Prothero, who began to forget the Irish beggar in the
+gentle girl whose care, under God, had saved his wife's life; and so, as
+is usually the case, affliction had not come from the ground, but had
+fallen like a softening dew upon the irritated feelings of the
+afflicted, and bound heart still nearer to heart.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps in the younger and more impetuous natures it had done almost too
+much. Thoughtless of consequences, they had all worked to save a life,
+valuable to so many. Rowland, Owen, Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Gladys, had
+been thrown together at a time when the formalities of the world and the
+distinctions of rank are forgotten, and the tear of sympathy, the word
+of friendly comfort, or the pressure of the hand of kindly feeling are
+given and taken, without a thought of giver or receiver. But they are
+remembered, and dwelt upon in after years as passages in life's history
+never to be obliterated&mdash;never to be forgotten.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX" ></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HEIRESS.</h3>
+
+<p>Glanyravon Park lay, as we have said, in the parish of which Mr Jonathan
+Prothero was vicar, but as the parish and park were large, the house was
+three or four miles from the church; and it was on account of this
+distance of Glanyravon and its dependencies from church and school, that
+Miss Gwynne had induced her father to build the school-house, of which
+mention has been already made, since there was a large school in the
+village for such children as were within its reach. She would have had
+him build a small church also, and endow it, to remove all excuse, as
+she said, from the chapel-goers; but this was an undertaking too mighty
+for him. However, the school flourished wonderfully, both on week days
+and Sundays, and Miss Gwynne always filled every corner of an omnibus in
+which the servants went to church with such of the children as could not
+walk so far. Miss Hall was an admirable assistant to the school-mistress
+during the week; and Gladys, with Mrs Prothero's permission, undertook
+the Sunday duty for the mistress, in order that she might have a holiday
+on that day. Miss Gwynne also attended, but she was too impatient and
+imperious to be a good teacher, much as she wished to be one.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne had great ideas of doing good; grand schemes that she tried
+to carry out, but in which she often failed. Nevertheless, she did a
+great deal of good in her own peculiar way.</p>
+
+<p>She had been reading of the 'harvest homes' that they were endeavouring
+to revive in England, and had induced her father to have one in the
+park. Happily, the day fixed for this general rejoicing was during Mrs
+Prothero's convalescence, and before Rowland's return to London, so that
+most of the members of the Prothero family could be present. They also
+yielded to Miss Gwynne's ready assistance in such preparations as she
+made, and were the instruments in surprising her and her father by some
+tasteful decorations in their honour, unknown to them. Owen and Gladys
+worked very hard at floral and evergreen mottoes for the tent, whilst
+Rowland gave his advice as he sat with his mother, and tried to amuse
+her during the tedium of her recovery.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours before the general gathering, a messenger arrived at the
+Park in great haste, bearing a note to Miss Gwynne, containing the
+information that the vicar had sprained his ankle just as he was going
+to set out for Glanyravon, and was unable to move. There was another
+note for Rowland, which was to be carried on to the farm, requesting him
+to supply his uncle's place.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne was greatly annoyed; wished that the vicar would not go
+wandering about after old stones, as she was sure he had done; knew that
+Rowland would never be able to manage and was very sorry she had
+attempted the treat at all.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst she was still grumbling, and Miss Hall laughing and consoling,
+Rowland arrived. This was his first visit to the Park since he had been
+in the country, and Mr Gwynne was delighted to see him. He perceived at
+once that Miss Gwynne's equanimity was disturbed; and said that he was
+very sorry to come as a substitute for his uncle, but that he would do
+his best. His manner was so quiet and composed, and he seemed so little
+alarmed by the honours thrust upon him, that Miss Gwynne gradually
+became reassured.</p>
+
+<p>In less than half-an-hour she told Miss Hall that he was worth a hundred
+of the vicar, and that after all the sprained ankle was rather a
+fortunate accident.</p>
+
+<p>At about two o'clock the guests began to assemble at the school-house,
+over the door of which was the motto in dahlias on a ground of
+evergreens, 'Welcome for all,' which had been arranged by Miss Hall. The
+school-room was very tastefully decorated by the mistress, Gladys, and
+the children; and the motto, 'Long Live Miss Gwynne,' was very apparent
+in scarlet letters amongst a crown of laurels.</p>
+
+<p>All the children and their teachers were assembled here, and a great
+many of their relations, also most of the farmers and their families. In
+addition, there were Mr and Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Lady Mary and Miss
+Nugent, Colonel Vaughan, who was staying at the Park, Sir Hugh Pryse,
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero, who left her husband at his particular request,
+and Rowland. No one out of the precincts of the Park had been invited,
+and as it was, there was a goodly number.</p>
+
+<p>As there was no church near enough for them to go to, Rowland read the
+evening service in the school-room; after this he gave out one of the
+hymns for harvest, and led the youthful band in singing it. His fine
+clear voice seemed to give the children courage, especially when a
+beautiful full treble joined, to which they were evidently accustomed.
+It was impossible not to try to discover from whom those sweet notes
+proceeded, and one by one everybody looked at Gladys, who had a
+magnificent voice; she, however, was unconscious of observation, for her
+eyes were fixed on her hymn-book that she was sharing with a small
+child.</p>
+
+<p>It must be acknowledged that she not unfrequently distracted the
+attention of many a young man from his hymn-book on Sunday, when at
+church; and on the present occasion, what with the face and the voice,
+more than one pair of eyes were fixed on her. Owen, I am sorry to say,
+looked more attentively at her than at his book; and, as to Colonel
+Vaughan, he never took his eyes off her face, and was heard to whisper
+the question of 'Who is that girl?' to Lady Mary Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>When the hymn was sung, Rowland stood behind the high desk of the
+mistress, and gave a short lecture on the words, 'Thou crownest the year
+with thy goodness.' Rowland was not ungifted with the talent for
+extempore preaching, common to so many of his countrymen, and therewith
+possessed, in general, much self-possession; on the present occasion, it
+must be confessed that he felt unusually nervous, still he commanded
+himself and his feelings, and by degrees, forgetting them and his
+hearers, in his subject, warmed into a natural flow of eloquence that
+somewhat astonished his congregation, and entirely gained their
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath a quiet exterior Rowland hid a romantic and poetic mind, which
+few, if any of his friends knew anything about; for he had never shown
+his poetry to them, and never attempted to publish it. But it sometimes
+appeared, in spite of his efforts to repress it, in his sermons; and now
+it made a desperate effort to burst forth, and conquered.</p>
+
+<p>There was so much to excite the enthusiasm of a young preacher in that
+harvest-home gathering&mdash;in the mows of golden corn heaped up against the
+future&mdash;in the splendid autumn weather they were then enjoying&mdash;in the
+bright sunshine and many-hued leaves of the changing trees&mdash;and the
+goodness of God crowning the whole!</p>
+
+<p>I am not going through his sermon, for I should only mar what his
+feelings made powerful. Suffice it to say that some of his friends had
+tears in their eyes as he preached; others, according to the custom of
+their country, uttered occasional exclamations of approval as he went
+on, and some were glad to own him as their near and dear relation.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the proudest moment of the farmer's life was when Mr Gwynne went
+up to him after that short discourse, and shook him by the hand, with
+the words&mdash;emphatic words for him&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Prothero, I congratulate you upon your son. You have reason to be
+proud of him. He managed his sermon well at a short notice, clear,
+poetical, etc., and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>The abrupt termination to the speech was occasioned by the approach of
+Lady Mary Nugent, who also congratulated Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, sir; thank your ladyship; glad you approve,' was all the
+proud father could say, with the tears in his eyes all the while.</p>
+
+<p>As to Rowland, he was undergoing an ovation of hand-shakings and praises
+from everybody present, which he was fain to put an end to, by beginning
+to organise the procession to the tent. One simple sentence, however,
+rang in his ears for the remainder of that day.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Mr Rowland, for your sermon. I hope you have done us all
+good,' said Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>She began to think more highly of him than she had ever thought before,
+and owned to Miss Hall that he had words at command, and that at a short
+notice.</p>
+
+<p>The procession was very pretty. The school-children walked two and two,
+and looked like so many large scarlet poppies, as they wended their way
+through the avenue. Miss Gwynne gave them all their outer garments, and
+it was her picturesque and pleasing fancy to keep to the national
+costume; so they had high-crowned black beaver hats, scarlet cloaks with
+hoods, striped linsey frocks, and woollen aprons. They carried a due
+amount of little flags with appropriate mottoes, and some few of the
+Glanyravon musicians formed a band for the occasion, and played
+cheerily, 'The March of the Men of Harlech.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero and his son Owen headed the tenantry, and carried between
+them a magnificent banner, fashioned at the farm, bearing as motto,
+'Prosperity to Glanyravon.' Others followed with appropriate Welsh
+mottoes. And one was conspicuous as containing the sentiment, 'Long live
+our Vicar and his Lady.'</p>
+
+<p>A large tent was erected in front of the house, ornamented with flowers,
+wreaths of evergreens, devices, and mottoes. The most conspicuous of
+these was in Welsh, and above Mr Gwynne's seat at the head of the long
+table. It was composed of wheat-ears and oak-leaves, and contained the
+words, 'May God bless Gwynne of Glanyravon and his daughter.' Mr Gwynne
+felt almost uncomfortable in seating himself beneath such a sentence,
+but having consented for the first time in his life, and, he earnestly
+hoped, for the last, to become a hero, he knew he must go through with
+it. Accordingly, with Colonel Vaughan on his left, and Lady Mary Nugent
+on his right hand he prepared to do the honours of a most substantial
+feast to his tenantry, their wives and children. When every one was
+seated Rowland said grace, and they began the feast <i>con amore</i>. They
+were as merry and happy a party as could be assembled on a fine autumn
+day. Every one was in good humour, and thoroughly enjoyed the treat. As
+soon as they had feasted enough, they proceeded to give toasts, which
+were enthusiastically drunk in good Welsh ale.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne proposed the health of the Queen and royal family. Sir Hugh
+proposed Mr Gwynne and his daughter, the kind and liberal donors of the
+feast, in a hearty speech, which all understood. Mr Gwynne did his best
+to return thanks, but found that he could not get much beyond,&mdash;'I feel
+most grateful for the honour you have done me, but&mdash;my
+feelings&mdash;been&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;all that sort of thing,' at which point the
+cheers grew so deafening that he sat down quite overwhelmed, and wished
+himself in his library.</p>
+
+<p>'So very exciting, so complimentary, so touching,' whispered Lady Mary
+Nugent to Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was again called upon to exert his eloquence in responding for
+the Church, which he did in a short, apt speech, duly applauded.</p>
+
+<p>He, in return, proposed the army, coupled with Colonel Vaughan,
+who&mdash;and, he said, he knew he was expressing the thoughts of all
+present&mdash;was heartily welcomed home, and earnestly entreated to remain
+in his native country.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan delighted every one by a most eloquent response. 'Such a
+grand gentleman, but so humble,' was the general opinion of him. As for
+the ladies, they were all in love with him. Lady Mary Nugent, Freda,
+Miss Nugent&mdash;they had never seen so charming a man. And he was so
+universally gallant that he might have been in love with them all in
+return. He gave the 'Welsh Yeomanry,' for whom Mr Prothero returned
+thanks, and right well he did it; giving the colonel to understand in
+something more than a hint, that if he wished the farmers and farming to
+improve, he, and other absent landlords, must come and live on their
+property as Mr Gwynne did, and then there would be more wealth and
+prosperity, and more 'harvest homes.'</p>
+
+<p>And so, with various other toasts, including the vicar and his lady, for
+whom Owen had to return thanks, the afternoon wore on. The children were
+playing at games in the Park, and by degrees the elders joined them.</p>
+
+<p>Here Gladys was foremost. It was wonderful to see how she had gained the
+affections of the young. One and all were round her, and when the
+gentlemen and ladies came to look on, and join in the revels, the first
+thing that attracted them was the flushed face and graceful figure of
+this really beautiful girl, as she led the boisterous youngsters in a
+game of 'French and English.'</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Colonel Vaughan was in the ring heading the boys; but Gladys
+immediately retired, abashed, as he stood opposite to her, as captain on
+the French side. But Owen came to the rescue, and the gallant officer
+and equally gallant sailor headed the ranks, as commanders of the bands
+of French and English. They had a hard fight on both sides, but at last
+the English conquered, and Owen and his party won the day amidst great
+cheering.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Hugh and Rowland joined in the succeeding games; and sixpences,
+sweetmeats, apples, and every available prize was given to the boys and
+girls for racing, jumping, singing, and the like, until the shades of
+evening fell over the scene.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter were the first to wish good-night; as
+they were to walk home, Colonel Vaughan proposed accompanying them.</p>
+
+<p>'You will return at once?' asked Freda, rather peremptorily, for she
+disliked that the Nugents should carry off the all-fascinating colonel.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed and said 'yes,' and Rowland, who was near, saw Freda's cheek
+flush as he looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>It chanced that Rowland and Miss Gwynne were left together at a distance
+from the revel. They stood awhile, looking on, and talking over the day.
+Rowland said it had been most successful. Indeed he felt that all had
+been pleased; none more than himself, for had not everyone congratulated
+him, and above all, had not Miss Gwynne been even kinder and more
+friendly, than when by his mother's bed side she had seemed to him as a
+sister?</p>
+
+<p>'If it has been successful, Mr Rowland, it is in a great measure due to
+you,' said Miss Gwynne, looking up into his face with a smile of real
+satisfaction. 'I should never have managed the children so well, and I
+must say, much as I like your uncle, I don't think he would have managed
+the services so well as you have done.'</p>
+
+<p>Reader! were you ever praised by a very handsome woman, whom you have
+loved all your life, when standing with her alone under a wide-spreading
+oak, in a noble park, with mountains bathed in the red and yellow of the
+sunset before you, and a broad harvest-moon rising above your heads? If
+so, you will not wonder at the end of this chapter.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland suddenly fixed his fine, dark eyes upon Freda's face, and looked
+into it, as if he would read her soul. For a moment she was abashed at
+the gaze, and coloured deeply, whilst her eye-lids drooped over the eyes
+he sought. Was there ever a woman who was not flattered and excited by
+such a look?</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne,' at last said Rowland tremulously, 'if in any way I can
+have served and pleased you I am happy. For this, in part, I have
+laboured, and still would labour. You do not, you cannot know how I have
+loved you all my life.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Rowland almost whispered these few words, and as he did so, wished
+he could recall them, but now the deed was done, and she knew the secret
+of his childhood, boyhood, and manhood. He said no more, but stood
+looking down upon her with his heart beating as it had never beaten
+before.</p>
+
+<p>Higher and higher rose the colour on her cheek. What were the feelings
+that deepened it so? Alas! poor Rowland! Pride, only pride. For a moment
+she stood as if hesitating what to say, then, suddenly drawing herself
+up to her full height, she looked haughtily at him, and said words that
+he never forgot to his dying day.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Rowland Prothero, have you quite forgotten who I am, and who you
+are?'</p>
+
+<p>With these words she made a stately bow, and turned towards the house.
+Proudly and hastily she walked up the avenue; once she had turned round,
+and seeing Rowland standing exactly where she had left him, hurried on
+until she found herself in her own room, indulging in a very decided
+flood of indignant tears.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI" ></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BROTHERS.</h3>
+
+<p>During this short conversation between Rowland and Miss Gwynne, Gladys
+was still playing with the children at no great distance from them. With
+all a woman's penetration, she had guessed Rowland's secret during his
+mother's illness, and had perceived no symptoms of attachment on the
+part of Miss Gwynne; and now, with all a woman's pity, she was watching
+him from afar. She had seen them standing together, had marked the hasty
+bow and retreat of the lady, and the immoveable attitude of the
+gentleman; she saw that he continued to stand where Miss Gwynne had left
+him, as if he were a statue; she guessed something must have passed
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>As twilight was fairly come on, she told the schoolmistress that she
+must go home, and begged her to see that the children dispersed when she
+thought best. Owen, who was in the midst of a game of cricket with the
+boys, was as well aware of all Gladys's movements as if he had been by
+her side. He saw that she was shaking hands with the mistress, and that
+the children were imploring her to stay a little longer. He went to her
+and asked her to remain until he had finished his game, in order that he
+might see her home.</p>
+
+<p>She thanked him, but said, rather abruptly for her, that she must go at
+once, and, heedless of what he or others might think, went hastily
+across the park to Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'That's the way the wind blows, is it?' said Owen to himself, whilst a
+frown gathered on his open forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was unconscious of the approach of Gladys, and was startled from
+his trance by the words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Rowland, sir, I think the mistress will be expecting you home.'</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her half unconsciously for a moment, and then rousing
+himself, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Gladys, is it you? Yes, I will go directly. Where? Home? Of course
+it is time. I will walk with you.'</p>
+
+<p>These were the only words spoken between the pair. Rapidly he strode
+down the avenue, inwardly resolving never to enter it again; as rapidly
+along the road that led to the farm, until he reached the house, with
+Gladys breathless by his side.</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid I have walked too quickly, Gladys, I am very sorry. I was
+anxious to get home, I do not feel very well.'</p>
+
+<p>With these words he hurried through the passage, and was going to his
+room, when his father met him and called him into the parlour. He felt
+so bewildered that he scarcely knew what his mother said, when she told
+him how proud and happy he had made her by his conduct that day.</p>
+
+<p>'All, my dear son, church-people and dissenters were pleased with your
+sermon, and the way you managed everything. Your aunt repeated it word
+for word to me, and it was just what I like. This is the first comfort I
+have felt since&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero pressed her son's hand, and her eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, mother, I am glad,' was all Rowland could say.</p>
+
+<p>'Mind you, Row, my boy, you must write a good sermon for Sunday. You've
+got a character to lose now,' said Mr Prothero, giving him a slap on the
+back.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, father. I will go and write it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to-night, Rowland,' said Mrs Prothero, anxiously; 'you look pale
+and tired. What is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, mother; but I must think of this sermon, I have only one clear
+day. We will talk to-morrow. Good-night, dear mother.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland stooped to kiss his mother, and she felt that his face was very
+cold, and that his hand trembled.</p>
+
+<p>'You are ill, Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, only tired. I will come and see you again by-and-by.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland went to his room and bolted himself in. He threw himself on a
+chair, covered his face with his hands, and wept like a child. He was
+seated by a little writing-table near the window, through which the moon
+looked down pitifully upon him in his great anguish. Yes, great. Perhaps
+the greatest anguish of a life. His arms on the table, his head on his
+arms, he thought, in the misery of that moment, that he must die, and he
+wished to die. The illusion of a life was destroyed, and how? So rudely,
+so cruelly, so heartlessly broken! He could have borne it if there had
+been one kind word, only a look of interest or pity; but that pride and
+haughtiness were like the stabs of a dagger in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>'Womanly weakness! unmanly folly!' you say, some one who has never felt
+keenly and suddenly the pangs of such a passion unrequited. Perhaps so.
+But out of our great weakness sometimes grows our strength; out of our
+bitterest disappointments our sternest resolution. By-and-by such
+weakness will strengthen; such folly will breed wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Rowland remained for some time, with unkind and unholy thoughts and
+feelings rushing through his mind, like the howling winds through the
+air in a great storm. Afterwards, he prayed humbly to be forgiven those
+devilish feelings of anger, pride, hatred of life and mistrust of God's
+goodness that assailed him in that hour of misery. But for the time,
+they were darting to and fro, and casting out every good thought, and
+hopeful purpose from his soul, like demons as they were.</p>
+
+<p>But strength came at last, and like one arising out of a horrid dream,
+Rowland got up from his anguish, and looked out into the night. The moon
+was too tender and beautiful for his mood at that time; he roughly drew
+down the blind, took a box of matches from the table, and lighted a
+candle. Then he paced up and down the room, and suddenly thought of
+Howel and Netta. He knew not how the transition took place, but he
+immediately accused himself of having been hard to them. Does any one
+ever fully sympathise with another, until he has felt as he does? No, we
+should not judge our weak fellow mortals so harshly, if we knew all
+their temptations and trials.</p>
+
+<p>Then, again, Miss Gwynne returned to him, with her pride and coldness.
+How could he love such a woman? he, whose beau ideal of feminine
+perfection was a creature of gentleness, love, and pity? but he would
+think of her no more. She, at least, should discover that he was as
+proud as herself.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he was proud, he knew it, and now, he would glory in his pride
+instead of trample it down, as he had been of late trying to do, as an
+arch tempter; he should be justified in showing pride for her pride.</p>
+
+<p>Again a gentler and better mood came. Was he not vain, ambitious,
+ridiculous in her eyes, for venturing to speak to her as he had done?
+Doubtless he had been wrong, but she needed not to spurn him as she had
+done; she might have told him so as a friend. Friend! she thought him
+beneath her friendship.</p>
+
+<p>But we will not pursue these musings further; every kind and degree of
+feeling alternated for nearly two hours, when, as if by some sudden
+impulse or resolution, Rowland sat down and determined to write his
+sermon. It should be upon pride, and should touch her as well as
+himself. He found pleasure in thinking of all the texts in which the
+word occurs, in looking for them, and considering which was the most
+biting.</p>
+
+<p>A hasty knock at his door interrupted this study. It was Owen, who
+insisted upon coming in, and would take no excuse.</p>
+
+<p>Owen, too, had been ruminating upon the nature of woman, and was not in
+a very good humour; he, however, had been cheerfully talking to his
+mother of the events of the day, and duly lauding their own particular
+hero, Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>When he entered, he looked surprised at seeing Rowland with his Bible in
+his hand; he took a chair, and, turning his seat towards him, sat down
+astride upon it, leaning his chin upon the back and facing Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Rowland, I'm going to ask you a very plain question. There ought
+to be no secrets between brothers: I've told you all mine, nearly? you
+must tell me yours. Are you in love?'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Rowland coloured to the temples, but did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>'You won't tell me? There was a time, Rowland, when you and I knew one
+another's hearts as well as if they were two open books, in which we
+could read when we like, but I suppose London and fine people&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Stop, Owen, do not disgrace yourself or me by going on. Why do you wish
+to probe me in a wounded place, where every stab is death?'</p>
+
+<p>Owen looked at his brother, and saw the conflict that was going on in
+his mind in the working of his features.</p>
+
+<p>'Rowland, I only want your confidence; by Jove you shall have mine, even
+though you are my successful rival; and I love you so well that I would
+give her up to you, if it cost me&mdash;let me see&mdash;a voyage to the North
+Pole.'</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, this is no jesting matter. I have been a fool, I am ashamed of
+myself, I am trying to conquer my feelings; leave me until I have
+succeeded, and then&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But, Rowland, if she loves you, I don't see why you should try to
+overcome your feelings. It would not be quite the right match,
+certainly; but she would make a better parson's wife than a sailor's
+wife after all; and my father might consent in time, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, is it kind of you to make a jest of me?' asked Rowland, rising
+from his chair, and resuming his walk up and down his room. 'If you had
+ever really loved either of the many girls you have fancied you adored,
+you would understand me better; but I deserve it all for my
+presumption&mdash;my folly.'</p>
+
+<p>'For that much, Rowland, perhaps I love her a trifle better than you do
+at this very moment; still I am not selfish enough to come between you,
+and would rather try absence and the northern latitudes; only just be
+honest. I'm not quite such a piece of blubber as not to be capable of
+constancy, though I may have been a rover until now; but when I see a
+girl walk right away from me, and refuse to wait for me to go home with
+her, and go straight off to another man, never mind if he was my father,
+instead of my brother, I don't mean to break my heart about her.
+Besides, I'm disappointed in her, and that's the truth. I thought she
+was as modest as the moon; but I never saw the moon walk out of her
+straight path to go after another planet, and no girl that I have
+anything to say to, shall go after another man. So you're welcome to
+her, though I'll say this, that I never saw the woman yet I loved so
+well, and believe she's as good as gold, as pure as that same moon, but
+as cold as ice itself; at least, so I've found her, perhaps you've a
+warmer experience.'</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Owen paused in his rapid speech, Rowland paused in his walk,
+and putting his hand on Owen's shoulder, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'This is a misapprehension, my dear Owen; you and I are thinking of a
+different person.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am thinking of Gladys,' said Owen bluntly, 'and repeat that I love
+you both too well to come between you and happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure of that, Owen, you have no selfishness about you; but I do
+not love Gladys. I never thought of her except as a beautiful and
+superior girl, thrown by Providence amongst us, and to be treated with
+kindness and consideration. I only hope my manner to her has never
+indicated anything else.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you mean what you say?' said Owen, jumping up from his chair, and
+cutting a caper, 'then shake hands, and tell me you forgive me for being
+so hasty.'</p>
+
+<p>They shook hands heartily, and Rowland said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Owen, you have done me good; now go away, and I will write
+my sermon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not before I know what is the matter with you, and why Gladys went
+across on purpose to walk home with you.'</p>
+
+<p>After much hesitation, and some pressing on the part of Owen, Rowland
+told his brother what had passed between him and Miss Gwynne. When he
+had made a clean breast of it, he felt as if relieved of half his
+load&mdash;especially when Owen assured him that women were all alike, and
+that when you asked them the first time, they were as proud as Lucifer.</p>
+
+<p>'It is first and last with me, Owen. I have forgotten my position, my
+profession, my own dignity in giving way to a passion that I had no
+right to suppose could be returned. I will crush it, and nobody but you
+shall ever know of its existence. This struggle over, and I shall hope
+henceforth to have but one Master and to serve Him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I never should have thought you would have fancied Miss Gwynne;
+not but that she is handsome and clever and very agreeable and kind,
+too, when she pleases; but so proud, so domineering, and then&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Neither should I have supposed Gladys to be your choice, Owen; and I am
+sorry it should be so. What would my father say? so soon upon Netta,
+too; and you must confess that her uncertain history, her present
+condition, the way she came to us, would be utter barriers to anything
+serious.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bravo, Rowland; now I must put the application to your lecture. I
+suppose everything is by comparison in this world&mdash;the squire and the
+squire's daughter look down upon the farmer and the farmer's son, and
+beg to decline the honour of an alliance. The farmer and the farmer's
+son look down upon the corporal and corporal's daughter, and beg to do
+the same, especially as she is their servant. Tom, the carpenter, thinks
+his daughter too good for Joseph the labourer, and Matthew the shoeblack
+wouldn't let his son marry Sal the crossing-sweeper for all the world.
+Oh, Rowland!, is this what you have learnt from your profession, and
+the book before you? Why, I've found a better philosophy on board ship,
+with no teachers but the moon and stars.'</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, I am ashamed of myself. My pride deserves to be thus pulled
+down.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want to seem unkind, Rowland, but my notion is, that an honest
+gentleman, such as you, educated, and a clergyman is good enough for any
+lady; and that a good, religious girl, who has saved my mother's life,
+is a great deal too good for a ne'er-do-well fellow like me. But I won't
+fall before I'm pushed, since I'm pretty sure she thinks so too. So,
+now, cheer up, old boy! and show the heiress what a sermon you can
+preach; and let her see you don't care a fig for her; and then, by
+jingo, she'll be over head and ears in love with you, and propose
+herself next leap-year.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland laughed, in spite of himself, at this notion.</p>
+
+<p>'I will go and wish my mother good night,' he said, 'and then set to
+work.'</p>
+
+<p>The brothers went together to their mother, who was in bed, and together
+received her 'God bless you, my children!' Then they separated for the
+night, and Rowland returned to his room a wiser, if still a sadder, man,
+than when Owen visited it. Owen's plain common sense had often got the
+better of Rowland's romance; and although he could not approve his
+roving and seemingly useless life, he always acknowledged that he
+gathered some wisdom by his experience.</p>
+
+<p>Again Rowland sat down, but this time he drew up the blind, and let the
+moonlight in upon his chamber like a silver flood. He took himself to
+task for his pride, ambition, and conceit, in a way that did him good,
+doubtless, but was not palatable; still he made many excuses for
+himself, and none for Miss Gwynne. He was not to recover the effects of
+that disappointment in a few hours! Days and even years were necessary
+for that. But he asked for strength where it is never asked in vain, and
+then resolutely wrote a sermon on the words, 'Blessed are the poor in
+spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'</p>
+
+<p>He wrote as he felt, and under the influence of those strong,
+half-curbed feelings, wrote so easily, that he was astonished to find
+how quickly he composed, and how soon a sufficient number of sheets were
+written, to occupy his customary half-hour when preached. He did not
+read them over, but promised to do so on the morrow, which was Saturday.
+He was already far into the small hours, and knew that he ought to be in
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>When he was there he could not sleep. That love of his was too
+deeply-rooted to be torn up by a few proud words that haunted him all
+the night, and to which he was constantly adding 'Yes, you are the
+heiress of Glanyravon, and I am only a farmer's son and a poor curate.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII" ></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GOVERNESS.</h3>
+
+<p>'Only a curate!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, as she and Miss Hall were
+discussing Rowland's presumption the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>'Still, a gentleman,' replied Miss Hall quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'The son of one of my father's tenants; a farmer's son!'</p>
+
+<p>'Still, a gentleman!'</p>
+
+<p>'The ninety-ninth attempt on Glanyravon, and, happily, an unsuccessful
+one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps the first sincere attempt to gain the heiress's heart, without
+any thought of her park and its broad acres.'</p>
+
+<p>'I declare, Serena, <i>vous m'impatientez</i>. I verily believe you are in
+his interest and confidence, and trying to plead his cause.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said with great excitement; the answer, however, was calm.</p>
+
+<p>'Scarcely possible, if probable, because I was never alone with him in
+my life, and have rarely seen him except in your presence.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then, why do you take up his defence? You would not have me marry him,
+would you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not, for many reasons. In the first place, you do not love
+him; in the second, your father would not approve of such a match; in
+the third, you are not suited to him.'</p>
+
+<p>'I understand. Not good enough. But why do you defend him? Do you think
+it was right of him to say what he did to me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, perhaps not. But I think he has been nursing these feelings for
+you so long, that he began to forget whether they were right or wrong,
+sensible or foolish; and last night, carried away by the excitement of
+the day and his own success, and finding himself alone with you&mdash;you,
+probably, more friendly than usual&mdash;he forgot his customary prudence,
+and overstepped the bounds of conventionality.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well said, Nita. Then it was wrong of me to be friendly, and right
+of him to make a dunce of himself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps if you had ever felt as he does, Freda, you might make some
+excuse for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure you must have been in love a hundred times, you are so
+sentimental, and would like to see him run away with me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite wrong again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then what would you like, for I am sure you don't approve of my
+conduct?'</p>
+
+<p>'Simply, that you should have treated a clergyman and a gentleman as
+such, and at least felt grateful that a good and honest heart was
+offered to you, even though you would not accept it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I don't believe in the heart, you see, Serena. There is not a more
+mercenary race under the sun than the clergy. They all marry for money.
+I can mention quite a dozen; his own uncle at the head of them. Now, you
+cannot suppose that he married Mrs Jonathan Prothero for anything but
+her fortune and her family.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think he is too simple-minded a man to have considered either the one
+or the other.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then why didn't he marry some simple-minded girl, his equal? No, you
+are quite out of your depth now, Serena. Depend upon it, that Rowland
+Prothero will soon find some English lady just as rich as <i>I am to
+be</i>&mdash;always provided that Lady Mary Nugent doesn't carry off papa, and
+get him to leave her the property. These men don't seem to know that it
+is not entailed; and that, after all, I may be cut off with a shilling.
+I think I may venture to affirm that were such the case, there is not
+one of my ninety-nine adorers who would have me, except, perhaps poor
+Sir Hugh.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps, Freda, I may have been imprudent, situated as I am here, in
+even saying what I have in favour of Rowland Prothero. The fact is, that
+not only do I particularly like what I know of him, but there is a
+little passage in my early history that makes me have a great pity for
+young men who venture to fall in love with young ladies who consider
+themselves their superiors.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you will tell me your story, Nita, I will forgive you all the rest,
+and finish this sketch of Abertewey for Colonel Vaughan, meanwhile.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda drew well in water-colours, and had before her, as she sat in the
+embrasure of one of the windows of that charming morning-room, a
+half-finished sketch of Colonel Vaughan's place, which he had begged her
+to take for him. Hitherto it had been untouched; now she began to work
+at it with pretended vigour, whilst Miss Hall took up the little frock
+she was making for a poor child, which had been laid down during the
+discussion, and also made believe to stitch and sew industriously.</p>
+
+<p>But there was a flush on her cheek, and a tremor in her voice, as she
+began to tell Freda the little passage in her life to which she had
+alluded. Freda was conscious of this, and accordingly devoted herself
+more energetically to her drawing.</p>
+
+<p>'It was when I was just eighteen, Freda, and during my <i>beaux jours</i>,
+before my father had lost his fortune, or been obliged to retire from
+the army on half-pay on account of that dreadful paralytic
+stroke&mdash;before my sister's imprudent marriage, and consequent emigration
+to Australia&mdash;before my dear mother's death. We were a happy and gay
+family, and I had then more pride and higher spirits than you would
+probably give me credit for now.</p>
+
+<p>'I was visiting a friend who had married the head-master of one of our
+principal grammar schools. Amongst his tutors there was a young man of
+whom he was very fond, and who used to be a good deal with his family
+after the duties of the day were over. It is just possible that he was a
+countryman of yours, for his name was Jones.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Serena! you don't mean to say that you fell in love with a Jones in
+England, and then came into Wales to be in the midst of that very
+ancient and numerous family.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have not come to the love part yet, Freda. He was a very quiet and
+unobtrusive person, but, my friends said, very amiable and sufficiently
+clever. I know that I used to take an unkind delight in teasing him, and
+that he was rather clever in repartee, and never spared me in return. I
+liked him as an amusing companion, and had no objection to his getting
+me books or flowers, or whatever lay within his reach that might be
+agreeable to me. Moreover, I pitied him, because I was told that both
+his parents were dead, and that he was working hard to pay for his own
+course at college, whither he intended to go as soon as he could get the
+means.</p>
+
+<p>'As my father was with his regiment abroad at this time, and my mother
+and sister were making a round of visits amongst our Scotch friends, I
+stayed a long time with the Merryweathers. They were very pleasant
+people, and had an agreeable circle of acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>'But that has nothing to do with my story. The evening before I left
+them to return home, my friend, Mr Jones, managed to be alone with me;
+how, I never found out, for he ought to have been with the boys&mdash;and
+committed a similar misdemeanour to that of poor Rowland Prothero. He
+had unfortunately lost his heart to me&mdash;so he said, and was constrained
+to tell me so. Would I think of him, if, in the course of time, he could
+enter the church and marry me?</p>
+
+<p>'Now I had the world before me, a happy home, a prospect of a certain
+independence, and, I suppose, a sufficient share of personal
+attractions. I had never considered whether I could like this young man
+or not; but I had well considered that when I married, I must have
+talent, position, personal beauty, and a hundred other visionary
+attributes in my husband. I was of a most imaginative, and at the same
+time, ambitious temperament; and on the one hand, thought a great poet
+or warrior would fall to my lot, and on the other, that a prince of the
+blood royal was not too good for me.</p>
+
+<p>'Your pride, my dear Freda, is too matter-of-fact, as is your general
+character, thoroughly to understand me. At that time I was touched and
+flattered by the devotion of this young man, and felt, that had he been
+differently placed, and had he more of the attributes either of station
+or romance about him, I might have taken him under my august
+consideration; but as I had never even looked upon him in the light of a
+lover, or supposed it possible that he could be one, I at once, and
+decidedly refused him.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall never forget the pained and melancholy expression of his
+features when I did so, or the few words he uttered. He said that he had
+not ventured to hope for a different answer, though he had dared to
+speak, and that his one slight prospect of happiness had vanished. He
+had now nothing but a life of labour before him, without a gleam of hope
+to cheer his way, but that he should think of me always, and of the
+happy hours we had passed together. I felt so sorry for him that I could
+really say nothing, either to cheer or discourage him. He simply asked
+me to allow him to remain my friend, and to forgive his presumption; and
+so we shook hands and parted. He did not join the family that evening,
+and the next day I left the Merryweathers.</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know how it was, but when I returned home, I thought more of
+this young man than of any one else. Although my sister and myself were
+surrounded by men of a very different, and I may say, superior class,
+still he haunted me very much, for a time at least.</p>
+
+<p>'Then came my sister's marriage, which proved, as you know, unfortunate
+in a pecuniary point of view, and her and her husband's emigration to
+Australia in search of fortune. Then followed our own ruin, and my
+father's paralytic seizure. To help my parents and support myself, I
+came to you as governess. You know, dearest Freda, how happy your dear
+mother made me as long as she lived, and how ardently I desired to
+fulfil her dying wish that I should finish your education. Most thankful
+I am that I was permitted to do so.</p>
+
+<p>'I need not tell you, over and over again, the sad story of my mother's
+death, and my return home to live with my father, and become a daily
+instead of a resident governess. All the happiness I have known&mdash;at
+least the greatest&mdash;since our troubles, has been in this house.</p>
+
+<p>'But this has nothing to do with Mr Jones. I heard, casually from my
+friend, Mrs Merryweather, that he had left them and gone to college;
+what college, she did not say. For some years I had quite enough of
+painful duty to perform to make me forget the weeks passed in his
+society, and their termination; or to think of a person of whom I had
+quite lost sight. About six or seven years ago, however, I heard of him,
+strange to say, through my sister. I had, of course, told her of his
+proposal and my refusal.</p>
+
+<p>'She and her husband were among the early settlers at Melbourne, and in
+the course of time became tolerably prosperous. He, you know, was
+obliged to leave his regiment for drunkenness, and contrary to the usual
+course of things, became steadier, though not steady, in Australia. My
+sister lost two children in one week from fever, and during her great
+sorrow, was constantly visited by the clergyman of her parish, who
+turned out to be my early friend, Mr Jones. I do not think he knew she
+was my sister for some time; but she described his untiring kindness and
+gentleness as her greatest comfort during her troubles. He was also of
+great benefit to her husband, by taking advantage of the opportunity
+offered by the loss of his children, to press upon him the necessity of
+a reformation in his own course of life, which, I am thankful to say,
+has been gradually effected. They became very intimate, and, I suppose
+by mutually comparing notes concerning Old England, found one another
+out, so to say. But he seldom spoke of me. If my sister tried to draw
+him into the subject of his acquaintance with me, he changed it as soon
+as possible, as if it were disagreeable to him. And no wonder.</p>
+
+<p>'However, my sister looks upon this man as her greatest benefactor&mdash;him,
+whom I, in my pride and ignorance, considered beneath me in every
+respect; and when he left Melbourne a year or two ago, she said they had
+lost their best and dearest earthly friend, and that the children cried
+when he wished them good-bye, as if they were parting from a father.'</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Miss Hall was telling this simple narrative, Freda was very
+attentive. As it drew to a close, she rose from her drawing, and
+kneeling, as she sometimes would do, by Miss Hall's side, put her arm
+affectionately round her. There was something in the action at that
+moment which drew tears from Miss Hall's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'But he is not married, Serena, I know he is not married,' she
+exclaimed. 'Who knows!'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear child,' said Miss Hall, smiling, and stroking Freda's shining
+hair, 'I have long given up all thoughts of matrimony. But the
+recollection of old times always affects me, and your love affects me
+still more. I have not told you this because I regret not being married
+to Mr Jones&mdash;it was mercifully ordained that I should not marry any one.
+What would my dear father have done if I had? but simply to show you how
+the very people we think the least of frequently become our best
+friends; the &quot;weak things of the earth confounding those that are
+mighty,&quot; in scripture phrase.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Serena! do you hear?' interrupted Freda, 'there is Miss Nugent in
+the hall. Of all the bores! we never can be free from those people. Yes
+it is; I hear her <i>lithp</i>;' and Miss Nugent was announced.</p>
+
+<p>She had walked over, she said, to ask how they all were after the
+delightful Harvest Home, and to bring an invitation from her mamma to
+dinner the following Tuesday.</p>
+
+<p>'I do hope you will come, Freda, and you, Mith Hall, and bring that
+charming Colonel Vaughan with you. He ith tho nithe. Don't you think
+tho.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very,' said Freda, drily.</p>
+
+<p>'But, do you know, I don't admire him half ath much ath Mr Rowland
+Prothero. Mamma thaith he ith tho gentlemanlike and that the meanth to
+athk him Tuethday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really!' again said Freda, not daring to look at Miss Hall.</p>
+
+<p>'We are going to Llanfach to-morrow to hear him preach. Hith thermon
+wath beautiful in the school-room. Don't you think he ith like the
+picture at the beginning of &quot;Evangeline.&quot; Dear me, who wath he, Freda?'</p>
+
+<p>'Longfellow, you mean, I suppose.'</p>
+
+<p>'Of courth. And hith language ith tho poetical. Mamma thaith the
+thouldn't wonder if he turned out a great author by-and-by. Thould you,
+Mith Hall?'</p>
+
+<p>'It takes so much to make a great author, dear; but it is just
+possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'But not probable,' whispered Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Freda! don't you like him? I am thure you ought; he managed
+everything tho nithely for you yethterday. Mamma thaith&mdash;Ah! there is
+Colonel Vaughan coming up the drive.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall looked across at Freda, and remarked that she began to draw
+most industriously, and did not glance out of the window as Miss Nugent
+did.</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma thaith,' began that young lady, 'that the colonel ith the motht
+accomplithed and agreeable man in Waleth.'</p>
+
+<p>'How can she tell that?' asked Freda, with feigned surprise. 'There are
+so many clever men in Wales. I assure you we are a talented race.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am thure of that, Freda; but I think the Englith are more thinthere;
+mamma thaith tho.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, she must be a good judge,' said Freda, somewhat ironically.</p>
+
+<p>'Yeth; mamma ath theen a great deal of the world,' replied the
+unsuspecting Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>Here Colonel Vaughan made his appearance, and that young lady gave him
+her mamma's invitation, which he said he should be delighted to accept,
+if his friends did; so Freda said her papa was out, but she would send
+Lady Mary Nugent an answer when he came in.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! this <i>is</i> a sketch, Freda,' said Colonel Vaughan, who had somehow
+returned to the old familiarity of earlier days. 'How can I thank you
+sufficiently? who could think that the child I left twelve years ago
+would be such a good artist when I returned? But that was the cleverest
+bit of life-like drawing I ever saw, that sketch of your old pony. By
+the way, do you know who this is?'</p>
+
+<p>The colonel opened a sketch-book that he had in his hand, and put it
+into Freda's.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, this is Gladys, Mrs Prothero's Gladys. How could you prevail on
+her to stand for her picture? Look, Serena, how well Colonel Vaughan has
+hit off her expression and general effect in those few touches!'</p>
+
+<p>'I went to see Prothero, who used to be a good friend of mine in old
+times, and whilst I was waiting for him and looking out of the window, I
+saw this Gladys in the garden, and made the attempt you are pleased to
+praise. Certainly she is about the loveliest specimen of country beauty
+I ever saw in my life.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you admire her, Colonel Vaughan? I think the ith tho very pale and
+thupid.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never contradict a young lady, and suppose you must be right; but in
+the present company, one cannot think of other belles. It would be a
+case of looking for stars in the presence of the sun.'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan glanced from one to the other of the ladies. Freda bent
+more closely over her sketch, but coloured perceptibly. Miss Nugent
+simpered and looked very handsome withal.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall was struck with her beauty as she then appeared; a perfect
+profile, perfect complexion, perfect features, beneath a most becoming
+straw hat and feathers. Such a colour and complexion, but no expression,
+not even the sarcastic turn of the lip of the mother.</p>
+
+<p>'Perfectly child-like, amiable, and silly,' thought Miss Hall, 'and yet
+Colonel Vaughan admires that statue more than the noble face and grand
+expression of my Freda.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII" ></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PREACHER.</h3>
+
+<p>As Mr Jonathan Prothero's sprain proved to be a very bad one, Rowland
+was obliged to undertake his weekly as well as his Sunday duty, and
+being summoned to the vicarage early on Saturday morning for a wedding,
+and finding other clerical duty in the afternoon, he had no time to
+revise his sermon until the morning on which he was to preach it. His
+mind was still in a state of so much excitement, that he found, on
+reading it over, that he had no power to amend what he had written
+hastily, but feeling that it was what he earnestly desired to act up to
+himself, and to bring his own mind down to, he hoped the words would not
+be without effect on his hearers. If Miss Gwynne took them as intended
+personally to touch her, why, he could not help it, and besides, she
+probably would be at Llanfawr church, to avoid seeing him.</p>
+
+<p>But this was not the case. Gwynnes, Nugents, Protheros, and many others
+of Rowland's neighbours, helped to fill the little church that Sunday,
+all anxious to hear him preach; this made him feel nervous in spite of
+himself. In vain he reasoned with himself, prayed to forget himself, and
+those present&mdash;he could not get rid of those haunting words of Miss
+Gwynne's, or of the consciousness that she was listening to him.
+However, he read the service clearly and impressively, in the manly
+tone, and simply religious manner of one who knows that he is leading
+the prayers and praises of a congregation who cannot express their wants
+too humbly and naturally, to One who knows what they desire, even before
+they ask. No one in that church prayed more earnestly to be delivered
+from 'all blindness of heart, from pride, vain-glory and hypocrisy; from
+envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness,' than he did. And
+as he proceeded with the litany, his mind grew calmer, and he gradually
+received strength to overcome the great inward struggle that he was
+suffering from.</p>
+
+<p>Before reading the thanksgiving, he gave out in a tremulous voice, that
+a 'member of that congregation was desirous of returning thanks to
+Almighty God for her recovery from dangerous, illness.' When he thanked
+God for all His mercies to all men, 'particularly to her who desires now
+to offer up her praises and thanksgivings for late mercies vouchsafed
+unto her,' every one felt that he was returning thanks for his own
+mother's recovery, and joined him in so doing. His father was seen to
+put his handkerchief to his eyes, as he lifted up his heart in praise.</p>
+
+<p>His earnest manner evidently impressed his congregation, who were
+usually accustomed to the somewhat monotonous reading of his uncle, and
+to his rather learned discourses.</p>
+
+<p>It is generally the case, that words spoken from the overflowings of the
+speaker's own heart and feelings, make the greatest impression on the
+hearts and feelings of his hearers; so it was now. When Rowland, in
+simple and forcible language, told his listeners that the first words of
+our Lord's Sermon on the Mount were to bless the poor in spirit, and to
+promise them the kingdom of heaven; and went on to contrast such poverty
+of spirit with the pride and vain glory inherent in man, and to call up
+the various scriptural examples and texts that bore upon the subject of
+humility; he gained the attention of all. Then he enlarged more
+particularly on the necessity of curbing and bridling and keeping down
+the spirit, until it attained that lowliness to which Our Saviour
+alludes in the very first of the beatitudes; and finally went through
+that Saviour's life, as the great example for all men, of meekness,
+gentleness, and humility&mdash;the interest in his words increased.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland preached from the heart to the heart, and so his sermon that day
+was not in vain, albeit not perhaps written in the very best of moods.
+There was no poetry, no overheated enthusiasm no display of eloquence,
+but the plain, straightforward announcement to rich and poor alike, that
+to enter God's kingdom the spirit must become even as that of a little
+child.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps this is the least understood, and least palatable of all
+subjects, and when brought before a congregation, and well discussed for
+half-an-hour, must make many of its members pause to consider whether,
+on such terms, 'theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne was one of those who paused so to consider, and acknowledged
+to herself that she had never looked upon our Lord's Sermon on the
+Mount, as so practically and so particularly addressed to herself
+before. She did not for a moment believe that the sermon was intended
+for her, more than for the rest of the congregation, but she felt, for
+the first time, that she had been proud and overbearing in her conduct
+to the preacher, as well as to many others whom she chose to think her
+inferiors.</p>
+
+<p>She left the church, resolved to make such amends as were in her power,
+for the hasty and haughty way of her rejection of Rowland, and to strive
+to be less proud for the future.</p>
+
+<p>When she was without, her father said to her, that he must go into the
+vicarage to congratulate the vicar on his nephew's preaching, and to ask
+Rowland to dinner. Miss Gwynne endeavoured to dissuade him from doing
+so, but Lady Mary Nugent expressed her intention of performing similar
+civilities; consequently the whole party, Colonel Vaughan and Miss Hall
+inclusive, walked across the churchyard to the vicarage, which lay just
+the other side of it.</p>
+
+<p>The vicarage was a snug little cottage, with a rustic porch, adorned
+with the Virginian creeper, which, together with the massive ivy, also
+nearly covered the house. Red and cheerful looked the tiny dwelling
+beneath the autumn sun; and very pretty was the garden which surrounded
+it, still bright with dahlias, fuchsias, red geraniums, and monthly
+roses. It was here, years ago, that Rowland, Miss Gwynne, and Netta had
+often played together; and it was here that Rowland had passed the
+principal part of his holidays when at home from Rugby or college. It
+was here that Mrs Jonathan had done her utmost to make a gentleman of
+him, and had succeeded to her heart's content. Rowland had been very
+happy with his uncle and aunt, and loved them almost as well as his
+parents.</p>
+
+<p>In the pretty garden were innumerable wonderful stones heaped into all
+sorts of masses, which he had helped his uncle to bring from various
+parts in the neighbourhood, and all of which were curiosities in their
+way; and there, also, was a fernery which he himself had made, and which
+contained all the remarkable ferns of a country rich in those beautiful
+productions of nature. The vicarage and its garden were neatness itself.
+Mrs Jonathan prided herself on them, and took great pains to prove that
+there could be, in a Welsh country village, a clergyman's abode
+something akin to the far-famed dwellings of the English ecclesiastic.</p>
+
+<p>The party from the church quite filled the little drawing-room. Mr
+Jonathan Prothero was in an easy-chair, with his foot on a cushion, and
+looking very much like a caged stork.</p>
+
+<p>Every one began by congratulating him on the success of his nephew in
+the pulpit.</p>
+
+<p>'He must become a popular preacher,' said Lady Mary Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>'I must say I have seldom heard more simple yet forcible language,'
+said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'He touched us all upon our besetting sin of pride,' said Colonel
+Vaughan, glancing at Miss Gwynne, who said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'And thuch a beautiful voice!' remarked Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan looked delighted.</p>
+
+<p>'But where is he all this time, my dear?' asked the vicar.</p>
+
+<p>We must answer the question by informing the reader that, having watched
+his congregation leave the church, he went into the vestry and sat down
+there, in order to avoid meeting any of the Gwynne party; when a
+messenger from his aunt came to inform him that he was wanted at once.
+He inquired by whom, and on hearing, tried to arm himself for an
+unavoidable encounter with Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>When he entered the room she was talking to his uncle, and had her back
+turned to the door. He was at once greeted by Mr Gwynne and Lady Mary
+Nugent, so that he did not find it necessary to shake hands with every
+one, and made a kind of general bow, which he addressed to Miss Hall
+particularly, and was therefore unconscious of the half-attempt of Freda
+to rise from her seat as he entered. Miss Hall, alone, saw the flush on
+her cheek, as she relapsed into her position by Mr Jonathan Prothero and
+professed to be listening to the cause of his accident. His adventurous
+search after trinobites in a celebrated quarry, the slipping of a stone,
+and consequent spraining of his right ankle, sounded into one of her
+ears, whilst the following conversation, entered the other:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I hope you will give us the pleasure of your company on Tuesday,' said
+Lady Mary Nugent. 'We shall not be a large party.'</p>
+
+<p>'And will come to us on Wednesday,' said Mr Gwynne. 'We must have some
+more chess. I have never met with a fair opponent since&mdash;hem&mdash;I beg your
+pardon, Lady Mary&mdash;Ah&mdash;yes&mdash;or, on Thursday. You see we did not like to
+ask you whilst your mother was so ill; my daughter thought it would be
+useless.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland coloured at the allusion to Freda, but did not even glance at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Lady Mary; thank you, Mr Gwynne, very much indeed, but I
+intend being in London on Tuesday. I have already outstayed my
+prescribed fortnight.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Rowland!' exclaimed his aunt, 'you do not mean this?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, aunt; my fellow curate has been fortunate enough to get a living
+given to him, and is to read himself in next Sunday, and I have promised
+to take double duty.'</p>
+
+<p>'But one day more or less,' suggested Lady Nugent, who did not imagine
+it possible that Rowland Prothero <i>could</i> refuse an invitation from her,
+which was, in her opinion, quite a royal command. She, so exclusive!</p>
+
+<p>'I am very much obliged to your ladyship, but I have promised to be in
+London on Tuesday; and as my mother is really better, there is no longer
+any necessity for my staying in the country.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your uncleth foot?' suggested Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>'Two good dinners, and more agreeable company than you will meet with in
+your East End parish!' said Colonel Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>'My uncle will easily find help,' said Rowland, turning to Miss Nugent,
+'although I am sorry not to be able to give him more; and,' to Colonel
+Vaughan, with a smile, 'had you ever tried the far East, you would know
+that there is very good company there, as well as in the West. I should
+be very glad to introduce you to some, if you would come and see me in
+town.'</p>
+
+<p>'That I certainly will,' said the colonel, heartily; 'and I shall be
+able to tell you all about your sister, as I heard yesterday that her
+husband has finally taken my place, and will be down here as soon as it
+is put in first-rate order, furnished, etc.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are not likely to leave us yet I hope, Colonel Vaughan?' said Lady
+Mary Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>'For a time, I must; but having found how pleasant you all are down
+here, I shall hope to come again frequently, if Miss Gwynne will second
+her papa's invitation.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda just turned round, bowed, and smiled, and then resolutely resumed
+her conversation with, or rather act of listening to, the vicar.</p>
+
+<p>'How interested you appear to be,' whispered the colonel, sitting down
+behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland saw this little bit of by-play, and wished himself in London;
+whilst Colonel Vaughan joined in the vicar's arch&aelig;ological description
+of the quarry in which he had met with his accident. Freda heard all
+that Rowland said more distinctly than what passed close at her side.</p>
+
+<p>She heard her father and Lady Mary's repeated entreaties that he would
+remain until the end of the week, and the decided, but polite refusal of
+Rowland. She heard her father prophecy that he would soon have a good
+living, and Rowland's reply, 'that without interest or any particular
+talent for what is called &quot;popular preaching,&quot; there was little chance
+of church preferment. 'But,' he added, 'I am well content to be only a
+curate. There is enough to do in my parish to keep one from morning to
+night employed, and that in real, active, heart-stirring work, that will
+not let one flag if one would wish it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I thould like to thee the Eatht End, mamma,' said Miss Nugent. 'People
+in the Wetht theem to think all the inhabitanths barbarians.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is a pity they don't come and try to civilise us, then,' said
+Rowland. 'We should be very glad of their help.'</p>
+
+
+<p>'I will go if mamma will let me,' said Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary smiled somewhat superciliously, and observed that she did not
+think she would be of much use.</p>
+
+<p>'All who have a desire to do good will make a path of usefulness, Lady
+Mary, I think,' said Rowland. 'In these days the enlightened must not
+hide their light under a bushel. We live in stirring, striving times,
+when good and evil seem at terrible issue.'</p>
+
+<p>'And which will conquer?' broke in Colonel Vaughan suddenly. 'I don't
+see that all the meetings and tracts have done much, as yet, towards
+their part in the fight.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good must conquer eventually,' said Rowland, 'and is conquering daily
+and hourly.'</p>
+
+<p>'In your East End parish?'</p>
+
+<p>'We hope so. If our progress is slow we are not without encouragement
+even there, in the very thick of the battle, and where the armies of
+evil are ten to one against good.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know something of fighting, Mr Rowland, and I fear the odds are too
+great. You may as well give up the conflict.'</p>
+
+<p>'Remember, Colonel Vaughan, that in all the great battles of antiquity,
+and not a few of modern times&mdash;the Swiss for example&mdash;those who fought
+for freedom and right have always found their arms nerved to resist
+multitudes&mdash;hundreds have conquered tens of thousands. So is it with our
+warfare. We have strength given us that makes the single champion of the
+cross, powerful against the legion of his adversaries.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well said, nephew,' broke in the vicar, 'Marathon, Thermopyl&aelig;,
+Platea&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid we are keeping you from your dinner, Mrs Prothero,'
+interrupted Mr Gwynne, who had a nervous dread of the vicar's
+antiquities, whether in war or peace. 'Freda, I think we must go.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda rose from her seat, and shook hands very warmly with Mr and Mrs
+Prothero. She had made up her mind to do the same with Rowland; but just
+as she approached the door near which he had been standing, he said he
+would go out and see whether the carriages were ready, and did so
+accordingly. They followed him as soon as the leave-takings were over,
+and found him waiting at the gate. He immediately assisted Lady Mary and
+Miss Nugent into their carriage, leaving Colonel Vaughan to perform the
+same office for Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall. Mr Gwynne stayed to shake
+hands with him, and tell him that he should always be glad to see him;
+and Colonel Vaughan promised to pay him a visit as soon as he went to
+town. The former got into the carriage, the latter upon the box to
+drive. Rowland stood by the door a moment irresolute.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye, Mr Rowland,' said Miss Hall, 'I shall hope often to see your
+mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Miss Hall,' said Rowland, pressing the hand she held out to
+him with an iron pressure.</p>
+
+<p>Freda was just going to put out her hand across Miss Hall, when Colonel
+Vaughan touched the horses, and the carriage drove off. Rowland raised
+his hat, and as he glanced at Freda saw that she was looking at him not
+altogether unkindly. After those words of hers, he never could have
+shaken hands with her, unless she made the advance; and so they parted,
+he believing her too proud to acknowledge him after what he had said to
+her; she admiring what she considered his pride and resentment a great
+deal more than she had ever done his humility.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" ></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LOVER.</h3>
+
+<p>Spring came round again, and Owen and Gladys were still at the farm. The
+following conversation will show how they went on together.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me carry that bucket for you, Gladys,' said Owen, one evening when
+she was proceeding across the farm-yard, to carry a warm mesh to a sick
+cow.</p>
+
+<p>'It is not heavy, sir,' said Gladys, gently.</p>
+
+<p>'It is too heavy for you, <i>ma'am</i>, said Owen, emphasising the 'ma'am.'</p>
+
+<p>He took the bucket from her, and carried it to the shed, where Gladys
+dosed and fed her sick cow so very tenderly, that Owen was impelled to
+say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I wish I were that cow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, sir! she is but a poor, sick, witless animal.'</p>
+
+<p>'But she has you to nurse and be kind to her; so I wish I were that
+cow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sure, sir, I would be glad to nurse you if you were sick,'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you, Gladys? Then I will be sick to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope not, Mr Owen. Come, poor Mally. Drink it up.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, Mally, but attend to me. Will you not be so cold and stiff,
+and respectful to me? I hate a girl who &quot;sir's&quot; me as if I were a lord,
+and makes me curtseys, and never looks at me, and seems as if she hated
+me&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, no, indeed no, sir&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And lives all day long in the same house, and scarcely speaks to me.
+You will drive me off to sea again, <i>ma'am</i>, if you don't take care.
+Look into my face, and say why you hate me so!'</p>
+
+<p>'I hate no one in the world, sir; much less any one of your name.'</p>
+
+<p>Here the girl looked up from the poor cow who was licking her hand, and
+round whose neck her arm was flung, into the face of the young man. Owen
+put his hand on the arm that rested on the cow, and said earnestly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Then treat me as your brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have lost my brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and kith
+and kin. I have seen them all die&mdash;all that ever loved me. Oh! Mr Owen!
+you are too kind&mdash;too kind; but do not talk to me so, or it will break
+my heart.'</p>
+
+<p>Here was even more of Irish feeling than Owen either expected or
+desired. But he took Gladys's hand in his, and, looking kindly from his
+large honest dark eyes into hers, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Forgive me, Gladys, for making you think of your sorrows. But you know
+my dear sister Netta is as good as lost to me, and I want some one who
+will be like her, or at least, who will not be quite as cold as clay.'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys withdrew her eyes and her hand. There was even more than
+brotherly warmth in that kind glance and winning manner.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, sir, I will try; indeed I will,' said Gladys, as she took up
+the bucket, and turned to leave the shed.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, ma'am, you are very obliging, but you are not going to carry
+my bucket.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh,' sir! if you please do not speak so to a poor servant girl like me.
+I would rather not hear it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You will not see, or hear, or believe what I do, and say and think all
+day long; so now, here, where nobody else can listen, you must hear me.
+You must learn to be happy with us, you must love us, you must&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I do, sir, I do. Let me go, sir, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not until you hear that you must love me, even me whom you cannot
+bear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I do, sir&mdash;I do. I thank you, I pray for you, I love you all,
+always; indeed, indeed, I do.'</p>
+
+<p>'But better than all the others, as I love you, so as to be my wife
+when&mdash;when&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me go, Mr Owen, if you please. You must not talk to me so, sir; me,
+just now a beggar at your gate.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I must, I will, and you must listen. In spite of myself, and of
+your cold manners and pale face, and all the trouble you take to avoid
+me, I love you, Gladys, and will marry you if you will have me. I will
+give up the sea, and become a steady fellow, and live at home, and make
+you and my parents happy, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Mr Owen, if your parents were to hear you talking like this to me,
+what would they say to you? what would they think of me? You should not
+make a joke of my poverty and friendless state, sir. Anything else, but
+not this! oh! not this! and from you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was never more in earnest in all my life, and ask for only one word
+of encouragement from you to go and tell my and mother directly,'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! if you please, Mr Owen, do not do this. If are in earnest, sir, and
+I hope you are not, you must forget that you ever said this to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not mean to forget it, Gladys, or to let you forget it. Will you
+say the word? only give me hope and all will be right. Will you marry
+me, and be the daughter of your adopted mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can never marry any one, sir; I have nothing to live for in this
+world, but to try to do my duty to you and yours, and to think of those
+I have lost.'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, your cold manner maddens me. Say you hate me, and would rather
+marry some one else; say anything that has some heart in it. We sailors
+are made of warmer stuff than such icebergs as you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot say that, sir, because I do not hate you; and I never mean to
+marry, and I would sooner die than cause trouble in your family.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you won't have me, Gladys? and you mean to send me back to sea
+again, and to make me return to my wild ways, and to make my mother
+miserable?'</p>
+
+<p>'Och hone! what will I do? Why do you say such things to me, Mr Owen,
+who have never done you any harm? I cannot marry&mdash;I cannot do what would
+be wicked and ungrateful&mdash;I will go away again back to old Ireland, and
+not cause trouble to those who have been so good to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, you will not do anything of the kind, unless you wish me to go
+after you. I shall tell my father that I will be off to sea again, and
+then I need not trouble you any more.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will not stay, Mr Owen, to make mischief; so if you will only please
+to stop at home with your parents I will go away.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall not please to do anything of the kind, for I only stayed so
+long on your account, and this is the reward I get.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen was in a passion, and vainly striving to keep it down. His face was
+flushed, he looked angrily and moodily upon the drooping head of Gladys
+as it bent lower and lower over the poor cow upon which she was leaning.
+He suddenly seized her hand, and exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I am not used to be refused in this cool sort of way, and I don't
+believe there ever was a woman in the world who doesn't wish to get
+married to some one or other. Now whether you mean to have me or not is
+not the question I am going to ask; but whether you have any other
+lover, or ever had one that you prefer to me?&mdash;Tell me this, and I shall
+be satisfied.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys tried to draw away her hand from the impetuous young man, but he
+held it fast.</p>
+
+<p>'You needn't be afraid; I would not hurt a hair of your head. And if you
+knew what I am feeling now at this moment you will tell me the truth.
+Will you answer me a few questions?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Mr Owen, if I can without doing or saying what is wrong.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen looked Gladys again in the face, as she slightly raised her head to
+answer his question. Why that burning blush? Why those bright,
+expressive eyes, if she did not care for him? For a moment he had hope,
+and pressed the hand he held. Again she bent over the cow that divided
+them, and tried to withdraw her hand.</p>
+
+<p>At any other time Owen would have laughed at the notion of making an
+offer, divided from his beloved by a fine Alderney cow, but now he was
+too much in earnest for laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, do you love my brother Rowland?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys now looked at him in unfeigned astonishment as she answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'No, Mr Owen; surely I have never given you reason to suppose so. A
+grand gentleman like him!'</p>
+
+<p>'But there is a still grander of whom I am jealous,' continued Owen.
+'Colonel Vaughan, I have often seen him here upon every excuse&mdash;and
+always to look at you. I have seen him, and know it well. Do you care
+for this great gentleman?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no sir,' said Gladys, sadly. 'How can you suspect me of such a
+thing? Are my manners so forward, or am I so foolish as to let any one
+suppose I could think of people so far above me? This is not kind, Mr
+Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'One more, Gladys. Those beneath you, then. You cannot, I feel you
+cannot, think of that gardener or footman at the Park, or of young
+Gwillim, the Half Moon, or&mdash;there are so many who admire you, Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! no, sir, I do not think so; no one says so to me, and I care for
+none of them. Now, I had better go, if you please, Mr Owen&mdash;my mistress
+will be wanting me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should think she 'ould, seure enough,' said a stentorian voice, as Mr
+Prothero entered the cow-house, having just heard the last words, and
+seen the clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys looked entreatingly at Owen, who at once said, 'It was my fault
+that she stayed here, I kept her against her will.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys glanced gratefully at Owen, and left him with his father; but
+before she was out of hearing, the farmer's loud voice was audible,
+informing Owen that he 'didn't want another 'lopement from his house;
+and that that Irish beggar should leave the place.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was all chance, father, and my fault,' said Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'It's always chance and your fault then. Where Gladys is, you're seure
+to be pretty near. She's a good sort of young 'ooman enough, but you
+have no call to be for ever hunting after her.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't see why I shouldn't if I like. It doesn't hurt anybody, and is
+only kind to her.'</p>
+
+<p>'But I don't cheuse her to be thinking you're going to make love to her,
+and by-and-by, perhaps, expecting to&mdash;there's no knowing what young
+'oomen may expect.'</p>
+
+<p>'She isn't one to expect very much, and I am sure she doesn't take any
+liberties with any one, or go beyond her place.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there; but that's no fault of yours. You don't take
+notice of any other female that I see, and seure you eused to make love
+to them all in turns.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't see any girl half as good as Gladys, or worthy to light a
+candle to her, that's why I have given them all up.'</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness what for? If you are going to make a fool of yourself
+about her, I'll soon send her away, and stop that anyhow.'</p>
+
+<p>'You may save yourself the trouble, father, for I am going away myself.
+I can't be a land-lubber any longer, and I won't, so I shall look out
+for a ship, pretty soon.'</p>
+
+<p>'All because that girl came here to bother us. Deet to goodness, them
+Irishers have been the plagues of my life ever since I married.'</p>
+
+<p>'But she's Welsh, father, and you said so yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>'She's a mongrel, and no good ever came out of them.'</p>
+
+<p>'She saved mother's life, anyhow.'</p>
+
+<p>This reflection posed the worthy farmer. He softened somewhat in his
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you again there. But that's no reason for your going to sea,
+just when you're getting euseful here.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, father, thank you for saying for once in my life that I'm useful.
+You never said that before.'</p>
+
+<p>'And it don't seem out of any great favour to us that you are euseful
+now; but only to please an Irish beggar.'</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what, father, if you were anybody else, you shouldn't call
+her an Irish beggar.'</p>
+
+<p>As Gladys went on her way, she heard the voices, ever louder and louder;
+she hurried into the house, and then to her own little bedroom, where
+she still seemed to hear the words, 'Irish beggar,' and a little spark
+of the pride of poor human nature kindled in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>'They shall not quarrel about me&mdash;they shall not throw my misery after
+me&mdash;they shall not think I want to marry him&mdash;I will go away,' were her
+muttered expressions. 'Why have I lived&mdash;why have I been kindly treated?
+if I am to be the sport and the by-word of my friends? A poor
+outcast&mdash;an Irish beggar&mdash;- a lone girl, friendless, homeless,
+heartless, wretched, miserable! Och hone! what will I do? what will I
+do?'</p>
+
+<p>She threw herself on her bed and sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>'And I only want to do my duty&mdash;to show my gratitude&mdash;to die for the
+mistress, if needs be, and they will think me forward and vain. Why was
+I born to cause trouble and to bear such misery? Oh! mother, mother, if
+you were here to comfort your poor child! If I could but go after you!
+if I could but go away to my mother and all the lost ones!'</p>
+
+<p>This thought of her mother and the lost ones seemed to overpower her for
+a few seconds, and then to calm her. She rose from her bed, and fell
+upon her knees and prayed.</p>
+
+<p>'I can go to them, if they cannot come to me. I can fill my place of
+sorrow, as is best for me. I need not bring trouble on this blessed
+home! I will not. I need not send away that kind Mr Owen from his
+family. I will not. Why does he think of a poor, wretched being like me?
+Why has he been so good to me; so tender to me&mdash;as if he were my
+brother? If I go away, he will think of some one else, and make them all
+happy here, and live with them, and be good and steady. And I shall be
+only one sufferer instead of many. May God bless them all! I will go
+away, but never to see him more!&mdash;never, never!' Thus thought Gladys.
+For half-an-hour, whilst she was striving to calm herself, such thoughts
+and thousands of others flitted through her mind; but she did not murmur
+again at the sad lot which had been assigned to her by Providence; she
+had gathered strength in that prayer which she had offered up out of her
+trouble of heart. Still she felt aggrieved by her master's hard words,
+knowing as she did that she did not deserve them; but she struggled hard
+to conquer that pride which she knew ill became one in her dependent and
+friendless state.</p>
+
+<p>When she had sufficiently recovered herself, she went down to prepare
+the supper, according to her custom. She found the hall empty, and
+wondered what had become of her master and mistress. She glanced into
+the garden, and saw them walking up and down engaged in earnest
+conversation, although the hour was late and it was getting dark and
+chill. She felt that they were talking about her. She would not listen,
+and returned to spread the table for their evening meal; whilst doing
+so, Owen made his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys,' he said, 'shake hands with me, and forgive me for causing you
+pain. I hope it will be the first and last time.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys held out her hand, saying 'Oh, Mr Owen, I have nothing to
+forgive, I am only very sorry''</p>
+
+<p>As Owen held her hand, in stalked Mr Prothero, followed by his wife. He
+was not looking very well pleased when he entered, but finding them
+together, his dark frowning brow became still darker.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night, mother,' said Owen, 'I don't want any supper. Good-night,
+father,' he added with a strong effort, but receiving no response, he
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys longed to follow his example, but feared it would not be right.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, I fear you are not well,' said Mrs Prothero gravely, but
+kindly, 'perhaps you would like to go to bed.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, ma'am,' said Gladys, glancing furtively at her mistress,
+whose gentle face looked perplexed and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night, then,' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys could not speak, for there was something constrained in the
+manners of her dear mistress, that she could not bear to see. She did
+not venture to speak to Mr Prothero, but dropping him a silent curtsey,
+as she left the room, went to bed, but not to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>That night, Mrs Prothero went to her son, Owen's room, and heard the
+history of the evening. He told her that he loved Gladys, but that she
+did not care for him; and that his father would not believe him when he
+said so. Mrs Prothero gave him a maternal lecture on his conduct, and
+the impossibility of his marrying Gladys, particularly whilst his father
+was so irritated against his sister. She rallied him, in a quiet way, on
+his various previous loves, and said that she had no doubt he would
+forget his present one in the same manner.</p>
+
+<p>She was struck with the unusually grave tone of his reply, as he simply
+said, that if Gladys were like his other loves, he might forget her in
+the same way; but as she was quite different from any one he had ever
+liked before, so he should remember her as he had never before
+remembered any one. She was also struck with his manner of wishing her
+good night, and of recommending Gladys to her care, entreating her not
+to be less kind to her than she had always been, because he had the
+misfortune to love her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero promised all he desired, scarcely believing, as she did so,
+in the depth of his affection.</p>
+
+<p>'And, mother, fach,' he said, 'you must not be vexed if I run away again
+to cure myself. There is nothing like sea air for my disease; and if I
+do, I promise to write regularly, and to come home at the end of my
+voyage. Only be kind to Gladys, and don't let her go away.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen had a presentiment, that if he did not leave Glanyravon, Gladys
+would.</p>
+
+<p>'And you must try to bring father round by degrees. I don't want to
+annoy him; and I know you are as fond of Gladys as if she were your own
+daughter, and father likes her, too. Will you try, mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'Anything to keep you at home, and steady, my son,' said Mrs Prothero
+with tears in her eyes, 'but you must not go away again, we cannot do
+without you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only this once, for change of air; I assure you it is best'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, we will talk of this again, Owen; good night, and God bless you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Just tell father not to be angry with me or Gladys, and that I can't
+run away with her, because she won't have me. Good night, mother dear.'</p>
+
+<p>Again Owen kissed his mother, more lovingly than usual, and so they
+parted for the night.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV" ></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FUGITIVE.</h3>
+
+<p>Gladys did not go to bed all that night. If her mistress could have
+watched her occupations, seen her tears, and listened to her prayers,
+she would, at least, have known that she was grateful. The first thing
+she did was to finish a cap that she had been making for her, the next
+to complete a large piece of ornamental netting, that had been long in
+secret progress, and had been intended as a present for that dear
+mistress's birthday on the morrow. The third, last and most difficult,
+was to write a letter. Gladys usually wrote easily and well. She had
+been accustomed to assist her father at an early age, and had been
+carefully taught by her mother, but on the present occasion she
+considered every sentence with a too painful thoughtfulness, and
+literally blotted her writing with her tears.</p>
+
+<p>Morning was beginning to dawn before she had finished these tasks, and
+then she washed her face and hands, took off the pretty cotton gown she
+had on, and put on the one Netta gave her when first she came to
+Glanyravon. An old straw hat that she had been in the habit of wearing
+in the fields, and a tidy, but plain shawl, completed her attire. She
+had a few shillings which Mr Prothero had given her, and these she put
+into her pocket, together with a pincushion, and a curious foreign
+shell, gifts of Owen.</p>
+
+<p>She thought of Netta, and of her very different flight from the same
+house; she fancied that if she had been in her place, no lover, however
+dear, could have prevailed upon her to leave so good a mother; but she
+was different. An orphan and a beggar, she had no right to remain to
+cause dissension between father and son.</p>
+
+<p>And so she fell upon her knees, and prayed for blessings on every member
+of that family; she forgot no one, not even poor Owen, whose suit she
+had rejected. Most especially she prayed that he might be a comfort to
+his parents, and turn from his wild, wandering ways, to those of rest
+and sobriety; she particularly used that latter word, which would have
+sounded formal in less earnest lips.</p>
+
+<p>With tearful eyes, and throbbing heart, but with a resigned spirit, she
+rose from her knees, took her little bundle in her hand, and went
+quickly out into the passage. She did not trust herself to pass the
+doors of her slumbering friends, but went by the back-staircase into the
+kitchen, and thence into the yard. There was a thick mist over the face
+of nature, falling like a heavy veil on the rising sun, and making the
+early day but a lengthened night; not a sound was heard, not an animal
+had yet been aroused from sleep, save Lion, the large watch-dog, whose
+duty it was to wake when others slept, and he bounded towards Gladys,
+and her suppressed, 'Down, Lion, down,' failed to quiet him. As she
+hurried up the road, he ran after her, and it was not until she reached
+the gate, that she had courage to command him with heightened voice, and
+threatening manner, to go home. The dog crouched, and then licked the
+hand, upraised to send him back. Poor Gladys fell upon his neck, and
+burst into tears. He licked off the tears with a wistful, canine
+earnestness and love, and again prepared to follow her.</p>
+
+<p>'Back, good dog! Home, Lion!' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>The dog turned away with his tail between his legs, and walked half-way
+down the road. Gladys hurried through the gate, and along the public
+road, shutting the gate behind her upon Lion. No sooner was she out of
+sight than the tail was again in motion, the head turned, and Lion was
+peering over the hedge after her. As she swiftly pursued her way,
+turning neither to the right nor to the left, she did not perceive the
+faithful friend that was literally dogging her steps; but still Lion
+followed; and thoughtless of master and mistress at home, kept in view
+the poor beggar-girl who had managed to win his love, together with that
+of all the animal kind around and about Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>Thus pursuing her unknown way, and thus pursued by Lion, we must leave
+Gladys and return to the farm.</p>
+
+<p>At the usual hour, Mrs Prothero came down to breakfast; no Gladys was
+visible, and no neat table was laid for the early meal. Mrs Prothero
+asked the servants if they had seen Gladys, and they said she had not
+yet come down; not altogether ill-pleased to find the favourite, for
+once, in fault. Mrs Prothero thought that the events of the past night
+had probably made her ill; and relenting from her somewhat severe
+feelings towards her, she went upstairs to see what was the matter.
+Receiving no answer to her tap at the door, and call of 'Gladys,' she
+went into her little room. She saw all neat as usual, and the bed
+unruffled. Her heart misgave her, and she painfully remembered the
+morning of Netta's flight. As if by instinct she went to the small
+dressing-table, and at once had her fears confirmed. Very sadly she took
+up the pretty cap that was left there, and looked at the large piece of
+netting to which was appended a paper. She unpinned the paper, and read
+the following words:&mdash;'For my dear mistress, with respectful wishes, and
+best prayers for many happy returns of the day.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero unfolded the work slowly, and saw two handsome, long,
+netted window curtains, with a fancy border, that must have taken hours
+from the donor's sleep to accomplish. As she unfolded them, a letter
+fell upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Poor, nervous Mrs Prothero, rubbed her hands over one another several
+times before she had the courage to pick it up, and then she scarcely
+dared to open it. As she made the attempt, however, a cry of 'Mother!
+mother! why isn't my breakfast ready?' was heard from the foot of the
+stairs, proceeding from Mr Prothero's lusty voice, who was too proud and
+too angry to call for Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero ran downstairs with the letter in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear David, I am afraid Gladys is gone,' she said tremblingly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, let her go,' said the farmer. 'A good riddance. But what do you
+mean?'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero told of the empty room, unused bed, cap, curtains, and
+letter.</p>
+
+<p>'This house is bewitched!' said Mr Prothero. 'What's in the letter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed, I don't know, Davy bach!' said the wife, giving him the
+document.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero took out his glasses, wiped them deliberately, and put them
+on, whilst his wife stood before him rubbing her poor little hands as
+usual.</p>
+
+<p>'What a good hand the girl writes,' said Mr Prothero, as he carefully
+unfolded the letter, and then began to read aloud as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>'DEAR AND HONOURED MISTRESS,&mdash;Before leaving for ever your blessed
+     home, I beg you will allow me to write you a few lines, and I hope
+     you will not think me too bold in so doing. I am going away,
+     because I would not cause trouble to you, or my good, kind master.
+     May it please God to bless you both for ever and ever! As long as I
+     live I shall pray for you and love you! If I am too bold, forgive
+     me, but my heart is full. I can only thank you for all you have
+     done for me, by my prayers! Farewell! my dear, kind, honoured
+     mistress and master. You will be rewarded in this world for your
+     care of the poor orphan, who prays to meet you in the
+     next.&mdash;GLADYS.'</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>It was evident that the writer had been obliged to conclude hastily,
+because her paper was so wet with tears that she could write no more.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr Prothero finished reading, he hemmed two or three times and
+cleared his throat, and took off his spectacles and wiped them; then
+perceiving that his wife was crying like a child, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be so fullish!' Suddenly recollecting himself, he exclaimed,
+'Where's Owen? Go you, mother, and see if we haven't had another
+'lopement,'</p>
+
+<p>'No fear of that,' said Mrs Prothero, leaving the room to do her
+husband's bidding.</p>
+
+<p>She stayed so long that Mr Prothero, out of patience, bustled after her.
+He found her standing before an open, half-empty chest of drawers. The
+room was very untidy, and here, also, the bed had not been slept in the
+past night.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero was rubbing her hands and crying pitifully; more from fear
+of her husband's wrath than from sorrow for Owen, because she had
+anticipated a sudden flight.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero began to stamp with rage. It was a long time before he could
+speak, and his wife had a certain fear that he would choke. At last
+words found vent.</p>
+
+<p>'The impudent, lying, hypocritical, young baggage! The ungrateful,
+disobedient, good-for-nothing brute! Ach a fi! upon 'em both. That's
+what you get by harbouring Irish beggars!&mdash;that's the return they make!
+A pale-faced, deceitful hussy!'</p>
+
+<p>'Davy, bach! they are not gone together,' said Mrs Prothero,
+half-believing at the same time that they were.</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I lay breakfast, ma'am?' interrupted Shanno, putting her head in
+at the door and grinning suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>'Go your way, and mind your own business,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Shanno disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll go out and see whether either of the horses is gone. Go you and
+make breakfast&mdash;the good-for-nothing&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Just let me tell you first what Owen said to me last night,' said Mrs
+Prothero. 'I don't think he ever deceived us, Davy; and if he did wrong,
+he was never the one to hide it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you! Well, what did the young scamp say? I don't blame him
+half as much as that meek, pale-faced, still-water thing, who's as deep
+as the north star, I'll be bound.'</p>
+
+<p>'But Owen told me, seriously, that she refused to have anything to say
+to him, and begged me to be kind to her when he was gone away, for his
+sake.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing but a trap to take you in&mdash;the deceitful young
+puppies&mdash;the&mdash;the&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Go and look about the horses and I'll make breakfast.'</p>
+
+<p>He went accordingly. All the horses were safe. Nothing was missing
+anywhere but Lion.</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ouldn't take twenty pounds for that dog,' said Mr Prothero when he
+returned to the house, and sat down to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>'Hadn't we better send to look for them?' asked Mrs Prothero timidly.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll see 'em hanged first. What! go and make another hullabaloo all
+through the country, as if one wasn't enough in one house. No, not I.
+Let 'em go to sea, or where they will; but don't tell anybody anything
+about 'em. Let people think what they will; I only wish I was at the
+world's end. But it's all your fault. Do you remember that morning when
+you bothered me into letting the girl stay? Fine things have come of it,
+seure enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'But we don't know that they're together.'</p>
+
+<p>'But we do, I say, Mrs Prothero; or why should they go off together?
+Fine things, indeed, for the gossips! Two 'lopements from one house. The
+young hussy.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero could not help crying. To lose them both at once&mdash;a son and
+one who had been better than a daughter to her&mdash;it was too sad&mdash;and to
+feel so uncertain as to what would become of them!</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was resolved to take no notice of her tears, but hastily
+swallowed his breakfast and went out. The servants did not need to be
+asked about the fugitives. They were all sure that they had run away
+together. Gladys, good and quiet as she seemed, was deep enough; and
+they had managed so well that nobody had seen them! Not like Miss Netta,
+who was so open! Many had seen her when she ran away!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero sent one of the men off in a search for Lion, feeling sure
+that if he were found, Gladys would be discovered.</p>
+
+<p>At about eleven o'clock, to Mrs Prothero's great delight, Miss Gwynne
+and Miss Hall called to see if the report about Owen and Gladys were
+true, and to hear what Mrs Prothero thought of it. Miss Gwynne was
+highly indignant.</p>
+
+<p>'You cannot believe it, Mrs Prothero. That girl Gladys would no more run
+away with any man living than I would. If Mr Prothero won't send after
+her I will. Where is he?'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I send and tell him you want to speak to him?'</p>
+
+<p>'By all means&mdash;directly.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was soon in the house again, at Miss Gwynne's bidding. He
+looked more than usually red and excited.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Prothero, I would stake my life upon it, that girl has not gone off
+with your son. I don't like the Irish, or their beggars more than you
+do; but I am very fond of Gladys, and she shall not lose her character,
+or die of starvation whilst I have a horse to send after her, or a
+shilling to help her.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's very well for you, Miss Gwynne, but Owen is no relation of
+yours; and I don't cheuse him to marry an Irish beggar. This house is
+bewitched, and my children are bewitched, all except Rowland.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne wondered what Mr Prothero would think of <i>him</i> if he knew
+all.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Mr Prothero, will you send after Gladys, or shall I? You needn't
+have her back here. There is a situation of schoolmistress or lady's
+maid for her at once. I will take her in either capacity.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Hall, 'I think you may trust Gladys;
+that letter is sincere if ever anything was.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who is to search, for there is no time to lose?' asked Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>She was the only person in Wales who would have moved Mr Prothero, but
+he never could refuse her anything.</p>
+
+<p>'What you say, Miss, is seure to have sense in it. I never knew you take
+to any one yet who wasn't worth something, so I'll just ride myself and
+look after 'em both. I shouldn't like people to fancy we were in a fuss
+and fright. But remember, Miss Gwynne, it is to oblige you; and if I
+find that she has run away with my son&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You may do what you like, Mr Prothero, for then I will have nothing to
+say to her. But go at once, and thank you very much.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll go Swansea way, for I am sure they'll take to the sea. Ach a fi!
+what's gone to the young people.'</p>
+
+<p>In less than a quarter of a hour Mr Prothero had mounted his best mare,
+and muttering a great many Welsh oaths, was soon riding in search of the
+fugitives. When he got out of his own immediate neighbourhood, he began
+to ask whether 'a tall, dark, young man, and a tall, pale, young 'ooman'
+had been seen.</p>
+
+<p>'Is it a couple of gipsies, Mr Prothero?' asked a farmer, who lived
+about seven miles from Glanyravon. 'I did see a dark man, and a sallow
+'ooman go up the lane by now.'</p>
+
+<p>'Was the man like my son Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I didn't be seeing his face, but I shouldn't wonder.'</p>
+
+<p>Up the lane Mr Prothero went for a good half mile, and at last reached a
+gipsy encampment, where there were plenty of dark men, and sallow women,
+but not Owen and Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>A shrewd old gipsy, seeing him evidently on the search for some one,
+assured him before he had asked any questions, that she had seen those
+whom he was looking for.</p>
+
+<p>'Where?' asked the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>'Cross my hand with a silver coin, and I'll tell ye,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>He gave her a shilling.</p>
+
+<p>'Young couple, my lord?' asked the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>'Dark and fair, yer honour?'</p>
+
+<p>Another nod.</p>
+
+<p>'I never tell secrets under a half-a-crown, but I have seen them, sir.
+Young man something like you, and handsome.'</p>
+
+<p>'Make haste and tell, you cheat and vagabond,' said Mr Prothero,
+throwing her eighteenpence.</p>
+
+<p>'Up the first turning to the right, off the road, over the hill,' said
+the woman.</p>
+
+<p>'When?'</p>
+
+<p>'An hour ago.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero rode quickly down the lane, along the turnpike, up the first
+turning to the right, and then up a long and tedious hill.</p>
+
+<p>It will be unnecessary to describe how Mr Prothero wandered over this
+hill for hours, without finding those he sought. As the said hill was a
+short cut to the road to Swansea, whither he was persuaded they were
+gone, it is not much to be wondered at that he was taken in, and that he
+went on as fast as his good horse would go for many a long mile; but he
+found neither Owen nor Gladys, and all his inquiries after them were
+fruitless.</p>
+
+<p>Towards evening he returned home, tired and very cross, and found his
+good wife looking anxious and unhappy, and ready to say at any moment,
+'Dear, dear, how I do miss Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>A messenger from the Park was awaiting him, with a note from Miss
+Gwynne, inquiring whether he had found the poor girl or not. He was
+obliged to write a few respectful lines in reply, to inform her of the
+failure of his search.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish we had never set eyes on the girl,' he muttered, as he was
+writing the note with much pains and some difficulty. 'To take off Owen,
+too, just as he was getting euseful, and he such a good writer and
+accountant.'</p>
+
+<p>Still more heartily did he repeat that wish several times during the
+night. Mrs Prothero could not sleep, and what with her anxiety about
+Gladys, sorrow for the departure of Owen, and longing to see her own
+daughter, her mind was excited beyond its wont. As is often the case
+under such circumstances, she fancied she heard all kinds of noises in
+the house; once she was sure some one was coming upstairs, and another
+time that there was a tapping at the front door. She crept softly out of
+bed, and half fancying she should find Gladys without, went downstairs,
+and opened it. Nothing was visible but the flickering moonbeams amongst
+the trees, or audible save the tinkling of the brook through the
+farm-yard.</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness, what's the matter now?' ejaculated the farmer, as
+the creaking of the bedroom door awoke him.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be angry, Davy, bach, but I can't sleep for thinking of that poor
+girl; maybe she's without a roof to cover her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Owen'll see to that. 'Tis a hard case a man mayn't sleep in his bed
+because of a good-for-nothing wench like her.'</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, after breakfast, when Mrs Prothero was urging him once
+more to look for Gladys, and he was vehemently refusing, Miss Gwynne and
+Miss Hall again made their appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero had to swallow a very broad expression of disgust, as well
+as to listen politely to that young lady, who persisted in saying she
+would continue the search for Gladys if he would not.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sorry to annoy you, Mr Prothero,' she said, 'but it is due to
+Gladys to clear her character; there are plenty of jealous people about
+us, quite ready to take it away. I do not wish you to have any more
+trouble in this matter, but I cannot let it rest until I find the poor
+girl. She shall come to me direct, and need not be an eyesore to you. I
+will send off in every direction until I find her.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne. If she is to be found, I must do it. I
+'ont have a talk made about our turning her out of doors, and such like.
+As she isn't gone Glamorganshire way, I suppose she must be gone towards
+Ireland, and I had best follow that scent. I'll give her one more turn,
+and then have done with her. Mother, if I don't come home to-night,
+don't be frightened, as she may have gone a good step.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was leaving the room, when Miss Hall stopped him, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I thought, Mr Prothero, that you might not have seen this notice of a
+meeting in your son's parish, and as he is mentioned, I brought over the
+paper for you.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero thanked Miss Hall, and took out his spectacles. Whilst he
+was wiping them, however, Miss Hall read from the <i>Times</i> the report of
+a meeting for forming a ragged school in Rowland's parish, in which was
+the following paragraph:&mdash;'The Reverend Rowland Prothero, curate of the
+parish, made a very clear and able speech upon the subject, and brought
+forward a well-digested plan for the school, which will probably be
+adopted. The thanks of the meeting were offered to him.'</p>
+
+<p>'There is always a pleasure with every pain,' said Mrs Prothero, wiping
+her eyes. 'Thank you, Miss Hall.'</p>
+
+<p>'And the Bishop of London was in the chair. So, mother, if he isn't a
+bishop himself, you see he's been very near one,' said Mr Prothero,
+looking very much gratified. 'Well, I'll go now, Miss Gwynne, and look
+after that confounded&mdash;I beg your pardon, Miss&mdash;after that Irish jade,'
+and he went accordingly, leaving the ladies to talk it over with his
+wife.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI" ></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FRIEND.</h3>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero started as soon as his horse was ready, and, it must be
+confessed, in a very bad temper. As soon as he got out of the precincts
+of Glanyravon, he began to make inquiries of every one he met, and at
+every cottage he passed, concerning Gladys. It was evident, from the
+replies that he received, that if she had gone that road, it was so
+early in the morning that no one had seen her.</p>
+
+<p>At last he fell in with a farmer's wife whom he knew, who was jogging
+along on horseback, with a little boy behind her. After the usual
+greetings, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You never come to Glanyravon now, Mrs Davies. I daresay you haven't
+seen any of our folk for a year?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, not exactly. But I almost fancied I saw that pretty young 'ooman
+that lives with you yesterday morning. She was too shabby, or I should
+have been seure of the face. Only when she saw me she turned away and
+went on.'</p>
+
+<p>'Which way?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, down the Carmarthen road, seure.'</p>
+
+<p>'You'll excuse my hurrying on, Mrs Davies; I want to call at Lewis,
+Dryslwyn.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be seure. Good morning, Mr Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>The worthy farmer rode off at a gallop, till he was more than out of
+sight of Mrs Davies. He stopped at a tidy cottage to speak to an old
+woman who was washing at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Did you chance to see a strange young 'ooman go by here yesterday,
+early?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'What young 'ooman?' was the rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>'Rather shabbily dressed, with blue eyes, and a very pale face?'</p>
+
+<p>'Had she a big black dog along, sir?' asked a boy who came from within
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>'I think she had.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then granny gave her a cup of tea when she asked for some water, and I
+gave the dog a piece of my bread and cheese,' said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>'There's sixpence for you, my lad,' said Mr Prothero. 'Was there a
+young man with the girl?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody was along, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Which way did she go?'</p>
+
+<p>'By there, to Dryslwyn, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero rode on to the picturesque village bearing this name. The
+old ruined castle looked down upon him from its curiously formed,
+tumulus-looking elevation, as he stopped before a neat farm-house.</p>
+
+<p>'Good morning, Mrs Lewis.'</p>
+
+<p>'Walk in, Mr Prothero. We were talking of you by now. There was a young
+'ooman by here yesterday, and John Lewis said he was seure she had your
+dog with her. She went away so fast, that I hadn't time to ask about the
+dog.'</p>
+
+<p>'Which way did she go?'</p>
+
+<p>'Down the Carmarthen road.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good morning, Mrs Lewis, thank you. I must look after my dog.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero found it easiest to ask for the girl with a large black dog,
+and traced them to within a mile of Carmarthen.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at a small roadside inn to have a glass of <i>cwrw
+da</i>. [Footnote: Good ale] Here he asked the landlady of Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'See her and the dog! Is seure. They come here in the evening, and she
+asked for a slice of bread and a drink of water, and took out sixpence
+to pay for it. She gave all the bread to the dog, and my master, who is
+fond of dogs, told me to give 'em both a good supper. Poor dear! she
+couldn't help crying; and my master, who is tender-hearted when he sees
+a girl do be crying, tell me to give her and the dog a good supper and a
+bed in the barn, which I did, is seure.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero paid handsomely for his ale, and having learnt that Gladys
+and Lion went straight to Carmarthen, went thither also. He made some
+few inquiries at the small inns that he passed, but gained no
+information. He accordingly rode through the town, and took the direct
+route to Hob's Point, whence, he knew, she would probably sail for
+Ireland.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon was far advanced, still he rode on. He began to feel as
+anxious as he was angry and annoyed, and declared to himself that he
+wouldn't turn back until he had found her. He soon began to track her
+again. All the little boys on the way had noticed the big dog, and could
+point out the route he and Gladys had pursued.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at one cottage where the mistress told him that she had made
+the girl sit down in the porch, because she looked so tired; and at
+another where she had asked how far it was to Pembrokeshire.</p>
+
+<p>He had ridden about thirty miles, and twilight was creeping on. He began
+to think of the necessity of finding a night's lodging, and once more
+consigned Gladys and the Irish generally to any distant region where he
+should never see them again.</p>
+
+<p>'If she hadn't nursed mother so tenderly,' he muttered to himself, 'I'd
+turn back now; but as she does seem to be running away from Owen, and
+not with him, it 'ould be creuel.'</p>
+
+<p>The moon, the young May moon, arose in the heavens, and the farmer
+quickened his pace, for he knew the road, and that he was a good way
+from an inn, or, indeed, from any habitation where he could ask a
+night's lodging. Lights peeped out, one by one, from the cottages as he
+passed, and when he glanced into them, and saw the cheerful little
+fires, he thought more compassionately of Gladys, and wondered whether
+she had found food and lodging for the night.</p>
+
+<p>He was within a mile of a small village that he knew very well, when it
+was about ten o'clock. The wind blew rather keenly, and he buttoned up
+his great-coat, and began to whistle, by way of keeping himself warm.</p>
+
+<p>'Come, old girl! we shall soon have something to eat! come along,' he
+said to his mare, as he gave her a slight touch with his whip.</p>
+
+<p>He was passing by a very lonely quarry in a field by the road-side,
+about which he had heard some ugly stories of robbers and ghosts years
+ago. Although he was a courageous, he was a superstitious man, and gave
+his mare another stroke as he encouraged her to proceed. She started,
+however, suddenly, and made a kind of halt. The moon was shining so
+brightly that Mr Prothero could see into the quarry across the hedge,
+and he fancied he perceived somebody moving about. He urged his horse on
+by whip and voice, but as he did so, some one jumped over the gate that
+led into the quarry, and made towards him. He was so much alarmed that
+he spurred the mare vigorously. He was sure it was a robber. He turned
+his whip, and held the heavy handle ready for a blow, which fell, in
+effect on the robber or ghost, or whatever it was, that leapt upon his
+leg, and seemed, to his imagination, to lay hold of it.</p>
+
+<p>A loud howl, and then a sharp, joyous bark, however, soon told him who
+the intruder was, and gave him courage to encounter the jumpings and
+gambols of his own good dog, Lion.</p>
+
+<p>The mare kicked, and Mr Prothero exclaimed, 'Lion! Lion! down, good
+dog, down! Don't upset me, Lion, bach. Let me get off, Lion! Name o'
+goodness, be quiet, dog! There; now you may jump as you will. Where is
+she? Where's Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was off his horse, and Lion was over the hedge in a moment.
+The former climbed the gate somewhat less speedily&mdash;and both were, in a
+few seconds, in the quarry, where, either dead or asleep, lay Gladys,
+beneath and upon the hard stones.</p>
+
+<p>As the rays of the moon fell upon her pale face, Mr Prothero almost
+thought it was death and not sleep; but when Lion began to bark
+joyously, and to lick the cold hands and cheek, and when Mr Prothero
+ventured to stoop down and whisper, 'Gladys! Gladys!' and to take one of
+the damp, clammy hands in his, the white eyelids unclosed, and with a
+little scream of terror, the poor girl started up.</p>
+
+<p>There, beneath the moonlight, she recognised her master, and falling
+down on her knees before him, clasped her hands, but uttered no word.</p>
+
+<p>Where was Mr Prothero's ready-prepared lecture on ingratitude? Where
+were the questions about Owen? Where was the passion of the previous
+day? He could not tell. He only knew that he raised the poor kneeling
+girl kindly, almost tenderly. She threw her arms round him, and for the
+first time kissed him as if he were her father. Then, suddenly,
+recollecting herself, she exclaimed,&mdash;'Oh! Master! Oh, sir! forgive me.'</p>
+
+<p>Her master did not speak, but lifted her in his strong arms, and carried
+her to the gate; lifted her over, lifted her on his horse, and, amidst
+the joyous caperings of Lion, mounted himself.</p>
+
+<p>'Put you your arms round me, and hold fast,' he said to Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Come you, Lion, good dog! we'll have a supper by now!' And so they all
+went, as fast as they could, to the neighbouring village.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero, with no small noise and bluster, knocked up the inmates of
+the little inn of that little place, and succeeded in getting Gladys
+ensconced by a cheerful fire in the kitchen. The poor girl was benumbed
+with cold and overpowered with fatigue. The landlady rubbed her feet and
+hands, administered hot brandy and water, and finally got her to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero kept out of her way lest he should say something that he
+might afterwards repent of in the warmth of his delight at finding her
+again. After she was in bed, and he had heard from the landlady that she
+seemed better and more comfortable, he and Lion had a good supper&mdash;a
+meal the dog appeared thoroughly to enjoy, and which he ate with a
+ravenous appetite.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero told the landlady to leave Gladys in bed the next morning
+until nine o'clock, by which hour he supposed she would be sufficiently
+refreshed, and then retired himself, feeling thankful to Miss Gwynne for
+having made him do a good action, but still believing that Owen must
+have been in the secret of Gladys' sudden flight.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys slept soundly until the landlady took her a good breakfast at
+nine o'clock. She then awoke, refreshed but frightened, and uncertain as
+to her present state or future proceedings. She was told that Mr
+Prothero wished to see her as soon as she was dressed, and accordingly
+when she had eaten her breakfast, she got up. She felt very stiff and
+weak, and her hands trembled so much that she could scarcely dress
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Lion found her out, however, and gained admittance into her bedroom. He
+was in such very boisterous spirits that he quite cheered her, as pale
+and frightened she tried to gain courage to meet her master. Before she
+left the bedroom, she sought for guidance where she was always in the
+habit of going for help and comfort, and found strength 'according to
+her day.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was waiting for her in the little parlour of the inn. During
+the morning, having nothing to do, he had employed himself by getting up
+his temper, and persuading himself that he ought to be very angry with
+Gladys. He had quite slept off his softer feelings, and whilst at his
+lonely breakfast had gone through an imaginary quarrel with Owen, and a
+dispute with his wife, which had so raised his choler, that when Gladys
+entered he was as red as he usually was when in a passion at home.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys saw that he was angry and trembled very much; but she knew that
+she had done no wrong, and tried to reassure herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero began at once. It must be remarked, however, that he had
+previously learnt from the landlady that Gladys was pretty well, and had
+eaten a good breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness, young 'ooman, what did you run away from our house
+for in such a sly, underhand way, and give us all this trouble and
+bother? Don't suppose I 'ould a run after you, if it wasn't for Miss
+Gwynne and your mistress.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, sir, I am very thankful to ye and to them. I know I don't deserve
+such kindness.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there. I should have thought you'd have known that one
+'lopement was quite enough from one house. Pray, what have you done with
+my son Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>'I, sir? Nothing, sir!' said Gladys, trembling at this abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>Lion licked her hand as if to reassure her.</p>
+
+<p>'You needn't tell no lies about it, because I shall be seure to find
+out. Where is he gone?'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed&mdash;indeed, I don't know, sir. I thought he was at home at
+Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'But he isn't at home. He went off with you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, not with me, sir&mdash;not with me, I assure you. I went away that he
+might stay, and that I might not cause anger between you. I am speaking
+the truth, sir, indeed I am.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero looked at the agitated girl, and felt inclined to believe
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me why you went away at all, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because Mr Owen said to me words that I knew he would be sorry for, and
+because I saw that you, sir, were displeased at what he said about me.'</p>
+
+<p>'What did he say to you? Tell me the truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'He said, sir&mdash;oh! I cannot tell. Perhaps you would be more angry with
+him if you knew.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys' head drooped low, and a burning blush overspread her pale face.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't be much more angry with him than I am, but tell you the treuth.
+Did he want to marry you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you&mdash;what did you say?'</p>
+
+<p>'That I couldn't marry any one in this world, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you mean to wait for, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, sir, nobody.'</p>
+
+<p>'And what did Owen say to that?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think anything more particular passed between us. He was very
+kind, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay. But what made him go away?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think it must have been because he thought you would send me away.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you don't want to marry my son Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys' voice wavered slightly as she said this.</p>
+
+<p>'Ha, ha! He's a fine young man, however.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir, and very kind.'</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay. Will you promise never to marry him?'</p>
+
+<p>As Mr Prothero asked this question, he looked Gladys full in the face.</p>
+
+<p>She blushed again, but returned his gaze with a quiet, grave look that
+seemed to wonder at the question. She did not reply at once, and Mr
+Prothero repeated it, louder than before, with the additional one of 'Do
+you hear, girl?'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, I don't like to make promises,' said Gladys; 'suppose the
+temptation to break it ever came, and proved too strong for me. I might
+perjure myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you mean to marry my son Owen?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir, I don't think I shall ever marry him. As far as I can see now,
+I am sure I never shall.'</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness, what does the girl mean? You don't mean to marry him,
+and yet you 'ont promise&mdash;what do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I scarcely know myself, sir. But I cannot tell what God may appoint for
+me in the future, and so I cannot make a solemn promise.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I 'spose you're going to run off like Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir, never.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, &quot;no, sir,&quot; if you 'ont promise?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because I could never do what you and my mistress would dislike.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you can promise, perhaps, never to marry my son Owen without my
+consent.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir, I can&mdash;do&mdash;that&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys said these words very slowly, and turned very pale as she said
+them. She clasped her hands firmly together with a visible effort.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you're an odd girl; you 'ont promise one thing, and yet you as
+good as promise it in another way. What's the difference?'</p>
+
+<p>Again the colour came and went.</p>
+
+<p>'It would be wrong, sir, in me to make a son disobey a father, and I
+wouldn't like to do it; so I can promise that; and maybe you may
+change.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you love the boy? Tell me the treuth.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys began to cry, and was a few moments before she could say,
+somewhat more resolutely than usual,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, my feelings are my own. Mr Owen has been like a brother to me, and
+the mistress like a mother&mdash;and you&mdash;oh, sir! should I not love his
+mother's son?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero was touched; he could ask no more questions.</p>
+
+<p>'There, there&mdash;go you and get ready directly. I promised Miss Gwynne to
+bring you back to Glanyravon, where she means to make you schoolmistress
+and lady's maid, and all the rest. I suppose you don't want to go to
+Ireland?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you any relations there?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't want to leave Glanyravon parish?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir. I would rather live and die there than anywhere else in the
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then go you and get ready; and, mind you, have some ale before you
+start. I must keep my promise to Miss Gwynne; mind you yours to me. You
+'ont encourage my son Owen without my consent'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir&mdash;never. And I do not wish or mean ever to marry any one, if you
+will only believe me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't believe any young 'ooman who says that. You may as well go into
+a nunnery. But I believe the rest till I find you out to the contrary.
+Now, go you and get ready.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, sir&mdash;thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this conversation the farmer had mounted his good mare, who
+was as much refreshed as her master by a night's rest, and with Gladys,
+<i>en croupe</i>, and Lion running by his side, he jogged back to his home.</p>
+
+<p>'We shall have a fine long journey, and a tiresome one enough,' he
+muttered. 'Thirty mile and carrying double is too much for my
+mare.&mdash;take the 'oomen! they'll be the death 'o me, one way and another.
+There's mother, and Netta, and Miss Gwynne, and now this Gladys! This is
+the last time I'll put myself out for any of 'em, or my name isn't David
+Prothero.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII" ></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MISSIONARY.</h3>
+
+<p>It was about half-past ten o'clock when Mr Prothero and Gladys started
+on their homeward journey. When they had gone about half way, they
+stopped for an hour to bait the mare, which brought them to nearly two
+o'clock, and reduced Mr Prothero to a state of great ill humour. Poor
+Gladys had to bear many reproachful speeches, which reached her between
+a very animated conversation which he kept up with the mare and Lion
+alternately. He did not talk much to her, but contented himself with
+making her eat and drink a great deal more than was pleasant for her,
+because, as he phrased it, 'People shouldn't think she was starved at
+Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>In truth, there was a great contrast between the farmer's rosy, broad,
+good-humoured countenance, which not even his present angry feelings
+could make morose, and Gladys' pale, wearied face, rendered more palid
+than usual by her late fatigue and anxiety. It was with some difficulty
+that she could keep her seat behind Mr. Prothero, as the mare trotted on
+at an equal but somewhat rough pace, and made her long for rest.</p>
+
+<p>However, all things come to an end, and within about five miles of
+Glanyravon, Mr Prothero muttered,&mdash;'Confound the 'ooman! Shall we ever
+get home; 'tis enough to kill the mare. Come along, old girl! Good dog!
+Lion, old boy!'&mdash;which sentences were interrupted by the address of a
+stranger on horseback, who asked if he were right for Glanyravon Park.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right, sir,' said Mr Prothero, pleased at any break in a ride
+that had been peculiarly devoid of adventure. 'I am going half a mile
+beyond the Park myself, and shall be proud to show you the way if you
+aren't in a hurry.'</p>
+
+<p>'By no means. I am too tired to ride very fast myself, for I have been a
+great traveller of late. I came down from London to Glamorganshire two
+days ago, and have come across country in coaches and dogcarts to the
+&quot;Coach and Horses.&quot; I daresay you know the inn?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes, sir. That's the &quot;Coach and Horses&quot; mare you're upon now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I borrowed her to come to Glanyravon, and have promised to ride
+her back to-night, but I am sure I shall not be able. How far are we
+from Glanyravon?'</p>
+
+<p>'About four mile and a half.'</p>
+
+<p>'You live in the village?'</p>
+
+<p>'There is no village, sir. I live at Glanyravon Farm.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is there any inn nearer than the &quot;Coach and Horses&quot; where I might get a
+night's lodging, and a man to ride the mare back?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir; but I shall be glad to offer a bed to any friend of Mr
+Gwynne's, though I am sure you'll find one at the Park.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you kindly. I am not known to Mr Gwynne; but I am going to see
+Miss Hall, who, I believe, resides with him.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be seure she does; and a better lady never lived. If you're a friend
+of Miss Hall's, you're as welcome to our house as if you were born and
+bred at Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are very kind. It does one good to meet with true Welsh hospitality
+once more.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're not Welsh, sir, I should say?'</p>
+
+<p>'I was Welsh originally; but it would be difficult to make out my
+parish, as I have been wandering about for many years.'</p>
+
+<p>'A clergyman, sir?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman smiled, and thought the question savoured of American
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>'I have a son a clergyman. Perhaps you may have fallen in with him. They
+tell me he's a very promising young man.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is his name?'</p>
+
+<p>'Prothero, sir&mdash;Rowland Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'I do not know him personally, but I know him by reputation; he is
+curate of an old friend of mine, Mr Stephenson.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be seure&mdash;Rowly's rector! Allow me to shake hands with you, sir.
+You'll sleep at Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, if I shall not inconvenience you and your family. Your
+daughter looks very ill and tired; perhaps it may&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Not a bit, sir. She's not my daughter; she always looks as pale as
+moonlight, 'scept when she blushes up; she'll see to a bed for a strange
+gentleman, and so'll my missus. To think of your knowing Mr Stephenson!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I saw him during my short stay in town, and he told me he had a
+capital curate, a countryman of mine. A regular hard-working, useful
+parish priest, he called him; a good preacher besides!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother will be pleased, won't she, Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>This was said in the old good-humoured way, and Gladys brightened up as
+she answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir, very.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you ill?' said the stranger, looking at Gladys with sudden
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>'No, sir, thank you; I am only rather tired,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Tired! I should think so! Why, she's walked more than thirty miles, and
+ridden thirty in the last two days,' said the farmer gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger glanced again compassionately at Gladys, but merely said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'She looks so pale that I fancied she was suddenly faint. How long has
+Miss Hall been at Glanyravon?'</p>
+
+<p>'Somewhere about two or three years now, I should say; but when she was
+teaching Miss Gwynne she was there a great many years.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is she in good health? How does she look? Is she happy?'</p>
+
+<p>'If she was ill, sir, I don't think any one 'ould know it, she's so
+quiet and patient; but I think she's pretty well, and she can't help
+being happy, for she's just the same as if she was at home with her
+father and sister. Now she is a nice lady! If all 'oomen were like her
+there 'ouldn't be half the plague with 'em there is. She's quite content
+without having a lot of lovers after her, and running away, and making
+everybody in a fever. Deet to goodness, my opinion is that the world
+'ould go on a sight better without 'em. What do you think, sir? You must
+have plenty of experience as a clergyman, for all the ladies are pretty
+sharp after the cloth.'</p>
+
+<p>The stranger laughed, and said he thought the world would be very
+disagreeable without the fair sex, and that he had no doubt Mr Prothero
+would find it so if they became suddenly extinct.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer was so pleased with his new acquaintance that when they
+reached the Park gate, he said very heartily,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mind you, sir, there's a warm welcome, and a well-aired bed, and
+fine, white, home-spun linen at the farm. The squire may give you a
+better dinner, may be, but not a hotter, I'll answer for it; Gladys'll
+see to that; she's capital for that. And mother 'ould be so glad to hear
+what the rector said about our Rowly.'</p>
+
+<p>'You may depend upon my coming,' said the stranger. 'What time does Mr
+Gwynne dine? I suppose I shall escape his dinner hour? It is now about
+five o'clock.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! they don't dine till Christian folks are going to bed&mdash;seven or
+eight o'clock, or some such heathen hour. You'll be able to see them all
+before dinner; but I don't believe Mr Gwynne'll let you come away.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall not see him probably. Good day for the present.'</p>
+
+<p>The stranger rode slowly up the drive from the lodge to the house, and
+Mr Prothero quickened his pace homeward. The mare, nothing loath,
+trotted off hard and fast, and Gladys looked paler than ever.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached the farm gate they were greeted by a loud shout from
+the 'boys,' Tom and Bill, who were right glad to see pretty Gladys back
+again. They both ran as fast as they could to the house, to tell their
+mistress the good news, and Lion after them. Mrs Prothero was at the
+door to receive the travellers, and as Gladys slipped off the mare, took
+her round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear David, I am so thankful! so much obliged!' she said, as her
+more portly husband dismounted. 'Come in quick; Miss Gwynne and Miss
+Hall are here. They were just going, but they will be relieved of all
+their anxiety when they see Gladys. Come in, Gladys, fach! don't be
+afraid; they must see you.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Gladys was crying with all her heart&mdash;good, comfortable, refreshing
+tears of joy at her mistress's kind welcome.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne appeared at the parlour door.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Gladys! you have had your long walk for nothing. What a foolish
+girl you were to go away. Mr Prothero, how do you do? I am so glad you
+have brought us back Gladys. We couldn't do without her in these parts.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you still stand to your text, Miss Gwynne?' said Mr Prothero. 'We
+may as well settle the matter at once. It will be a great thing for the
+girl.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, certainly; only she looks too tired to settle anything. Gladys, I
+will give you a day or two to consider whether you will come and live
+with me, as my maid, or be Miss Hall's pattern school-mistress.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys looked from Miss Gwynne to Miss Hall, and then from her master to
+her mistress, through the tears that were gathering faster and faster.
+She answered in a voice half choked by them,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, ma'am, thank you over and over and over again. If I must go
+away&mdash;if I must&mdash;whichever&mdash;you&mdash;like&mdash;I&mdash;' Here she finally gave way,
+and, sitting down on a chair, sobbed aloud. Mrs Prothero went to her,
+and put her arm round her neck. Miss Gwynne looked on compassionately,
+and Miss Hall turned to Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'She does not like to leave you, Mr Prothero,' she said gently.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want to turn the girl out of the house. But if Miss Gwynne
+wants her, I think it is better for all parties for her to go.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you please&mdash;certainly,' said Gladys, recovering herself with an
+effort. 'I would much rather go to Miss Gwynne in any capacity, and if I
+can be of use&mdash;it is best, my dear mistress.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then go you, Gladys, and stop crying,' said Mr Prothero. 'Why, your
+eyes'll be as red as ferrets when the gentleman comes, and he'll think
+we've been giving you an appetite by making you cry. I was near
+forgetting, Miss Hall, that we left a strange gentleman at the Park
+gate, who said he was going to call on you; he's going to take a bed
+here, because there's no inn nearer than the &quot;Coach and Horses.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'Who can that be?' said Miss Hall.</p>
+
+<p>'We had better make haste home, or we shall miss him,' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye, Mrs Prothero; I will come again and settle about Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly dusk when the ladies left the farm, and they walked very
+fast. They had not gone far when they saw some one on horseback coming
+towards them.</p>
+
+<p>'I daresay this is your friend, and that stupid Morgan hasn't let him
+in,' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'It cannot be; I do not know this gentleman at all,' said Miss Hall, as
+the stranger advanced.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at them, and they looked at him; but as there was no symptom
+of recognition on either side, they passed without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>'I hope we shall have a good night's rest, now that Gladys is found,'
+said Miss Gwynne. 'What is there in the girl that interests one so much?
+Even Mr Prothero, in spite of his son, was glad to find her, and to
+have her at the farm again. Colonel Vaughan admires her very much.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope not too much,' said Miss Hall quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'What an absurd idea!' said Miss Gwynne, colouring from beneath her
+broad hat. 'He is a man that admires beauty and talent, wherever it is
+to be found. I do like that sort of person; free from vulgar prejudice.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not quite, I think, my dearest Freda. He is not so easily read,
+perhaps, as you in your straightforward nature fancy.'</p>
+
+<p>'If he isn't prejudiced, you are, at any rate,' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached the house, Freda went into the drawing-room first, and
+Miss Hall heard her exclaiming, as she rushed out of it with a card in
+her hand,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Serena! Nita! only think! Mr Jones, Melbourne, South Australia! Hurrah!
+I never thought I should be so glad to see a card bearing that name.
+Morgan! why didn't you ask the gentleman who called on Miss Hall to come
+in and wait?'</p>
+
+<p>'I did not know, ma'am,' said the man who was at the door. 'My master
+does not always like strangers, and I did not know the gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall had vanished upstairs during this little interlude with
+Morgan, so Freda did not see the agitation of her manner when she took
+the card and read the name. Freda went straight into the library, where
+she found her father half asleep over a letter.</p>
+
+<p>'Papa! papa! Do you know an old friend of Miss Hall's has called, that
+she has not seen for twenty years, and Morgan let him go away?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wasn't she glad, my dear? It is so exciting to see people whose very
+faces you have forgotten.'</p>
+
+<p>'Glad, papa? Of course not. He must just have come from Australia, where
+her sister is living, and I daresay has brought letters. By the way,
+there was a packet near the card.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't understand people going so far away from their own country.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, papa, Mr Jones&mdash;this gentleman&mdash;has gone to sleep at Mr
+Prothero's, and I daresay they are not prepared for him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really&mdash;well, my dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you think you had better write and ask him here to dinner, and I
+will order a bed to be prepared?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me! My dear!&mdash;a perfect stranger!&mdash;a bore! Some one full of tiresome
+adventures and travellers' stories, and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'He is a clergyman, papa, and a Welshman, I believe. It would only be
+hospitable. We must not belie our country. Do write, papa. Think how
+anxious Miss Hall must be to hear of her sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you say she has a packet of letters.'</p>
+
+<p>'There is nothing like seeing a friend who has seen one's sister, I
+should think. Just one line of invitation! We will amuse him. He is very
+quiet, Miss Hall says. Here is the paper and a new pen. There's a good
+pappy, and&mdash;yes, &quot;Presents his compliments&quot;&mdash;yes&mdash;don't forget the bed.
+That's right! Now, just add, &quot;that if he prefers not coming to-night,
+you hope he will make a point of spending the day here to-morrow.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>'But I don't hope it, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will amuse him. Drive him out&mdash;anything. And perhaps he won't come.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well. Remember that I am not expected to&mdash;to&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, but just to drive with him. Thanks! you are a capital <i>pater</i>,
+and I will send this off immediately. Just direct it, &quot;&mdash;&mdash; Jones, Esq.,
+Glanyravon Farm.&quot; I wonder whether his name is David? I hope not. I
+don't like David.'</p>
+
+<p>'Freda carried the note to the butler herself, and told him to get it
+sent immediately, and to tell the messenger to wait for an answer; then
+she went with the parcel of letters to Miss Hall.</p>
+
+<p>The note found Mr Jones, Mr Prothero, and Gladys comfortably established
+near a snug fire in the hall, at a well-spread tea-table. Mr Jones asked
+for tea in preference to <i>cwrw da</i>, and he and Gladys were enjoying it,
+whilst Mr Prothero chose the good home-brewed. Eggs and bacon, cold
+meat, and most tempting butter were upon the table, and Mrs Prothero was
+acting waitress and hostess at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>Shanno appeared with the note, delicately held by the corner between her
+finger and thumb.</p>
+
+<p>'From the Park, missus, for the gentleman.'</p>
+
+<p>'Promise you me, before you open it, not to go there to-night,' said Mr
+Prothero, taking the note.</p>
+
+<p>'That I can safely do,' said Mr Jones.</p>
+
+<p>When he had read the note he looked pleased, and his manner was rather
+flurried, as he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps I can manage to stay over to-morrow, but I will not go
+to-night. Will you oblige me with a pen and ink?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was off in a moment, and returned with writing materials.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones wrote a polite note, declining the invitation for that evening
+upon plea of the lateness of the hour and fatigue, but promising to call
+on the morrow early, and to remain the day, if he possibly could.</p>
+
+<p>After he had despatched his note he seemed more thoughtful than he was
+before, and, for a short time, absent when spoken to; but rousing
+himself he made good return for the kindness and hospitality of his host
+and hostess by his agreeable and instructive conversation.</p>
+
+<p>He told them that he had been a missionary ever since his ordination,
+and had travelled over the principal parts of the continent of
+Australia. Gladys forgot her fatigue in her great interest in his
+subject; and when he saw her deep attention, he frequently addressed her
+and drew forth questions from her which surprised Mr Prothero quite as
+much, or more than it did Mr Jones. Mrs Prothero knew the girl's turn of
+mind too well to be astonished at the amount of missionary and
+geographical knowledge that she possessed. Gladys was naturally very
+timid and modest, but when subjects of interest were introduced she
+forgot her timidity in a desire for information.</p>
+
+<p>Owen had discovered her bent, and in their frequent meetings, accidental
+or designed, had often chained her to him by descriptions of the
+countries he had visited and the wonders he had seen. He, too, had found
+out that there was a deep vein of romance running beneath the stratum of
+reserve that, at first, had formed the outward feature of her character,
+but which was wearing away as she became accustomed to her new friends,
+and had been treated as a friend by them.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident that Mr Jones was greatly interested in Gladys. He
+addressed her, looked at her, called her 'my dear,' somewhat to the
+scandal of Mr Prothero, who thought him too young a man for such a
+familiar address. But Gladys only turned on him two beautiful eyes
+beaming with a kind of wondering gratitude, and thought the white and
+grey hairs that were mingled with the brown, and the deep lines in his
+forehead, quite passport enough for the two kind words.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to a great deal of missionary adventure, Mr Jones told his
+new friends that he had come home partly in search of health and rest,
+and partly to stir up friends at home in the cause of religion abroad.
+He said that he might or might not return himself to Australia,&mdash;it
+would depend on circumstances; but that he could not be idle in England,
+and was likely to become either a fellow-curate of Rowland's, or a
+neighbouring one. He liked a city curacy, because, having taught the
+heathen in another land for many years, he thought he might do some good
+amongst them at home. He told them, also, that it was during a year's
+residence in Melbourne that he had known Miss Hall's sister. He had been
+obliged to undertake clerical duty there, because his health was failing
+in his attempts to convert the aborigines.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones was a man of grave and quiet manner, one who seemed to think
+much and deeply. He habitually led the conversation, without pedantry,
+to religious or instructive subjects, and when lighter matter was
+introduced, was given rather to withdraw his mind from it to his own
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>He had been little in society for many years, during which his time had
+been passed in the highest, weightiest, gravest, grandest of all
+labours,&mdash;that of studying to turn the human soul from darkness to
+light. Now that he found himself in his own country again, he felt far
+behind most men in worldly conversation though very far beyond them, not
+only in religious, but in practical, useful, and general knowledge; such
+knowledge, I mean, as would be suited to the improvement, not merely of
+savages, but of the wild, lawless bushmen, gold diggers, and convicts of
+the Australian world. His manners were gentlemanlike but slightly
+old-fashioned, and, doubtless, many a young Englander would have found
+matter for ridicule in some of his doings and sayings. Not so, however,
+the good and cultivated Englishman of the nineteenth century. He would
+have found abundance to love and respect in the man who left the luxury,
+science, learning and refinement of England, in that most wonderful of
+all ages, to labour amongst the refuse of her people in the largest of
+her colonies. For Mr Jones had seen but little, during his twenty years
+of Australian life, of the better portion of Australian settlers, or the
+grandeur of her cities. He had devoted himself to those who had no means
+of gaining religious teaching elsewhere and he thanked God that the
+years of his ministry had not been without abundance of those fruits in
+which the heart of the laborious worker in Christ's vineyard rejoices.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr Jones left the farm the following morning, it was with a promise
+to pay it another visit at no very distant period. He took away with him
+a letter to Rowland, which was to introduce the brother, clergymen to
+each other. As he shook Mr Prothero by the hand, he thanked him warmly
+for his hospitality, and then abruptly added, 'Take care of that young
+girl Gladys. She will surely prove a blessing to you, and repay you for
+any kindness you may bestow upon her,'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII" ></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LADY'S MAID.</h3>
+
+<p>Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has
+before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had
+ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began
+to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in
+remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected
+appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she
+had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also
+that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was
+smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she
+forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting
+between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circumstances
+so many years ago.</p>
+
+<p>When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.</p>
+
+<p>'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as
+she looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda
+thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her,
+and Mr Jones bowed.</p>
+
+<p>'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down
+into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.</p>
+
+<p>'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of
+children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's
+unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by
+saying that he would be at home at luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss
+Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very
+like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than
+she gave him credit for.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I passed her in the
+twilight, uncertain who she was.'</p>
+
+<p>A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the
+luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make
+another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without
+him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss
+Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say
+was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to
+various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a
+real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a
+rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the
+magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and
+boundary of distant mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with
+her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that
+matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will
+join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of
+an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'But had we not better all go?' asked Miss Hall, casting an entreating
+glance upon Freda, who, however, would not see it.</p>
+
+<p>'I think not. Mrs Prothero is so nervous that we should frighten her to
+death. It will take me five minutes to run down the hill, five minutes
+to say my say, and five to get to the waterfall. But you need not hurry
+away, as I can wait for you; or, if you are not there, I will find you.
+Come, Frisk, come with me.'</p>
+
+<p>Frisk was a fine, little Scotch terrier, his mistress's especial
+favourite, and he bounded after her with great satisfaction. The pair
+were soon half-way down the hill, near the bottom of which Glanyravon
+Farm lay.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I managed that capitally,' said Freda to Frisk? 'didn't I,
+Frisk? Now, if he doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, he is very
+foolish. Don't you think so, Frisk?'</p>
+
+<p>Frisk jumped, and barked, and twirled about in a very affirmative way.</p>
+
+<p>'I should like to make up a match, it would be such fun. And I think he
+is a very worthy, gentlemanly sort of man, though I shouldn't like him
+for myself, and he is not quite the sort of person that I could have
+supposed would have made such an impression on Serena. But she would be
+such a capital clergyman's wife, and he would be so fond of her! But
+what should I do without her? Get married myself? The only man that I
+ever saw that I could marry won't marry; and then he doesn't care for
+me. Heigho! this is an odd world. All of us at cross-purposes. But I
+don't mean to break my heart,&mdash;do I, Frisk?'</p>
+
+<p>The 'do I, Frisk?' brought Freda and her dog to the gate that led into
+the road, and the road soon led them to the farm, where Frisk began at
+once to run after all the poultry, to the no small annoyance of Shanno.
+But Freda succeeded in catching him, and carrying him off with her into
+the parlour, whither she went, and whither Mrs Prothero followed her.</p>
+
+<p>'I have just come to ask what you have settled about Gladys,' said Miss
+Gwynne. 'I cannot stay long, and am anxious to know.'</p>
+
+<p>'My husband thinks it better that she should go to you, as you kindly
+wish to take her,' replied Mrs Prothero, with tears in her eyes. 'He
+says that he has no ill-will to the poor girl; on the contrary, he is
+very fond of her; but he don't think her a good match for our eldest
+son, Owen, who might marry very well. For my own part, I think he would
+never meet with such another as Gladys; but that is in the hands of
+Providence, and if it is to be it will be. He says that he is sure Owen
+will never come home as long as she is with us, for fear of sending her
+away; but that when he knows that she is so well off with you, he will
+perhaps come back again. And, indeed, we want him sadly, Miss Gwynne. It
+is a great trial to us, to have three children, and neither of them at
+home to help us. My husband is much altered since Netta married, though
+he don't show it; and Netta won't write, or do anything to prove she's
+sorry, and though he don't say so, I think this makes him more angry.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you really wish Gladys to come to me?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do indeed, Miss Gwynne. I am quite sure it will be for her good; and
+you cannot help liking her. But she will not make any choice between the
+two situations you offer, but says you must do with her whatever you
+think best.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is she very unhappy at the idea of coming to us?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all. She is very sad to leave us, but she says she would rather
+do so, and would rather serve you than any other lady in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, perhaps it may be best for all parties. I think she is too young
+and too pretty to live alone at the school-house, and besides, I don't
+particularly want to change mistresses: so I mean to have her as my
+maid, and then I can take care of her myself. You know I have not had a
+regular maid since that disagreeable affair of Evans; one of the
+housemaids has waited on me, and I don't like maids, they are so in
+one's way. But I shall like Gladys. And she can help Miss Hall in the
+school, and go and see you every evening if she likes, when we are at
+dinner. In short, I am sure it is a capital plan for us all, and will
+make matters easy for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are so very kind, Miss Gwynne, I do not know what we should have
+done without you. Gladys would have begged her way back to Ireland, and
+died there.'</p>
+
+<p>'I mustn't stay any longer; I have outstayed my five minutes over and
+over again. You can send Gladys when you like. I have heaps of dresses,
+and clothes, of all kinds for her, so don't you think of giving her
+anything new. I will give her the same wages that I gave Evans, so she
+will feel quite independent; and I will put her under the particular
+charge of the housekeeper, until she gets into the ways of the house.
+Now I must go; what will Miss Hall say?'</p>
+
+<p>Well might Freda ask, 'What will Miss Hall say?' She walked as quickly
+as possible to the waterfall, she was not there; up the hill again, not
+there; home through the wood, not there; into the house, not there. She
+waited a little while with her hat on, but as no Mr Jones or Miss Hall
+arrived, she took off her walking things, and went about her usual
+avocations, saying to herself, with a smile on her lips the while,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I never thought I was a manoeuvrer before. It is evident they don't
+want me, or they would have waited for me, and I have no doubt they are
+much happier without me. I must go and look, after my father.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda found Mr Gwynne in his library.</p>
+
+<p>'Where is your guest, Freda? What is he like? Is he a bore?' were his
+queries.</p>
+
+<p>'He is walking with Miss Hall, and my impression is they are very good
+company. He is very quiet, very grave, has no wonderful travellers'
+stories, and none of the ologies, and can play chess, for I asked him. I
+don't think him a bore, and I am sure Miss Hall doesn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, then I will go into the drawing-room against he comes in.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thanks; and I will whisper a little secret into your ear; he is an old
+lover of Serena's, and I cannot help hoping he is come to propose for
+her.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the
+alert people are when they hear of a love affair.</p>
+
+<p>'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him,
+for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is
+he like Rowland Prothero?'</p>
+
+<p>Freda coloured at this sudden question.</p>
+
+<p>'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be&mdash;I don't know&mdash;nearly forty
+I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging
+and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it
+any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now,
+papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of
+Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap
+at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began
+maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked
+up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and
+something very like tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I know, Nita dear! It is all signed, sealed, and settled <i>n'est-ce
+pas</i>?'</p>
+
+<p>And so it proved; during that long walk the old love had become new, and
+two people as deserving of happiness as most of the poor sinful mortals
+who are for ever seeking her, were made perfectly happy for that day at
+least.</p>
+
+<p>Freda's reflections, whilst she sat alone, listlessly brushing her hair
+and dressing herself, were as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'How happy she seems; she looks twenty years younger; and he, an
+elderly, iron-grey clergyman; it would be ridiculous, only it is all so
+true and good. I suppose, after all, there is something grand, as the
+poet says, in constancy, and love, and the like; and I ought to pity
+Rowland Prothero, if he really cares for me. And yet I don't; on the
+contrary, I could be over head and ears in love with another man
+to-morrow if he would only ask me; and he is gone away without telling
+me that he cares for me, if he does, as I cannot help hoping. But
+nothing shall induce me to give my heart to any one, unless I am asked
+for it, of that I am resolved; no, not if I were to die in the struggle
+to keep it.'</p>
+
+<p>With this prudent and womanly resolution, Freda got up from her seat,
+hastily put on her dress, and went to Miss Hall, to insist on dressing
+her on that particular day.</p>
+
+<p>'You must put on the pink and white muslin that you look so well in. I
+insist on it, and will have my way to-night,' she said, and had her way
+accordingly, and the satisfaction of hearing her father remark
+afterwards, that he had 'not seen Miss Hall look so well for years. She
+really was a very pretty ladylike person, and Mr Jones ought to think
+himself very fortunate, and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>To judge from Mr Jones' manner and countenance, he did think himself
+very happy and fortunate; and his happiness and good fortune had the
+effect of making him so very agreeable, that Mr Gwynne was quite pleased
+with him, and strongly urged his remaining some days at Glanyravon. But
+this could not be, as he was engaged to be present at a meeting of the
+Society for the Propagation of the Gospel the next day but one. To
+Freda's indignation, her father engaged him in a game of chess, which
+lasted the greater part of the evening; but as he seemed quite patient
+under the infliction, and Miss Hall glad that he should be agreeable to
+her kind friend, Mr Gwynne, Freda was obliged to give up her plan of
+leaving them alone for the remainder of the evening, and to be content
+with resolving that they should at least have the following morning to
+themselves. This she effected, and was rewarded by a lusty squeeze of
+the hand from the gentleman, when he took his leave, which she
+afterwards declared to Miss Hall, would have made an Australian native
+scream. Mr Gwynne sent Mr Jones to meet the train in his carriage, and
+invited him to return as soon as he possibly could.</p>
+
+<p>It may, perhaps, be as well to anticipate some of the events of this
+story, and to say that in the course of three or four months, Mr Jones
+and Miss Hall were married.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after his return to London, Mr Jones was appointed brother curate
+to Rowland Prothero, recommended by his friend, the rector. He undertook
+this as temporary duty, because he was in expectation either of
+obtaining a living or of returning to Australia; Miss Hall was quite
+ready for either kind of work, feeling that, whether as the wife of a
+clergyman at home or abroad, she would be most thankful to be permitted
+to devote herself to her woman's part of missionary labour. Mr Jones had
+a small income as secretary to one of the London and Colonial religious
+societies, and was also engaged in work for the S.P.G., which, together
+with his curacy, and the small savings of twenty years abroad, enabled
+him to take and furnish a home for his wife, and gave them the prospect
+of comfort, if not of ease and riches. Their desires were very moderate,
+and their hopes fixed on objects beyond the general scope of vision; so
+that they were content to 'live by the day,' and trust for the rest. The
+world called them romantic and foolish for people of their ages; they
+'knew in whom they believed,' and, 'having food and raiment, were
+therewith content.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys had been installed in her offices of parcel lady's-maid, parcel
+school-mistress at the Park, nearly three months, when the wedding took
+place. She had largely contributed towards making Miss Hall's simple
+wardrobe and wedding gear, and was rewarded by being allowed to marshal
+the school children on the happy-day, as they lined the drive at the
+Park gates, on the going forth and return of the bridal party. She was,
+moreover, the one selected by the children to present Miss Hall with a
+handsome Bible in Welsh and English, in token of their gratitude and
+love for her. Mr Jones had been too much engaged in London to allow of
+his visiting Wales until two or three days before his marriage, during
+which time he had occasionally met, and spoken kindly to Gladys, and
+given her a book on Missionary subjects, which he had brought purposely
+for her, expecting to find her at the farm. He had also carried pleasant
+news of Rowland to Mrs Prothero, and frequently spoken of him to Mr
+Gwynne and Freda&mdash;of his earnestness in his profession, and of the love
+and esteem in which he was held by his rector and his flock.</p>
+
+<p>Freda felt very lonely when her dear Serena was gone. She had no one
+amongst her immediate neighbours for whom she cared much. The general
+round of country dinner-parties she had always found very dull, and the
+annual hunt week and assize balls she had never liked; so she found
+herself again thrown quite upon her own resources. As long as Colonel
+Vaughan had been in the country, she had taken an interest in
+everything; when he left, her ordinary pursuits&mdash;her riding, painting,
+music, garden&mdash;in all of which he had aided her, suddenly lost their
+charm. Her friend's marriage came about just when she wanted an object
+of interest, and when that was over she was thrown back upon herself.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees, however, a healthier tone returned to her mind, and she
+forgot the fascinating Colonel Vaughan, and recovered her interest in
+her house, school, dogs, birds, garden, and the thousand and one small
+objects that serve to make time pass cheerfully and happily in a country
+home. Above all, she became more and more interested in Gladys, and
+anxious to shelter her from the many dangers and temptations which she
+saw her peculiar beauty and position subjected her to. She soon found
+out that all the men-servants paid their devotions to her shrine, and
+that even the ancient and portly butler was not indifferent to her
+charms; but the simplicity and modesty of Gladys kept them all at a
+respectful distance, and the housekeeper told Miss Gwynne, that 'Reelly,
+she was quite a pattern in the servants' 'all, and it was a treat to see
+a young 'oman who knew how to keep the men off&mdash;not but the girls were
+as jealous of her as could be; but that wasn't to be wondered at, for
+none of 'em was made anything of when Gladys was near.' Even Mr Gwynne
+roused himself to make inquiries concerning Freda's pretty maid, which
+was quite the crowning feather in Gladys' cap.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX" ></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.</h3>
+
+<p>Plas Abertewey was a fine old country seat, that had been in Colonel
+Vaughan's family for generations. Miss Gwynne was not the only scion of
+the good old county gentry who was disgusted at seeing it in the
+possession of a son of old Griffey Jenkins, the miser. But so it was to
+be. Howel took the place, nominally for a term, but with the avowed
+intention of purchasing it, or the first place of any note that should
+be for sale in the county.</p>
+
+<p>He made liberal proposals to Colonel Vaughan's agents as regarded
+improvements and repairs, the house having been much neglected for some
+years; and in the course of a few months after his marriage with Netta,
+workmen of all kinds were employed in adorning Plas Abertewey for his
+expected arrival with his bride.</p>
+
+<p>This did not take place, however, until the following spring, by which
+time the house and grounds were in as fine order as money could make
+them. Howel sent down a person from London to superintend the work, and
+remained with Netta in Paris until it was nearly completed; then he
+brought her over to England, left her in London with his friends the
+Simpsons, and ran down into Wales, accompanied by Captain Dancy, who had
+been his companion during a great portion of his Paris trip.</p>
+
+<p>They remained only a few days, and then returned to town to superintend
+the purchase of furniture, plate, and the various appurtenances of a
+country establishment, which were duly despatched to the <i>charg&eacute;
+d'affaires</i> in the country, and vigilantly guarded by Mrs Griffith
+Jenkins, who took up her abode at Abertewey for the time being.</p>
+
+<p>As bell-ringers do not pause to consider the cause and effect of the
+events they are ordered to commemorate, but rather think of the amount
+of money and liquid they are likely to receive for their labour, the
+chime of Llanfawr rang a merry peal when the future master and mistress
+of Plas Abertewey drove through the town. There was, moreover, a small
+show of fireworks on the occasion. Blue balls, crackers, rockets and the
+like blazed and hissed about to the no small danger of the thatched
+roofs of some of the houses. Mrs Griffith Jenkins undrew her purse
+strings on that day, and the cheering and shouting were great as the
+bride and bridegroom appeared. Howel bowed and smiled as all great men
+do on such occasions, and Netta laughed, and was proud. One of the blue
+balls made the fine pair of horses that drew Howel's new carriage take
+fright, but the London coachman showed the superiority of his driving by
+pulling them in' and the crowd shouted amain.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dancy and Miss Simpson, who accompanied the pair, were duly
+impressed with the loyalty of Howel's subjects, and were not
+particularly shown the little shop to which he owed their sudden
+devotion. 'Jenkins, the miser,' was quite swallowed up in 'Howel
+Jenkins, Esq.,' and 'Netta Prothero, Glanyravon,' was engulphed in his
+wife. So goes the world. Shout on, little boys, for so will it be when
+you are in your turn big men, and 'adore the rising, rather than the
+setting sun,' as the French proverb hath it.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, Abertewey was in the parish of Llanfawr, and some seven or
+eight miles from Glanyravon, therefore Mr and Mrs Prothero knew nothing
+of the demonstrations in honour of their children.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Griffith Jenkins received them, dressed in a new <i>moir&eacute; antique</i>,
+quite in baronial style, under the portico of their dwelling, and the
+proper complement of retainers was in the background. More shouts were
+heard from some of the immediate neighbours, who had gathered round the
+door to see the arrival; and as Netta alighted from her carriage,
+attired like a Paris doll, she felt that she was now a grand lady, and
+could conscientiously look down on Miss Rice Rice, and be on an equality
+with Miss Nugent.</p>
+
+<p>Howel gave some orders in a very commanding tone to the various
+lords-in-waiting, and then the door closed upon their majesties, and the
+admiring crowds saw them no more.</p>
+
+<p>It is no wonder that the world without Plas Abertewey was much engaged
+in talking of, and speculating on, the world within. Howel's horses,
+Netta's dress, Miss Simpson's father's baronetcy, Captain Dancy's
+regiment, Plas Abertewey's appointments, the footmen's liveries, the
+reputed wealth of the miser, even Mrs Griffith Jenkins' <i>moir&eacute; antique</i>,
+mourning ornaments and gold watch were variously remarked upon, and
+doubtless with great good nature and deserving approbation. We all know
+how we rejoice when our neighbours rise to wealth or eminence. There was
+not one breakfast-table within twenty miles of Abertewey, from that of
+my lord and my lady to Jim Davies and his wife, shoemakers, over which
+the arrival of Howel Jenkins, the miser, as he was called, according to
+his father before him, was not pulled to pieces, from the first sound of
+the bells to the last shout at his hall door.</p>
+
+<p>'Shall we call?' were the words on the lips of all heads of families,
+generally settled by the said 'heads' driving in their very best
+equipages and gayest clothes, to pay the wedding visit to the reputed
+millionnaire and his pretty, elegantly attired wife.</p>
+
+<p>Money, as I have somewhat commonplacedly remarked elsewhere, is the
+master-key to most hearts, and Howel found that nearly all the hearts in
+his native county were opened by his wealth. The exceptions were
+principally those of his wife's family, and even in some of these he
+managed to turn the key.</p>
+
+<p>It was shortly after the arrival at Plas Abertewey that Owen and Gladys
+simultaneously left the farm, and we find the former on that same
+morning, standing at a little distance from this residence of his sister
+and Howel, surveying it, and ruminating on the family fortunes.</p>
+
+<p>'Well done, Howel,' he said to himself; 'if money hasn't done something
+for you, I don't know for whom it has done anything. I declare I will
+try and make some myself, and come back and marry Gladys in spite of the
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>Then he began to ask himself, whether it was kind and brotherly to pass
+by his only sister's door without saying good-bye to her, and whether
+his father had any right to expect all her relations to give her up,
+because he chose to do so? His reflections were suddenly cut short by
+the appearance of Howel and another gentleman, bound, apparently, on a
+fishing expedition.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, come at last!' cried Howel, hastening up to him with great good
+will. 'Better late than never. I am very glad to see you, so will be
+Netta. Travelled early to hide your carpet bag, or whatever it is?'</p>
+
+<p>'Knapsack,' said Owen, shaking his cousin's offered hand; 'I'm off to
+sea again.'</p>
+
+<p>'A queer road to take; but you come to see us on your way, of course.
+Let me introduce you to Mr Simpson, Sir John Simpson's son. My cousin,
+Mr Simpson, my wife's brother.</p>
+
+<p>Owen nodded, and Mr Simpson bowed.</p>
+
+<p>'We're going out fishing, but you'll find Netta&mdash;in bed, I'm afraid, but
+she'll be glad to see you anywhere. Go up the avenue, and let Netta know
+you've come. We shall be home to dinner at seven. Good-bye for the
+present.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen did not stay to consider, but walked past the handsome lodge, and
+up the drive, according to Howel's direction.</p>
+
+<p>'Mighty condescending and very patronising, cousin Howel!' he
+soliloquised; 'but I will go and see how Netta gets on, and how your
+highness treats her.'</p>
+
+<p>He reached the house, and rang stoutly at the bell. A servant answered
+it, who was adjusting his coat just put on, he not having expected such
+early visitors.</p>
+
+<p>'The back entrance is round the corner there, young man,' were his words
+on perceiving Owen, whose pride was greatly roused thereby.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell Mrs Howel Jenkins that her brother, Mr Owen Prothero, is here,'
+said Owen, intending to electrify the man.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not succeed. The servants knew very well that their
+mistress's family was not of 'county rank,' and that its members were
+not upon terms with the Aberteweys, therefore had no very high opinion
+of them. He turned on his heel, and told a female servant to tell
+Lucette, the French maid, to tell her mistress that Mr Owen Prothero was
+at the door.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the man reappeared, and, with a great increase of
+civility, asked Mr Prothero to walk into the breakfast-room, and said
+his mistress would be down as soon as possible. Whilst he was admiring
+the room and its costly furniture, and considering the tea service, a
+smart little French-woman came to him and asked him in French, whether
+he would stay to breakfast; as he knew something of the language he
+replied in the affirmative. Then appeared an equally smart and
+fascinating French valet, who begged to be allowed the honour of
+conducting Monsieur to a bedroom, to arrange his toilet.</p>
+
+<p>Owen laughed heartily and followed the man, who took up his knapsack
+daintily, and led him to a very handsome bedroom, where Owen brushed his
+hair as becomingly as he could, arranged his beard, and made himself as
+smart as his wardrobe would allow of his doing. He was, as we have
+before said, a very handsome young man, and sufficiently well mannered
+to pass muster anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>'What is the next act, I wonder?' said he, as he found his way into the
+breakfast-room. He was quite taken aback as he entered, when he saw a
+pale young lady sitting in one of the windows, reading. He made his bow,
+she curtseyed, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Howel Jenkins' brother, I believe? My name is Simpson.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen bowed again, and not being of a shy turn, and having seen ladies of
+various degrees during his travels, began to make himself agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes, a little French fairy flitted into the room, with her
+hair off her face to display such eyes and complexion as are rare in all
+times; and muslins, laces, and ribbons so blended, as to set off a
+petite figure to the very best advantage. Owen was going to bow again,
+when a little affected laugh, and a 'Ma foi! he doesn't know me, Miss
+Simpson,' proclaimed the fairy to be his sister Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, you naughty boy, not to know me,' the little thing continued,
+more naturally, running up to her brother, who took her, despite
+muslins, laces, and ribbons, almost up in his big arms, and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>'How you have rumpled me, Owen? did you ever see such a thing, Miss
+Simpson?' she cried, half laughing, half in tears, as she smoothed down
+the point-lace sleeves and collar.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a tall man entered, and Netta disengaging herself from Owen,
+who was on the point of kissing her again, and asking her what she had
+done to herself, simpered out an introduction between 'Captain Dancy and
+my brother, Captain Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not quite that yet,' began Owen, anxious to disclaim the captaincy,
+when he was interrupted by the entrance of one or two other men, who
+were, in their turn, named to him as Sir Samuel Spendall and Mr Deep.
+Owen did not like their appearance and looked towards his really lovely
+little sister, to see how she received them. Her manners had a mixture
+of affectation and simplicity that was rather taking than otherwise. And
+Owen wondered how Howel could leave one so young and pretty amongst
+three men of the world, which he soon discovered his new acquaintances
+to be. True, Miss Simpson was with her, and in the middle of breakfast,
+to which, in due time, they sat down, another lady came upon the scene,
+by name Madame Duvet, who turned out to be the English widow of a
+Frenchman. She was young, handsome, but over-bold for the taste of a man
+who was in love with Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>She was at once taken with Owen's handsome face, and talked to him
+incessantly, whilst Captain Dancy seated himself near Netta, and devoted
+himself to her much more closely than Owen liked. However, he was very
+hungry, and managed to make a good breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>He heard Netta telling Captain Dancy that her brother had been at sea
+all his life, and knew nothing of the fashionable world; at which he
+thought the ham he was eating would have choked him, in his effort to
+repress a laugh. He longed very much to knock down one of the
+'Jeames's,' who would stand gazing at him, and did so far betray his
+indignation, as to ask him, when he came behind his chair, whether he
+saw anything remarkable in his appearance, which so amused Madame Duvet,
+that she exclaimed '<i>Charmant! brava!</i> you make me <i>cr&ecirc;ver de rire</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen was astonished at everything, but at nothing so much as at his
+sister. Netta had always aped the fine lady, and made the most of her
+few accomplishments; but now it was all like a fairy-tale, and the
+heroine was Netta, transformed by some fairy into a princess. By turns
+coquettish, affected, simple, languishing, accordingly as she feared she
+was too like her natural self&mdash;the Netta of the Farm was no more, and
+her representative was, to Owen at least, an anomaly. How she could have
+acquired such an amount of small talk, and such a mincing speech in nine
+months, was an enigma to him. London, Paris, the opera, the fashions,
+even the picture galleries, were alternately in her mouth; and she
+poured out tea and coffee, and laughed a silly laugh, much to her own
+satisfaction, and Owen's disgust, whilst all the men were looking at
+her; for assuredly she was very pretty.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen,' she said, during a sudden pause in rather a noisy conversation,
+'I hear Rowland is quite a fashionable preacher. Howel means to ask him
+down here, I believe. Miss Simpson went to hear him&mdash;didn't you, Miss
+Simpson?'</p>
+
+<p>This was drawled out, and Owen felt very much disposed to get up and
+shake his sister, as he had often done when she came from school with
+any new airs and graces. But he contented himself with saying,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Rowly's a capital fellow, Netta, fach, and doing his best. Whether he's
+a fashionable preacher or not I don't know, but he kept us all awake at
+Llanfach one Sunday for half-an-hour, which is something.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your brother is so amusing! so <i>na&iuml;f</i>! I die of him!' said Madame
+Duvet.</p>
+
+<p>'Very original!' remarked Miss Simpson; 'I do like originality&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you must like Netta,' said Owen; 'for there was never any one of
+our family the least like her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes! you are, about the eyes. <i>Malin!</i>' said Madame Duvet.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Owen tried to get Netta a little to himself, but there
+were distant calls to make, and drives and rides to be arranged, which
+caused him to be unsuccessful in his efforts. So he fell to the lot of
+Mr Deep, who took him to see Howel's hunters and dogs, and all the other
+wonders of Abertewey.</p>
+
+<p>'Deep by name, and deep by nature,' was Owen's reflection, after his
+morning with his new acquaintance. 'He has managed to get all my secrets
+out of me, one excepted; but he has not confided any to me in return.
+One thing I suspect, however, that he has a turn for horse-racing and
+betting.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel and Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party,
+with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, assembled at dinner. Howel had
+ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed;
+and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie
+belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave
+him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.</p>
+
+<p>He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening
+costume.</p>
+
+<p>'What do you think of her, Owen?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally
+gazing at her before dinner.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta
+Prothero of the Farm.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should imagine not!' said Howel. 'Pray don't let us talk of farms
+here, Owen. I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops?' asked
+Owen, maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite
+as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen
+wondered on.</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child
+in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of
+cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly
+have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago. 'Her own
+mother would not know her!' thought Howel. 'Poor mother, she would
+scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a
+little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and
+see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's
+bewildered imagination. Madame Duvet made such very decided attempts to
+talk to him, however, that he was obliged to cease wondering, and to
+bring his usually versatile genius into play, in the light of all the
+grandeur. He got on so well with the lady, that Howel wondered in his
+turn, and after dinner told Owen that he verily believed if he played
+his cards well, he might make an impression on the pretty widow.</p>
+
+<p>'One can do that, I should say, without any cards at all,' said Owen,
+showing his white teeth from amidst his big black beard.</p>
+
+<p>When the ladies had left the dinner-table, Owen began to gain some
+insight into the characters and pursuits of Howel's guests. He had not
+spent thirteen or fourteen years amongst men of all ranks and all
+nations, without having acquired a shrewd judgment, and a tolerable
+knowledge of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation turned at once upon hunting, racing, steeple-chasing,
+billiards, bets, and the like. It was evident that Howel, too, was well
+initiated into such matters. Mr Rice Rice asked him when the question of
+the hounds was to be decided, and Howel said that kennels were in
+preparation, and that he hoped to have a first-rate pack by the winter.
+There arose a dispute about a celebrated racer that Howel appeared to
+possess in London, and that was expected daily at Abertewey. Howel
+declared his intention of letting her run at the Carmarthen races.
+Captain Dancy, having heavy stakes on the mare, vowed it might disable
+her for the Derby, and words ran high; but Mr Deep interposed, and
+changed the subject to that of <i>rouge et noir</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They sat over the dinner-table till nearly eleven o'clock, by which time
+they were all more or less exhilarated. Howel's wines were good, his
+cellar was well stocked, and he was lavish of everything that might give
+him a reputation amongst the Welsh squires that surrounded him, many of
+whom still worshipped at the shrine of Bacchus.</p>
+
+<p>When they joined the ladies, Owen thought the conversation was rather
+too loud and boisterous. Captain Dancy alone was quite himself, and made
+Netta sing some little French songs to Owen's great amusement. After tea
+and coffee had been carried round, a card table appeared, and
+<i>vingt-et-un</i> was proposed. The stakes were so high that Owen trembled
+for his small stock of wealth? but to his astonishment again, he found
+himself, at the end of the evening, a gainer of nearly five pounds,
+although he had been most moderate in his own stakes. He was struck with
+the eagerness of Madame Duvet and Netta, who entered into the game with
+all the avidity of accomplished gamblers.</p>
+
+<p>It was very late when they finished the game, and nominally retired for
+the night, but not late enough to prevent Howel, Captain Dancy, Mr Deep,
+and Sir Samuel Spendall from sitting down again to whist. Owen left them
+at it, not altogether satisfied with himself or his companions.</p>
+
+<p>The following day, Owen again tried to get some private conversation
+with Howel or Netta, but in vain. The breakfast was even later than the
+previous morning, as Howel did not go out fishing, and afterwards there
+were more distant calls to make, and Netta was engaged in preparing her
+dress with her maid for a dinner-party at Mr Rice Rice's, at which she
+desired to appear particularly grand. The gentlemen were playing
+billiards part of the day, and riding the rest, in neither of which
+amusement Owen joined. Madame Duvet did her best to amuse him, and
+succeeded very well, for Owen was far from insensible to the charms of
+beauty, and, in spite of Gladys, could not resist flirting a little, in
+his own matter-of-fact way, with a pretty woman.</p>
+
+<p>The three ladies, Captain Dancy and Howel, were the dinner guests at Mr
+Rice Rice's, the other gentlemen were invited for the dance in the
+evening. Young Rice Rice had given Owen a lame invitation the previous
+day, which he had declined; never having been in the habit of visiting
+him when at home, he did not choose to do so under Howel's countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Owen's astonishment was brought to a climax that evening when his sister
+appeared dressed for this, her first public appearance on the small
+stage of a country-neighbourhood, or, to speak more respectfully, county
+visiting. It was Howel's pleasure that she should make it in point lace
+and diamonds. Not even to Owen was it whispered that the lace was a
+wonderfully good imitation, or that the diamonds, instead of being of
+the first water, were first-rate paste; and no one suspected the
+deception. The great millionnaire, Howel Jenkins, could well afford to
+give his pretty wife the real jewels and lace, and had the credit of so
+doing; and as no one, save himself and the jeweller, knew that they were
+false, he thought himself a very clever fellow for gaining the
+reputation of unbounded liberality upon very small means. Be it said,
+however, that his own studs, pin and ring, were real.</p>
+
+<p>The French maid had eclipsed herself in Netta's toilet, and Owen felt
+that if she were not his sister, he must have fallen in love with her
+himself. The black roguish eyes sparkled like the brilliants she wore,
+and the complexion was scarcely rivalled by the roses she had in her
+bouquet.</p>
+
+<p>Howel looked really proud of her, and it is not surprising that he felt
+greatly elevated as he took the reins from the coachman and drove off in
+his fine new carriage, drawn by capital horses, and attended by liveried
+servants.</p>
+
+<p>His last whisper to Netta, before they entered Mr Rice Rice's
+drawing-room was, 'Keep up your consequence, and don't say, &quot;Yes,
+indeed!&quot; every minute.'</p>
+
+<p>He was determined to keep up his own consequence, and began at once by
+patronising everybody present. There were some of the county gentry who
+had demurred as to calling on the old miser's son, and who were
+astonished at the kind of tone he assumed. They, who had been gravely
+considering whether they could possibly shake hands with him, found
+themselves on a level with, if not beneath him, at once, by mere
+effrontery. There is some truth in the saying that, 'Accordingly as you
+think of yourself, others will think of you;' and impudence and riches
+combined, together with a certain amount of talent and personal
+appearance, can overcome vast worldly obstacles. Besides did he not
+bring an unmarried baronet with him&mdash;one of the very ancient family of
+Spendalls&mdash;and the son and daughter of a man of title, and a captain of
+the dragoon guards? to say nothing of that fashionable widow, reputed a
+fortune. And were there not plenty of young ladies, poor if proud, in
+the county, wanting partners, either for dancing or life, or both?</p>
+
+<p>After that evening, people sneered at home perhaps, but they called and
+invited and made much of the master and mistress of Plas Abertewey,
+forgetting or ignoring their origin.</p>
+
+<p>Netta, too, obeyed Howel's last injunction to the best of her ability.
+Her youth and beauty were greatly in her favour, and her affectation
+covered the shyness and awkwardness that she felt in being suddenly
+thrown amongst people upon whom she had formerly looked with awe. The
+Nugents were there, but the Gwynnes were absent, and she had the
+pleasure of feeling that she had as many, if not more, partners than the
+heiress, Miss Nugent, and was much more grandly dressed. As for Miss
+Rice Rice, she fell quite into the shade before her.</p>
+
+<p>Her old friend, Sir Hugh Pryse, was particularly attentive, and talked
+to her of Miss Gwynne; and Captain Dancy was as much devoted to her
+abroad as at home. Her head was quite turned, and nothing but the
+consciousness that Howel was present kept it on her shoulders at all;
+but the fear of a lecture for some mistake in manners kept her so much
+on her guard, that she got through the evening wonderfully, and achieved
+what Mme. Duvet called <i>un grand succ&egrave;s</i>.</p>
+
+<p>And Howel danced, and talked, and introduced his friends, and patronised
+everybody, much as if he had been a feudal monarch amongst his barons.
+Here and there might have been seen a suppressed smile, as one of the
+company whispered to another, 'Where is Mrs Griffey Jenkins to-night?
+What would old Griff, the miser, say to those diamonds? I wonder his
+very ghost doesn't appear?' but still money won its usual way. And when
+Howel's chariot came to the door, there were more surprised and admiring
+eyes fixed upon it from the bystanders without, than on that of any
+other of the assembled party. As Mrs Griffey Jenkins said when she heard
+of the evening gaieties,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Deet to goodness, and my Howel's was grander than any one. I do answer
+for that. Now his is a beauty carriage and horses, and servants as grand
+as Queen Victoria's or Prince Albert's, for I did be seeing them in
+London myself.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX" ></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PATRON.</h3>
+
+<p>Tuesday and Wednesday had passed quickly away, and Thursday brought to
+Owen amusements similar to those of the previous days; but no private
+intercourse with his relations. In the evening of his third day at
+Abertewey, there was a concert at the neighbouring town, huge bills of
+which had been posted up on the walls and houses of the said town,
+purporting that the entertainment was under the immediate patronage of
+Howel Jenkins, Esq. of Plas Abertewey, and his friends. Elegant little
+pink and blue programmes were scattered over that patriotic gentleman's
+tables, and he had used his eloquent language, and made great efforts to
+get together a large party for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>It was principally a Welsh concert, he urged, and he considered it right
+to patronise native talent. There was the celebrated <i>Eos</i>, and the last
+representative of the ancient bards, and the best specimen of a Welsh
+harper, besides several respectable English singers, and he, for one,
+should muster as many supporters as he possibly could.</p>
+
+<p>He did so, accordingly, and with that spirit of liberality which
+characterised him when any popularity was to be acquired thereby
+purchased a great number of tickets, and distributed them amongst his
+servants and neighbours with majestic grace. He had managed to enlist a
+large party at Mr Rice Rice's the previous evening, some of whom were to
+dine at Abertewey, and to go thence to the concert; others to meet him
+and his friends there.</p>
+
+<p>Owen felt lost in the grandeur of that evening, and would have been
+quite forgotten but for Mme. Duvet, who was constant in her admiration
+of him. But it was amusement and wonder enough for him to watch Howel
+and Netta, quite <i>en prince et princesse</i>, receiving their guests, who,
+if not as yet of the aristocracy of the county, were of high
+respectability and good position in it. If the host and hostess were
+rather desirous of showing how grand they were, their dinner and wines
+were so good as to cover their efforts.</p>
+
+<p>What if their guests remarked, as guests will, gentle reader, when our
+backs are turned, that Howel was insufferably purse-proud and conceited,
+and his wife as affected and provincial as possible; they did not hear
+the friendly notices, and were well content to fill the concert room
+with their party, all in full dress, to the admiration of the townsfolk,
+and of Mrs Griffey Jenkins in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Howel had quite forgotten his mother in his general invitation and did
+not even see her for some time, seated in a prominent position, and
+making one of his own party, to all appearance. She had saved his
+character for filial duty by going where he would little have thought of
+placing her, and awaiting his arrival, as her pride impelled her to do.
+Owen spied her at once, and took Mme. Duvet to the seat next her, on her
+left; whilst on her right sat Mr Deep, and nigh to him, of all people in
+the world, Mrs Rice Rice, that staunch supporter of family dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Owen shook hands with Aunt 'Lizbeth, and introduced her to Madame Duvet
+and Mr Deep, after having asked them first of all whether they had seen
+her previously.</p>
+
+<p>'I never had that honour,' said Madame Duvet, curtseying.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't be going to Abertewey since you was coming there, ma'am,' said
+Mrs Griffey, rising and curtseying, to the unspeakable diversion of Mrs
+Rice Rice and Mr Deep.</p>
+
+<p>The reader may remember that Mrs Jenkins was at Abertewey when Howel
+made his triumphant entry there, but the following morning he gave her
+to understand, as delicately as he could, that the idiomatic
+translations of the Welsh language which had been so refreshing in
+London, would be better in her native town than at Abertewey, and she
+departed accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>His ire may be imagined, when he suddenly heard the well-known idioms
+lavished upon Madame Duvet and Mr Deep, who were enjoying them a great
+deal more than the concert, which, being principally in the vernacular,
+was not so intelligible and far less amusing. Mrs Jenkins was in her
+glory. Never had Mrs Rice Rice been so condescending before. She and Mr
+Deep made themselves more agreeable than she had supposed it possible
+for such grand people to be, and she frequently glanced at Owen, as much
+as to say, 'And I am the person that your father turned out of doors!'</p>
+
+<p>Owen, on his side, was sorry that he had exposed her to the sarcasm that
+she so little understood, and talked to Madame Duvet to withdraw
+attention from her.</p>
+
+<p>As to Howel, his rising sun was obscured&mdash;his blushing honours were
+dimmed&mdash;his majesty, patronage, grandeur were lowered by the propinquity
+of his nearest of kin. In the midst of his county friends himself, he
+still felt that his mother was making herself ridiculous near at hand;
+whilst complimented and thanked for his patriotic support of native
+<i>cos</i>, [Footnote: Nightingales.] the native idioms rang in his ears, and
+he longed to annihilate them altogether. This on his right hand. On his
+left, Netta, looking literally like 'a rose in June,' and receiving the
+very marked attentions of Captain Dancy, on one side, and of Mr Rice
+Rice, junior, on the other. He scarcely knew which was most irritating,
+'the idioms,' or her affected giggle. Trite but true is the proverb,
+'There is no rose without its thorn;' and Howel was pricked severely by
+the thorns surrounding the rose of his first step into popularity.</p>
+
+<p>Between the acts, and between the songs, Mrs Griffey went on something
+in this sort,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Indeet yes, sir! treue for you there. The Welsh is a splendit language.
+My son Howels&mdash;there he is to be proving it&mdash;do always say so. Ah!
+that's &quot;The rising of the lark,&quot; I was singing that myself years ago.
+London! to be seure! Now there was singing I was hearing at the play. My
+son Howels did tak us to the play. I never was hearing or seeing the
+like in my life. Seure, the Queen Victoria or Prince Albert don't be
+dressing half as fine as the gentlemen and ladies I was seeing act. The
+Queen! Oh, Mrs Rice Rice, fach! Ma'am, I was disappointed! Just a bonnet
+no better than my doater-in-law's. What, sir! a crown? Not 'sactly a
+crown; but I was 'specting to see a queen different from other people.
+Hush! I do hear my son Howels cry, &quot;Silence!&quot; and they do be playing &quot;Ap
+Shenkin.&quot; Not so bad that for Wales, Mrs Rice Rice. My son Howels do
+sing beautiful himself, and do play&mdash;Hush! look you at him. He don't
+like tolking in the music. He, he, he, sir! you do make me laugh. To be
+seure I don't mean to be marrying again, though men are so much for
+money. I am thinking you gentlemen 'ould be marrying your grandmothers
+for the beauty money! Not my son Howels, indeet! He don't be wanting
+money. He marry his cousin for love. Hush you! There's Pengoch beginning
+a Penyll! You don't be hearing anything like that in England. Ach a fi!
+my 'deet, I am sorry. &quot;God save the Queen!&quot; and it don't seem an hour
+since they began!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins stood up with the rest, and beat time emphatically Scarcely
+was the last verse of 'God save the Queen' finished, when Howel came up
+to his mother, and biting his tongue to keep in his ire, said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, I will see you safe first!' and without allowing her time to do
+more than make a curtsey to her companions, offered her his arm, and led
+her quickly down the room. He did not venture to speak to her, but
+nodding to one and another as he passed, said, 'I shall be back
+directly. I am just going to send my mother home first,' reached the
+door, and called for his carriage. It was close at hand, the hour for
+ordering the carriages being past; and he speedily put his mother into
+it. 'Drive Mrs Jenkins home, and return immediately,' he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>'Which way, ma'am?' asked the servant.</p>
+
+<p>'Go you down the street, then turn to the right, and the first house
+with a railing and steps, and a brass knocker,' said Mrs Jenkins,
+exulting as they drove off in her new dignity and importance. Howel, on
+the contrary, returned to the concert-room, cursing his folly for having
+settled in his native county, and wishing his mother anywhere else.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he received the thanks of the conductor of the concert
+with bland humility, and expressed his intention of using all his best
+efforts in behalf of his country and countrymen. Finally he assisted in
+cloaking and shawling the ladies, seeing them to their carriages, and
+bidding them condescending good nights.</p>
+
+<p>For himself, however, he had not a good night, being haunted with the
+demons of jealousy and discontent. As soon as Netta and he were alone,
+he addressed her in very different tones from those which he had called
+forth for the ladies of the concert-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, why do you let Dancy pay you such attentions?' he began, with a
+scowling brow and flashing eye.</p>
+
+<p>'Why does Mme. Duvet let you pay her such attention?' was Netta's
+instant reply.</p>
+
+<p>Now Netta was too well pleased with herself, and the effect of her
+beauty on others, to endure being snubbed, and was very angry that Howel
+was not pleased also.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be a fool, Netta. You know Madame Duvet is doing all she can to
+catch Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! jealous are you? Well, there were plenty of other ladies who let
+you pay them attention; why was that I wonder?'</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what it is, Netta, I won't allow Dancy to devote himself to
+you as he does.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you had better tell him so, I ain't going to do it; he's your
+friend, and if he admires me, I think you ought to be proud of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'You did nothing but flirt and giggle with him all the evening. What
+with you on one side and my mother on the other, I thought I must have
+left the room.'</p>
+
+<p>'Giggle, indeed; I don't know what you mean, sir; you never eused to say
+I giggled.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can't you say <i>used</i>, and not <i>eused</i>, you will never cease to be
+provincial,'</p>
+
+<p>'Other folks are provincial, I think, besides me. If you said your own
+mother was provincial, it 'ould be true enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'There again! if you are your own natural self, you leave out all your
+<i>w's</i> directly; I wish you would be careful, Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, so do the French. I declare I won't speak again to-night, that I
+won't, you cross, unnatural, unfeeling fellow; and all because you're
+jealous of Owen. Madame Duvet says he's the handsomest man she ever saw,
+and that his beard is enough to win any woman's heart.'</p>
+
+<p>'You had better hold your tongue, I think,' said Howel, stifling a laugh
+at the idea of Owen's irresistible beard; 'you never say a word of
+sense.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you never say a kind word,' said Netta, breaking down at that last
+attack, and beginning to cry.</p>
+
+<p>'Now don't blubber, and let all the house hear you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wonder whether leaving out a <i>w</i> is half as vulgar as to tell one's
+wife not to blubber. But I won't speak to you again. I wish I hadn't
+married you, I do.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish to heaven you hadn't.'</p>
+
+<p>At this Netta began to sob very much, and Howel softened somewhat, but
+not sufficiently to make any excuse for his conduct; and Netta went to
+bed, proud, indignant, and unhappy, and wishing herself back again at
+Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, Owen remarked that Netta did not speak to Howel at
+all, and that she was very reserved and strange in her manner to Captain
+Dancy. The captain, however, took no notice of the change, but whilst he
+seemed to converse more than usual with Miss Simpson, anticipated all
+Netta's wants and wishes with most insinuating tact. Netta, with her
+changing colour, and half-pettish, half-shy manner, was still more
+attractive than Netta affected and silly. Owen thought that Howel felt
+this, for he went behind her chair, and put his hand on her shoulder,
+whilst he asked for some more sugar in his tea. Netta's lips pouted, but
+her eyes brightened as she said in a half whisper, 'You're sweeter than
+you were, Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel excused the common-place allusion to the sugar, in consideration
+of the bright face that looked up at him, and so the storm lulled for
+the present.</p>
+
+<p>This was Owen's fourth day at Abertewey, and it was a facsimile of the
+second, with the exception that Mr and Miss Simpson and Mr Deep did not
+go to the dinner-party to which the rest went, at a neighbouring country
+house, so Owen had company at dinner, and was ordered by Netta to do the
+honours.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Simpson refused to play whist, and Owen declined billiards, so
+whilst Mr Deep got as much money as he could out of Mr Simpson, Owen
+devoted himself and his captivating beard to Miss Simpson.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of conversation that young lady informed him that she and
+her brother intended leaving Abertewey the following week, and that she
+supposed the rest of the party would soon follow for the Ascot Races,
+and she hoped Owen would join them; she was sure her papa and mamma
+would be very glad to see him. She also let out that her brother,
+Captain Dancy, and Howel had heavy bets on the different horses that
+were to run, and that she expected there would be great excitement. As
+to Mr Deep, nobody quite knew what he did, he was so very reserved and
+quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Owen stayed on at Abertewey day after day, he scarcely knew why. In the
+first place, he was very well amused, and liked his quarters. In the
+second, his new friends all liked him; the women for his good looks and
+open-hearted civility, the men, because he took his own course and did
+not interfere with them, and was a very amusing fellow besides. In the
+third place, he stayed on because he felt anxious about Howel and Netta
+and their way of beginning life. He had been a man careless of money
+himself all his days, but he had been, as the saying goes, no one's
+enemy but his own&mdash;he feared that Howel might turn out, not only his own
+foe but the foe of others, since he perceived that the propensities of
+his unmonied youth were strengthening and maturing in his monied
+manhood. He had no opinion of any man who would fleece another, and he
+saw that Howel and Mr Deep were preying upon the simple, conceited Mr
+Simpson, and the careless, lavish Sir Samuel Spendall. As to Mr Deep, he
+watched his opportunity of outwitting either of the four as it offered.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday came and passed, as usual, in visiting and gambling. A good
+many of the sporting men of the country called to see Howel's famous
+race-horse, Campaigner, in training for the St Leger, and to indulge in
+a little of the sporting gossip of the day, whilst their womankind
+indulged in more general, and equally intellectual, country gossip. Some
+of the young men stayed to dinner, and when Miss Simpson had duly played
+her waltzes, and Netta had gone through her French songs, <i>vingt-et-un</i>
+was proposed.</p>
+
+<p>Owen took his customary place by Madame Duvet, and played his usual
+game. But he had not the luck of the previous evening, and soon lost the
+five pounds he then won, and very nearly the little he possessed
+besides. When he knew that he was within a few shillings of bankruptcy
+he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I am very sorry to leave such agreeable society, but if I play any more
+I shall never get to sea. Look at my purse!' holding it up and shaking
+it, 'it is very nearly empty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Luck will change,' said Madame Duvet. 'You shall go partners with me,'
+pointing to a large heap of money and counters.</p>
+
+<p>'I should be only too happy if I could bring anything to the bank, said
+Owen; 'but I am too proud to be a penniless partner.'</p>
+
+<p>'You need only bring yourself,' said Madame Duvet, lowering her voice,
+and giving such a glance from a pair of fine black eyes as few men could
+have withstood.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Owen would have yielded to it, for he was by no means a hero,
+had not a sudden vision of Gladys passed before his mind, followed by
+one of his mother, just as he had seen her when she bade him that last
+solemn good-night only the Tuesday in that very week. How the vision
+came he knew not, nor did he pause to ask; but it gave him strength to
+resist the temptation to begin regular gambling, a vice he had hitherto
+steadily avoided.</p>
+
+<p>'No,' he said, with a merry laugh; 'I cannot afford to run into debt.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mortgage those entailed farms of yours,' said Howel. 'I wouldn't mind
+lending you a trifle on them.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I will lend you five pounds without a mortgage,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Can't afford to borrow or mortgage,' laughed Owen. 'Besides it is
+nearly Sunday morning, and we must all break up directly,' so he slipped
+away from his seat, looked on for a few minutes, and when the party were
+again absorbed in their game, went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' he thought; 'I am not as particular as I ought to be, I know,
+myself; but to play cards into Sunday morning! I could not do this. What
+would my poor mother say of Netta if she knew it? I will have a serious
+conversation with her to-morrow, when I suppose she will have an hour to
+spare, and be off on Monday. I almost wish I had never come. That Madame
+Duvet, too! One cannot help paying her attention, and she is very
+handsome and agreeable; but even if there were no Gladys, she wouldn't
+suit me; and here am I almost making her believe&mdash;Pashaw! She don't care
+for me. What a vain fellow I am! But, I suppose, as Netta says, they
+admire my beard. All but Gladys, who won't even look at it, or me. I
+wonder what she would think of me in the midst of all these fine people,
+dressed up in Howel's London attire! At any rate I shouldn't be half as
+worthy of her good opinion as when I carried that unfortunate mash to
+the Alderney, which caused the rumpus with my father. How beautiful the
+girl looked, leaning upon that fortunate animal; and what a fool I made
+of myself on the other side of her! Well, I was never so happy at home
+before; and I know it isn't right to leave my father and mother; and I
+have never done any good all my life; and I, the eldest son, and very
+nearly thirty years of age! Poor uncle and aunt gave me an education, to
+very little purpose I fear; and I shall have to answer for the use I
+have made of it, just as those Sabbath-breakers downstairs will have to
+answer for profaning this holy day. Half of it is the force of example.
+Here is Howel leading Netta to destruction, just as Gladys might lead me
+to&mdash;heaven, I verily believe. Rowland used to argue with me about
+individual responsibility, and I suppose he was in the right of it.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI" ></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PATRON'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p>The following morning, Netta was not well, and did not appear at the
+breakfast-table. Howel said she had a bad headache, and did not intend
+going to church.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast was hurried over to prepare for a six miles' drive to church,
+and the carriage conveyed the two ladies and three of the gentlemen
+thither, resplendent with fashion and emblazoned prayer-books. Mr Deep
+did not go, and Owen determined to remain at home, in order to secure
+the desired conversation with Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Deep, however, seized upon him first of all.</p>
+
+<p>It had not escaped that keen observer, that Howel had hinted the
+previous evening that Owen possessed property in reversion; which,
+indeed, he did, inasmuch as his father was a small landed proprietor,
+and had several farms of his own, descended to him from his father, and
+entailed upon Owen.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Deep was reading some racing calendar, and called Owen's attention to
+his brother-in-law's name in connection with the names of men of note on
+the turf. Also to his horse, Campaigner as being one of those entered
+for the Ascot races.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went very cautiously to work to see whether he could not induce
+Owen to bet; but he, holding up again his nearly empty purse, laughed
+his merry laugh, and said,&mdash;-</p>
+
+<p>'I am not to be caught, Mr Deep. I hate horse-racing, and never laid a
+wager of any kind in my life. That is the only redeeming point in my
+character. Wild enough I have been, and roving all my life, but I never
+gambled. Excuse me now, as I must go and see my sister.'</p>
+
+<p>He went accordingly to Netta's room, and after knocking at the door,
+and hearing that she was still in bed, entered unceremoniously. He was
+at once struck with the difference between the Netta of the farm, in her
+little muslin night-cap, that he had often fairly pulled off, to get her
+to promise to leave the pretty white-curtained bed, and the lady of
+Abertewey, in lace and fine linen, reclining beneath satin drapery, in a
+room furnished most luxuriously.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Netta, I have you alone at last; and now, if your head is not
+very bad, we will have a regular old-fashioned gossip,' said Owen,
+stooping to kiss the pretty flushed face of the little sister he dearly
+loved, despite her follies.</p>
+
+<p>'Did you stop at home for me, Owen? How very kind! I don't think any one
+else would,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes, many others would if it were necessary; but I wanted to have
+you all to myself. Now I know you have been longing to ask me a hundred
+questions, but have never got beyond &quot;How are they all at home?&quot; yet.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta blushed, and stammered out, as an apology, that she had never been
+at leisure one minute all the week.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees she began to talk of home and her parents, and Owen was glad
+to find that as she did so she returned to her old, natural self. He
+told her everything that had happened at Glanyravon since she left it,
+save and except what related to Gladys. He never even mentioned her
+name.</p>
+
+<p>Netta had various ebullitions of temper during their conversation and
+declared herself greatly aggrieved by her father's conduct.</p>
+
+<p>'But it is just as well,' she said, 'for our positions are so different
+that we should never have got on comfortably. Howel is determined never
+to make up with father.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid he is not likely to have the option,' said Owen, gravely.
+'But you should write and beg his pardon, Netta; you know you acted
+directly contrary to his wishes.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think I would write, Owen, but Howel won't hear of it; he gets
+furious if I even name Glanyravon, and can't bear any of 'em except
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, I think you must use your influence to keep Howel from so much
+horse-racing and betting and card-playing.'</p>
+
+<p>'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a passion when I advise him.'</p>
+
+<p>'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think
+what my mother&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't
+take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.</p>
+
+<p>'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in
+order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and
+come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'</p>
+
+<p>'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you?
+and they say she has a large fortune in France.'</p>
+
+<p>'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards
+Sundays.'</p>
+
+<p>'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was
+only Saturday night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see
+to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical
+Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'</p>
+
+<p>'She saved your mother's life when there was no one else to nurse her,
+and is an angel, if ever there was one!'</p>
+
+<p>Netta opened her large black eyes very wide, and burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p>'<i>Ma foi</i>! is that the last? Well, indeed! I never should have suspected
+her of making an impression. But she's deep enough for anything. How
+would father like that? Irish beggar against Abertewey! Come, Howel's
+better than that any day.</p>
+
+<p>'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Owen, getting very red. 'And
+Gladys has done well ever since she's been at Glanyravon by every one
+belonging to us, not excepting yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very much obliged to her, I am sure,' said Netta, suddenly sitting up
+in bed, and forgetting her headache. 'She needn't trouble herself about
+me. I fancy we are never likely to cross one another again, unless she
+chances to come a-begging to Abertewey, and then perhaps&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And then perhaps you would give her a penny and send her on to starve.
+Oh! Netta, Netta, how were you ever my mother's daughter? But once for
+all, Netta, I will never hear one word spoken against Gladys. <i>I</i> at
+least am thankful that I still have a mother, and I owe it to her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear me! you needn't be in such a huff directly, Owen. How was I to
+suppose you were in love with an Irish&mdash;I beg your pardon, with Miss
+Gladys O'Grady, County Kilkenny, Ireland? A very pretty name, to be
+sure! But if you don't go away I shall never be dressed by the time they
+come from church. There, go like a good boy. I 'ont offend you any
+more.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will go as soon as you have told me what you and Howel did in Paris.
+I seem to know nothing of your proceedings for ages past.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was dreadfully dull there at first, and I thought I should have
+died of it. I quite longed to be at home again. Howel was a great deal
+out, and I was alone; but then he gave me a singing master, and a French
+and dancing mistress, and made me work as hard as if I was at school
+again. In about a month Captain Dancy and Mr Simpson came over, and it
+was much more pleasant. We used to go to the opera and the play nearly
+every night, and Captain Dancy introduced me to Madame Duvet, and she
+introduced me to a great many other ladies, English and French, and we
+had a good deal of fun. I went to balls and parties, and picture
+galleries, and the Champs Elys&eacute;es, and all the fashionable places.'</p>
+
+<p>'But where did Howel meet with Mr Deep?' interrupted Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! he used to be with him from the first. They are very old friends,
+Howel says, and have known one another for years; he is a very
+fashionable man, an attorney by profession. Simpson says that the races
+couldn't go on without him.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should think not,' said Owen, smiling; 'at all events, Mr Simpson's
+races would be at a stand still without him. Did you, did Howel play
+much abroad?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I learned from Madame Duvet? and I think Howel and Mr Deep and the
+other gentlemen used to play all day. You know they have nothing else to
+do in Paris. It would be very dull there without cards.'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor Netta! is that what you learned with your little bit of French?'</p>
+
+<p>'I assure you, Owen, Monsieur Letellier and a dozen other Frenchmen said
+I had a beautiful accent, and that they would have thought I was born in
+Paris.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen laughed heartily, and Netta was offended, and told him to go away.
+Just as he was in the act of obeying, Howel appeared.</p>
+
+<p>'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you.
+Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand!
+How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the
+charmer is!'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me see the direction,' said Netta, trying to get the letter from
+her brother.</p>
+
+<p>'No, no,' said Owen. 'I must keep my secret for the present when it is
+all settled you shall know.'</p>
+
+<p>'It makes you blush, however,' laughed Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'Is it Mary Jones, or Anne Jenkins, or Amelia Lewis, or Miss Richards,
+doctor, or Jemima Thomas&mdash;or&mdash;or&mdash;perhaps it is Gladys. Ha, ha! do you
+know, Howel, Owen's last is mother's Irish girl, Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'Really?' sneered Howel. 'My mother tells me that she ran away from
+Glanyravon, and report says with somebody we know of. But report was
+false as usual; and she turns up again as Miss Gwynne's lady's maid.
+Miss Gwynne is about as eccentric as the rest of the clique, and I wish
+her joy of her bargain. The girl is a beauty, certainly, but&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Howel!' cried Netta; 'Owen was nearly boxing my ears about her
+just now.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not exactly, Netta,' said Owen, smothering rising anger, and looking
+very red; 'but I won't hear a word said against her either by man or
+woman. I am going to read my letter now, and you are going to get up, so
+I won't stop here any longer,' and Owen left the room.</p>
+
+<p>He went at once to his own bedroom, where he hastily broke open the
+letter Howel had given him, and read as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class='right'>'GLANYRAVON PARK, <i>May</i>&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>'SIR,&mdash;- I hope you will excuse my boldness in writing to you; but
+     having heard that you are at Abertewey, I take the liberty of doing
+     so, to tell you that your leaving home has made us all very
+     unhappy. Oh! Mr Owen, if you would only go back and see your dear
+     mother and honoured father, and learn how lonely they are without
+     you, I think you would give up the sea, or at least remain with
+     them for some time. If you would write to the master, or say a few
+     gentle words to him, he would overlook your going to see your
+     sister, I am almost sure; and, indeed, it breaks my heart to know
+     that I was the cause of your going away so suddenly, after you had
+     been so long at home, and so good to your parents.</p>
+
+<p>     'Then, dear Mr Owen, you, who have been always so kind to me, a
+     poor orphan wanderer, and beggar at your father's gate, do, I pray
+     you, add this one favour more to the many you have done me, and
+     return to your parents, to take leave of them at least before you
+     go away. Hoping you will forgive my writing to you on this subject,
+     believe me to remain, Mr Owen, your obedient and grateful servant,
+     &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;GLADYS O'GRADY.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>When Owen had read this letter twice, he devoutly kissed it, and
+exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'This favour, Gladys! ay, and a thousand more, if you will only write to
+me, and let one little &quot;<i>dear</i>&quot; slip in unawares every time you ask one.
+I suppose I had better write to father to-day, and follow my letter
+to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen sat down at once, and wrote the following brief epistle:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'MY DEAR FATHER,&mdash;If I have offended you in any way, I am very
+     sorry. I didn't mean to do so, and shall return to-morrow to ask
+     pardon in person; but, remember, I am just as much in love with
+     Gladys as ever, and don't mean to curry favour about her. With best
+     love to mother, I am, your affectionate son,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; OWEN.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>That day at luncheon Owen announced his intention of leaving Abertewey
+the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>'To see the fair lady who wrote that neat note?' said Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'Probably so,' replied Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are you going? We shall miss you dreadfully,' said Madame Duvet,
+with an entreating glance.</p>
+
+<p>'I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,' said Miss Simpson:
+'at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet. I
+have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension
+of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.'</p>
+
+<p>'We may as well all go together, then,' said Captain Dancy, 'as I must
+be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday. When are you coming,
+Jenkins?'</p>
+
+<p>'Only in time for Ascot. I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and
+shall probably only remain the race week. Mrs Jenkins is not going up,
+and I shall not like to leave her long alone. Owen, you must come over
+and see her when I am away.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think you had better stay at home, Howel. You will run less risk in
+taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence. But although I am going
+home, I don't know how long I may stay there. Perhaps shall be off to
+sea in a few days.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will use your own words,' said Madame Duvet, 'and say better stay at
+home, and take care of&mdash;let me see&mdash;yourself, I suppose. You will run
+less risk than at sea.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel's words, as he was
+not sure that he knew his own business best. But he did not add that he
+should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.</p>
+
+<p>Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen's
+opinion of its inmates. French novels and betting-books were their
+sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from
+the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after
+luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any
+amount of frivolity. Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how
+soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel assured her he
+should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in
+June, it cleared again.</p>
+
+<p>Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning. Netta whispered
+'Give my love to mother,' and had a very large tear in her black eye, as
+he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after
+days. Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied
+him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him
+with joyful love. His father came in soon after his return, and greeted
+him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore
+patiently, and to which he replied as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I
+don't think I deserve it. As I am of age, and a few years past that
+period, you must let me have a will of my own.'</p>
+
+<p>'I think you have always had one,' roared the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, but not at home, father. I was obliged to run away to get it. But
+now I mean to stay at home if you will let me. Gladys is gone away, so I
+don't stay on her account.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm not seure of that. You never stayed on ours.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough
+of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at
+present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I
+suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got
+them you won't object, I suppose?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements
+made here.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and
+the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I
+do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I
+really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought
+to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past
+as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the
+humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot,
+and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You
+know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If
+you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech,
+in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The
+honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh
+passion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down.</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were;
+but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so&mdash;now, don't be a
+fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises
+to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your
+tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He
+'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll
+be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.'</p>
+
+<p>Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future
+chapters will show whether Owen kept his word.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII" ></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MAN OF THE WORLD.</h3>
+
+<p>Two or three months passed, and no particular event happened either at
+the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now
+established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had
+seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had
+scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable
+meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his
+endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant
+spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,&mdash;Miss Nugent in
+particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations
+were making to celebrate the event.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent
+is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go
+away, but is too polite to do so.</p>
+
+<p>'You know, Freda,' she says, 'I have been longing to be of age for
+yearth. Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never
+dared to thpeak to a gentleman. Now I can do ath I like.'</p>
+
+<p>'And what will you have to say?' asked Freda, bluntly. 'I never hear you
+venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Just tell me one or two.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me thee. Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;muthic&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Is that all?'</p>
+
+<p>'You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but
+one cannot think of them all at onthe. Every one ithent tho clever ath
+you. Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.
+Gentlemen didn't like ladieth who talked too much.'</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed! Where was your mamma when he said that?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! the didn't hear him. Do you know I think the liketh Colonel
+Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me. He thaid he would come down when I came
+of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>'To your mamma, or you?'</p>
+
+<p>'To me quite alone. But you needn't look tho croth and fierthe, Freda. I
+couldn't help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.'</p>
+
+<p>'What compliments?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I can't tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure
+he made me bluth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you believe him?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and
+yourself?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, yeth, of courth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then why don't you sometimes talk of some one else? Do you like Colonel
+Vaughan, for instance?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland
+Prothero. He ith younger. Mamma thaith&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'There again, Wilhelmina!'</p>
+
+<p>'I forgot&mdash;you are tho quick, Freda. Don't you like Colonel Vaughan?'</p>
+
+<p>'Pretty well sometimes.'</p>
+
+<p>'What a colour you have, Freda. You thouldn't draw tho much. I with I
+had a tathte for drawing. Colonel Vaughan drawth tho well!'</p>
+
+<p>'What can his drawing well have to do with your drawing?'</p>
+
+<p>'He would look over my drawing then ath he doth yourth, Freda. He thaith
+you are very clever. But you mutht be nearly five-and-twenty, Freda; and
+he thaith no woman ought ever to be more than twenty-one,'</p>
+
+<p>'When did he favour you with that remark? I think I once heard him say
+twenty-five was the most charming age of all.'</p>
+
+<p>At this part of the conversation the subject of it entered the room, and
+whilst Freda's colour rose higher and higher, and she stooped more
+closely over her drawing, Miss Nugent got up and greeted him with great
+delight. Freda made up her mind not to speak, that she might listen to
+the conversation that ensued.</p>
+
+<p>'Are all the preparations progressing, Miss Nugent? What are we to do to
+celebrate the great event?' asked the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>'There ith to be an oxth roathed for the poor people, and tea on the
+lawn, and a ball in the evening, you know, colonel.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes, I am looking forwards to that, and to the first dance.
+Remember you promised me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yeth, I am thure of plenty of partnerth.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should imagine so. We men must have very bad taste if we let you sit
+down. Did you walk here this morning?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I rode. The hortheth are taken round. I have been here a long time
+with Freda. It ith thuch a nice morning, ithn't it, Colonel Vaughan?'</p>
+
+<p>'Delightful! What do you mean to do when you are your own mistress? I
+quite fancy how grand you will feel when you have struck the magic
+hour.'</p>
+
+<p>'I darethay I thall be jutht the thame, unleth I get married.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda glances up, and perceives a smile of amusement on Colonel
+Vaughan's lips, and the usual calm inanity on Miss Nugent's handsome
+features.</p>
+
+<p>'That will depend on yourself, I am sure,' said the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>Freda looks again, and sees the colonel's magnificent eyes fixed on the
+young lady, who returns his glance, and simpers out,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I darethay it will.'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan turns suddenly, and encounters Freda's glance.</p>
+
+<p>'How does the drawing get on Freda? Capitally! What a sky! quite
+artistic.'</p>
+
+<p>This is said whilst looking over Freda's shoulder, but she does not
+respond to the remark.</p>
+
+<p>'I wath jutht thaying I with I could draw. It mutht be thuth a nithe
+amuthement.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very. How is Lady Mary, to-day? I am ashamed to say I forgot to ask for
+her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, thank you. The thaid you promithed to come over and help to
+arrange the decorationth. I hope you will.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, yes. Perhaps Miss Gwynne will ride over with me to-morrow;
+will you, Freda?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am engaged to-morrow,' said Freda shortly.</p>
+
+<p>'You will come at any rate, if Freda won't?' said Miss Nugent; 'the
+alwayth thayth the ith engaged when we athk her. Now, don't be engaged
+on Thurthday. I muth go now; will you be tho kind ath to ring for the
+hortheth, Colonel Vaughan?'</p>
+
+<p>The horses were ordered, and the colonel assisted the young heiress to
+mount. She looked remarkably well on horseback, and even Freda was
+obliged to allow that she and her grey mare would have made a fine
+equestrian statue. She saw Colonel Vaughan look at her, and even watch
+her down the drive. When he returned to the drawing-room, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'What is the matter, Miss Freda? Have the domestic deities been adverse
+this morning? I am afraid you are very&mdash;cross,'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Colonel Vaughan. I am not at all&mdash;cross.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have I had the misfortune to offend you?'</p>
+
+<p>'You? by no means. But I do not wish to assist in any of the Nugent
+decorations. I am not so fond of the family as you may imagine; Lady
+Mary and Miss Nugent are less than indifferent to me. Lady Mary is a
+mere manoeuvrer, that no straightforward person could like; and Miss
+Nugent is a mere handsome wax figure, with such clever machinery inside,
+that she can literally say the words, &quot;mamma thaith.&quot; I have heard of a
+doll who could say &quot;mamma,&quot; but she is still cleverer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Colonel Vaughan bit his lips, knit his forehead, but smiled. 'You are
+severe upon your neighbours, Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you admire them, then? do you think Miss Nugent altogether charming?
+or will she be perfect in your eyes the day after to-morrow?'</p>
+
+<p>'If perfection consists in being a beauty and an heiress, I need not go
+away from Glanyravon to seek one, Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you stereotype your compliments? I hear that you pay them wherever
+you go, and I hate compliments, particularly from people whose good
+opinion I value. Besides, I am neither a beauty nor an heiress, and to
+be complimented in almost the same words as Miss Nugent is too
+contemptible.'</p>
+
+<p>'You do not suppose that I class you together, Freda?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am thankful to say that you cannot do that, Colonel Vaughan, at least
+if I know myself at all; but, after all, I may be infinitely her
+inferior.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda got up from her drawing with a very flushed face. She knew that
+she had said more than she meant to say, and that Colonel Vaughan was
+scrutinising her with his calm, collected mind and penetrating eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'I am going out now, and you promised to ride with papa, I think,' she
+said abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>'But you must not go until you have told me how I have displeased you,'
+said Colonel Vaughan, rising and detaining her. He had such a power over
+her that he always wormed her thoughts out of her.</p>
+
+<p>'I did not like to hear you saying what you did not mean, to Miss
+Nugent,' said Freda, as if she were obliged to make a confession; 'and I
+think it beneath a man like you to pay frivolous compliments to a girl
+you must despise.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, is that all! I make a point of complimenting handsome girls, <i>pour
+passer le temps</i>; it is the only way of getting on with half of them.
+You must forgive me this once.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda looked at him, and even he, clever as he was, could not tell
+whether her glance expressed pity, contempt, or love. She turned away,
+and left the room without speaking; he made another movement to detain
+her, but she was gone; his thoughts were as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Charming girl! yes, she is charming: of a truthful, noble, trusting
+nature; still too <i>prononc&eacute;e</i> for a woman. I scarcely think I love, much
+as I must admire that sort of girl; and as a wife, I should be afraid of
+her. Yet she provokes me, interests me. She is jealous of those Nugents,
+and if she doesn't take care, they will cut her out, mother and
+daughter, with their manoeuvres and wax; and she will be heiress of
+Glanyravon no longer. Better the waxen heiress, Miss Nugent, with thirty
+thousand pounds in possession in some thirty-six hours, than the iron
+heiress, Miss Gwynne, with Glanyravon <i>in futuro</i>.</p>
+
+<p>'Moreover, the one may be moulded into any shape one pleases&mdash;the other
+must have her own opinion, and her own way, unless a man beat her into
+subjection. Certainly, few people were ever more fortunately, or
+perplexingly placed, than I am just now.</p>
+
+<p>'Between two young women, handsome, rich, of good family; if I mistake
+not, in love with me, and to be had for the asking. But if I married
+Freda, Mr Gwynne would marry Lady Nugent directly; and then one could
+tell what would become of the property. If, on the other hand, I were to
+marry Miss Nugent, I should incur the utmost contempt of which Miss
+Gwynne is capable, and should not wholly esteem myself. But why am I
+thinking of marrying at all? Because I am forty years old, and found a
+grey hair in my whiskers yesterday; because I am tired of an unsettled
+life, and should like to clear off the old place, and end my days there;
+and because, after all, a married man has a better position than a
+single one. If that girl Gladys were in the place of either heiress, I
+would not hesitate a moment. I declare she would grace a coronet; no
+wonder all the young men round are in love with her. And yet, meet her
+when I will, I can scarcely get more than 'yes,' and 'no,' out of her.</p>
+
+<p>'It is utterly impossible she can be what she seems, or is supposed to
+be. I never saw more thoroughly aristocratic beauty in our most
+aristocratic circles. Miss Nugent is as handsome as a woman can well be,
+in form and feature; but her eyes are like two frozen pools, whereas
+this Gladys, are literally two deep blue lakes with stars shining into
+them, or out of them, or something or other that a poet would describe
+better than I do. Well, what a fool I am! &quot;A dream of fair women,&quot; in my
+fortieth year, just as I dreamt of them in my sixteenth. The Fates must
+decide for me, only I wish they would clear up the mystery that hangs
+over that girl, and give her Miss Nugent's thirty thousand pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>Such were the thoughts that rushed through Colonel Vaughan's mind, as he
+sat, apparently looking at Freda's drawing in the place that she had
+vacated. We have unveiled a portion of his mind, because he is too good
+a tactician to unveil it himself. It is needless to say that this
+fascinating man, who has that nameless power which some men possess of
+making all women love him, has himself no heart to bestow on any one.
+Beyond the gratification of the moment, he is totally indifferent to all
+the consequences of his powers. He is not a bad man, he would not do
+anything that the world&mdash;his world, at least&mdash;would consider
+dishonourable; but as to reflecting upon the cruelty of inflicting
+wounds, never to be healed, upon the hearts of young ladies&mdash;why, he
+would as soon reflect upon the wounds he gave an enemy in the
+battle-field. He considers Cupid as fair game as Mars, and thinks that
+if women will be weak, and if he is irresistible, it is no fault of his,
+but rather their and his misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>Young ladies! the vulgar saying that a woman should never give her heart
+to a man until she is asked for it, is, like many vulgar sayings, a good
+one. Colonel Vaughan is the type of a class amongst which all are liable
+to be thrown; and although men of his talent, knowledge of the world,
+and apparent sincerity are rare, you may each of you meet with one such.
+If you do, beware of falling in love with him until he plainly tells you
+that he is in love with you, and asks if you are willing to marry him.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan leaves the drawing-room in search of Mr Gwynne, humming
+a little Scotch air, the <i>refrain</i> of which is 'and troth I'll wed ye
+a,' a thing he has often wished he could actually do.</p>
+
+<p>He finds Mr Gwynne in his library, and reminds him of the promised ride.
+The horses are ordered, and they are soon trotting down the drive. As if
+by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary
+Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully
+situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and
+river.</p>
+
+<p>The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals
+with great glee. As Lady Mary is not at all certain that Colonel
+Vaughan's attentions are not exclusively meant for her, she divides her
+civilities with a charming tact between the two gentlemen, and looks so
+captivating whilst she does so, that the colonel wishes that her
+statue-like daughter had a little of her animation.</p>
+
+<p>Everything that art and taste can devise is collected to adorn the
+ladies and their abode, and if nature is lacking within doors, she is
+profuse in her gifts without.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing worth recording in the conversation; if Colonel Vaughan
+had thought it over afterwards, he would probably have laughed at the
+platitudes he had uttered, and wondered why people paid morning visits.
+The coming of age was a grand topic, and the colonel promised to go
+again the following day, and 'help in the decorations.'</p>
+
+<p>When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr Gwynne proposed a ride through
+his plantations, which he was improving and enlarging. They went
+accordingly. On their way they stopped at a small farm to inquire for
+one of Mr Gwynne's tenants, who was dangerously ill. Mr Gwynne
+dismounted, and as he entered the house, Gladys came out; she curtseyed
+as she passed Colonel Vaughan, who said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'How is the invalid, Gladys? I take it for granted you have been to see
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir, Miss Gwynne sent me with some jelly. He is better, I hope?'</p>
+
+<p>'And are you going home now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Stay one moment; will you give the poor man this half-crown when you
+see him again?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys approached, and took the half-crown, but with it there was
+half-a-sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>'The rest is for yourself, to do what you like with,' added the colonel,
+in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, sir, but I never take money,' said Gladys, leaving the gold
+in his hand, 'I do not need it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give it to the poor, then,' said the colonel, letting it drop, and
+looking annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, sir, if you wish it; I will tell Miss Gwynne, and she will
+know to whom to give it.'</p>
+
+<p>'By no means&mdash;I mean it for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, you will excuse me, I would rather not,' said Gladys, curtseying
+again, and hastening on.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan called to a boy who was near, and told him to pick up
+the money and give it to him.</p>
+
+<p>'How often does that young lady come here?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Almost every day, sir,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'At what time?'</p>
+
+<p>'In the afternoon, sir, from three to five, or thereabouts.'</p>
+
+<p>'Goes back in time to help Miss Gwynne dress for dinner,' thought the
+colonel; 'what a lovely face it is! And what grace of movement.'</p>
+
+<p>He watched Gladys cross the farm-yard, and disappear in the plantations,
+through which there was a private path to the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne and he passed her again as they rode on, and she curtseyed
+once more, Mr Gwynne nodding to her kindly as she looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>'Who <i>is</i> that girl, Mr Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! my daughter's maid, I believe. A very pretty, modest young woman,
+and all that sort of thing. Freda is very fond of her.'</p>
+
+<p>They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys
+that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in
+the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and
+particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre. He
+punished her by playing chess with her father nearly all the evening,
+and leaving her to a variety of reflections that were anything but
+satisfactory to her.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII" ></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TEMPTER.</h3>
+
+<p>'I particularly wish you to go, Gladys, and there will be plenty of
+time. He was worse when I saw him yesterday, and I promised to send you
+to-day to read to him, and take him some wine. I shall not want you till
+five, and my dress is quite ready. They dine at half-past six, and the
+evening party are invited for nine, I believe.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said by Miss Gwynne to Gladys, at about half-past two o'clock,
+on the day of Miss Nugent's festivities.</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'I will make as much haste as
+possible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you know where Colonel Vaughan is, Gladys?' asked Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'I heard some one say, ma'am, that he and Mr Gwynne had walked to
+Pentre, to see the dinner on the lawn.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! By the way, would you have liked to have gone to see these said
+diversions? If so, I can send some one else with the wine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no, thank you, ma'am. I would much rather walk to see poor Lloyd.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you had better make haste.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was soon on her way, through the wood, to the farm mentioned in
+the last chapter. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk on that lovely July
+day, and thought she had never heard the birds sing so sweetly before.</p>
+
+<p>In truth, Gladys had not been so happy since her sorrows as she was now.
+She felt independent, and placed in a position where she knew her exact
+duties. She devoted herself and her time wholly to Miss Gwynne, and was
+repaid, not only by regular wages, but by kindness, and even affection
+from her mistress.</p>
+
+<p>There was increased colour on her cheek, brightness in her eyes, mirth
+in her smile, elasticity in her step, and life in her whole being as she
+entered the cottage whither she was sent.</p>
+
+<p>She found her patient better, and having given him some wine, read to
+him, and helped his wife to make his bed. She was preparing to leave the
+farm, when Owen made his appearance. He came, ostensibly to see the sick
+man, but prefaced his visit to him by shaking hands with Gladys, and
+talking to her.</p>
+
+<p>When she left the house, he followed her into the yard.</p>
+
+<p>'I have caught you at last, Gladys. You always run away from me as if I
+were a monster.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, Mr Owen, you are mistaken.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then why don't you come and see us oftener?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because I have a great deal to do, sir; and I do not think Mr Prothero
+wishes to see me.'</p>
+
+<p>'You thrive upon your absence, Gladys. I never saw any one look so much
+better.'</p>
+
+<p>'How is the dear mistress, Mr Owen? and your father? and Lion? and the
+cows? and&mdash;and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Not so fast, Gladys. Come and see. They are all quite well. And the
+Alderney is my particular charge.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys blushed and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>'You see I came home because you told me, and am as steady as old Time.
+Don't I look so? I am going to shave off my beard&mdash;do you approve?'</p>
+
+<p>'No,' said Gladys, laughing. She scarcely knew why she felt more at ease
+with Owen in her present than in her past position.</p>
+
+<p>'Then I won't do it. Did you hear that I was going to be married to Miss
+Richards, Dr Richards' daughter?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir. I was told so.'</p>
+
+<p>Why did Gladys blush so very much more than before, and say the 'sir' so
+stiffly?</p>
+
+<p>'Then you may deny it, for it is not true. I have not changed, Gladys,
+since&mdash;do you remember the Alderney?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys' smile said that she did.</p>
+
+<p>'But I am on parole, both to you and my father. I am quite ready to
+break it with your leave.'</p>
+
+<p>'I must go, Mr Owen&mdash;Miss Gwynne will be waiting for me. Will you give
+my duty to the dear mistress?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will take your love to her, Gladys, and keep half of it. May I walk
+with you?'</p>
+
+<p>'If you please not, Mr Owen. I would rather not.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you happy? just tell me this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very&mdash;very. Miss Gwynne is so good. I can only be happy. Good-bye, Mr
+Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye, dear Gladys,' said Owen, pressing her trembling hand that she
+held out to him, and opening the farm-yard gate for her to go out.</p>
+
+<p>As Gladys hurried on with a light heart and light step, she little
+thought that those kind eyes which had looked so lovingly at her were
+clouded with the mists of jealousy in less than five minutes after she
+had left the farm. She could not guess that the boy who had picked up
+the half sovereign for Colonel Vaughan would give Owen the history of
+the same, and would tell him that Gladys had dropped it, but that he was
+pretty sure she had more money in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Unconscious of anything but sunshine above and within, she hastened on,
+thinking of Owen, in spite of her resolution not to think of him&mdash;a
+resolution she was making and breaking from morning till night. Her
+thoughts were turned into another channel, however, by the appearance of
+Colonel Vaughan, who suddenly came upon her from one of the many
+cross-paths in the wood.</p>
+
+<p>She curtseyed slightly, and was about to pass him, but he turned and
+walked with her.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys,' he began, 'I wish to know why you refused the money I offered
+you yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Because, sir, I did not think it right to take it,' answered Gladys,
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>'Why! what harm could there have been?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys quickened her steps, but did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Not so fast, Gladys. I have you at last, in spite of yourself. You have
+avoided me hitherto, both when you were at Prothero's and here, and
+purposely misunderstood me&mdash;now you must walk through the wood with me,
+and at my pace, for I must speak to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, Miss Gwynne expects me early,' said Gladys, with wonderful dignity
+of manner, which was not lost upon the colonel&mdash;'<i>she</i> is my mistress,
+and I must obey her. I shall be obliged by your letting me go on.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will both go on, but leisurely and together. I have much to say to
+you, and I may not have another opportunity.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys tried to pass on, but finding that Colonel Vaughan's hand was on
+her arm, and that he was resolved to detain her, she endeavoured to
+summon up all her resolution and sense, and to answer his questions,
+whatever they might be, according to what she might think right.</p>
+
+<p>'You will be so good as to account to my mistress for this delay, sir,'
+she said. 'I am no longer a free agent.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall do no such thing; neither will you, I hope?'</p>
+
+<p>'I most certainly shall, if necessary.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind; I must know, at all risks, who and what you are.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am Irish on my father's side, and Welsh on my mother's; my name is
+O'Grady.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you were not born in the position you now occupy?'</p>
+
+<p>'My father was a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers; I was brought up to
+work for my bread.'</p>
+
+<p>'And your mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'Was the daughter, I believe, of a clergyman.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was sure of that&mdash;and she educated you?'</p>
+
+<p>'She taught me what she herself knew.'</p>
+
+<p>'What brought you into Wales?'</p>
+
+<p>'Starvation.'</p>
+
+<p>'How did you get to Mr Prothero's?'</p>
+
+<p>'I was a beggar and they took me in out of charity.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why did you leave them and come here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because they wished it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Say because Owen Prothero was in love with you.'</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you love that rough sailor?'</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>'I must know all, Gladys. I must and will.'</p>
+
+<p>'Colonel Vaughan, I shall only answer such questions as you, as a
+gentleman, may <i>think</i> you have a right to ask a friendless girl, whom
+you forcibly detain. You <i>know</i> you have no right to ask this.'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan looked at the usually shy girl, and saw a spirit and
+resolution in her bearing that he had not believed were in her.</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, Gladys, I was wrong. Can you endure the state of
+dependence you are now in?'</p>
+
+<p>'I consider myself independent I work for my bread, and am paid for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you might be independent without working.'</p>
+
+<p>'Impossible, unless beggary is independence.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite possible; I am sure you must feel your dependence on such an
+imperious mistress as you now have.'</p>
+
+<p>'My present mistress, sir, Miss Gwynne, is far too noble to let any one
+feel dependent, even those who are, like myself, wholly her servants.'</p>
+
+<p>'You like Miss Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>'I respect and love her. Perhaps you will now let me go to her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not yet. This independence. I could make you independent.'</p>
+
+<p>'You! How? Impossible!'</p>
+
+<p>'I love you, Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>'Me! This to me! Is it to insult me that you have detained me? Let me
+go, sir&mdash;I insist&mdash;and my mistress! You, Colonel Vaughan, who have been
+paying her such attentions as no man has a right to pay a lady unless he
+loves her, to dare to say this to me, and I a servant in her house. You,
+sharing her father's hospitality, to deceive her, and insult me. What
+have I done to encourage you to speak thus to me?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys stood still amidst the lights and shadows of the sun-crowned
+trees, and looked the colonel steadily in the face. That look, voice,
+manner, completed the conquest that had been maturing for weeks and
+months. The flushed cheek, the sparkling eyes, the tall, slight, erect
+figure, the voice, deportment&mdash;all were those of a lady in mind as well
+as person.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, hear me calmly. I do not wish to insult you; I have never meant
+anything by my attentions to Miss Gwynne.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you are a&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys checked herself.</p>
+
+<p>'A villain, you would say. Not at all. I merely pay Miss Gwynne the
+civilities due to her. I am not obliged to fall in love with every young
+lady in whose father's house I am visiting. But I admired you the first
+moment I saw you; and now, at this moment, I vow that I love you as I
+never loved in my life before.'</p>
+
+<p>They stood face to face, looking at each other. Gladys' eyes drooped
+before the gaze of the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>'This to me!' she exclaimed, 'and yet you say you do not insult me! Let
+me go, sir, I insist!'</p>
+
+<p>She tried to hasten on, but the strong hand was again on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>'I do not insult you, Gladys, I honour and respect you. If you will
+only say you love me, I will&mdash;yes, I will&mdash;I think, at least&mdash;I will
+marry you privately, and take you abroad at once. I vow this is more
+than I ever said to any woman in my life before.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you will repent having said it to me before the night is out,
+Colonel Vaughan, and you do not mean it. Think of who I am; think of
+Miss Gwynne; think of yourself. Oh! this is cruel, cruel jesting to
+all!'</p>
+
+<p>'I was never more serious in my life.'</p>
+
+<p>As Colonel Vaughan said this, he saw nothing, thought of nothing, but
+the peculiar beauty of the creature who stood, flushed and agitated, at
+his side. He forgot himself and his purposes, in his temporary blind
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Gladys, I await your answer,' he said, not doubting what that
+answer would be.</p>
+
+<p>'I have no answer to give, sir, because I know that, even if you now
+think yourself in earnest, you will be no longer so to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Before we leave this wood, girl, I will and must have an answer, and
+beware how you irritate me.'</p>
+
+<p>He seized her hand as he spoke, and held it tight.</p>
+
+<p>'You will release me before I answer you, sir; I have gone through too
+many dangers and temptations to be frightened into speech.'</p>
+
+<p>He released her hand, but kept his eyes fixed on her face. She did not
+quail, though she felt her heart beat violently.</p>
+
+<p>'If you are serious, sir, I ought, I suppose, to be grateful for so
+strange an honour; but I do not believe you are so, and my answer is,
+that a servant such as I, can have nothing to say to a gentleman such as
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>'A servant! You will be no longer a servant. You are not one at this
+moment.'</p>
+
+<p>Again he seized her hand. She was frightened, but did not loose her
+self-command.</p>
+
+<p>'Sir, you had now better let me return home. Miss Gwynne will wonder
+what has become of me. It is time that she should be ready&mdash;that you,
+sir, should be ready. What will she think and say?'</p>
+
+<p>'I care not; nothing shall turn me from my purpose. You shall not leave
+this wood until you promise.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I shall never leave it, sir; and if you persist in detaining me, I
+will make known to every one, how a gentleman can demean himself to a
+poor, unprotected girl, who has no friend near her but her God. To Him I
+appeal for help in this hour, when you, sir, a gentleman and a
+Christian, so far forget yourself as to insult and persecute me.'</p>
+
+<p>As Gladys spoke, she lifted her eyes solemnly to heaven&mdash;both her hands
+were held by Colonel Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed at her, he suddenly relaxed his hold, saying, 'You are a
+wonderful girl! I do not persecute you, but I will not give you up.'</p>
+
+<p>No sooner did Gladys feel the grasp loosen, than she made a sudden
+bound, almost a leap, onwards, and ran with incredible swiftness through
+the path.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan pursued her, but soon found that she ran more swiftly
+than he did. However, he would not give up the chase, and in spite of
+the hot sun, ran on, in somewhat undignified haste and anger.</p>
+
+<p>Every one knows that winding paths in plantations are not always
+perfectly smooth. So found our gallant colonel to his cost.</p>
+
+<p>With his eyes fixed on the quickly vanishing form of Gladys, how was he
+to see the gnarled root of an oak, that sprung up through the ground,
+directly in his path? His foot caught in it, and he fell with
+considerable violence upon his face. He got up again as quickly as he
+could, cursing his carelessness and folly.</p>
+
+<p>He felt that he had knocked his somewhat prominent nose rather severely,
+and to his great dismay, found that it was bleeding copiously.</p>
+
+<p>All further pursuit was out of the question. He must staunch the blood
+of the much-offending member, and being rather giddy for the moment, sat
+down to do so.</p>
+
+<p>It is said that any sudden and violent blow sobers a drunkard; so did
+this unforeseen fall sober the mental intoxication of the colonel. As
+his nose bled, so did his intellect clear. Bleeding, on the old system,
+was never more successful.</p>
+
+<p>This was truly a descent, if not from the sublime, at least from the
+heroic, to the ridiculous. Panting with heat, bleeding, apostrophising,
+the lover came to his senses.</p>
+
+<p>Partly aloud, at intervals, partly muttered between his teeth, he gave
+forth the following sentences; and when he became calm he thought the
+subsequent thoughts, which, although he did not rail them forth against
+the rooks and smaller birds, we will venture to repeat, for the further
+elucidating the mystery of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>'Fool to let go her arm! No; fool to take it at all! What a girl! I
+never saw such&mdash;pho! How it bleeds! Will it never stop! They'll think
+there's been a murder here. What could possess me to run after her? A
+rustic coquette! Rustic! No; a most courtly one. She had me fairly in
+her power. But she has too much sense to tell. 'Pon my word, I never
+loved any one so much before. Disgusting! All over my cravat. If I were
+to meet any one? If Freda were to see me, what would she think or say?
+And I actually talked of marriage. Let me see; what did I say? But
+nobody could believe her. Pshaw! what a fool I have been. Suppose she
+had taken me at my word, and accepted me, I wonder how I could have got
+out of it! There is such a power in her eyes, that as long as I am
+looking at them she could make me do anything. I wish she was the
+heiress, and not Miss Nugent. Yes; and I shall be too late for dinner.
+What will they think? I vow, I am so giddy I can scarcely walk; and this
+horrible bleeding won't stop. I must stuff this bunch of keys down my
+back, and see what that will do. Well! if that isn't enough to cool any
+one's courage, together with this disgusting&mdash;I must go on, and get into
+my room as quickly as possible. I vow, it is just six o'clock. If she
+tells Freda! But she won't do that&mdash;no woman ever does. She'll think it
+over, and manage to let me see her again&mdash;and then&mdash;and then&mdash;I shall
+not be able to resist her eyes, and she shall not be able to resist
+mine. The witch! A mere servant to do what no woman ever has done, or
+ever would do&mdash;positively refuse me. But she knows her power, I daresay.
+There it is bleeding again, and I thought I had stopped it. I am just at
+home though, and if I go round by the stables no one can make any
+remarks. Confound this&mdash;here's the coachman in full hue and cry after
+me. Yes, I will dress directly. Thomas! tell your master not to wait.
+The heat has made my nose bleed, and detained me. If he and Miss Gwynne
+will go on, you can drive back for me, and I shall be in time for the
+ball. Beg them to make my excuses to Lady Mary Nugent, and explain how
+it is. You are quite right. It has bled tremendously; but I shall stop
+it as soon as I get to my room.'</p>
+
+<p>It need not be said that the concluding portion of Colonel Vaughan's
+speech was addressed to a servant, who came in search of him with the
+intelligence that the carriage was waiting, and his master ready. He
+managed to get to his room, however, unperceived, where we will leave
+him to dress and recover himself at his leisure.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV" ></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RIVALS.</h3>
+
+<p>We will now return to Miss Gwynne, who pursued her usual avocations
+until about five o'clock, and then began to wonder what detained
+Gladys. However, as she was quite independent of maids in her toilette,
+she went to her room and began to dress herself at the usual hour. She
+found all her attire already spread upon the bed, as if Gladys
+anticipated being late; nothing was wanting, and she had nothing to do
+but to dress.</p>
+
+<p>As it happened, however, she was particularly anxious to look her best
+that evening; why, she would not even ask herself; but she, who was
+usually careless of what she wore, provided she were properly attired,
+began to fidget over wreaths and ornaments as if she were going to her
+first ball.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Nugent will be all jewels,' she said, taking up a set of pearls
+that was on the dressing-table. 'At any rate, I will not be like her.
+And, of course, she will wear white, so I shall change my mind and won't
+wear white. Where is Gladys? The only evening I ever really wanted her,
+she is out of the way.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne rang her bell violently, and the housemaid answered it.</p>
+
+<p>'Send Gladys. Surely she is come back.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, ma'am. I can't think where she is. I went a little way to look for
+her, but she is not in sight. Can I do anything, ma'am?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, thank you; but send Gladys as soon as she comes. Provoking,'
+continued Miss Gwynne, turning out two or three shelves of a large
+wardrobe. 'Where are the trimmings of that blue dress? He said I looked
+best in blue, and so, I think, I do. That wreath of blue forget-me-nots
+and lilies of the valley, where in the world is it? But forget-me-nots
+are so ridiculously sentimental; and the turquoise ornaments? I suppose
+I must wear the bracelets and locket. Oh! here they are; and here are
+the flowers and trimmings in a box, in the neatest possible order.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne began to arrange her hair.</p>
+
+<p>'I declare I have forgotten how to do anything since Gladys has been
+with me. I cannot put up this braid neatly. I must wait, and it is
+nearly six o'clock, and dinner at half-past. What does it matter how I
+look? I daresay Miss Nugent will look twenty times as well, and her
+mother will dress her up to perfection. But he <i>cannot</i> care for such a
+girl as that. It is impossible; and he always looks at me with such
+interest, and has such a kind manner, and says things that convey so
+much. But if he really cares for me, why does he not say so? He knows
+papa would consent, and&mdash;but he does not know that; I never&mdash;Ah! here
+she is at last! Come in! Where have you been, Gladys? It really is too
+provoking that you should have stayed so long, when you knew that I
+particularly wanted you to-day.' Gladys enters the room pale and
+breathless, just as Miss Gwynne is endeavouring to fasten in the wreath
+of forget-me-nots and lilies. She does not turn round, and is at the
+moment too much engrossed with her own appearance to think of Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Come quickly and finish my hair, and put in this wreath. We ought to be
+starting now.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys obeys without speaking, and steadying her nerves and fingers as
+best she may, begins to arrange a most elegant and becoming wreath round
+her young mistress's head. Whilst she does this, and afterwards dresses
+her and fastens on the turquoise ornaments, she endeavours to collect
+her thoughts, and to summon courage for what she has resolved to do and
+say.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys has long known Miss Gwynne's secret; as she discovered that she
+did not care for Rowland, so she has found out that she cares over much
+for Colonel Vaughan. She now knows that he is not worthy of her, and
+that if he should ever ask her to marry him, it would be that he might
+gain possession of Clanyravon, and not of the warm, sincere heart of its
+mistress. Gladys feels sure that a man who could say such words as
+Colonel Vaughan said to her, whether meant seriously or not, could not
+be worthy of Miss Gwynne; and she determines to open that young lady's
+eyes to the real state of his mind, even if she loses her favour for
+ever by so doing.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall save her,' thinks Gladys, 'if I ruin my own happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>When the dressing is completed, Freda stands before a cheval glass to
+see that all is right. Gladys has never before seen her examine every
+portion of her attire so minutely, or look so satisfied with the survey.
+In truth she never before saw her look so handsome, or so perfectly well
+dressed. The full, light, many-skirted blue dress, with its bouquets of
+forget-me-nots and lilies, its fringes and ribbons, suits so well the
+fine complexion of the very distinguished-looking girl who wears
+it&mdash;whilst the wreath slightly crowns the well-shaped head, and falls
+gracefully down the neck and back in becoming simplicity and elegance.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Freda! She has more colour than usual, more animation in her eyes,
+and more anxiety at her heart. Were she to analyse her feelings, she
+would thoroughly despise herself for the envy, vanity, and distrust she
+would find in them, and think herself unworthy of the name of woman for
+allowing herself to study to gain the attentions of any man who might
+feel disposed to give them to another. But her pride is for a time
+swamped in her weakness; and the hitherto haughty and unsuspectible Miss
+Gwynne is no better than the most sentimental of school girls.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Gladys is putting the last pin into the dress, and Freda is still
+watching her own shadow, there is a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Make haste, Gladys. The carriage, I suppose. Come in,' says Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Gwynne wishes to know, ma'am, whether you have seen Colonel Vaughan,
+or whether he intends dressing at Pentre?' asks the servant who opens
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>'I have not seen him since the morning, and do not know what he means to
+do,' is the reply. 'Did you see anything of him when you were out,
+Gladys?' continues Miss Gwynne, after the servant has left the room.</p>
+
+<p>As she makes the inquiry, she, for the first time catches the reflection
+of Gladys' face in the glass, and is struck with its unusual pallor. She
+turns quickly and looks at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>'What is the matter, Gladys? Something must have happened? It must have
+something to do with Colonel Vaughan. Did you see him? Speak.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, ma'am, I saw him in the wood.'</p>
+
+<p>'And is that the reason you are looking so frightened? What has happened
+to him? Speak, I say, or I must ring the bell and send some one in
+search of him.'</p>
+
+<p>With her usual impetuosity, Freda's hand was on the bell. Gladys
+exclaimed quickly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Do not ring, Miss Gwynne. I can tell you all I know. Nothing has
+happened to injure Colonel Vaughan, bodily at least'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you mean, girl?' said Miss Gwynne, turning round again and
+facing Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys stood before her mistress with clasped hands, heaving breast,
+quivering lips, and downcast eyes. She tried to summon courage and
+words, but neither would come. How could she crush the love and hopes of
+one so dear to her? her benefactress, her all? But it must be done.</p>
+
+<p>With one great effort she began, and in as few words as possible,
+without comment or gloss, related what had passed between her and
+Colonel Vaughan. She told all, as nearly as she could remember, in his
+own words, merely omitting what he said about Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, she felt like a culprit before a judge, who, though
+conscious of his innocence, has not courage to meet the glance of him on
+whom his fate depends. But not on her own account had she that throbbing
+fear at her heart; she felt for her mistress alone.</p>
+
+<p>That mistress stood erect, towering above the drooping girl, like a
+queen above a slave or suppliant. Red and pale by turns, with compressed
+lips and flashing eyes, she listened to the tale.</p>
+
+<p>When it was finished, she, too, strove for words, but none came; so she
+laughed a short, sarcastic laugh, and moved back a few paces. At last,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Why do you tell me this ridiculous tale? Have you no better confidante
+for such absurd imaginations? You have dreamt it, Gladys. I do not
+believe you. Go!'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys gave one penetrating, truthful look at her mistress, before which
+the defiant glance fell: but the rigid features alarmed her, and she
+would fain have remained, had not another. 'Go! I do not want you any
+longer!' sent her at once from the room.</p>
+
+<p>When Gladys was gone, Miss Gwynne sat down upon the nearest chair, and
+covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Another knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Come in! What do you want?' she exclaimed in a suppressed voice.</p>
+
+<p>'My master says the carriage is ready, and he thinks you had better go,
+ma'am. Colonel Vaughan has just come in. The heat has made his nose
+bleed so violently that he cannot be ready for dinner, but will be at
+Pentre for the ball, ma'am, my master says.'</p>
+
+<p>'Very well; I shall be ready in a few moments.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda rose from her chair, and went to her dressing-table. There was a
+bottle of eau-de-cologne on it. She poured out nearly half a
+wine-glassful, added water, and drank the dose. Then she dashed a
+quantity over her forehead; wetted her handkerchief with more, and
+having nearly exhausted the bottle, prepared to leave the room. Suddenly
+she stopped, exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot go! I feel as if I must faint; yet I must see the farce played
+out.'</p>
+
+<p>A bitter smile, almost ghastly, passed over her face, as she muttered
+these words. She took up a splendid bouquet of greenhouse flowers that
+had been prepared for her, and were placed on the table, almost
+mechanically, and looking like one in a dream, left the room.</p>
+
+<p>'It is half-past six, Freda,' said Mr Gwynne in the loudest tone of
+which his voice was capable, as he descended the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>The servants remarked to one another how very ill Miss Gwynne was
+looking, but her father did not perceive it. He was talking of Colonel
+Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>'So provoking of Vaughan, to go and tire himself in the heat, and make
+his nose bleed, and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda did not answer. Her thoughts were running wild&mdash;here, there, and
+everywhere. One moment, she believed that Gladys had been romancing for
+some purpose of her own; the next, that all she said was true. Then she
+felt sure that Colonel Vaughan must really love Gladys, and must mean
+all that he said; and a cold shudder crept over her, as she became aware
+how much she loved him. Again, she knew that a man of his position could
+only be trifling with a girl in her's, and was ready to hate and despise
+one who could be so vile. As she thought and thought, she grew paler and
+paler&mdash;colder and colder; and when she entered Lady Mary Nugent's
+drawing-room, that lady said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Freda, what is the matter? You look so ill, and feel so cold.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing but the heat. It always has this enervating effect on me,' was
+the answer.</p>
+
+<p>The absence of Colonel Vaughan set the shrewd Lady Mary guessing as to
+the real cause of the sudden indisposition; she felt sure that something
+must have passed between him and Freda more exciting than usual to
+occasion such paleness.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner, Freda was fortunate in being placed next Sir Hugh Pryse, who
+knew her too well, and was far too fond of her, to make any personal
+remarks.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Nugent's uncle, Lord Nugent, was the master of the ceremonies for
+the evening. He had come, as Miss Nugent's guardian, to resign his
+office, and to be present at her attaining her majority. Freda had once
+met him before, and liked him. He was now particularly friendly in his
+manner to her, but when he spoke to her across one intermediate person,
+she could only answer him in monosyllables. Every one silently remarked
+her absence of mind and unusual frigidity.</p>
+
+<p>When the dinner was over, of which Freda only remembered that she had
+had certain viands placed before her, and when the ladies were leaving
+the dining-room, Colonel Vaughan's voice was heard in the hall. Lady
+Mary told a servant to show him into the dining-room; and as Freda was
+crossing the hall, she saw him at the opposite end of it. She hurried
+into the drawing-room, but was keenly alive to what passed in the hall
+after she had done so. She heard him, with his usual courtly manner,
+apologise to Lady Mary Nugent for his non-appearance at the
+dinner-table, and attribute his accident to his having stood so long on
+her lawn, in the heat, watching the poor people at their dinner. He
+added that he was glad to have arrived in time to drink Miss Nugent's
+health, and proceeded to the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Freda did her best to talk to the few, and very select, ladies, who had
+been honoured by an invitation to dinner; and felt intense relief when,
+one after another, all the evening-party arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Dancing soon began, and Freda saw Colonel Vaughan and Miss Nugent
+together in a quadrille. Sir Hugh had asked her to dance with him, but
+she begged him to let her sit down that first dance, and promised him
+the next.</p>
+
+<p>Of course she watched the pair in whom she was most interested. She was
+obliged to confess that Miss Nugent was the handsomest, most elegant,
+and best dressed girl in the room; as she talked to Colonel Vaughan, she
+looked almost animated; and he, on his part, seemed as gay and perfectly
+at his ease, as if there had never been a Gladys in the world. They
+were, unquestionably a fine, aristocratic couple; danced well, walked
+well, and to all appearance were well pleased with one another. Lady
+Mary Nugent watched them quite as narrowly as Freda.</p>
+
+<p>Sick at heart, Freda danced the next dance with Sir Hugh, and managed to
+avoid coming in contact with Colonel Vaughan, who had secured Lady Mary
+as his partner. Once or twice, however, Freda caught his keen, searching
+glance fixed upon her, and knew that he was trying to read her mind, as
+he had often done before.</p>
+
+<p>It was useless for her to try to avoid him, as he came direct to her to
+ask her for the next dance. She longed to say that she would never dance
+with him again, but even she had tact enough to know that it would not
+do to refuse, for the sake of the effect such a refusal might have both
+on him and the world. All she could do, however, was to bow her consent,
+take his arm, and walk, pale, silent, and stately, to the top of a
+quadrille. They had met Sir Hugh and Miss Nugent, and Colonel Vaughan
+had secured them as <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i>; for once his tact had failed him, he
+could not have managed worse.</p>
+
+<p>Freda tried to answer his questions, but in vain; she could not be
+hypocrite enough to treat him as she was accustomed to do. In him there
+was no perceptible change; she once fancied she perceived an uneasy
+expression in his face, as he looked at her, but his manner was
+friendly, lively, fascinating as ever; he even asked her what was the
+matter, and said she looked ill. Her answer was contained in the few
+sarcastic words,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'The heat. I hear you have suffered from it also.'</p>
+
+<p>Although Freda could not, herself, enter into the conversation she could
+observe the by-play between the colonel and Miss Nugent; the bashful,
+simpering smiles of the young lady, the flattering glances of the
+gentleman. She would not have believed, when she awoke that morning,
+that it was possible to endure so much real suffering as she was
+enduring, in the short space of one quadrille.</p>
+
+<p>It was over at last, and Colonel Vaughan led her to a seat amongst some
+ladies. She said she would go to her father, when she saw that he was
+going to sit down by her side. He offered her his arm again, and took
+her to the drawing-room; here she found her father, somewhat apart from
+the rest of the company, talking to Lady Mary, or more properly being
+talked to by her. She sat down on a sofa near her father, and bowing
+statelily to Colonel Vaughan, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I will not detain you. I shall remain here for the present.'</p>
+
+<p>He made some passing observation to Mr Gwynne, and returned to the
+drawing-room, followed shortly after by Lady Mary.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Hugh came up and began talking to Freda; he was so kind and so
+natural even in his loudness, that Freda felt as if she would rather
+trust him with every secret of her heart, than the polished worldling
+who had just left her.</p>
+
+<p>'And yet, perhaps,' she thought, 'Gladys has really deceived me, and he
+is innocent; still, better Gladys than that statue-like Miss Nugent.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda thought the night would never end; she exerted herself to talk and
+dance, because every one came to ask what was the matter with her, and
+by the time they went to supper, she was as flushed as she had
+previously been pale. Lord Nugent was particularly attentive to her, and
+evidently admired her very much; bitterly she thought that she could
+gain, unsought, the civilities of one man, whilst she was but too
+conscious that the one she cared the most for in the world, was devoting
+himself almost exclusively to the Nugents. But he was unworthy of the
+heart of any right-minded woman, so she would tear him from hers, and
+again make her father her first care.</p>
+
+<p>But those despicable Nugents had got possession of him also. He was
+seated next to Lady Mary at supper, her profile and diamonds were
+directed at him, and she looked almost as young, and quite as handsome
+as her daughter. Alas! and again alas! poor Freda!</p>
+
+<p>However, all things come to an end, and an heiress's twenty-first
+birthday amongst them. Miss Nugent's did not finish till three o'clock
+in the morning, at which hour, Mr and Miss Gwynne and Colonel Vaughan
+were driving home from the festivities at Pentre. The gentlemen were
+keeping up a rather lively conversation on the events of the evening,
+and the lady was sustaining a very strong conflict with her own pride.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage rolled past a certain large oak tree in the Park, Freda
+suddenly remembered Rowland Prothero. About a twelvemonth ago she had
+left him beneath that oak, humbled and deeply pained, doubtless, by her
+haughty words. Now she was similarly pained and humbled, and she was,
+for the first time, aware of the shock her proud refusal of his love
+must have been to him. Had she not been weak enough to yield her heart
+unasked, and was it not almost thrown back into her own bosom? She, who
+had believed herself above the silly romance of her sex, to have sunk
+below even Miss Nugent. But she would rouse herself from such a mania,
+and show Colonel Vaughan how thoroughly she despised him.</p>
+
+<p>She did rouse herself, and the first words she heard were,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, certainly, very handsome, mother and daughter,' from Colonel
+Vaughan's lips.</p>
+
+<p>'And which is to be the happy object of your notice, Colonel Vaughan?'
+she asked, suddenly joining in the conversation. 'I heard grand
+discussions on the subject on all sides.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really,' replied the colonel, somewhat surprised by the sudden
+question, 'I did not know I was of so much importance.'</p>
+
+<p>'What! you, about whom every one is speculating.'</p>
+
+<p>'Freda, my dear, I am so glad you are able to speak. I thought you
+so&mdash;ill, dull, unlike yourself, and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thanks, papa, I was thoroughly overpowered by the heat; but this
+delightful breeze has refreshed me. I hope, Colonel Vaughan, you also
+have got over your weakness. I wonder you ever returned alive from
+India, if such a day as this was sufficient to upset you.'</p>
+
+<p>Further sarcasm was cut short by their reaching the house, for which
+Freda was very thankful, at a later period, feeling that she lowered her
+dignity by allowing herself to allude, however covertly, to Gladys or
+Miss Nugent. But she was scarcely herself when she did so.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan was going to help her out of the carriage, but she
+passed quickly up the steps without touching his arm.</p>
+
+<p>He had felt her lash, and now fully understood that she knew of his
+meeting with Gladys, and guessed that he had designs upon Miss Nugent or
+her fortune. For once in his life he felt somewhat abashed as he met the
+eye of the pale, haughty girl, whom he really admired twenty times as
+much as Miss Nugent, or any other young lady of his then devotees. And
+he admired her still more, as she kissed her father's cheek, nodded a
+haughty 'good-night' to himself, and went upstairs to her room in the
+haste of strong excitement.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she was gone, Colonel Vaughan told Mr Gwynne that he had
+promised Sir Hugh Pryse to go and spend a week with him, and that he
+should leave Glanyravon for that purpose on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>'You will come back again, of course?' said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes, certainly! but I have only ten days more leave, and then I must
+bid you all good-bye again.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am so sorry, and so will be Freda when she hears it. What could have
+been the matter with Freda to-night, I never saw her so odd? But I
+suppose it was the heat, and all that sort of thing; good-night. I am
+tired to death, though it was a charming party, certainly a charming
+party.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV" ></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LADY IN HER OWN RIGHT.</h3>
+
+<p>When Freda reached her room, Gladys was awaiting her there.</p>
+
+<p>'Why did you not go to bed, Gladys? you know I dislike your sitting up
+so late.'</p>
+
+<p>'I could not go to bed, ma'am, feeling that I have offended you, without
+begging your pardon for having done so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then all you said was an invention.'</p>
+
+<p>'I said nothing but the truth, ma'am, but perhaps offended you in saying
+it to you, merely to excuse myself. I am very sorry.'</p>
+
+<p>There were traces of tears on Gladys' face and she looked pale and
+agitated.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, you can go to bed, I have nothing to forgive. If you tell me
+the truth, I am very sorry for it, and that such words should have been
+said to you. Of course you did not believe them?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, ma'am, I certainly did not.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne was fidgeting with her dress, and Gladys went to assist her,
+uncalled for. When it was unfastened, Miss Gwynne again said, 'Thank
+you, that will do; I wish you to go to bed; good-night,' and Gladys
+again obeyed in sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne had little sleep that night, and the next morning she felt
+very ill. Much as she longed to lie in bed, however, and to avoid
+meeting Colonel Vaughan again, she got up when Gladys called her, and
+was, as usual, first downstairs. Much to her satisfaction, her father
+appeared next, and the colonel soon afterwards. She exerted herself to
+talk and laugh as usual, and the only difference in her manner to
+Colonel Vaughan was, that instead of shaking hands with him, as was her
+custom every morning, she busied herself with the cups and saucers when
+he approached, and simply said good morning. Her father remarked that
+she was looking ill, and she said she had one of her old headaches.</p>
+
+<p>When breakfast was over, she expressed her intention of visiting the
+school, and said that, as Colonel Vaughan was going to Sir Hugh's, she
+probably should not see him again before he left. She wished him good
+morning and a pleasant visit, stiffly, but courteously; felt compelled
+to shake hands with him, and went her way with a proud but aching heart.
+He also went his, wondering in his very selfish heart whether Freda
+really cared for him after all, and scheming to see Gladys, whose utter
+carelessness of him had roused his vanity.</p>
+
+<p>When he had left Glanyravon, with a promise to Mr Gwynne of returning,
+Freda no longer strove to appear what she was not, and went to bed
+really ill. She was subject to occasional severe nervous headaches, and
+was obliged to be very quiet when so attacked, in order to prevent
+congestion of the brain, which the doctors had once threatened her with.
+Her father, therefore, insisted on her keeping her room until she was
+quite well, which she was only too thankful to do, and so great were her
+actual sufferings from her head, that they distracted her mind from
+brooding over her real or imaginary miseries.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys waited on her quietly and patiently for about a week, at the end
+of which time she began to feel better. Her gratitude to Gladys for the
+perfectly unobtrusive nature of her attention was so great that she felt
+as if she could never do enough for her, and she frequently assured her
+that she knew she had been unjust towards her in accusing her of
+falsehood. She never, however, again mentioned Colonel Vaughan's name to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne paid daily visits to his daughter's sick-room. In spite of her
+head, she could not help noticing something peculiar in his manner. He
+did not talk, because conversation was forbidden during these attacks,
+but there was an increased briskness in his eyes and step as he
+approached her, and, she fancied, more of anxious care in his tone when
+he spoke. She was sure he had something to communicate.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, what makes you so calm and patient?' she suddenly asked, when
+she was getting better, and trying to reason herself out of her fancy
+for Colonel Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps, ma'am, trouble has made me calm, and I pray to be made
+patient; but I have a rebellious heart,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Have you? I am very glad to hear it. Then there is hope for me. Now I
+am going to get up.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda had made some good resolutions during the intervals of her pain,
+the principal of which were, entirely to forget Colonel Vaughan, or to
+feel only intense contempt for him; to be more gentle with her father,
+and more considerate of his nerves and peculiarities; more patient with
+the servants, school children, and poor people generally; to do more
+good, and to be more useful to others; but she had not made these
+resolutions in Gladys' spirit. They were not made with prayer for help,
+but in her own strength.</p>
+
+<p>In the same way, she threw off the remains of her headache, and went
+downstairs again with a prouder step and a prouder heart than when she
+went up last.</p>
+
+<p>In the library she found her father writing a letter and looking quite
+animated. He was so sprucely dressed that she asked him if he were going
+out.</p>
+
+<p>'Not at present,' he said. 'I am so glad you are come down again. There
+is so much to tell you; I have scarcely been able to keep myself from
+letting you hear the news. Do you know it is all settled, and Gwynne
+Vaughan is actually engaged to Miss Nugent! Isn't he a lucky fellow?'</p>
+
+<p>Freda felt suddenly very sick; she sat down in an arm-chair near her
+father, but did not speak. He looked at her, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My dear, you are very pale still. Coming downstairs has been too much,
+and dressing, and&mdash;and&mdash;all that sort of thing. Let me ring for Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I shall be better directly. Only the exertion&mdash;yes, you were
+telling me&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Strange that Mr Gwynne never supposed that Freda could be in love with
+any one. She had refused so many, and was so different from other girls,
+that the thought never entered his mind, and he had left her alone with
+Colonel Vaughan, and would have done so with Cupid himself, quite
+thoughtless of results. Moreover, his own natural inactivity and love of
+ease, led him to allow her to take her own course, as long as she left
+him alone to take his.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I was saying that it is now quite settled. I believe he proposed
+the very ball-night to Miss Nugent, at least, and the next day went in
+form, and after certain preliminaries, was duly accepted by all parties.
+Of course, he is quite unexceptionable, and she can do as she likes now
+she is of age. Lady Mary expected a title, and I don't think she is
+quite satisfied. She told me&mdash;at least&mdash;they say&mdash;at least&mdash;of course,
+there are always objections, and&mdash;and&mdash;all that sort of thing, you
+know.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda was too hard at work, trying to overcome a very strong desire to
+burst into tears, to observe that her father had not once used his
+favourite phrase, or lost the thread of his words, until he came to
+'Lady Mary told me,' so when he stopped, she simply said, 'Really! Yes!'
+and he went on again.</p>
+
+<p>'I must confess, Freda, I am rather disappointed. I thought Gwynne liked
+you, and, indeed, I think so still. But&mdash;ah! my dear&mdash;you are so proud,
+or cold, or&mdash;or&mdash;that you refuse every one. It has been suggested to me
+by&mdash;ah! I have remarked, I mean, that you must have a secret liking for
+some one, not quite what one considers&mdash;ah!&mdash;eligible&mdash;and that&mdash;but, I
+am sure, Freda, I would make any sacrifice for your happiness, and
+should wish to see you married.'</p>
+
+<p>'What do you mean, papa?' said Freda, effectually roused.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, my dear, it is thought&mdash;I mean, I have fancied&mdash;I mean
+Lady&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;the fact is, are you attached to Rowland Prothero? Now, I am
+not angry, Freda; he is one of the nicest young men, and the best&mdash;but I
+should have preferred Gwynne, or Sir Hugh, or&mdash;or&mdash;in fact, many others,
+in a worldly point of view. A tenant's son, and only a curate!&mdash;and all
+that sort of thing. But then as Lady&mdash;as&mdash;as I&mdash;as your father, my dear,
+I should like to make you happy. You see, that day at the vicarage,
+we&mdash;that is to say, I&mdash;thought there was something peculiar in his
+manner and yours; and to be sure, he may be a bishop, he is so good and
+clever. A great favourite of mine. And if he lives in London, it doesn't
+so much matter; and&mdash;and&mdash;in short&mdash;Freda&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Papa, I understand,' said Freda, rising from her seat with majestic
+pride, 'Lady Mary has been kind enough to suggest, doubtless for her own
+ends, what never could have entered your mind. I am very much obliged to
+you for forgetting, on my account, what I cannot forget on my own, that
+I am a Gwynne of Glanyravon! and I daresay you meant it kindly. But you
+may make my compliments to Lady Mary Nugent, and tell her, that if there
+was anything peculiar in Rowland Prothero's manner on that particular
+Sunday, it was because he had been bold enough to propose for me, and I
+had rejected him. You may tell her also that if he had asked her
+daughter instead, she would have given him herself and her fortune quite
+as willingly, and, I believe, more willingly, than to Colonel Vaughan.
+With her it is a case of &quot;first come first served.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>When Freda had given her message to Lady Mary Nugent, she walked out of
+the room. But scarcely had she crossed the hall when she turned again
+and re-entered it.</p>
+
+<p>'Papa, I must beg you <i>not</i> to tell Lady Mary Nugent that Rowland
+Prothero proposed for me. He is at least a gentleman, and a man of
+honour, and deserves to be treated as such with all due courtesy. The
+more I see of men, the more I begin to think him one of the few true
+gentlemen one meets with. I should not even have told you this had it
+not escaped me in reply to what you said, because I thought it would
+annoy you, and perhaps make you feel unkindly towards the Prothero
+family. But you may tell her, if you like, that were Rowland Prothero
+not the gentleman I begin to perceive he is, Miss Nugent and her money
+might be his.'</p>
+
+<p>'But, Freda&mdash;after all&mdash;if you do like him. You see, his uncle married a
+Perry, one of the oldest families in Herefordshire, niece of the
+baronet, daughter of the dean, cousin of the present baronet.'</p>
+
+<p>'My dear father! I know all the Perrys by heart. Mrs Jonathan is not
+likely to have left me ignorant of their antiquity. But, pray, do you
+want to get rid of me, that you force me upon poor Rowland, or him upon
+me, whichever it may be?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course not, my dear. Only I am naturally anxious to see you settled.
+And if you really like him&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'But I am settled, and I do not like him; that is to say, I like him
+well enough, fifty times better than I used to like him, but I have not
+the most remote intention of marrying him. And now, I should like to
+know what particular reason Lady Mary Nugent had for putting this absurd
+notion into your head. There must be something, my dear papa, under all
+this sudden anxiety to get me married. You used rather to rejoice when I
+declined settling Glanyravon on a suitor.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, my dear&mdash;but&mdash;you see&mdash;it is not quite certain that Glanyravon&mdash;I
+mean that you&mdash;I mean that I&mdash;in short&mdash;the fact is&mdash;you are so
+impetuous, Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>'What can my impetuosity have to do with it?'</p>
+
+<p>Freda saw that her father was more than usually nervous and fidgety, and
+became alarmed lest there should be some sudden money difficulty, as any
+threat, however slight, of debt or involvement always made him ill. She
+sat down beside him, and putting her hand in his, as it rested on a
+table nervously fidgeting with a pen, she said gently,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Now, pappy, I hope we are not all going to jail?'</p>
+
+<p>'By no means; the tenants are most prosperous. I could raise any sum if
+necessary, and give you a marriage portion suitable in every way.'</p>
+
+<p>What was there in this marriage scheme? Freda grew impatient and
+indignant again.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, really, papa, this is too absurd; If you have anything on your
+mind, will you say it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;the fact is, Freda, that you&mdash;I mean that I, have made up my
+mind&mdash;you see you may marry, and leave me alone, and I should want a
+companion, and&mdash;and all that sort of thing, you know&mdash;so I have
+considered&mdash;for your&mdash;for our&mdash;for my, perhaps&mdash;happiness, that it might
+be well for me to&mdash;to&mdash;to&mdash;in short, my dear&mdash;to marry again; in fact,
+Freda, I have resolved to do so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Lady Mary Nugent!' screamed Freda; 'not her! not her! not settled! oh
+papa!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne had called Freda impetuous, but he was not prepared for the
+sudden burst of uncontrollable grief that followed his announcement.
+Often as Freda had jested over the proposal Lady Mary was to make her
+father, she had never believed that he would marry her. It came upon her
+like the news of an unexpected death, or great family misfortune. She
+covered her face with her hands, and sobbed till her father thought she
+must burst some blood vessel then and there before him. He got up, sat
+down; went to the bell, touched the rope, let it go; opened the window,
+put his hand on Freda's bowed head, called her by name, and, in return,
+was greeted by&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Not Lady Mary! think of my mother! think of me! oh father! father!
+cruel! this is too much! Say it is not true; only a jest. What have I
+done? I will be better, kinder, gentler&mdash;I will nurse you, tend
+you&mdash;never marry. I would rather not&mdash;I never shall. Nobody loves you as
+well as I. Your only child. My mother's only child. Say it is not
+true&mdash;oh, say it is not true?'</p>
+
+<p>This was impossible, for Mr Gwynne knew full well that he was pledged
+beyond recall. But now, as he looked on his daughter, heard her words,
+thought of her mother, he began to repent of what he had done. He, who
+hated scenes, dreaded tears, would not annoy Freda for the world, to
+have raised such emotion! He did not understand it. Lady Mary had
+assured him Freda would be so glad to be allowed to marry Rowland. And
+she was so discerning and clever! But he could not bear those sobs.</p>
+
+<p>'Freda! my dear, don't, I beg, I entreat! You will make me so nervous.
+You know I cannot bear&mdash;in short, I feel quite ill. The fact is, you
+will make yourself ill, and after all, it need make no difference to
+you. You will be just the same. Freda, I must beg you to desist. I must
+insist&mdash;I will ring for the housekeeper.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no, papa. Do not let us expose ourselves!' cried Freda, rising
+suddenly; 'I will go upstairs. Neither you nor I will ever be happy
+again!'</p>
+
+<p>Freda was about to leave the room, when Mr Gwynne suddenly went up to
+her, and putting his arm round her neck, whispered, whilst the tears
+sprang into his eyes,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Freda, Freda! my child, forgive me! I didn't think it would vex you so.
+I scarcely know how it has all happened.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Freda threw both her arms around her father, and sobbed again. As
+she leaned on his shoulder, his white hairs touched the brown glossy
+braids of her head, and his lips kissed them. At that moment he knew
+that he did not love Lady Mary Nugent as well as he loved his child,
+and that child was conscious for the first time how very dear her father
+was to her.</p>
+
+<p>Again she roused herself, and as if ashamed of her emotion, hastened out
+of the room. She went upstairs, and locking herself in her room, threw
+herself on her bed. Here she gave way to feelings that were as new as
+strange to her, unaccustomed as she was to what some one calls 'the
+luxury of tears.' She scarcely knew whether sorrow or anger
+predominated, but she was wretched and indignant. Tumultuous thoughts
+rushed through her mind of the past, present, and probable future!
+thoughts too numerous and changeable to be transcribed, but which may
+well be imagined.</p>
+
+<p>At last her pride, that one grand feature of her character, got the
+better of her grief and anger. She rose from her bed, dried her eyes,
+arranged her hair, and with a carriage as erect as her soul was haughty,
+once more entered her father's library. The momentary emotion and pathos
+of their last embrace had been overpowered in both by stronger
+sensations; in him by the remembrance of Lady Mary Nugent's
+fascinations, in her by the sense of that lady's tact and duplicity.</p>
+
+<p>Freda sat quietly down opposite her father, and said abruptly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Papa, this odious subject must be begun and ended between us this day.
+If you will be good enough to answer me a few questions and to listen to
+me, I will never mention it again. Are you really engaged to Lady Mary
+Nugent, or is it a horrible dream?'</p>
+
+<p>'I&mdash;yes&mdash;I certainly am, my dear&mdash;engaged to be married to her
+ladyship.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you mean to marry her? Impossible!'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you consider me a man of honour? or am I one likely to break my word
+when pledged?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! papa, when a woman proposes and makes love, and waits till the very
+moment when it suits her own convenience to marry, do you think she
+deserves consideration? You know that Lady Mary Nugent has done it all
+herself, and that you would never have taken the trouble, or had the
+courage to propose for any woman under the sun, if she had not asked you
+first. You know you do not want to marry. I would give the world to know
+how she managed to bring you to the point.'</p>
+
+<p>'Really, Freda, this is too&mdash;too&mdash;personal, and rude, I may call
+it&mdash;and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Forgive me, papa. Of course you are your own master, and are at liberty
+to be chosen by any woman, but she will not choose me, nor I her. I hate
+Lady Mary Nugent, despise her most intensely, and shall leave this house
+before she comes into it; never&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if an invisible hand checked the end of Freda's
+determination, for she stopped short at the 'never.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what I came particularly to say, papa, is, that I believe I have
+some little private fortune of my own, my dear mother's, in short, and I
+suppose I can have that when I like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly&mdash;certainly&mdash;but&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Then I wish both you and Lady Mary Nugent to understand that I shall
+not live here. Not on your account, but on hers. I ask, as a particular
+favour, that I may not be informed of the day of your marriage; and I
+shall make it a point of going away in a month or so, so as to leave you
+free to act. I shall hope to hear from you, and to write to you. I am
+only sorry for you, because she cannot understand your tastes; but that
+is nothing. I don't think either she or her daughter ever read any book
+but a fashionable novel in their lives. But what is the difference!
+Money and tact against the world! I cannot help speaking my mind for
+this first and last time. Forgive me. You will not have me long to speak
+it, and my successor never spoke her's in her life, so she will not bore
+you by abruptness and sincerity, as I perhaps have done.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda had spoken so fast that she paused to take breath, and during that
+necessary process her father wiped his face, as if he, too, were
+exhausted by her volubility. Freda could scarcely help smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'I am very sorry for everything I have ever done to displease you,' she
+began again; 'and I only hope you will not be so unhappy, as I am afraid
+you will be.'</p>
+
+<p>'This is too exhausting!' muttered Mr Gwynne, sinking back in his chair.
+'Freda, you really do talk too much. Will you ring for Perkins? I must
+take a dose of that cordial.'</p>
+
+<p>When the cordial was mentioned, Freda knew that all conversation was at
+an end. She rang the bell, and when Perkins came, left the room.</p>
+
+<p>She went at once to her writing desk, and wrote the following note:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'MY DEAREST SERENA,&mdash;What you and I have sometimes feared is about to
+come to pass. My father is going to marry Lady Mary Nugent. Of course I
+can no longer live here; will you and Mr Jones give me shelter for a
+time whilst I arrange my thoughts and plans? I will give as little
+trouble as I can, but I know you will bear with me.&mdash;Your loving friend,</p>
+
+<p class='right'>'WINIFRED GWYNNE.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Freda sealed and directed her letter, and then went to the open window,
+and stood there for some time. A slight shower of rain was falling and
+a few light clouds were struggling with the afternoon sunbeams. Strong
+shadows fell from the trees in the Park, equally strong lights were on
+the distant hills. The river looked hot and hazy, and the cattle had
+congregated under the arch of the bridge&mdash;the only cool spot&mdash;as if for
+shelter from the sun. A shrill, blithe, distant whistle sounded, and the
+bells of Llanfawr church pealed in the far-away town, just sending their
+faint echoes across the river.</p>
+
+<p>'What are those bells ringing for?' said Freda, as she wiped away some
+large tears that were gathering in her eyes. 'They ring for everything;
+soon it will be for these odious marriages. Why was I ever born? Why,
+above all, was I born in such a place as this? And to leave it! Yes,
+Frisk' (to her terrier, that was barking and jumping outside the
+window), 'you and I must go away. No more quarrels with Jerry; no more
+fights with Gelert?; no more hunts in the brook. Will you come with me
+to smoky London? Yes, and hate it as much as I shall. Sleep away your
+life by a city fire, and grow fat and old, instead of racing after me
+and Prince. But we shall not live long in a town, Frisk. We shall soon
+die of sheer laziness, and so much the better&mdash;for who will care for us?
+Lion and Jerry and even Gipsy will forget you; and every one has
+forgotten me already. Why am I so foolish as to cry so? I never knew how
+weak I could be until these last few days. But we must be strong,
+Frisk&mdash;we must be strong, and not care for this old place, and the
+beautiful park, and all the&mdash;oh, why will those bells ring? and what are
+they ringing for? And there is the dinner-bell, too, harsh as my lot.
+And I must try to be dutiful, and show a bold face and good courage to
+the world, who will pity me, or rejoice over me, and say that I wanted
+something to pull down my pride. And so, perhaps, I do; but this shall
+not be the something. No, no; it shall only make me prouder. Poor papa,
+too; he will be more wretched than I&mdash;I am sure he will. I cannot bear
+to think of him. Frisk! Frisk! don't make such a noise. Don't jump so,
+Frisk. There! I will take you in. Good dog! good Frisk! You love me if
+no one else does; you and Gladys.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI" ></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FIRST-BORN.</h3>
+
+<p>Those Llanfawr bells which, as Freda said, certainly did ring for
+everything, were sending forth their chimes to celebrate the birth of a
+daughter at Plas Abertewey. But whilst they were ringing, and Freda was
+abusing them, the mother of the little daughter was, apparently, about
+to depart for that other country where bells shall no longer 'ring out
+the old, and ring in the new,' welcome the babe, or speed the spirit of
+the dead.</p>
+
+<p>Good Dr Richards and the nurse stood, one on either side of Netta's bed,
+pouring brandy and wine down her throat, whilst her infant was on its
+grandmother's, Mrs Jenkins's lap, in the next room. The doctor was in a
+state of intense anxiety. He had sent off one man and horse for another
+surgeon, and a second to Swansea, to telegraph for Howel, who had not
+yet returned from London, where he had been nearly three months. He felt
+the great responsibility of his situation, and that if Netta did not
+rally, she must die.</p>
+
+<p>It was six o'clock in the evening; the baby had been born in the
+morning, and Netta's continual cry had been 'Howel! Howel! When will my
+husband come?' But she had not spoken for some hours, and seemed to be
+sinking out of the world.</p>
+
+<p>As Dr Richards leaned over her, he thought she murmured something.
+Putting his ear close to her, he heard the words, 'Mother! oh, mother!'</p>
+
+<p>'She shall come! you shall see her!' said Dr Richards. He went to a
+writing-table, and wrote as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Howel Jenkins is dying. The only chance to save her is her mother's
+presence. Come, for God's sake.'</p>
+
+<p>He went out of the room, and ordered the carriage and horses to be
+prepared at once, and sent them and the coachman to Glanyravon Farm. The
+man said it was as much as his place was worth to go; but Dr Richards
+insisted, and he went.</p>
+
+<p>In about two hours the carriage returned. Dr Richards heard the distant
+sound of wheels, so did Netta. She opened her eyes, and with a painful,
+eager glance, again said, 'Mother!'</p>
+
+<p>Dr Richards left the room, and, to his great joy, welcomed Mrs Prothero
+in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God, you are come! She is yet alive,' said he.</p>
+
+<p>'I did not stop to ask David,' said Mrs Prothero, 'but came straight
+away.'</p>
+
+<p>She followed Dr Richards to Netta's room, and the feelings of the mother
+and the daughter may well be imagined, as they thus met after such a
+separation. Mrs Prothero turned away and wept&mdash;then prepared to wait
+upon her child.</p>
+
+<p>As the long absence of Howel, and his non-arrival day after day,
+according to promises almost daily made, had caused Netta's extreme
+prostration of mental as well as physical power; so the presence of her
+mother appeared to revive and cheer her. Again she had some one near her
+who loved her. Her mother, whom she had so grievously offended, had come
+to her in trouble, and she was roused and comforted. The mother-in-law,
+who had been so anxious to take her from her parents, did not fill their
+places.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Mrs Prothero was tenderly nursing her daughter, and gently
+assuring her of her love and forgiveness, Mrs Griffey Jenkins was
+discussing her arrival with the various domestics and the nurse, who
+went into an adjoining room to have her supper, where Mrs Griffey also
+had hers.</p>
+
+<p>Their conversation was carried on in an under voice, and between sips of
+gin and water, Mrs Griffey said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You do see, Mrs Gwillim, that if Mrs Howel was to die, my Howels 'ould
+be seure to be marrying again. He could have anybody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course, ma'am&mdash;of course.'</p>
+
+<p>'There don't be a lady anywhere as 'ouldn't be proud to be marrying my
+Howels. Up in London there's my Lady Sinclairs, and a hundred others;
+and down here there's Miss Nugent, or Miss Gwynne. You do see, Mrs
+Gwillim, that though Mrs Howels do be very respectable, she 'ouldn't be
+Mrs Howel Jenkins, Abertewey, only my Howels was too honourable not to
+be marrying her. I 'ould be sorry after her, but if she was to be taken,
+why, she couldn't go at a better time. What was you thinking of her by
+now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Very bad, ma'am, very bad,' said Mrs Gwillim, ominously shaking her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>And 'very bad,' Netta undoubtedly was all that night. Dr Richards did
+not leave the house, and in due course of time the other medical man
+arrived; still, the half-expressed and wholly felt wishes of her
+mother-in-law for her death were not realised. The dawn of morning found
+her sleeping peaceably with her infant in her arms, and her mother
+thanking God that she was better.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock in the morning, carriage wheels were again heard, and Mrs
+Prothero trembled as Howel entered the house, and there was a
+consultation of doctors as to the propriety of his seeing his wife at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Griffey anticipated every one else by going direct to Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'How is she, mother?' were his first words.</p>
+
+<p>'Better they do say.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then why on earth did they telegraph for me. It may be the loss of
+thousands.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Prothero is with Netta, Howel, bach.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who dared to bring her into my house?'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, I 'spose. They was turning <i>me</i> out of Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I'll turn her out of Abertewey, the canting old humbug.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Dr Richards came in.</p>
+
+<p>'She is out of danger, I hope, Mr Jenkins; anxiety about you reduced her
+so low; and I took upon myself to send for her mother, who has roused
+her, and, I believe, saved her life. She knows you are come, and perhaps
+the sight of you for a moment may not injure her, as she is very anxious
+to see you; but we must not excite her.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel looked paler and darker than usual, and Dr Richards attributed it,
+and his silence, to his emotion. They went together upstairs, and Howel
+stood by the bed where lay his young wife and his first-born child. As
+he looked upon the pale face of Netta, and saw her large black eyes
+gleam with joy, and her lips purse themselves up like a double cherry,
+to kiss him, he was touched. He bent over her, and kissed her warmly.
+When she uncovered a small portion of the bed-clothes, and displayed the
+infant that lay in her arms, a smile passed over his countenance, and he
+kissed his wife and child together.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Howel,' murmured Netta, as the nurse covered up the mother and her
+babe, and the doctor touched Howel, and told him to come away. He caught
+sight of the trembling Mrs Prothero as he was leaving the room, and a
+terrible frown passed over his face. She followed him downstairs, and
+anticipated his abuse of her, by saying at once, gently, but firmly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, I came here at Dr Richards' summons to my dying child. My
+husband did not even know I was coming, but neither he nor you could
+have prevented me at such a time. You cannot turn me from your doors
+whilst she is still in danger. When she is out of danger I will go.'</p>
+
+<p>'You turned my mother from yours.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not I, Howel; and I have never injured you. Leave me till to-morrow,
+and I will go.'</p>
+
+<p>One of the few people in the world for whom Howel had a small amount of
+respect and affection, was Mrs Prothero. The simply good, and
+unaffectedly pious, will sometimes command the regard of the worldly and
+irreligious.</p>
+
+<p>'If you remain in my house, Mrs Prothero, it is because you have been
+consistently kind to me, and received my mother. As to your husband, I
+would&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Not to me, Howel, if you please I can hear nothing against him. You
+must remember the provocation, and try to forgive and forget as I do.
+But thank you for letting me stay with Netta. I have so longed and
+prayed to see her again, and it has been brought about for me.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero remained one clear day and two nights longer at Abertewey.
+As Netta was quite out of danger before that time had expired, she
+thought it right to go home, both on Howel's account and her own
+husband's, whose anger she would have to allay. During her stay with
+Netta she lost no opportunity to work gently on the mind of her child,
+now opened and softened by her late trials. She found, with grief, what
+she had always feared, that Howel and Netta were not happy together;
+that he was frequently morose and unkind, and that she was passionate
+and revengeful. This eked out in Netta's confessions to her mother, for
+Howel was attentive and affectionate during her illness. Mrs Prothero
+entreated her to be gentle and obedient. Earnestly did she speak to her
+of religion, trying to recall the lessons of her childhood; and with
+tears poor Netta promised everything. Particularly she promised to read
+her Bible. Her mother was shocked that the Book was not to be found in
+her bedroom. She put a little Testament, that she always carried in her
+pocket, under her child's pillow. It was lined, and underlined by her
+own hand, and she fondly hoped she might read it for her sake.</p>
+
+<p>Netta was so loving, gentle, and teachable with her mother&mdash;blamed
+herself so severely for having displeased her and her father&mdash;sent so
+many messages to him, and seemed so desirous of obtaining his
+forgiveness, that Mrs Prothero hoped everything.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hard struggle to part again with that dear child, and to kiss
+the little grandchild for the last time, perhaps, for years&mdash;she would
+not believe for ever; but both she and Netta were obliged to put a brave
+face upon it, in order not to displease Howel, already suspicious of
+their conversations.</p>
+
+<p>'You see Netta has all the grandest lady could desire,' said Howel,
+before Mrs Prothero left.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes! I hope you will be happy,' was the reply. Mrs Prothero had
+never given a thought to the grandeur by which she was surrounded.</p>
+
+<p>'Why not? Does Netta complain?' said Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'No, no; she says you are very good, and let her have all she wants;
+but, Howel, riches may not always bring happiness, and we must try to
+look beyond the perishable things of life for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw!' said Howel, impatiently; 'you know, aunt, I hate that sort of
+cant.'</p>
+
+<p>Soon after she left Abertewey, Colonel Vaughan called Howel and he had
+a long conversation, the purport of which was, that the colonel wished
+to come himself to reside at Abertewey at the end of Howel's term of two
+years; and Howel was quite ready and willing to give it up to him,
+saying that he meant to purchase a house in town&mdash;in Belgravia, of
+course&mdash;and to reside there until he could meet with a property that he
+could purchase.</p>
+
+<p>Howel told Netta that he was tired of the neighbourhood already, it was
+so stupid; and that London, and a country house in some English county,
+would be far preferable to living in such a dull part of the world. She
+quite agreed with him, and had her own reasons for being glad to leave
+Wales. In the first place, she was not at home with the people she met
+in society, and liked the notion of living where no one would know that
+she was the daughter of the Protheros of Glanyravon. In the second,
+Howel would be always at home in London, and never again absent for
+three months, she knew not why. Moreover, she longed to be far away from
+the mother-in-law, who was a sort of spy over all she said or did; and
+she thought Howel would be kinder to her when he was at a distance from
+their kith and kin, whose propinquity seemed to irritate him.</p>
+
+<p>Netta did not stop to consider Howel's real reasons for leaving the
+country, or imagine for a moment that a man of his, to her,
+inexhaustible resources, could be induced to do so because he found
+those resources were not inexhaustible. Neither did she remember that in
+London he would be in the midst of the gamblers, horse-racers, and
+spendthrifts who had been helping him to diminish his father's
+ill-gotten gains, before and since, he came into possession of them.</p>
+
+<p>During the remainder of his stay in the county, his house was open to
+sportsmen of every grade. His racers, hunters, hounds, and good dinners
+were points of union to all the sporting men of the county; and Captain
+Dancy, Mr Deep, Sir Samuel Spendall, the Simpsons, Madame Duvet, and
+many others, again adorned Plas Abertewey. Races and race-balls,
+steeple-chases, and steeple-chase balls, hunts, and hunt-balls, took
+Howel, Netta, and his friends from place to place, and he and his horses
+soon became celebrated. The latter ran at all the races. He was a good
+rider, and rode himself in several steeple-chases; in short, he was
+declared to be 'a capital fellow!' and one who, if he would only remain
+in the county, would raise the sporting interest throughout it. As
+'blessings brighten as they take their flight,' so Howel's popularity
+reached its zenith just as he resigned Abertewey to Colonel Vaughan, and
+went, with his wife and child, abroad for a few months.</p>
+
+<p>As Freda foretold, bells rang, bonfires blazed, and cannons fired, when
+the respective owners of Glanyravon and Abertewey brought home their
+respective brides, which took place in due course. If anybody thought of
+Miss Gwynne, it was to comment loudly on her conduct in leaving her
+home, because her father chose to marry again, and lowering herself and
+her position by going to reside with her former governess, the wife of a
+curate in the East End of London. Some few sympathised with her, but the
+greater number laughed at Mr Gwynne, admired Lady Nugent's tact, and
+blamed Freda.</p>
+
+<p>Those, also, who discussed Colonel Vaughan, as everybody did, thought
+him a wise man to marry a woman who could at once clear his estate, and
+enable him to live upon it as his fathers had never lived before him,
+and welcomed him home with great ardour, and a regular volley of dinner
+parties.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter, with their various worldly and
+external advantages, and Colonel Vaughan, with his <i>savoir faire</i>, had
+done more for themselves than Freda or Gladys, or Owen or Rowland could
+have done, with their honesty of purpose, beauty, and intelligence, in a
+worldly point of view, I would be understood to mean.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII" ></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SPENDTHRIFT.</h3>
+
+<p>We must now run rapidly through the next six years of Howel and Netta's
+career.</p>
+
+<p>After spending nearly a year abroad, where Howel amused himself, in
+addition, to his usual diversions, by speculating in some German mines,
+they came back to England. They went for a time to Spendall Lodge in
+Yorkshire, on a visit to Sir Samuel Spendall, in order to be in the
+vicinity of the Doncaster races. Thence they went to Scarborough, where
+Howel left Netta, her child and maid in a lodging, whilst he attended
+the various races in other parts of the country.</p>
+
+<p>About this time, Sir John Simpson died, and his son came into his
+fortune. Howel immediately bought a handsome house in Belgravia,
+furnished it expensively, and began life as a London fine gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>It is needless to describe how Howel's income and position in society
+gradually dwindled down; or more properly, how his means fluctuated
+according as his horses lost or won, or his various speculations
+succeeded or failed. Long before his father died, he had mortgaged that
+father's very mortgages; and had spent a large portion of his wealth in
+paying off debts of honour, and freeing himself from the Jews, into
+whose hands he had got before he went to live at Abertewey.</p>
+
+<p>During his four years' residence in London, it was evident that his
+means fluctuated in some wonderful way. His house was the rendezvous of
+men of all ranks who were on the turf, and his life was passed in a
+state of perpetual excitement. Netta did not see much of him, except at
+their own table, or that of their acquaintances. When she was alone with
+him, he was either quite silent, or abusive; the career of such a man
+will be better understood by most of my readers, than described by me.
+The resorts of black-legs, and the betting-books of men on the turf, the
+dishonourable payment of so-called debts of honour, the trickery of
+horse-dealers, horse-trainers, and horse-racers, and the wretched
+madness of professed gamblers, are things we have all heard of, but of
+which, happily, comparatively few of us know much, practically.</p>
+
+<p>Howel managed to maintain his reputation as a gentleman and man of large
+fortune, even when he was, from time to time, on the verge of ruin; and
+the purchase of Sir Samuel Spendall's property in Yorkshire, when that
+baronet was obliged to leave the country for debt, confirmed the opinion
+of his wealth. Every one did not know that Sir Samuel, like Mr Simpson,
+owed him an enormous sum of money, for various bets, loans, and even
+mortgages, of which Howel kept quite as usurious an account as his
+father would have done before him, and at which the lawyers of those
+gentlemen shook their heads, although they could not disprove any item
+of it. Howel had learnt enough of law to serve his purposes, and to
+teach him how far he might venture to go, in the matter of interest and
+compound interest, with impunity.</p>
+
+<p>Howel's friend, Mr Deep, was a lawyer by profession. He had duly taken
+out his stamps, and had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and did such business
+as fell in his way amongst his sporting friends.</p>
+
+<p>It was he who had been Howel's attorney in all his dealings with Sir
+Samuel Spendall, Mr Simpson and others, and although his reputation was
+not very good amongst his professional brethren, nothing dishonourable
+had ever been proved against him.</p>
+
+<p>We will now look into the chambers of this worthy in Lincoln's Inn, and
+listen to a conversation that is passing between him and Howel, over
+what appears to be their mid-day potation of brandy and water. Howel's
+manner is excited, and his face at its darkest; Mr Deep is calm, and his
+face smooth as usual.</p>
+
+<p>'You see, we must have money!' says Howel, 'I, at least, must have six
+thousand five hundred pounds before this month is out. I owe that to
+Dancy, who, of all men in the world, I don't choose to make wait. If I
+lose at the Derby, I must have twenty thousand more.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the chances are you will win. Alma is pretty safe, I think.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, if we can manage to drug Magnificent. I think I have Little Bill
+in my power; he will do anything for us. But this six thousand five
+hundred is the first thing to think of. I have mortgaged Spendall Lodge
+almost to its value. By the way, are you quite sure that Spendall has
+nothing against us? They say his mother is paying his debts, and that he
+will be able to come back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Positive; besides, he never knows what money he has paid, or what
+receipts he has had, or what the amount of his mortgages was.'</p>
+
+<p>'Simpson, again, I think he is sharper since his father's death. He was
+regularly frightened when he found what a sum he owed me; and if I
+hadn't got into a passion, and threatened to call him out for doubting
+my honour, I believe he would have checked our bill.'</p>
+
+<p>'Can't you get more money on your house in town?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I have tried Levi and Jacobs, and they won't advance any more
+without better security.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your mother; surely she would help you, if you were to make up a good
+story.'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I ran down to see her the other day, and she had taken offence
+because she chose to think I had neglected her, and was as obstinate as
+an old mule. I believe she is getting stingy, too, and says she will
+keep her money as long as she lives, and then I may do what I like with
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is she worth?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I should say by this time, she must have as good as six or seven
+hundred a-year. She hasn't lived up to her income, and what she has
+doled out to me now and then, hasn't touched the principal. She must
+have from fifteen to twenty thousand pounds one way and another.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ask her to come and visit you; take her about and make much of her, and
+then seize upon her in an unwary moment. Borrow the money, and say you
+will pay it back, which you know, you will be able to do, if you have
+any luck.'</p>
+
+<p>'That's a bright idea. The old soul has always been hankering to come to
+London. Give me a pen and ink directly. Let me see; I know how she
+likes me to begin. &quot;Dear and honoured mother.&quot; Faugh! shall we go on in
+the ancient style? &quot;I hope this will find you well, as it leaves me at
+present.&quot; I only wish it would find her&mdash;well&mdash;I think that will do. I
+have told her that Netta and I will be delighted to see her, etc., etc.
+And Netta hates her, too.'</p>
+
+<p>'By the way, Jenkins, could not Mrs Howel Jenkins get Dancy to give in
+about that money? She is a prime favourite.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Jenkins knows nothing of my money transactions, and certainly would
+be the last person I should wish to interfere in such a matter. Let us
+go and post this letter, and then I want to go to Tattersalls. Will you
+dine with me at the club at six? and afterwards we will keep our
+appointment with Dancy and Lord Dupe; we may make something of the
+latter, if we can't of the former.'</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Howel reached his home.
+His little girl was ill in the measles, and Netta, feeling anxious about
+her, had been sitting up with her. When Howel entered the bedroom in
+which the mother and child were, he began to talk in a loud voice.</p>
+
+<p>'Why on earth don't you go to bed, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta put her finger on her lips, and pointed to the little bed in which
+her child was sleeping, then hurried into the next room, a kind of
+nursery and play-room, and sent the maid, who was sitting there, into
+the bedroom. Howel followed her; Netta saw that he had been drinking,
+and was greatly excited; he never was absolutely intoxicated, but he
+constantly drank too much.</p>
+
+<p>'Why do you sit up I say, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because Minette is so feverish; I did not like to leave her.'</p>
+
+<p>The child had been called Minette by a French <i>bonne</i>, and they had all
+somehow adopted it as a name; her real name was Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>'You didn't sit up for me, of course?'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not; you are not so very agreeable when you come home, as to
+make me sit up for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I say, Netta, do you know I have written to invite my mother to come
+and pay us a visit.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your mother! then you must amuse her, for I certainly won't.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg to say you will, and will do everything in your power to make her
+visit agreeable. It will be worse for you if you do not. What do you
+mean by always disobeying me?'</p>
+
+<p>'You had better not strike me again, you coward, you! Justine will hear
+you. She can see and hear, if she can't understand.'</p>
+
+<p>'I tell you what, Netta, everything may depend on our reception of my
+mother&mdash;your very living, and mine, and Minette's.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't care about living; I'd rather starve than live the life I do,
+and if I have Aunt 'Lizbeth, too, I shall run away, I am sure I shall.'</p>
+
+<p>'With whom, madam?'</p>
+
+<p>'With anybody or nobody; I don't care what becomes of me since you're so
+unkind. Perhaps you'd like to see my shoulder that you hurt yesterday? I
+haven't had the pleasure of seeing you since. Your shakes, and pinches
+ain't very soft, sir, I assure you.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta threw off a portion of the white dressing-gown she had on, and
+displayed her round white neck and shoulder disfigured by a
+black-and-blue mark.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll do the same to the other if you aggravate me any more,' said
+Howel, clenching his teeth, and moving towards Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Not to-night, anyhow,' said Netta, running through the door and short
+passage into her child's bedroom. She knew that he was always
+sufficiently master of himself not to expose himself before the
+servants.</p>
+
+<p>'Justine, I shall sleep with Minette to-night&mdash;that is to say, I shall
+lie down on this sofa by her side. You can go to bed as usual,' said
+Netta.</p>
+
+<p>And when Minette and Justine were fast asleep in their respective beds,
+poor Netta sat and cried the livelong night, with her feet upon the
+fender, and her eyes fixed upon the almost-extinguished fire.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning, when she was watching her child, Howel came into
+the room. He went up to the bed on which Minette lay, and kissed her,
+and asked her how she did. The little girl looked pleased, and putting
+her arms round her father's neck, whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Papa! do you know mamma has not been in bed all night? Will you tell
+her I am quite well, and ask her to go to bed?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will, darling. I have a new picture-book for you downstairs Mamma
+will come and fetch it. Mamma, will you come and fetch a new book for
+Minette?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta looked at Howel for the first time, and seeing that his face was
+tolerably pleasant, followed him out of the room, and down into the
+dining-room, where his breakfast was awaiting him.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta! you must make my breakfast, and have some with me. Minette is
+better, and you needn't starve yourself to death,' said Howel, sitting
+down at the breakfast-table.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you,' replied Netta sulkily. 'I can't eat anything, I am a great
+deal too tired and wretched.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, I am sorry I hurt you; but you do aggravate me so, and I have a
+great deal on my mind.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta's face brightened a little.</p>
+
+<p>'Why don't you tell me what you have on your mind, instead of bullying
+me from morning to night?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because a woman cannot understand such matters. But if I do not get
+some money this month we shall be ruined. I have asked my mother up to
+see whether she will advance it, and that will depend on our treatment
+of her. Will you be kind to her?'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you will give me some of the money, if you get it, to pay
+servants' wages, and other bills? I am dunned for money from morning to
+night, and never have a farthing to pay.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be able to pay everything next month. I am sure of plenty of
+money.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I suppose you want to get money from your mother to pay bets, or
+something of the sort? Why won't you tell me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; I owe it to <i>your</i> friend Dancy. Perhaps you will help me to pay
+<i>him</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>'He is no friend of mine. I don't like him; but he would do more for me
+than you would, and is kinder too. But I don't want to be under any
+obligation to him.'</p>
+
+<p>'If you wish to keep a house over your head, or me out of a prison, you
+must either ask him, as a personal favour, to let me off the debt, or
+you must help me to get the money out of my mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, I don't like underhand ways. I don't mind trying to be civil to
+Aunt 'Lizbeth, provided you tell her exactly how you are situated, and
+promise me never to bet with Captain Dancy, or borrow money of him
+again.'</p>
+
+<p>'I promise most faithfully.'</p>
+
+<p>'And if you can't afford to live in this grand house, Howel, why don't
+you give it up, and take to the law, or anything to get your living?
+Perhaps, if you did, we should be happy again. I would rather work like
+a slave, and not keep a servant, and live in a small lodging, or
+anything, than see you so altered.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Netta began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>'If I get this money from mother, and what I expect from other sources,
+we shall be all right again, and then&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And then, Howel, you will give up horse-racing and betting and gambling
+and bad company, and think more of Minette and me&mdash;your poor unhappy
+Netta&mdash;your wife&mdash;your little cousin that you used to say you
+loved!&mdash;oh, Howel! Howel! that you hate so now, and treat so unkindly.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta had been standing by the fire-place hitherto, but at this juncture
+she went towards Howel timidly, and kneeling down by his side as he sat
+at the table, put her hands on his arm, and fixed her tearful eyes on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>Howel was touched. We know that there are moments in the lives of the
+worst of men when better feelings overcome the evil ones; and Howel was
+not utterly bad; and now his guardian angel seemed to be making a great
+effort to reclaim him from his sins. He really loved Netta as much as he
+could love anything. Was she not the only creature in the world who had
+really loved him?</p>
+
+<p>'Then you do not quite hate me, Netta?' he said, putting his arm round
+her neck, 'I thought all the old love was gone.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, no, Howel! Dear, dear Howel! I love you in my heart! but you are so
+changed&mdash;so&mdash;so&mdash;you don't care for my company now. You never come home
+and play and sing as you used to do. You never speak to Minette; you
+never speak to me except&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Here Netta leant her head on Howel's knees, and began to sob. He put his
+hand on her head, smoothed her hair, and finally raised her from the
+ground, and took her in his arms to his weak, wicked heart&mdash;a heart not
+wholly depraved, because there was still in it love for his wife.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time she clung to him; her arms round his neck, her cheek to
+his cheek, her beating heart to his bosom, as if she was afraid that the
+spell would be broken if once she let go. Howel kissed her pale cheek,
+wiped those large black eyes, and comforted her as she had never hoped
+to be comforted again. Vague thoughts entered his mind of the
+possibility of beginning life afresh&mdash;of being a better husband and
+father&mdash;of giving up his wild, sinful courses. 'Shall the Ethiopian
+change his skin, or the leopard his spots.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will do anything, Howel, darling&mdash;anything you wish,' suddenly
+murmured Netta, returning his caresses, 'only you will promise never to
+be unkind again. I will beg, starve for you as long as you love me; but
+you know I am hot-tempered, and when you are cross I get angry; and then
+you are violent, and I am hard and sullen and wicked&mdash;oh, so wicked! I
+think I must have lived fifty years in the last five years, Howel, I
+feel so old and altered. Don't make me so hard-hearted again, Howel,
+bach, or I shall die, indeed I shall; I feel it now at my heart.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta put her hand on her heart as she leant against Howel. He raised
+her, and saw that she was of a deathly paleness.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be&mdash;frightened&mdash;I have&mdash;it&mdash;often&mdash;only&mdash;a spasm,' she gasped, as
+frightened he went to the sideboard, and poured out some brandy into one
+of the tea cups, and putting a little water to it, gave it her to drink.</p>
+
+<p>She soon revived, and recovering a little of her old colour again, put
+her arms round Howel, and thanked him for being so kind. Howel was
+aware, for the first time for many years, that conscience is not a myth;
+his smote him.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you stay at home to-day, Howel?' asked Netta. 'I will write myself
+to your mother, if you will.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Netta, dear, I will. Now, shall we carry the picture-book to
+Minette?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; you must have your breakfast now, and I will make it. Oh! I am so
+happy.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you do not care for Dancy, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'No; I hate him.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel kept his word, and stayed at home that one day with Netta and her
+child, and she wrote that day down on the tablets of her memory as the
+brightest spot in six years of trouble and distrust.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" ></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FORGER.</h3>
+
+<p>In a few days Mrs Griffith Jenkins arrived in London, equally surprised
+and delighted by the invitation she had received from her son and
+daughter-in-law. Netta kept her word, and behaved to her with all the
+kindness and consideration she could assume. She took her to various
+places of amusement, and tried to find pleasure herself in scenes that a
+few years before would have given her great delight; but the forebodings
+of coming evil hung heavily over her, and she could not rouse herself
+into her old spirits. Howel was very kind to her when with her; but
+after that one white day he was not much at home. He went out once or
+twice with her and his mother in the evening, and was so very attentive
+to the latter that she began to think herself a person of consideration
+once more.</p>
+
+<p>'There's kind Howels is, Netta, fach!' she would say. 'There's proud you
+ought to be to be having such a kind husband. But he don't be looking
+well, nor you neither. You was looking as pale as those wox figures at
+Mrs Tuss's; and seure won was as like you as could be. Ach a fi! I
+'ouldn't like to be going again into that little room with all the
+murderers. And Howel was looking quite pale. But such beauty music, and
+dresses, and all like life. I thought I should a-screeked out when that
+man turned and looked at me, and wogged his head, and was nodding, is
+seure as if he was alive, and he only wox!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins had been in London about a week, when Howel began
+carelessly the subject nearest his heart.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, mother, fach, how does your money hold out? I daresay you are
+rich as a Jew by this time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pretty well, Howel. I hope you do be well off now, and don't be living
+so gay as you wos.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother, if I could just get a few thousands for a couple of weeks
+I should be as rich as Croesus, and out of all those difficulties I told
+you of in another month. Do you know of any one likely to have such a
+sum to lend?'</p>
+
+<p>'Thousands, Howel! why hundreds wasn't plenty with us, let alone
+thousands. You do know that there don't be any wan so rich as you in our
+parts.'</p>
+
+<p>'So I am, mother, or rather shall be by-and-by. I have lived beyond my
+income, but I am going to retrench, and if you could only lend me five
+or six thousands pounds, it would set me right, and I could pay you
+again in a month.'</p>
+
+<p>'Five or six thousand! Why, Howel, I 'ouldn't know how to get it; and I
+don't cheuse to be reuining myself, and bringing myself down again for
+nobody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not even for me, mother? To save me from jail, perhaps! Ha! ha! I'm
+sure you wouldn't like to see me in jail; and 'pon my honour I don't
+know how I shall keep out of it unless you help me.'</p>
+
+<p>'And where's the thousands and hundreds of thousands your father was
+leaving you? Ten years ago come next Jeune he did die, my poor Griffey.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, mother, don't humbug me about that. You know you were glad enough.
+Only let me have the money, unless you want me to leave the country,
+never to come back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ach an wyr! How you be talking. You wos frightening me to death. I
+'ouldn't mind lending you a few hundreds, but&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hundreds won't do, mother. I must have five thousand six hundred before
+this week is out, or else&mdash;It is impossible you could be cruel enough to
+see your only son in distress, and not help him out of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have been helping you all your life, Howel. I could lend you wan
+thousand, and no more, and if you'll promise to be paying me soon.'</p>
+
+<p>'One thousand six hundred, mother, I must have that at least.'</p>
+
+<p>It would be waste of time to write the reasons urged by Howel to induce
+his mother to advance him this money; but after some hours of entreaty,
+and a promise from him that he would repay it shortly, she consented to
+write the necessary cheque for that sum. She insisted upon the business
+being managed through Mr Rice Rice, her attorney at home, and wrote to
+him to empower him to raise it as he best could for her son at once.</p>
+
+<p>As she was a poor scribe, and a still worse orthographer, Howel
+superintended the letter, and when it was written said he would enclose
+and post it. He was most particular in telling her where and how to
+write the figures; and before the ink was dry begged her to go to a
+davenport, which stood at the other end of the room, for a stamp.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was her back turned towards him, than with the same pen and
+ink he made the straight figure <i>one</i> into a <i>four</i>, and in the cheque
+which she had written, as well as in the accompanying letter, four
+thousand six hundred pounds held the place that one thousand six hundred
+had held when Mrs Griffith Jenkins left the table to go to the
+davenport.</p>
+
+<p>If Howel trembled, or if his conscience smote him when he did this
+dreadful deed, he did not let his mother see it.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps, after all, you had better direct the letter, mother,' he said,
+as he finished sealing it. 'If I do it it will look as if I thought you
+couldn't write, and you really write just as well as any other lady of
+your age. I am really very much obliged to you.'</p>
+
+<p>When Howel carried the letter out of the room, and went for a few
+moments into another, he said to himself, 'I can pay the whole back
+after the races, and manage so as to prevent her knowing anything about
+it. And if the worst come to the worst, I must tell her what I did. She
+won't expose me; it will be a furious quarrel, and then all will be
+over. We must keep her here for a long time, and I must get hold of her
+letters first and read them to her, and alter them if necessary. Now I
+must look about for another thousand pounds.'</p>
+
+<p>In due course of time the money was procured for Mrs Jenkins, and paid
+into a London bank. Howel took possession of the letter of advice
+concerning it, and told his mother he had opened it because she was out
+when it arrived, and he had not a moment to lose in obtaining the money
+from the bank. He kissed her, and talked to her, and hurried her and
+Netta to dress for a drive in the park with him, until he made her
+forget to obtain possession of the letter, and so far his fraud
+prospered.</p>
+
+<p>A few mornings after he had received the money, he had a note from Mr
+Deep, containing the intelligence of the return from abroad of Sir
+Samuel Spendall, and that his attorneys were investigating his affairs.
+As soon as he received this note, he went by a succession of omnibuses
+to the east of London, and, as it chanced, into his brother-in-law's
+parish. In this parish there was a wretched-looking suburb, inhabited
+principally by Jews, whose houses were, unlike the whited sepulchres
+metaphorically used in scripture to describe the hearts of their race,
+most unclean without, but magnificent within. Into many of these
+dwellings Howel went in the hope of raising money, but without success.
+His credit was at zero.</p>
+
+<p>In a desolate, but somewhat more respectable-looking house of the same
+parish, he hired a couple of rooms, giving his name as Mr Mills, and
+paying a week's rent in advance.</p>
+
+<p>He was walking up this street, looking for a cab, when he was suddenly
+accosted by his brother-in-law, Rowland Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'You are coming to see me, Howel, I am so glad,' said Rowland, as they
+shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>'Not to-day; I am here on a little business, and in a great hurry.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel walked on, but Rowland accompanied him.</p>
+
+<p>'You were all out when I called yesterday,' said Rowland, 'and I
+particularly wanted to see you, Howel. When will you be at home?'</p>
+
+<p>'It is impossible to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is on your own account; it is about Sir Samuel Spendall that I wish
+to speak.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel turned pale, and stood still for a moment, looking round him as he
+did so to see that no one was listening.</p>
+
+<p>'What of him?'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir Philip told me that he had been heard to say he would dispute your
+right to his property, for you had acquired it by unfair means.'</p>
+
+<p>'The scoundrel!' cried Howel, turning pale. 'You have always something
+agreeable to communicate when we do meet. It is well it is so seldom, Mr
+Rowland Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Howel! hear me whilst it is yet time, and clear yourself from the
+imputations to which I cannot shut my ears. My eyes, alas! have been
+long opened, and I would have helped you, but neither Netta nor you will
+listen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Cab!' shouted Howel, and a cab drew up, and Howel jumped into it, with
+a 'good morning,' leaving Rowland looking mournfully after it.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Rowland was at Howel's house very early. He found Netta
+alone, and heard from her that Howel had not been at home since the
+previous morning. She had had a line from him telling her that he was
+going with Mr Deep to Greenwich.</p>
+
+<p>Netta looked ill and anxious. Rowland entreated her to tell him freely
+what made her so unhappy. He said he did not wish to interfere between
+her and her husband, only to advise her for her good.</p>
+
+<p>Netta burst into tears, and said that Howel was very kind now, but that
+she feared there was something on his mind. She knew they were in debt,
+but that Howel told her all would soon be right.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland begged her to come to him if she were in any difficulty; assured
+her of his brotherly love and deep interest in her; pointed out her path
+of duty to her, and urged her to be patient with her husband whatever
+might happen, and to endeavour to win him to better courses; then left
+her with a heavy heart and a promise to return on the morrow. He was
+obliged to be at home that evening for a service in the church.</p>
+
+<p>Late at night Howel returned, anxious and pale. Netta and Mrs Griffey
+had been to see Albert Smith's entertainment, and the latter was in a
+great state of descriptive excitement, when Howel interrupted her by
+saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, I am very sorry to seem so unkind and inhospitable, but I am
+afraid I must ask you to return home to-morrow.'</p>
+
+<p>'To-morrow! I am feeling too tired to be up in time to-morrow, and,
+seure! if you 'on't give your own mother a home for as long as she do
+like to stay, there's my Lady Simpson who is asking me there, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Impossible, mother, I must see you off for Wales. I am in great trouble
+about money, and I must leave to-morrow myself or shall be in jail.'</p>
+
+<p>'Name o' goodness, Howel, what wos you doing with what I did give you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind; only, if anything is said to you about that money by any
+one, take care what you say in answer. Don't answer at all, indeed, or
+it may ruin you and me. Now you must pack up your things to be ready for
+the first train. Tell the servants&mdash;I will&mdash;that you are summoned home
+by a telegraphic message.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel impelled his mother upstairs, and then said to Netta, who was
+standing looking very pale, with her hand on her heart,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, you must fill your pockets, and every corner of your dress that
+will contain them, with such jewels and plate as are of value. Money, I
+fear, there is none, unless my mother has any. Send the servants to bed,
+and do this when all is quiet. I am liable to be arrested for debt, and
+do not know when it may or may not take place. Have a cab to-morrow
+morning, and send my mother to the station; then take Minette, at your
+usual hour, through the park to Hyde Park Corner. Start about ten. I
+will meet you. I must not stay here to-night; indeed, I must not stay
+longer.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta threw her arms round Howel's neck, and entreated him not to leave
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, don't be a fool! You don't want to ruin me, do you?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta withdrew her arms, and stood like a statue before Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'You needn't look so frightened? it will be all right in a few weeks.
+To-morrow at ten, remember.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel kissed her, and again left the house.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Netta set about the work that was appointed her mechanically. First
+of all, however, she went into her mother-in-law's room, and assisted
+her to pack. Mrs Griffey was by turns indignant, alarmed, and sorrowful;
+but finding that she must depart, and that some real difficulty existed,
+she made no further resistance. Seeing that Netta had literally no
+money, she gave her a ten-pound note, under a faithful promise that she
+would not transfer it to Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'He do be very good-for-nothing, Netta, and have been spending money
+enough to buy half London. Tak' you care of this, and write you to me.
+You was very good to me since I was come here.'</p>
+
+<p>The kind word was too much for Netta, and she sat down and cried
+bitterly. Mrs Griffey tried to comfort her by crying too, and so the
+night waned away.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning the cab was sent for, according to Howel's order,
+and a man-servant ordered to accompany Mrs Griffith Jenkins to the
+station and see her off. Netta had never believed it possible that she
+could have cried at parting with her mother-in-law; but after she left
+the house she wrung her hands in despair, and wept as if she had lost
+her last earthly friend.</p>
+
+<p>Still, she thought, Howel is kind, and loves me, so I will not mind what
+else happens.</p>
+
+<p>She ordered Justine to dress Minette, whilst she hurriedly finished such
+preparations as she could make for her uncertain future. She found that
+all Howel's jewels were already gone, so she had only to fill her
+pockets and a bag with the best of her own and some plate and lock her
+drawers. She took it for granted that Howel wanted the jewels for
+himself, and that she would be obliged, when she returned home, to
+secure other things.</p>
+
+<p>As she took Minette by the hand, and led her along the handsome square
+in which they lived, she saw two men look at her very intently, and then
+exchange some words apparently about her. In former days, when her
+bright colour and pretty face attracted the notice of passers-by, this
+would only have pleased her; now it frightened her.</p>
+
+<p>Before they reached Hyde Park Corner Howel hailed her from a cab.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, would you rather go into Wales to my mother or come with me?'
+said Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'With you, Howel, anywhere, not into Wales for the world.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel leaned back into a corner of the cab, and did not speak again.</p>
+
+<p>Netta did not know where they went, but they got into four cabs in
+succession, driving a certain distance in one, then paying the driver,
+then walking into another street and hailing a fresh vehicle.</p>
+
+<p>At last they reached the far east of London, and found themselves in a
+dirty, wretched street, amongst a squalid population.</p>
+
+<p>'Give me the bag, and take care of your pocket,' said Howel, as they
+walked along the pavement. 'Keep close to me.'</p>
+
+<p>They reached the house where Howel had taken a lodging the previous day.
+He walked through the passage, and bade his wife and child follow him;
+ascended two pair of stairs, and entered a large and tolerably
+respectable room.</p>
+
+<p>There was a letter on the table, which he opened at once. It contained
+the following lines:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'The double S are comparing notes, and various rumours are in
+circulation amongst that set.'</p>
+
+<p>He put the letter in his pocket, and, turning to Netta, told her to go
+into the bedroom and take off her own and Minette's bonnet, as they must
+stay for a little while where they were.</p>
+
+<p>'Not here, papa,' said Minette, beginning to cry. 'I don't like this
+place.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hold your tongue!' said her father sternly, as Netta led her out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta,' whispered Howel, 'our name is Mills here&mdash;just for a time
+only.'</p>
+
+<p>When Netta went into the close, dark bedroom at the back of the
+sitting-room, she took off her sobbing child's things, set her on her
+lap, and by degrees soothed her to sleep. She laid her on such a bed as
+she had assuredly never slept on before, and then returned to Howel.</p>
+
+<p>She stood before him pale and resolute. He was pacing the room rapidly,
+and muttering to himself.</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, I must know all! What is the matter? What is to become of us?'
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>'We must not be seen by our friends for a time, dear Netta, because I
+am liable to be arrested. Will you mind staying here a day or two alone?
+I must go away for a short time on business but will return and remove
+you when it is settled. You are better here than at home, as everything
+will be seized. You are in Rowland's parish, if the worst should come to
+the worst; but I don't want him to know anything about me, as it will be
+all right again by-and-by.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, I asked Captain Dancy not to insist upon that money.'</p>
+
+<p>'You did! That is why he let me off with half for another month. What
+did he say?'</p>
+
+<p>'He said, Howel, that if I would go to France with him he would forgive
+your debt.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you, Netta?' Howel clenched his fist.</p>
+
+<p>'And I, Howel? I left the room, and have never seen him since. He called
+after, but I could not speak to him again. How could I?'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, will you forgive and try to forget how jealous and unkind I have
+been? In spite of all, I have loved you, Netta. Oh! if I had not taken
+you away from your happy home!'</p>
+
+<p>'I can bear anything if you love me, Howel. We will try to get through
+this difficulty, and then you will begin afresh as a clerk or anything;
+and we will be happy&mdash;oh, so happy again! Happier than ever!'</p>
+
+<p>Netta smiled through her tears, whilst Howel groaned aloud.</p>
+
+<p>'Think kindly of me, Netta; don't let them make you hate me. I care for
+no one else in the world. If I send for you, will you come to me,
+supposing I cannot come myself?'</p>
+
+<p>'Anywhere! anywhere!'</p>
+
+<p>Netta put her arms around her husband and sobbed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by some refreshments that Howel had ordered came up. The landlady
+appeared, who seemed a quiet, meek-looking woman.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be obliged to leave Mrs Mills and the little girl for a day or
+two,' said Howel. 'You will see they are attended to, I hope.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, sir,' said the landlady looking, and, doubtless, feeling
+astonished at the sort of person Netta was, so pretty and well-dressed.</p>
+
+<p>That evening another letter arrived from Mr Deep, which told Howel very
+plainly that writs were issued against him, and that his bills, cheques,
+betting debts, and affairs generally, were being questioned by his
+friends. There was also rather more than a hint of his being suspected
+of forgery.</p>
+
+<p>He went out as soon as he had received that letter, and did not return
+until past midnight. Netta awaited him in an agony of terror lest he
+should return no more.</p>
+
+<p>He gave Netta ten pounds and told her on no account to disclose her real
+name, or give a clue to his having been with her in those lodgings, if
+she should see Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'But you will be back soon?' said poor Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'In a few days I hope, or else I will send for you. I must leave
+to-morrow morning at daybreak.'</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks ago and neither husband nor wife would have cared how long
+the separation might be, now it seemed death for each to part.</p>
+
+<p>Howel kissed his child again and again as she lay sleeping in her dingy
+bed, and held Netta long in his arms. The only human being who really
+loved him! Him, weak, wild, sinful, godless! yet with one divine spark
+rekindling in his breast&mdash;the spark of human love.</p>
+
+<p>He laid his wife, fainting, by the side of her child on the bed, bathed
+her temples with water until he saw that she would revive, and then
+rushed out into the dirty streets, under the misty, murky morning sky, a
+reckless and miserable man.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX" ></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ACCOUNTANT.</h3>
+
+<p>'I never shall get through these accounts!' is the soliloquy of Miss
+Gwynne, to whom we return with much pleasure, on my part, at least,
+after a separation of six years.</p>
+
+<p>She is seated in a gloomy but comfortable dining-room, in a house
+situated in one of the squares at the East End of London. We left her in
+her large, airy, country home, looking out upon a beautiful view of hill
+and valley&mdash;we find her in a close, dark square, with nothing to enliven
+the scene without but a few dingy shrubs, a row of tall gaunt houses,
+and a smoke-discoloured, soot-filled atmosphere. We left her unhappy and
+discontented&mdash;we find her happy and contented. We left her with a mind
+harassed by uncertain plans, disappointed hopes, and humbled pride&mdash;we
+find her with a mind strengthened by good purposes, holy aspirations,
+and prayers for humility. Still, we left her and find her Winifred
+Gwynne. She has not lost her idiosyncrasy.</p>
+
+<p>Reader, be not hasty to pronounce upon the suddenness of these changes.
+Six years spent principally amongst the earnest minded, laborious clergy
+of London and their families, in the heart of the most wretched, squalid
+parish, amongst the lowest, most depraved, most ignorant, most utterly
+miserable set of people in England, would sober the most thoughtless
+woman in the world, provided she had a heart. And Freda has not only a
+heart, but one earnestly desirous of doing good.</p>
+
+<p>She has found vent for her energy, occupation for her time, a bank for
+all the money she possesses; therefore we find her in the midst of
+papers covered with figures, containing accounts of ragged schools,
+which she is labouring to reckon up, in the simplest of morning dresses,
+without ornament or extraneous adornment. She is somewhat paler and
+thinner than she used to be amongst the breezy hills of Wales, but her
+eyes are brighter, and the expression of her countenance is gentler.</p>
+
+<p>'How stupid I am!' she exclaims. 'Gladys would reckon them up directly,
+but she is at the school, and I am ashamed to ask Nita, with all her
+accounts.'</p>
+
+<p>She pauses a moment and lays down her pen. Her eyes fall upon an
+unopened letter.</p>
+
+<p>'And I declare I have not broken the seal of my own father's letter,'
+she mutters, performing this duty as she does so, and running through it
+with occasional comments.</p>
+
+<p>'&quot;We hope you will come and spend Christmas&mdash;&quot; I suppose I must&mdash;&quot;and
+see your little brother, who longs to see sister Freda again&mdash;&quot; Humph!
+but who cut her out of Glanyravon Park and all thereto belonging, though
+he certainly is a dear little man. &quot;Her ladyship quite well, and desires
+her love.&quot; I suppose I ought to be glad and try to return the love. &quot;Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan and her children were here yesterday. She asked for you,
+and the little ones wished to know when you were coming home&mdash;&quot; I am
+much obliged to her, and am afraid I am <i>not</i> too anxious to see either
+her or her husband, in spite of their civility. &quot;Little Harold is really
+a wonderful child! He begins to spell already!&quot; So like my good father.
+Well, I ought to be thankful he is happy, and that it all turned out so
+much better than I expected. But I can't help feeling a kind of wicked
+disappointment when I think that Lady Mary should be quite as good a
+tactician as a second wife, as she was before she married again. But, I
+hope, I am happy that she makes poor papa comfortable and doesn't worry
+him to death. I don't think he loves her now half as well as he does me;
+still, perhaps she suits him better, because she manages him, and I
+never could. But the <i>tyfydd</i> [Footnote: Welsh for heir.] is a dear
+little fellow, and I am really fond of him.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne's soliloquy is cut short by a rap at the door, followed by
+the entrance of Rowland Prothero, who says, as he bows and seems about
+to retreat,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon&mdash;I was told Mr Jones was here.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, do come in!' says Miss Gwynne, rising, and advancing to meet
+Rowland; 'I cannot get through these accounts. I have been reckoning and
+reckoning ever since breakfast, and they will not come right. I should
+be so much obliged to you if you would just look them over for me.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland seated himself at Freda's desk, and began at once to do her
+bidding. The ragged school was the one in which he was so much
+interested, and that he had been instrumental in establishing.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Miss Gwynne had been living with her friend, Mrs Jones, she had
+seen a great deal of Rowland; they had, in fact, been thrown much
+together. At first, Rowland ceased to come to consult the Joneses, or to
+spend his few spare hours with them, when he heard that Freda was there;
+and, of course, they and she understood and respected his reasons for
+absenting himself; but in the course of time, they met at Sir Philip
+Payne Perry's, at his rector's, and elsewhere, and his reserve slightly
+wore off. When Freda began to assist Mrs Jones in her parish work, and
+threw herself, heart and soul, into the ragged school, they met of
+necessity very frequently. Freda was so studiously polite in her manners
+to him, and so careful to avoid every subject that would recall their
+old relations at Glanyravon, that he gradually felt more at his ease
+with her, and it ended by his resuming his old, friendly intercourse
+with Mr and Mrs Jones. But Freda knew well that, in spite of her best
+efforts to propitiate him, he never forgot those words, 'Do you know who
+I am, and who you are?' He was always gentlemanlike, always kind, always
+ready to do anything she asked him, but he never relaxed the somewhat
+formal respect of his manner. In society, he was quite different with
+every one else to what he was with her. With the Perrys he was as much
+at ease as if he were their own son; and they seemed almost to consider
+him as such. At his rector's he was the life of their little circle, and
+might have been, Freda shrewdly suspected, united to it by a link closer
+than that of curate, had he so chosen; for there was a very pretty
+daughter who evidently looked upon him with favourable eyes. Amongst the
+respectable portion of his flock he was a general favourite, and all the
+young ladies, as young ladies will, worked with and for him; not only in
+the matter of schools, but in slippers and purses. What was still more
+clear and satisfactory to Freda was, that he made way amongst the
+miserable poor.</p>
+
+<p>The ragged school children loved him, and through them, he got at the
+hearts of some of their degraded parents. His seemed a labour of love
+with every one but her. She received his marked politeness and nothing
+more. But he interested her daily. Some new trait of character would
+break out&mdash;some little touch of deep feeling&mdash;some symptom of a highly
+sensitive nature, which told her how much he must have felt her cutting
+words. He was proud, too, and she liked him for it, although she was
+striving to humble her own pride. What would she not have given to have
+recalled those words! The Rowland Prothero of London, esteemed and loved
+by the wise and good, for his unpretending but strenuous parochial
+labours, his clear, forcible, but very simple preaching&mdash;was to her
+quite a different person from him of Glanyravon Farm, the son of her
+father's tenant. In short they were no longer identical. As she was no
+longer the heiress of Glanyravon, but simply Miss Gwynne, Mrs. Jones'
+friend&mdash;so he was Mr. Rowland Prothero, a respectable and respected
+London clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>And these are the relations under which they appear, sitting near one
+another over the accounts of the ragged school, which Freda has
+undertaken to keep.</p>
+
+<p>'I think there is a slight fault here, Miss Gwynne,' he says, pointing
+out an error in calculation.</p>
+
+<p>'Of course, I never had a head for figures, and Mrs. Jones could never
+get me to do my sums.'</p>
+
+<p>'Still, the account is quite right in the main, the errors were in the
+adding up, and it is rightly balanced.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, I am so very much obliged to you. I should never have got
+through them. And now, will you tell me of those wretched people that
+Mr. Jones would not let me go and see.'</p>
+
+<p>'I gave them the money you kindly sent, or, at least, laid it out for
+them, as they would have spent it in gin, and they are already more
+comfortable; but the father is gone away, and the mother apparently
+dying.'</p>
+
+<p>'Is there no way of alleviating all this wretchedness?'</p>
+
+<p>'I fear none. Sin is at the root, and as long as the present world
+lasts, there must be misery with it.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland spoke these words in an unusually melancholy and depressed tone
+of voice, which caused Miss Gwynne to look up from the papers, directly
+at him. He was paler than usual, and his lip quivered. He met her
+glance, and making an effort to rise, said hastily,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Can I have the honour of doing anything more for you, Miss Gwynne. I am
+sure I can return you the thanks of the committee, indeed of every one
+concerned for&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I want no thanks, I deserve no thanks from any one; are you ill, Mr.
+Rowland? You have been in some of those dreadful haunts, and they have
+upset you. May I get you something?'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, I am quite well.' Rowland's lip quivered still more and he
+grew still less calm, as he again met Miss Gwynne's eye fixed on him
+with evident interest.</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure you are ill; you must allow me the privilege of a
+parishioner, if not of an old friend, and let me ask what is the
+matter?'</p>
+
+<p>Her manner was so kind, that Rowland's reserve was for a moment
+overcome.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Miss Gwynne&mdash;my poor sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, what of her? I assure you I am truly interested for her; poor
+Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>'I fear she is in serious trouble, I scarcely know what myself as yet;
+but she, her husband and child have left the house, and Howel's
+creditors have taken possession of all his effects. No one knows where
+they are gone, or what is to become of them.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland had not the courage to tell Miss Gwynne that the police were
+searching for Howel right and left upon a charge of forgery.</p>
+
+<p>'Poor Netta! I am very, very sorry. What can have reduced him to this?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gaming, horse-racing, speculating! These will waste the largest fortune
+and ruin the fairest hopes. But he deserves it all, only my poor sister
+is the victim, and the respectability of an honest name is impeached.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no&mdash;poor Netta's hasty marriage and wilful temper were the causes of
+her trouble, it can have nothing to do with your family; besides, many
+people of high family and position are obliged to fly for debt.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is dishonour enough, Miss Gwynne, but this&mdash;this is worse; Howel
+is suspected of&mdash;of forgery.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland gave Miss Gwynne one quick, searching glance as he said that
+word, and then rose to go. She rose, too, but putting out her hands, and
+looking him full in the face, kindly and gently, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. Prothero, I am very sorry for you; for Netta; for all. But if this
+is true, the sin and the shame will rest with him who caused them&mdash;it
+cannot fall on you or yours.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland shook the offered hand, and then left the room.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall he met Gladys, who had just come in from the school. Frisk
+was barking and jumping about her with great animation, not having
+grown, as Freda foretold, a useless and fat London dog. When Rowland
+appeared, he transferred his attentions to him, and looked much
+disappointed at receiving none in return.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland shook hands with Gladys, and asked her to come with him into Mr
+Jones' little study, where he told her, more clearly than he had told
+Miss Gwynne, what he knew of Howel and Netta.</p>
+
+<p>He said that he had been to their house the previous day in the
+afternoon, and had found it occupied by sheriffs' officers and
+policemen, who were trying, in vain, to ascertain from the servants
+where their master and mistress were. All that they knew was that their
+master did not sleep in the house the previous night, and that their
+mistress left it that morning. Rowland had waited until late at night,
+but no further intelligence was gained.</p>
+
+<p>He gleaned that Howel was accused of having forged cheques, at different
+times, to a very large amount, in the names both of Sir Samuel Spendall
+and Sir Horatio Simpson. The frauds had been discovered through a cheque
+on the latter's bank, purporting to be written by him for five hundred
+pounds, received by Howel a few weeks before. Sir Horatio Simpson having
+gone himself to his bankers for some money, it was found that he had
+overdrawn his account, and, upon examining his late cheques, he utterly
+disclaimed that of Howel, and declared it forged. The result of this was
+a general examination of his banking accounts for the last four years,
+and the discovery of forgeries, by alteration of figures and forged
+signatures, to the amount of some five or six thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time Sir Samuel Spendall's attorneys found, from a rigid
+examination of that baronet's affairs, that Howel's claim on him did not
+amount to two-thirds of his demand, and that various signatures to
+betting debts, and loans of money, etc., were forgeries.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to this, Howel's own debts, both on the turf and to his
+tradesmen, were enormous, and ignominy surrounded him on all sides.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland groaned aloud as he told Gladys these horrible truths, and
+Gladys had no words of comfort; all she could say was,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It is not poor Netta's fault; it is not yours, Mr Rowland, or that of
+any one belonging to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the shame, Gladys; you know my father, it will be his death.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh no, sir, he always expected something of the kind. I have often
+heard him say so. If we could only find Mrs Jenkins and her child it
+would not be so bad.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones came in, and Gladys left the room and went to Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys has become the friend and confidential adviser of every member of
+that small household; no one but herself considers her as a servant. She
+acts as housekeeper for Mrs Jones, maid to Miss Gwynne, school teacher
+and district visitor to Mr Jones and Rowland, almoner and confidante to
+all. Gladys, within doors, Miss Gladys, without; no one knows that she
+has any other name. In spite of her beauty, her youth, her timidity, she
+goes amongst scenes and people, from whom most women, even the best,
+would shrink, and seems to bear about with her a charmed life and
+invisible strength that nothing can destroy.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the wretched Irish who inhabit a portion of that vast, depraved
+parish, she has an influence that even the clergy cannot boast, due to
+her Irish extraction and slight accent; and the sufferings she has
+herself undergone from gaunt famine and grim death, make her keenly
+alive to their wants and feelings. No one has such power over the poor
+untutored heathen children of the ragged school as she has, and no one
+loves them as she does. She, too, like her mistress, has found her
+vocation in their city home; who cannot find a vocation in any home, if
+they will only look around them for it?</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Rowland and Mr Jones discuss the sad news Rowland has to tell,
+Miss Gwynne, Mrs Jones and Gladys discuss it also, for Mrs Jones has
+joined the pair in the dining room. There is but one feeling in that
+household&mdash;sorrow for Rowland and his family, anxiety about Netta. Tears
+are in the eyes of all those true-hearted women as they think of the
+probable fate of the once bright little belle of their country
+neighbourhood, deserted, perhaps amongst the wild wildernesses of London
+houses.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones endeavours to console Rowland by suggesting that if Netta is
+left by her husband she will surely fall back upon her brother; and when
+he has exhausted what little portion of hope he can inspire, Rowland
+turns resolutely to subjects that must be attended to, even if his heart
+were breaking from sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>The respected rector of that large parish was in very uncertain health,
+and had gone abroad with his family for three months, leaving all the
+parochial duties in the hands of his two curates. They were heavy enough
+for three clergymen, but Mr Jones and Rowland found them almost too
+weighty for them, unassisted by their chief; however, they fought
+manfully through them, Sundays and week days.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland refused Mr and Mrs Jones' invitation to dinner, and, crossing
+the square, entered his solitary lodging in one of the opposite houses,
+and began to write to his brother Owen. He told him all that he knew of
+Howel and Netta, and begged him to break it to their parents as best he
+might.</p>
+
+<p>When he had finished his letter he prepared to go out again. His
+landlady brought him some luncheon, but he could not touch it. He went
+first to his ragged school, and there the sight of those children of
+crime and infamy recalled his little niece to his mind, and made his
+heart sink still lower with the fear of what she might become. Never had
+he spoken with such feeling to the motley throng that stood about him as
+he did that day. Then he had to thread some of the haunts whence those
+children came to seek out the miserable parents to whom they had been a
+sort of introduction, and never before had he experienced so forcibly
+that he was their brother, even theirs, as now that he knew that his
+sister's husband was 'a thief and a forger;' he could almost fancy that
+they already pointed to him as belonging, at least, to one as degraded
+as themselves.</p>
+
+<p>That evening he read prayers and lectured in one of the churches. He
+lectured extempore, and it was noted by all his congregation that more
+than once his feelings nearly overcame him. They thought and talked of
+the fact, when, at a later period, they heard of his family sorrow. But
+they all said that his 'word was with power,' and there was many a moist
+eye amongst them as he warned them, in language made even more forcible
+than usual by the events of the day, against the pleasures and vices of
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>After the service many of the school teachers and Scripture-readers met
+him in the vestry to have their work allotted, and their word of advice
+and encouragement. Again he pressed upon them the subject brought home
+to his heart, that of resisting in youth the 'temptations of the world,
+the flesh, and the devil.'</p>
+
+<p>His youthful regiment of soldiers talked to one another afterwards of
+the earnestness and piety of Him who led them on in their battle against
+evil, and prayed to become more like one who was so devoted to 'fighting
+that good fight,' which they had enlisted to join in.</p>
+
+<p>Tired and exhausted, Rowland returned to his lodging. He tried to review
+the events of the day, but in doing so, fairly broke down. He had been
+striving to keep his mind in subjection by beating down his monster
+enemy, pride, for the last six years; but he found that he was still
+rampant within him. It was not simply the grief for a sister's distress
+and a brother-in-law's sin that he felt, but strong personal
+mortification. How could he think of self, of the Perrys, of his rector,
+of his family, of his parishioners and their opinion, above all, how
+could he think of Miss Gwynne, who disdained him,&mdash;at a time when every
+personal feeling ought to be merged into sympathy with others? He prayed
+and struggled against the tempter; prayed for his sister; above all, for
+Howel; in words too fervent and holy for these pages; and went to bed
+and slept from mere exhaustion of mind and body. Little did Netta
+imagine, when she made that disobedient step into the dark future, what
+misery it would bring upon all who loved her!</p>
+
+<p>Pause, then, and think, all you young women who may be meditating a
+similar course, even whilst reading this story, or may be at issue with
+your parents, because their experience shows them a future which your
+inexperience cannot show you! Pause and think that Netta is no
+fictitious character, her story no mere creation of an author's brain,
+but the portrait and history of one out of hundreds of wilful daughters
+brought to shame and grief, and bringing all belonging to them to shame
+and grief by an unblessed and unholy marriage.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL" ></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FORGER'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p>Days and weeks passed, and there was no intelligence of Netta. Rowland
+had heard from Owen of the domestic misery at home, and also that he had
+been to see Mrs Griffith Jenkins, who disclaimed all knowledge of her
+son's hiding place, or what had become of his wife and child. Her own
+grief was too real to allow even the sceptical Owen to doubt it; and
+when, in addition, she gave him to understand that she, too, was nearly
+ruined by Howel's forgeries, but that she would die rather than tell any
+one else of it, he could only pity the wretched mother who had, by her
+bad example and teaching, helped to train her son for the ruin into
+which he had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland heard that Mr Deep had been arrested upon a charge of abetting
+Howel in his crimes, and that a search-warrant for the examination of
+his papers had brought to light other nefarious dealings, as well as an
+unsigned letter, supposed to be in Howel's writing, intimating his
+intention of going to America. This had caused inquiries to be made at
+the docks, and police emissaries to be despatched forthwith to America.
+A person answering his description had sailed for that continent from
+Southampton the day after Howel left his house, but unaccompanied by
+wife or child.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say that the Epsom races had come off, and that Howel's
+horse, Magnificent, had actually won the Derby stakes! Too late! save
+for his creditors and those he had defrauded. Still, doubtless, one more
+bitter drop in the cup of his despair, wherever he might chance to be
+drinking it.</p>
+
+<p>All that he had left behind him was sold, hunters inclusive, and this
+Magnificent alone, particularly after the Derby, yielded a princely
+fortune. Too late, either for further crimes, or poor Netta's hoped-for
+reformation.</p>
+
+<p>It was hard work for Rowland to go through his heavy parochial duties
+with this great misfortune hanging over his head. But if the sympathy
+and kindness of friends could help him in his work, and support him
+under the pressure of anxiety, he was helped and supported. Still it was
+evident to all that he fled from society, and in spite of the delicate
+tact of the Joneses and Freda, he had scarcely been near them since that
+first day. Whether it was pride or susceptibility, he could scarcely
+tell himself, but he could not bring himself to thrust his sorrow and
+those of his family upon others. He caused every possible search to be
+made, through the police and otherwise for Netta, but in vain.</p>
+
+<p>But Providence answered his prayers, when his own efforts seemed
+fruitless, and that through the instrumentality of one of the poor
+children, for whose benefit he had exerted such talents as God had given
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Some four years before, a miserable girl of eleven years old had become
+one of his ragged school children. I say <i>his</i>, because even his rector
+allowed him the merit of establishing the school. Through this child,
+Rowland became acquainted with her mother, a wretched, starving widow,
+living in squalor and iniquity. Miss Gwynne had helped her temporally,
+Rowland spiritually, and when she had died, about a year ago, he had
+strong hopes that much suffering had brought forth a sincere repentance.</p>
+
+<p>Her little girl was one of the many examples of the blessed effects of a
+ragged school. At her mother's death she was fifteen years old,
+teachable and anxious to be taught. Rowland prevailed on a respectable
+woman, the lodging-house keeper, in whose house Netta had found a
+refuge, to try her as a servant, and she had turned out well.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that this girl, having an idea that Rowland could effect
+wonders, waited for him one Sunday evening after service, and asked if
+she might speak with him. She told him, with a long preface of
+apologies, that she did not know if she was right in saying what she was
+going to say, but that there was a poor lady in her mistress's second
+floor, who was very ill, out of her mind she thought, and who hadn't a
+friend in the world. The lady had forbidden her mistress to speak to any
+doctor or clergyman about her, but she had not forbidden her. And indeed
+it seemed almost worse to see a lady in such trouble and sickness than
+it did those who were used to it, as she, and the like of her had been,
+and would be still, but for Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'What is her name?' asked Rowland eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Mills, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland's sudden hope fell.</p>
+
+<p>'And she has a little girl, sir, who isn't well either, and who does
+nothing but cry and moan.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is her name?'</p>
+
+<p>'Her mamma calls her Minette, or some such name, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will come with you now,' said Rowland, in great agitation. 'Make
+haste; I suppose she has been with you some time.'</p>
+
+<p>'More than a month, sir, and she is always expecting some one to
+come&mdash;and no one comes.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland strode on, fast&mdash;faster than he had once before walked with
+Gladys&mdash;heedless of everything around him. In about a quarter of an hour
+he and the girl reached the lodging house.</p>
+
+<p>'You will tell missus how it was, please, sir. I don't think she can be
+angry, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure she will not be angry; tell her that I want to see her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Saunders, the landlady, came at once.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland inquired into the particulars of Netta's arrival at her house,
+her illness, etc., and heard what we already know of Howel's sudden
+departure; and the following account, in addition of the month Netta had
+spent since he left her.</p>
+
+<p>'The morning after Mr Mills left, sir,' said the landlady 'Mrs Mills did
+not ring for breakfast, or show any sign of being up. I waited for a
+long time, and then I went and listened at the bedroom door. I heard a
+kind of moaning, and was so frightened, I made so bold as to go in. I
+found the poor lady lying down on the bed, beside the little girl, who
+was still asleep. She seemed more dead than alive, and looked at me
+terrified-like, as if she didn't know who was coming in. When she saw
+me, she tried to get up and look cheerful, and to give account of her
+never having undressed. I went and made her some tea, and got her to go
+into the sitting-room by the fire which the girl lighted, for she was as
+cold as death. Then I dressed the little girl, who awoke and began to
+cry when she saw how pale her mamma looked, and I told her to try to
+make her mamma eat and drink. And the little dear, like an angel as she
+is, began to comfort her mother, and to coax her, and when I saw the
+poor lady begin to shed tears over the child I went away.</p>
+
+<p>'Ever since that morning, sir, she has been in a kind of a dream. She
+does nothing but look out of the window, up and down the street, as if
+she was expecting some one, and whenever there is a step on the stairs,
+she runs to the door and peeps out. And then, when the postman's knock
+is heard, she starts, turns red, turns pale, and puts her hand on her
+heart. I am sure she has heart complaint, and I asked her to let me send
+for a doctor, but she wouldn't hear of it. Sometimes I think she's a
+little crazed. Once I mentioned the clergy, and asked if she wouldn't
+like to see one, and said you and Mr Jones, sir, were very kind
+gentlemen. She started up, and said, &quot;Hush! hush! not for worlds&mdash;not
+for worlds! Mr Mills will soon be back!&quot; She gave me a ten-pound note to
+change twice&mdash;and I was obliged to buy everything for her and the little
+girl, for they hadn't a rag with them, except what they stood up in. I
+was as careful as I could be, but the money went, and now she talks of
+selling some jewels and things she brought with her. Oh, sir! if you
+could find their friends!'</p>
+
+<p>As may be supposed, Rowland had some difficulty in controlling his
+emotion during this recital. When Mrs Saunders paused, he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I have every reason to believe that I know this poor lady, and, if you
+will trust me to go to her, I am sure that I shall be of service. I must
+go quite alone. You may depend upon my having a right to do this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Whatever you do, sir, is sure to be right and kind. If you will take it
+upon yourself I shall be only too glad. You know the room, sir? the one
+where you used to go and see my poor husband.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was upstairs immediately. Almost before he reached the door, a
+pale, haggard face peered out of it.</p>
+
+<p>'It is&mdash;it is Howel!' cried poor Netta, rushing into the gloomy passage,
+and throwing her arms round Rowland's neck.</p>
+
+<p>'No, Netta&mdash;dearest Netta! it is I, Rowland&mdash;your brother,' said
+Rowland, supporting his fainting sister back into the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Uncle! Uncle Rowland! I am so glad!' exclaimed a little voice, as
+Minette ran towards him and clasped his knees.</p>
+
+<p>As, the glare of the gas by which the room was lighted fell upon Netta's
+face, Rowland half believed that it was the corpse of his once blooming
+sister that he was placing on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>'Fetch some water, Minette, darling,' said Rowland, supporting Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'This is what mamma takes,' said the child, bringing Rowland a small
+bottle labelled 'Prussic acid' from the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot give her this. Is there no wine?'</p>
+
+<p>'The little girl went to an old chiffonier and brought a decanter with
+wine in it. Rowland poured some down Netta's throat, and she recovered.</p>
+
+<p>'Rowland, is it you? Not&mdash;not&mdash;' muttered Netta, as she strove to rise.
+'I think you had better go. Perhaps, when he comes, he won't like&mdash;oh,
+my heart.'</p>
+
+<p>'Be calm, dear Netta; I will do nothing you dislike. If Howel comes back
+I will go away directly. I will be most careful of what I say. You need
+not fear me, Netta,&mdash;your brother who loves you so dearly'</p>
+
+<p>'You won't go away again, uncle, will you?' said the pale, little
+Minette, climbing on Rowland's knee and nestling her head in his bosom;
+'or will you take mamma and me away from this nasty place?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, dear, Uncle Rowland will not leave you, he is so very glad to find
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>Tears, actual tears, filled Rowland's eyes as he kissed the brow of the
+child, who was soon fast asleep in his arms, and as he held Netta's thin
+hand and looked at her bewildered face.</p>
+
+<p>'Did you say you loved me, Rowland?' asked Netta, looking at him with a
+strange, wandering glance, whilst large tears rolled down her cheeks. 'I
+don't think I deserve any one's love, do I? Is mother vexed that I have
+been away so long?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, dear, and you must come home at once. You must come to me first to
+get strong, and then&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush! hush! No, I cannot leave this house,&mdash;I will not; never, never
+till Howel comes or sends for me. Isn't that some one on the stairs?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will see, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, not you,&mdash;not you.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is some one gone to the next floor. Lie still, dear Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is nice having you, Rowland; but if he should come&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I would go away. You are ill, Netta. Tell me what is the matter with
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was feeling Netta's pulse, and found that they were too rapid to
+be counted, whilst he could literally hear the pulsation of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know; something at my heart. And&mdash;and&mdash;my head, just here,&mdash;at
+the top. It is so burning, like fire.'</p>
+
+<p>'We must nurse you, Netta. If you would only come to my lodgings.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush! hush! not for the world. I will stay here till&mdash;I am sure that is
+a step.'</p>
+
+<p>'No dear. Try to be calm and sleep for half-an-hour, whilst I go and
+make some arrangements.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think he will come to-night?'</p>
+
+<p>'I scarcely think he can, Netta. You know he is obliged to hide, dear,
+do you not? for&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, yes! he told me for a few days for debt, and then he would come
+back. But he didn't murder Captain Dancy, did he?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta started up and fixed her eyes wildly on her brother.</p>
+
+<p>'No,&mdash;I assure you, no! I saw some one who saw Captain Dancy yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God! thank God!'</p>
+
+<p>'And, Netta, I do not think he can venture to come back just yet; so you
+must try to get well for all our sakes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I will, that I may go to him. I will sleep now. Put Minette by my
+side. Poor Minette!'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland laid the child's head on her mother's lap, and arranged the
+pillows for Netta, and then went, with a heart full to bursting, to Mrs
+Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Saunders,' he said, 'I know that I can trust you. The poor lady to
+whom you have been so kind is my own sister, for whom we have been
+anxiously searching all this time. I don't know how far secrecy may be
+necessary, but, at present at least, do no let this fact go beyond
+yourself. Her husband has reduced her to what you see. I must leave her
+for half-an-hour; meanwhile, will you prepare supper, make a cheerful
+fire, let off the gas, and give us a couple of candles? Make the room as
+home-like as you can, in short. After my sister and the little girl are
+gone to bed, put a couple of blankets on the sofa in the sitting-room
+for me. I cannot leave her to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Excuse me, sir,' said Mrs Saunders, 'wouldn't your sleeping here excite
+observation, if secrecy is necessary. You may depend on my care. Sarah
+has slept on the sofa for a fortnight, unknown to Mrs Mills, to be
+within call.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps you are right; but I want to make my sister fancy she is at
+home. It might recall her mind, which is evidently wandering. I shall be
+back soon.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland walked as fast as he could to Mr Jones'. He found him, his wife,
+and Freda together in his library.</p>
+
+<p>'I must apologise for coming so late,' he began; 'but I know you are so
+kindly interested in my poor sister that you will excuse me. I have
+found her and her child, and cannot prevail on her to leave her rooms at
+Mrs Saunders', where she is.'</p>
+
+<p>Then Rowland told his friends shortly how he had found her, and that he
+feared her mind was in a most uncertain state.</p>
+
+<p>'She evidently does not know her husband's crimes, but thinks he is
+hiding on account of debt, and is expecting him to fetch her away every
+moment. I think if we could distract her thoughts from this one subject
+she might get better; but she is very ill, bodily as well as mentally.'</p>
+
+<p>'Would not the sight of old friends be the best restorative?' suggested
+Miss Gwynne. 'Gladys and I could go to her, and as we are in the habit
+of visiting the sick in the parish, no suspicion could attach to our
+being with her; for it would never do, in poor Netta's state, to expose
+her to inquisitive people connected with her husband's flight.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you&mdash;thank you, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland 'This is what I
+wished, but scarcely dared to ask.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne left the room, and returned accompanied by Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys says she is ready to go at once, if necessary,' said Freda; 'and
+we can do without her, cannot we, Serena?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite well,' said Mrs Jones; 'but it will not do to excite an invalid,
+and so sudden a visit may not be good for her.'</p>
+
+<p>'She must not be left another night without a friend at hand,' said
+Freda decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland looked his thanks.</p>
+
+<p>'Could not Mr Rowland prepare her for my coming? And I could sleep in
+the sitting-room, and not even see her to-night, but be ready to wait
+upon her to-morrow morning,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Freda. 'If you will go back and try to prepare her for
+Gladys, Mr Prothero, she shall follow you in a short time.'</p>
+
+<p>'I will bring her,' said Mr Jones, 'and she can but return, if you
+cannot prevail on your sister to see her.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland could only press the hands of his kind friends, and hurry back
+to Netta.</p>
+
+<p>He found her sitting in an old easy-chair, with Minette on a stool at
+her feet, fast asleep. The child refused to go to bed till 'Uncle
+Rowland' came back. There was a bright fire in the grate, and a supper
+was spread on a table drawn close to it. Candles replaced the gas-lamp,
+and the room looked almost cheerful, in spite of its faded red curtains
+and dingy furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Netta had a small book in her hand, which she gave Rowland to look at.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother gave me that when I was ill years ago&mdash;how long ago? How old is
+Minette?'</p>
+
+<p>'She must be nearly eight, I think,' said Rowland, turning over the
+small, well-read Testament that had once been his mother's.</p>
+
+<p>'I like that book now, Rowland!' said Netta. 'I am so glad you have come
+back. It seemed so lonesome when you were gone. Ha! ha! Howel used to
+say I must say <i>lonely</i> and not lonesome. Are you sure he won't come and
+find you here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite sure. And I am going to bring another old friend to see you?&mdash;you
+remember Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys! No, I don't remember her. What! The Irish beggar? I don't like
+her, and she don't like me. I think I was very unkind to her. Yes, I
+should like to see her once to ask her pardon.'</p>
+
+<p>Minette awoke just at this moment, and Rowland took her on his knee, and
+gave her some supper, and tried to make Netta eat, but it was evident
+that she had neither appetite nor inclination for food, though she did
+her best to please her brother.</p>
+
+<p>'This is like old times, Rowland,' she said. 'I like it better than
+grandeur. When will Gladys come? Owen told me she saved mother's life.
+Is it true? Why doesn't mother come?'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you like to see Gladys to-night, Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. Will you go and fetch her?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland found Gladys and Mr Jones in Mrs Saunders' parlour. Gladys said
+she would take her bonnet off, that she might meet Netta as she used to
+do at the farm.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland did not know that Gladys had put on the identical print gown
+that Netta had given her years ago, and which she had kept carefully, in
+remembrance of her. This and a plain cap transformed her into the Gladys
+of Netta's recollection, from the Gladys of Miss Gwynne's attiring.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart beat almost as quickly as Netta's as she entered her room, but
+she steadied her nerves and voice as she went up to Netta, curtseyed,
+and said quite naturally,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'How do you do, Miss Netta?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta put her hand to her brow, as if to clear her memory, and fixed her
+large bewildered eyes on Gladys. Then she put out her hand, rather
+condescendingly, with something of the old attempt at superiority, and
+finally burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>The tears were so natural that Rowland and Gladys let them flow on; only
+the latter knelt down by poor Netta's side, and taking her hands in
+hers, pressed them tenderly. Netta threw her arms round Gladys' neck and
+kissed her, and called her, 'Gladys, Gladys, fach!' and said, 'You will
+not leave me.'</p>
+
+<p>And thus the once proud little Netta and the always humble Gladys clave
+to one another, as Naomi and Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>Minette got off her uncle's knee, and climbed up into the chair, and
+put her arms, too, round her mother's neck, and began to cry with her.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland's emotion at this scene found vent in prayer. Inwardly he asked
+that Gladys might be a comfort and support to his dear, wandering,
+forsaken sister.</p>
+
+<p>When Netta's emotion had worn itself out, Rowland prepared to go,
+promising to return early on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>He asked Netta if she would like him to offer up a few words of
+thanksgiving for their reunion before he left her, and when she assented
+they all knelt together in family prayer. Eight full years had passed
+since Netta had so knelt before.</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland had departed, Gladys asked Minette if she might put her to
+bed. The child looked shyly at her at first, and then allowed her to
+undress her, and to take her to the close, gloomy bedroom. It was so
+late, and the child was so tired, that her little head drooped in sleep
+even before she was undressed, and when Gladys laid her pale cheek on
+the pillow she slept soundly at once. Then Gladys returned to the
+sitting-room, and found Netta at the door listening.</p>
+
+<p>'Hush! you had better go. I think he is coming,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys withdrew for a moment, till the steps were no longer heard. As
+long as Netta had been occupied with her brother and Gladys, she seemed
+to have forgotten the passing sounds, but when left alone she listened
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>With some difficulty Gladys prevailed on her to go to bed. Mrs Jones had
+given her night-lights, and a slight sleeping potion before she left
+home, upon the chance of their being wanted; and she put one of the
+former in the bedroom, and gave Netta the latter. She sat by her side
+until she fell asleep, and then returned to the sitting-room, literally
+'to watch and pray.'</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI" ></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SISTER OF CHARITY.</h3>
+
+<p>The following morning, soon after eight o'clock, there arrived a basket
+from Miss Gwynne, containing various meats and condiments that she
+thought might be good for Netta and her child, and, above all, a nosegay
+of Glanyravon flowers. Mr Gwynne had of late taken to send his daughter
+baskets of game, poultry, and other country cheer, to which her
+particular ally, the old gardener always added a tin of well-packed
+flowers. These Miss Gwynne was in the habit of tending and treasuring,
+as people in large cities alone can tend and treasure flowers, until
+their last odour and colour departed, and these she now gladly
+sacrificed to Netta.</p>
+
+<p>It was an October morning, dull and misty. Gladys had kept up the fire,
+and when Rowland's friend, Sarah, came to clean the room, she found that
+her work had been done for her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Miss Gladys,' said the girl, 'why did you?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, Sarah, you get the breakfast things and boiling water, and
+I will do the rest.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta and her child slept late, and so heavily, that Gladys thought they
+would never awake. She had arranged and rearranged the room, the
+breakfast, everything; and was employed in mending a rent in Minette's
+frock, when she heard the little girl say 'Mamma!' She went into the
+bedroom, and found Minette sitting up in bed, and her mother still
+sleeping. She washed and dressed the child, who seemed to take to her
+naturally, and then led her into the sitting-room. Her delight was so
+unbounded at the sight of the breakfast and the flowers on the table,
+that her exclamations pierced the thin partition, and awoke her mother.</p>
+
+<p>'He is come! he is come!' cried Netta, jumping out of bed, and hastening
+into the sitting-room in her night-dress through the door that
+communicated with the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>When Gladys saw the wild excitement of Netta's manner, and the unusual
+gleam of her eyes, she understood what Rowland meant by saying that her
+mind was unsettled; when she saw Gladys, she started, and ran back again
+into the bedroom, whither Gladys followed her. A fit of depression and
+pain at the heart succeeded, as they always did, this new
+disappointment; and it was evident to Gladys that the only chance of
+restoring her to health of mind or body was by keeping her amused, and
+distracting her thoughts from her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Minette brought in the flowers, and Gladys ventured to say that they
+came from Glanyravon, and that Miss Gwynne had sent them. The flowers,
+or their associations, brought the tears, which were the best outlets
+for poor Netta's hysterical feelings, and when she had minutely examined
+each&mdash;chrysanthemums, verbenas, salvias, geraniums&mdash;she shook the one
+carnation from the vase, and kissing it, and pressing it to her heart,
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'This came from mother, how good of her to think of me.'</p>
+
+<p>Then she let Gladys help her to dress, and went to the well-stored
+breakfast-table, sitting down on a chair Gladys placed for her. She
+seemed to take up the teapot mechanically, and began to pour out the
+tea; Gladys did not attempt to sit down, but waited upon her and
+Minette, as if she were, indeed, the servant she professed to be. Either
+Netta took this as a matter of course, or was too much absorbed in other
+thoughts to give it consideration.</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma, I should like Gladys to have some breakfast with us,' said
+Minette, 'she must be so hungry. I think she is a lady, mamma; I like
+her, she is so kind.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, Gladys, do,' said Netta, 'you know this is not Abertewey. But
+where did you get this game?'</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne sent it, ma'am, she will come and see you by-and-by. I am
+sure I hear Mr Rowland's voice on the stairs,'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys said this to avoid another start, and Rowland appeared. Having
+kissed his sister and niece, and shaken hands with Gladys, he sat down
+to the breakfast-table. Gladys was still standing, but he begged her to
+sit down, and she did so.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne sent me all this, Rowland,' said Netta, 'except the
+carnation, that was mother's.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta had placed it in her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>'Uncle must have a flower too, mamma,' said Minette, jumping up, and
+taking him a red geranium. 'Let me put it into your button-hole, it
+smells so sweet.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland smiled and coloured as that sprig of red geranium from
+Glanyravon was placed in his coat by his little niece, and in spite of
+his better resolutions, when he went home, it was transferred to a
+glass, and treasured as long as imagination could fancy it a flower.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, Gladys asked Netta if Minette might go with her to see
+Miss Gwynne, as she was obliged to leave for a short time.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, you are going away, and would carry off my child, I know you
+are,' said Netta, 'all, all! nobody cares what becomes of me. Why can I
+not die?'</p>
+
+<p>Minette's arms were round her mother's neck in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'I will stay till you return, Gladys,' said Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'She will not come back if once she goes,' repeated Netta; 'none of them
+do, except you, Rowland. Owen never did&mdash;mother never did&mdash;Howel&mdash;oh! he
+will! he will!'</p>
+
+<p>'They will both return, dear Netta, only let Minette go.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, uncle, I won't leave mamma, never&mdash;never!'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys went away alone. Sarah came to clear the breakfast things, and
+when Netta was seated in her old armchair, Rowland again began to urge
+her to leave the lodgings she was in, and either come to his, or accept
+an invitation that he brought her from Mrs Jones to go to her house.</p>
+
+<p>'I will never leave these rooms, Rowland,' she said solemnly, 'until
+<i>he</i> fetches me, or sends for me, or bids me go. He loves me, Rowland,
+dearly; he said so. Do you know, I once fancied he did not, and tried
+not to care for him. But when he was in debt and trouble, it all came
+back again. And, you know, he is my husband, even if I did run away from
+home, and I must do as he bids me.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Saunders came to say that Mr Wenlock wanted Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps it is he, Rowland,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'No, dear Netta; it is a great friend of mine, a doctor. Will you see
+him to please me? We all want so much to get you better.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, if you will not tell him about Howel. I must get well, for it may
+be a long, long journey. Do you know that I dreamt last night that he
+sent for me, and that I was to travel thousands of miles before I met
+him. I must get well, so I will see your friend, Rowland, only don't
+tell him my name. Minette, go with Mrs Saunders, whilst mamma sees Uncle
+Rowland's friend.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Saunders took Minette away, and Mr Wenlock, a gentle-looking,
+elderly medical man, a great friend of Rowland's, made his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Netta rose with a little attempt at her Parisian curtsey, and an effort
+to assume her Abertewey manners; but she soon forgot her grandeur when
+the doctor spoke to her in a soothing, fatherly way, and won her to
+confide her long-concealed illness to him. Rowland left them together,
+and went down to Mrs Saunders' parlour to amuse his little niece.</p>
+
+<p>In something less-than half-an-hour he was joined by Mr Wenlock, who
+took Minette on his knee, and looked at her thin cheeks and hollow eyes,
+felt her weak pulse, and asked her many questions.</p>
+
+<p>When she went upstairs to her mother, Mr Wenlock said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'The poor lady is very ill, dangerously, I fear. She must have had some
+heavy sorrows for years to have reduced her to her present state of
+nervousness, nearly amounting to insanity, but not quite. This may yet
+be warded off with great care, total freedom from all excitement, and
+change of air and scene. She has heart complaint of an alarming nature.
+This can never be cured; but if her strength can be restored, she may
+live for years &mdash;her natural life, in short&mdash;or she may be taken at any
+moment. Any sudden shock would probably be fatal.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland had not told Mr Wenlock that Netta was his sister. When he heard
+his opinion, so clearly and unreservedly expressed, he was greatly
+distressed.</p>
+
+<p>'She will not be moved from these lodgings,' he said. 'She positively
+refuses. Will it do to oblige her to leave?'</p>
+
+<p>'By no means. But I hear that admirable young woman, whom I call <i>our</i>
+Sister of Charity, Miss Gladys, has undertaken to nurse her. If any one
+can persuade her to submit to go elsewhere she will do it. It should be
+into the country. To her native air, if possible.'</p>
+
+<p>Just at this juncture, Gladys returned, and Rowland called her into the
+consultation. Mr Wenlock continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Lead her to think of her child, who is also in a most delicate state.
+Tell her, that change of air, country air, is absolutely necessary for
+her&mdash;which it really is&mdash;but she must not be taken from her mother.
+Distract her mind as much as possible from the trouble, whatever it is,
+that oppresses it. Had she been left much longer to herself, she would
+have quite lost her reason. Let her see such friends as can be trusted
+to talk to her cheerfully and to amuse, without wearying her. If you
+undertake this office, Miss Gladys, you will require all your patience,
+and more than your natural health; and once undertaken, you must not
+give it up, for she will get used to you, and depend upon you. Poor
+thing! poor thing! I have seen many such cases, and never need to
+inquire much into private history to know their origin. Wicked, morose,
+unfeeling, cruel husbands are generally at the root, and God only knows
+what their victims have to bear. There will be a pretty large account to
+make up at the Great Day, Mr Prothero, between man and wife, of marriage
+vows broken, and feelings outraged.'</p>
+
+<p>'And my poor&mdash;and Mrs Mills,' said Rowland, 'ought, you think, to be
+removed at once from London?'</p>
+
+<p>'Decidedly, if she can be prevailed upon to go of her own free will, not
+otherwise. I will see her again to-morrow, and watch her case as long as
+she remains here. As regards the poor child, Miss Gladys, she, too, must
+be nursed and amused, and well fed. I suppose she has been neglected
+since the measles that her mother told me of, or else she never was a
+strong child. Poor little lamb! It would kill her mother if she were to
+be taken! But, really, I couldn't say&mdash;however, we shall see. Good
+morning. I ought to be elsewhere by this time.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Wenlock took his departure.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne is coming directly, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys; 'I suppose I
+had better tell Mrs Jenkins so. She has been out all the morning,
+purchasing everything she thought Mrs Jenkins and Miss Minette could
+want, and is going to bring what she has bought, in a cab, herself,'</p>
+
+<p>'God bless her!' murmured Rowland. 'Gladys, do say Minette, and not
+Miss. Why will you not consider yourself as a friend&mdash;a sister?'</p>
+
+<p>Why did that quick, bright flush spread so suddenly over Gladys' pale
+face?</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Mr Rowland, I will. But I cannot forget what I really was,
+and am.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are and have been everything to us all, and now all our hopes seem
+to centre in you. Can Miss Gwynne spare you?'</p>
+
+<p>'She proposed my coming herself; but even if she had not, my first duty
+is to my dear mistress and her children.'</p>
+
+<p>'You will receive Miss Gwynne, Gladys. It will be less awkward. I have a
+hundred things to do. Tell Netta that I will come again.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland went first of all to his lodgings, and wrote a long letter to
+his father. He told him boldly and plainly what Mr Wenlock had said; he
+had already written to his mother the good news of his having found
+Netta. He asked his father in a straightforward manner to receive Netta,
+and to forgive her. He made no comments, preached no sermon. He thought
+that a statement of facts would have more effect on his father than all
+his eloquence, or all the texts of the Bible, every one of which his
+father knew as well as he did. He also began to feel it was not for him
+to lecture and reprimand a parent, even though he knew that parent to be
+in the wrong. As he folded his manly and affectionate letter, he prayed
+for a blessing upon it, and went to preach and pray with many members of
+his flock, who, alas! knew not, like his father, those blessed texts,
+which teach us to 'forgive as we hope to be forgiven.'</p>
+
+<p>Later in the afternoon he went to Netta again; he found Miss Gwynne with
+her, cloak and bonnet thrown off, and Minette in full and eager talk on
+her lap. Netta was looking quite cheerful under the influence of Miss
+Gwynne's animated manners, and Minette's shouts of laughter. Toys and
+picture-books were on the table before the child, and all sorts of
+garments spread about the room. Miss Gwynne had sent Gladys home for a
+large dressing-gown for Netta, and had expressed her intention of
+remaining some time.</p>
+
+<p>Minette jumped off her lap when Rowland entered, and ran towards him,
+with a book in one hand, and a doll in the other.</p>
+
+<p>'Look, uncle, what this kind lady has brought me; and she has made mamma
+quite well. She has been laughing like she used to laugh. Oh, uncle, I
+love her very much, don't you?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland did not say 'yes,' but went up to Miss Gwynne, and with all his
+heart,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Miss Gwynne, how can we ever thank you enough for all this
+kindness?'</p>
+
+<p>'By not thanking me at all,' replied Miss Gwynne, stooping to pick up a
+book, doubtless to conceal a very decided increase of colour.</p>
+
+<p>These were the first genuine and natural words that Rowland had spoken
+to Miss Gwynne since those fatal sentences under the great oak in her
+father's park.</p>
+
+<p>'It is all like a dream,' said Netta, passing her hand over her eyes and
+forehead, as she did constantly, as if to clear away some cloud that
+obscured her memory. 'If mother were only here, it would be quite
+home-like.'</p>
+
+<p>Truly Gladys had made the room almost a pleasant place. The books and
+work she had brought with her, were already on the tables, and the
+flowers filled all the old-fashioned vases, taken from the mantelpiece.
+The fire was bright, and the hearth swept, and poor Netta and Minette
+were neat and clean.</p>
+
+<p>'Uncle, what have you done with the geranium?' suddenly asked Minette.</p>
+
+<p>'I left it at home, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'How cross of you, uncle, to let the pretty flower die.'</p>
+
+<p>'I put it in water, Minette, because it came from Glanyravon, where your
+mother and I were born, and where your grandfather and grandmother
+live.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't like grandmamma, uncle, she was so fat, and talked so
+strangely.'</p>
+
+<p>'You should not say that; but you have another grandmother whom you have
+never seen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall we go to her, mammy dear? and will you come, Uncle Rowland? and
+shall the kind lady come, and Gladys? and then we can gather those
+pretty flowers. I saw them growing once at the Crystal Palace, and they
+would not let me pick them.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta forgot her grief, Rowland his sermon, Miss Gwynne her dignity, in
+talking to Minette of Glanyravon and its inhabitants; and, by degrees,
+they fell into a conversation upon old friends and old times, that ended
+in the days when they played together as children in the garden at the
+vicarage, whilst the squire and his lady were paying their periodical
+visits to the vicar and his lady.</p>
+
+<p>Unconsciously it oozed out how every incident of those childish games
+was remembered and treasured up by Rowland, as well as the meetings of a
+more advanced age, when, as a Rugby boy, he tried to make himself
+agreeable to the young heiress, who bestowed no thought on him.</p>
+
+<p>But Rowland suddenly remembered that he was treading on dangerous
+ground, and must not forget who he was, and who Miss Gwynne was. Those
+words always came to haunt him, whenever he felt more than usually
+happy; and how could he feel happy for one moment, with Netta possibly
+dying, and Howel an exile for forgery. Poor fellow, it was only a
+passing gleam through the mists of a hard life; let him enjoy it.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys returned, and Rowland got a cab for Miss Gwynne, who went home to
+dinner. Rowland had some tea, and went to his evening service in the
+church.</p>
+
+<p>After tea, Gladys read a story to Minette, which interested Netta, and
+so the day passed, with but a slight recurrence of Netta's nervous
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys asked Netta if she would like her to read a chapter in the Bible,
+and Netta said yes; so, with Minette on her lap, she read one of the
+lessons of the day, which she knew to be particularly applicable to her.</p>
+
+<p>'I will read the other with you,' said Netta, when it was concluded
+taking her mother's little Testament out of her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish you would teach me to read, Gladys?' said Minette. 'Justine
+taught me to read French, and to say French prayers, but I can't read
+English,'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps mamma will teach you, darling!' said Gladys, 'and I will help
+when she is poorly.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will begin to-morrow,' said Netta? 'I meant to get her a governess,
+but we were always moving about, and so I never did.'</p>
+
+<p>They read the second lesson, and when it was finished, Netta asked
+Gladys to sing her a hymn. 'The Evening Hymn, Gladys. I could sing and
+play that once, before I learnt to sing French songs.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys' beautiful, clear voice soon began the 'Glory to Thee, my God,
+this night,' that has been the evening song of praise of so many
+thousands for so many years. Netta joined at intervals, and her
+wandering eyes seemed to be steadied, for the time, into a fixed
+attention, as she gazed at Gladys whilst she sung.</p>
+
+<p>When she finished, Minette was crying. Gladys soothed her, and asked her
+what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>'It was so beautiful!' she said. 'Your voice was like the lady's I heard
+at the play, only the words were so solemn. I thought of my papa. I do
+not love him much, because he was cross to mamma, but I want to see him,
+that you may sing to him and make him good.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys saw Netta's countenance lose the expression of calm it had worn
+for a few moments, and regain the bewildered and painful one of the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>'We can pray for your papa, my love,' she said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you, will you, Gladys!' almost screamed Netta. 'Your prayers will
+be heard, you are so good. Now, before Minette goes to bed, that she,
+too, may pray for her father.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys had long been in the habit of praying with and for people in
+great misery, as well as in great sin, so the request did not startle
+her as it might have startled many. She read, from the Prayer Book, the
+Confession, and then chose the concluding portion of the Litany, feeling
+sure that almost any part of that list of petitions was suitable both
+for Howel and themselves. When she read the words, 'That it may please
+Thee to have mercy upon all men,' she paused, and added earnestly,
+'especially upon him for whom we now desire to pray,' and little Minette
+added to this, 'that is my poor papa.'</p>
+
+<p>It was with difficulty that Gladys could conclude, she was herself so
+affected by Netta's sobs, and Minette's innocent petition, but when they
+rose from their knees, Netta said, 'I have not really prayed before,
+Gladys, for a long time. Will God ever forgive me?' and Minette
+entreated Gladys 'to teach her prayers in English; she liked them so
+much better than in French.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys endeavoured to comfort the poor mother by passages from the
+Scripture, and promised the child 'to teach her to pray,' and so she
+helped to repay to her mother and grandmother the debt of gratitude she
+owed to her and her family.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII" ></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NIECE.</h3>
+
+<p>THE following day Mrs Jones came to see Netta, and to do her part in
+amusing her, and distracting her mind from Howel's promised return. Mr
+Jones also accompanied Rowland in the afternoon in his visit to his
+sister, and, the ice once broken, these kind and Christian people came,
+alternately with Miss Gwynne, daily, for about a week, during which
+period there had been no news of Howel, either public or private. Mr
+Wenlock visited Netta regularly, but said there could be no improvement
+in her health, and comparatively little strengthening of the mind, until
+she could be removed to country air; this, however, she would not hear
+of, although she cried very much, and was painfully excited, when
+Rowland gave her a letter from her mother, entreating her to come to
+Glanyravon, and made her acquainted with the contents of a letter he had
+received from his father, which we will transcribe.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class='right'>GLANYRAVON FARM, <i>October 9, 18&mdash;.</i></p>
+
+<p>     'MY DEAR SON,&mdash;Your letter came duly to hand, and I will not deny
+     that it affected me very much. Netta, set up above her station at
+     Abertewey, after disobeying her parents by running away, is very
+     different from Netta, deserted by her scamp of a husband, and left
+     in a poor London lodging. Bring her home, and we will take care of
+     her and her child, though I would rather lose a thousand pounds
+     than have to see her as she is. Mother wants to go up and nurse
+     her, but as that would kill her, I don't choose to let her go. If
+     you can't bring her down, Owen shall fetch her. I always said how
+     it would all end. Netta will believe me now it's no good; but no
+     need to tell her that. I wish Howel the&mdash;Well, I won't say more,
+     but remain your affectionate father,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; DAVID PROTHERO.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne was very anxious to tell Netta that Howel was supposed to be
+in America, and that it was well known he could not return; and at last
+Rowland took Mr Wenlock into full confidence and asked him whether it
+would be advisable to do so. He said that he feared she would be
+frightened at first, and then consider it a <i>ruse</i> to get her away.
+However, something must be done. To tell her that her husband was a
+felon would kill her; and she would die if she remained in that close
+air. He would think the matter over, and decide.</p>
+
+<p>It was, however, decided for them the following morning. Netta was the
+first to hear, as usual, the postman's rap. Manoeuvre as she would,
+Gladys could not prevent this, and it always brought on considerable
+excitement. This morning, however, there was actually a letter for
+Netta, and Sarah went upstairs with it to Gladys. Although she called
+Gladys out of the room to give it to her, Netta suspected something, ran
+into the passage, and seized the letter.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was obliged to support her back to the sofa, and give her some
+medicine, before she was sufficiently herself to open it When she
+recovered, she waited for Gladys to leave the room, which she thought it
+best to do, and then broke the seal. The letter contained the following
+words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'DEAREST,&mdash;You had better go to your mother or mine. Kiss our child
+     for me. Believe that I love you. God bless you.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>When Gladys returned to the sitting-room, upon a cry from Minette, she
+found Netta in a swoon. The letter was tightly clasped in her hand, the
+envelope was on the floor. She ventured to look at the address and
+postmark. The former was to Mrs Mills, the latter some illegible place
+in America. She wanted no more information, and asked for none. She
+brought poor Netta to herself with difficulty, and let her put the
+letter in its envelope, and both in her bosom, without a question. Netta
+lay on the sofa, with her eyes closed, and said not a word. All that
+Gladys or Minette could do to attract her attention was unavailing. But
+when Rowland came, she roused herself sufficiently to say, 'I am ready
+to go home now, Rowland: I must go directly.' And then she relapsed into
+a state of passive inaction. Rowland went for Mr Wenlock, and was
+fortunate in finding him at home. He accompanied him to Netta, and said
+that she must be roused by a change of some kind. Rowland said that it
+was absolutely necessary to write to summon his brother to fetch Netta,
+and that by the time the letter reached home, and Owen reached London,
+three days must elapse. Fortunately, Miss Gwynne arrived, and with her
+usual promptitude, proposed that Netta should be taken for those three
+days to Mrs Jones'; and she returned home at once to expedite any
+arrangements Mrs Jones might have to make.</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid, my dear Serena,' she said, when she had begun the subject,
+'that it will put you out. But the poor creature shall have my bedroom,
+and I can sleep anywhere for those few nights. The dressing-room,
+Gladys' workroom, will do beautifully for her to sit in if she shouldn't
+be able to come into the drawing-room.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' said Mrs Jones, 'we can put a sofa in it and easy-chair, and make
+a regular snuggery of it.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones came in and entered into consultation.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be thankful if she can come here,' he said, 'for poor Prothero
+is making himself quite ill with anxiety and overwork. I don't think he
+has slept four hours a night since he found her. And then, Gladys! she
+is not strong, she will be laid up.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe you love Gladys better than me,' laughed Mrs Jones.</p>
+
+<p>'It was love at first sight, my dear. She was the first pretty girl that
+I saw after I came from Australia. And I have gone on loving her better
+and better ever since.'</p>
+
+<p>'The worst of it is, that it is mutual,' said Miss Gwynne. 'I wonder
+whether it is on your account or Owen Prothero's that she has refused
+all the London swains who are dying for her.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones and Freda were soon hard at work arranging rooms. Every
+available comfort was put into Freda's bedroom and dressing-room, and
+her own clothes and general possessions were turned out to find a home
+elsewhere. Gladys' little workroom soon wore a most cheerful aspect, and
+the easiest chair and sofa the house afforded were put into it. Whilst
+these matters were being arranged, Mr Jones was despatched to tell
+Rowland to bring his sister as soon as possible, and in the course of a
+few hours they arrived, accompanied by Gladys and Minette. The shock of
+the morning had so weakened Netta's nervous system, that Rowland was
+obliged to carry her upstairs. When she was put on the sofa in the
+little room, and saw so many kind friends about her once more, the
+bewildered, wandering eyes found relief in tears.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys! you will not go away?' she said, holding Gladys by the hand.
+'She may come home with me, Miss Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys knelt down by the sofa, and tried to soothe her, by telling her
+that her brother was coming to fetch her.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't go home without Gladys!' persisted Netta, casting wild,
+beseeching glances from one to the other of the friends who stood round
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'She shall go with you, Netta, decidedly,' said Miss Gwynne. 'It will be
+much the best plan.'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, you will come with us?' said Minette, throwing her arm round
+her neck, as she knelt by her mother. 'You won't go away from poor
+mamma, and your little Minette.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys felt, that in this, she was but an instrument. However it was
+settled that she was to accompany Netta home; and if the inmates of the
+farm did not receive her willingly, she was to go to the Park, whither
+Miss Gwynne was to follow shortly, for her long-promised Christmas
+visit.</p>
+
+<p>When Netta and Rowland were left alone, Minette having been seduced by
+Miss Gwynne into another room, Netta said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You see, Rowland, I must go away directly, because I don't know when he
+may come. I am sure he will fetch me, and if I stay here he will not
+know where to find me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Only two or three days, dear Netta. I have written to Owen. He will get
+the letter to-morrow, and be here the next day. You can start the day
+after to-morrow, if you will try to rouse yourself, and eat and drink.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I will; but I am afraid of father. It is nearly ten years since I
+saw him, and if he is cross now, I shall die.'</p>
+
+<p>'He will be kind, quite kind.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you sure?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, quite sure.'</p>
+
+<p>'And will you come and see me, Rowland? I used to think you cross too,
+but now you are very good to me. Do you think it was wrong of me to run
+away with Howel? You know he loves me; he says so, Rowland.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Netta pressed her hand upon the letter that was in her bosom, and
+Rowland kissed her tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>At intervals, during that day and the next, Netta made fitful efforts
+to exert herself, but it was evident to all that her body was getting
+weaker, and every one dreaded the journey in prospect, and longed for
+its conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>Netta had taken a sudden and violent interest in teaching her child to
+read and repeat hymns. The hymns that it pleased Minette best to learn
+were some that Gladys had sung at her mother's request. These Netta did
+not know by heart, indeed, her failing memory prevented her retaining
+anything she had once known; so an old hymn book was produced from
+Gladys' book-shelf, which contained these hymns that she had been taught
+in her childhood by her mother.</p>
+
+<p>It was the second evening of Netta's stay with the Joneses, and she had
+been prevailed upon to go into the drawing-room, where Rowland was added
+to the usual little party.</p>
+
+<p>She was gradually sinking into a state of apparent forgetfulness of
+those around her, from which it had been so difficult to rouse her since
+Howel's letter, when Miss Gwynne said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I think Minette knows the hymn now, Mr Jones. Ask mamma if you may say
+it, dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma, may I try to say the hymn now? Mr Jones will take me to see the
+little children to-morrow if I know it,' asked the child.</p>
+
+<p>Netta was roused.</p>
+
+<p>'Where is the book? I don't think I remember it, she said.</p>
+
+<p>'I will go to Gladys for the book. I know the way, mamma.'</p>
+
+<p>Minette ran to the little room where Gladys was at work busily preparing
+for the journey. She got the hymn book, asked Gladys to find the place,
+and returning to the drawing-room triumphantly, gave the book to Mr
+Jones.</p>
+
+<p>'You must hear me, to see that I say it quite, quite right,'</p>
+
+<p>The hymn was somewhat difficult for a child, but it had taken Netta's
+fancy, because the words were written for an old Welsh air that she knew
+well; indeed the book consisted principally of English and Welsh hymns
+that had been composed for some of the fine old Welsh tunes.</p>
+
+<p>The words were as follow:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class='center'>MORNING, Y FOREU.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class='stanza'>
+<div class='i2'>Great God, look on me,</div>
+<div class='i3'>From Thy throne eternal;</div>
+<div class='i2'>Make pure unto Thee</div>
+<div class='i3'>This my hymn diurnal.</div>
+<div>I my grateful voice would blend,</div>
+<div class='i1'>With nature's loud thanksgiving;</div></div>
+
+<div class='stanza'>
+<div>Praises through the earth would send</div>
+<div class='i1'>For the bliss of living.</div>
+<div class='i2'>Then, God, look on me,</div>
+<div class='i3'>From Thy throne eternal,</div>
+<div class='i2'>Make pure unto Thee,</div>
+<div class='i3'>This my hymn diurnal.</div>
+<div class='i2'>On the wings of morning,</div>
+<div class='i2'>With songs of birds up-soaring,</div>
+<div class='i3'>I address Thee,</div>
+<div class='i3'>Praise and bless Thee,</div>
+<div class='i3'>Joying and adoring.</div>
+<div class='i1'>O Lord! bless this day,</div>
+<div class='i2'>All my thoughts and doings,</div>
+<div class='i1'>And keep my heart away</div>
+<div class='i2'>From all vain pursuings.</div>
+<div class='i1'>Shield me with Thy fostering wings,</div>
+<div class='i2'>From every wild temptation.</div>
+<div class='i1'>Let the daily course of things,</div>
+<div class='i2'>Work for my salvation.</div>
+<div class='i1'>O Lord I bless this day,</div>
+<div class='i2'>All my thoughts and doings,</div>
+<div class='i1'>And keep my heart away</div>
+<div class='i2'>From all vain pursuings.</div>
+<div class='i2'>With the hymns of flowers,</div>
+<div class='i1'>And streams and fountains blending?</div>
+<div class='i4'>I adore Thee,</div>
+<div class='i4'>And implore Thee,</div>
+<div class='i1'>Prayer and praise upsending.</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Minette was in a great state of excitement whilst saying her hymn, and
+repeated it so energetically, and withal so feelingly, that the
+attention of Mrs Jones, Miss Gwynne, and Rowland was quite drawn towards
+her. They did not, therefore, notice the still greater excitement of Mr
+Jones, as he was, professedly, looking at the hymn book to see whether
+the child repeated her task correctly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well done, my little niece,' cried Rowland, catching her up in his
+arms, and giving her a hearty kiss.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me go, uncle. Mr Jones, Mr Jones,' screamed Minette, 'may I go with
+you to see the poor children, Mr Jones?'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones did not even hear the entreating appeal of the little girl. He
+was out of the drawing-room, book in hand, and in Gladys' work-room,
+almost before the struggling Minette was released from her uncle's arms,
+and forcibly caught by Miss Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was sitting quietly at her work, humming low the air of the hymn
+Minette had been saying, when Mr Jones entered the room abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, tell me where you got this book?' he said, putting the hymn
+book on the table before her.</p>
+
+<p>He looked so nervous and excited that Gladys was almost frightened.</p>
+
+<p>'My mother gave it me, sir,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'And who wrote these names?' he asked, pointing to the words written on
+the fly-leaf, which were, &quot;Margaret Jones, from her affectionate
+brother, William Jones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>'My uncle, sir, I believe, who gave the book to my mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'And your mother&mdash;your mother, who was she?'</p>
+
+<p>'The daughter of a clergyman, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know that. But where&mdash;what&mdash;who?'</p>
+
+<p>'That is what I don't know, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who did she marry? For God's sake tell me all, Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>'She ran away with my father, sir, an Irish soldier, a corporal named
+O'Grady. She went abroad with him, and did not come back to Ireland for
+two years.'</p>
+
+<p>'And then&mdash;and her father&mdash;and&mdash;and her brother?'</p>
+
+<p>'Her father was dead, sir, and nobody knew where her brother was.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where did her father live?'</p>
+
+<p>'Alas! sir, I cannot tell that either. We never talked to my poor mother
+about him, because it made her so unhappy, and as he was dead, I had no
+interest in asking for the address. All I know was, that she was Welsh;
+and when she was dying, she told me to go into Wales and find my uncle.
+I don't think she quite knew what she was saying, but I came.'</p>
+
+<p>The tears gathered in Gladys' eyes, and hearing a strange heavy sigh
+from Mr Jones, she looked up at him through their mist, and saw that he
+was struggling to speak through some great emotion.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, sir! what is the matter?' said Gladys, rising and going towards him
+as he stood, trembling, on the other side of her work-table.</p>
+
+<p>He could not speak, but opening his arms as she approached him, folded
+her in them, and kissed her, as she had not been kissed before, since
+her poor mother died.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys could only yield to the embrace, she knew not wherefore. She
+loved Mr Jones as if he were her own father, he had been almost like a
+father to her ever since she had been in his house; she felt as if she
+were once more in a father's arms.</p>
+
+<p>We will leave them thus for one moment, to return to the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones, in her turn, kissed Minette, and praised her for repeating
+her hymn so well.</p>
+
+<p>'But where is Mr Jones?' asked the child. 'Will he take me to see the
+little boys and girls?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think he must be gone to find a book for you, dear,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>But as neither Mr Jones nor the book came, Mrs Jones got rather fidgety,
+and fancying her husband might be ill, left the room to see what had
+become of him. She went to the dining-room, study, and bedroom, and, not
+finding him, went to ask Gladys whether she knew where he was. She was
+not a little astonished at finding him with Gladys in his arms, and the
+door half open at his back.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones was not a jealous wife, but Gladys was a very pretty girl, Mr
+Jones was avowedly very fond of her, and Mr Jones was mortal.</p>
+
+<p>She felt a strange pain at her heart, turned pale, and stood for a
+moment unobserved by either, on the threshold, irresolute, when she
+heard these words from her husband,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It must be so. Gladys&mdash;- you are&mdash;you must be&mdash;my poor, dear, lost
+sister's child!'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys and Mrs Jones uttered a simultaneous cry, and the latter entered
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>'My dear William, what does this mean?' she said, approaching her
+husband and putting her hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>'Serena!' (he, too called that gentle woman Serena) 'my love. For my
+sake! This is my sister's child&mdash;my niece&mdash;my&mdash;our Gladys!'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones released the bewildered Gladys from his embrace, and almost
+placed her in the arms of his wife, who, scarcely comprehending what was
+passing, kissed her tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>Then Gladys sat down, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed
+convulsively. It was all a dream to her, from which she must awake. It
+could not be true. Mr and Mrs Jones soothed her. The former, restraining
+his own emotion, endeavoured to calm hers, by telling her that it was he
+who had written the names in that fortunate hymn book; he who was the
+brother of her mother; he who was her uncle, and who would be, not only
+an uncle, but a father to her henceforth.</p>
+
+<p>At last, the agitated girl looked up at the kind and loving faces that
+were bending over her, and murmured,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It cannot be&mdash;it is&mdash;too good&mdash;too great&mdash;too happy.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is true, Gladys, my niece, my child,' said Mr Jones, stooping to
+kiss her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones sat down by her, and taking one of her hands in hers, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It all seems a dream, Gladys. But if it be true, remember, you are now
+my niece, my child as well; and, God knows, I love you, and value you
+dearly.'</p>
+
+<p>Once more the lonely Gladys felt that she had kindred. Yielding to the
+feeling, she threw her arms round Mrs Jones' neck, and gave vent to the
+emotion she had been striving to suppress.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture, Miss Gwynne appeared, who, wondering in her turn what
+could detain Mr and Mrs Jones so long from their guests, came to look
+for them.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, she wondered still more when she found them both with their
+arms round one another and Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>She was going away; but Mrs Jones, perceiving her, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Come in, dear Freda, Minette's hymn has led to a wonderful
+discovery&mdash;has given us a niece&mdash;a child&mdash;in&mdash;in&mdash;our dear friend
+Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne knelt down at the feet of the sobbing Gladys, and taking one
+of her hands, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, if this be true, we cannot love you better than we do now, or
+esteem you more; but you now <i>feel</i> one of us, instead of the isolated
+Gladys of this little room, which you have resolutely been hitherto.'</p>
+
+<p>As may be imagined, Gladys was a long time realising the fact, that she
+was suddenly, and in the most extraordinary manner, raised from the
+Irish beggar, lady's maid, or whatever she had hitherto chosen to
+consider herself&mdash;for every one about her had long looked upon her as a
+friend&mdash;to the niece of the good and kind Mr Jones. When she was able to
+speak, her first words were,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I do not understand it&mdash;I cannot believe it. It is too good&mdash;too
+happy.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can scarcely believe it either,' said Mr Jones, taking up the hymn
+book, and turning to his wife and Miss Gwynne, who had, thus far, taken
+the strange news upon Mr Jones' word, which they never ventured to
+dispute.</p>
+
+<p>'This is my writing. Margaret Jones was my sister, and Gladys' mother. I
+gave her this book when we were both young, and the date, also in my
+handwriting, marks the time, some two or three years after the gift,
+when I was at college, and she must have been about eighteen; she ran
+away with an Irish soldier, whose real name, even, we never learnt. My
+poor father doated on my sister, and spoilt her. She was high-spirited
+and wilful, but very loving, and very handsome. Not at all like Gladys.
+My sister's was the Welsh, Gladys' the Irish cast of countenance; yet I
+have seen an expression in Gladys' face that has reminded me of her
+mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'We discovered, after my sister ran away, that she had met the man she
+married when going to visit the landlady of a small inn, in my father's
+parish, who was ill. It seems that this woman connived at their meeting;
+and when strictly questioned, said, that she had believed he was a
+gentleman, and that he had called himself Captain O'Brien.'</p>
+
+<p>'My poor father!' here broke in Gladys. 'He bitterly repented this, his
+only deception. He was of a good family, and his mother was an O'Brien;
+but no one belonging to him could afford to purchase him a commission,
+and so he went into the ranks. He once told me, that he persuaded my
+mother to marry him first, and then promised to let her write to his
+father. But I only know scraps of the story. I fancy my father was on
+his way home on leave, when he saw my mother and fell in love with her.
+He loved her very dearly, and as long as he lived she wanted nothing
+that he could get her. The regiment was suddenly ordered abroad, and my
+mother could not write to her father, or did not, before they sailed.
+And so she delayed, and delayed; but she wrote at last, and received no
+answer at all. I fancy she wrote several times from foreign parts, but
+never heard from any one. I know she wrote again from Ireland; but the
+letter was returned, with a note from some one, saying that her father
+had been dead some years, and no one knew anything of her brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Too true! too true!' said Mr Jones. 'My poor father, never very strong,
+was in his grave in less than six months after my sister left him. I
+returned from college to nurse, and bury him. I have told you all this,
+my dear Serena, little thinking that the young girl I first saw, after
+visiting his grave some twenty years after I had seen him laid in it,
+should be the child of the beloved daughter who had helped to hasten him
+thither.'</p>
+
+<p>'My poor, dear mother!' said Gladys, sobbing as if her heart would
+break.</p>
+
+<p>'Still less that you, my dear niece, would be five or six years in my
+house; I loving you as a daughter, and yet not knowing the relationship
+existing between us. But how could it have been discovered but for this
+book? I only knew of you, that you were an Irish girl escaping from
+poverty in Ireland, to find some Welsh friends, whose address even you
+did not know. But for your evident truthfulness, the very story must
+have been doubted. When I saw you at Mr Prothero's, I took you for his
+daughter; since I have looked upon you as one of our family, an orphan
+to be pitied and loved. Let us thank God and kind Christian people, that
+you have been so pitied and loved.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones' mild grey eyes, full of tears, turned upon Miss Gwynne, who
+said, hastily,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Ought not we to tell her first and best friends of this strange
+discovery?&mdash;Rowland, Mr Prothero, and Netta. What must they think of our
+long absence?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not for worlds, Miss Gwynne, if you please!' cried Gladys, 'I could
+never be what I would like to be to Mrs Jenkins and her dear mother, if
+I were anything but the Gladys they have always known. They would be
+treating me as&mdash;as&mdash;they would not let me work and wait upon Mrs
+Jenkins. Until she is at home, at least, let me be as I am, as I was; it
+is all so strange. Until I have offered to remain and nurse her, and
+been refused&mdash;until, in short&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I understand, Gladys,' said Miss Gwynne. 'You are quite right. Let them
+all value you for yourself, and then we will introduce you as&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't mean that, indeed, indeed, Miss Gwynne,' said Gladys, her pale
+face growing red. 'I only wanted to show my gratitude, as I am, to them
+all. Perhaps even Mr Prothero may excuse me then, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>Here Gladys broke down again. She could not explain her own bewildered
+thoughts; but her friends understood her, and respected the honest pride
+that would be known, welcomed and beloved for merit, and not for a
+bettered position and condition. Miss Gwynne saw a vision of Owen in the
+background, with his handsome, honest, black eyes, and white teeth; but
+she did not mention what she saw.</p>
+
+<p>'At any rate, I must go and make the best of lame excuses,' she said,
+'and leave you in your new relationship, to dry your eyes, and learn to
+say &quot;Uncle.&quot; Such a pleasant name! I always longed for an uncle.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne returned to the drawing-room, and told Rowland that Mr Jones
+had been quite upset by the Welsh hymn that Minette had repeated, having
+known it under peculiar circumstances when he was young. She apologised
+for his non-appearance, and Rowland, seeing that something unusual had
+occurred, took his departure. She promised Minette a visit to the
+school, and prevailed on the little girl to allow one of the servants to
+put her to bed, instead of Gladys. Minette begged Miss Gwynne to let her
+say her 'English prayers' to her first, which she, of course, did.</p>
+
+<p>Then Freda did her best to amuse Netta until Mrs Jones appeared, and
+said Gladys was quite ready to assist Netta, if she liked to retire for
+the night.</p>
+
+<p>When Netta was in bed, Gladys joined her friends, and they discussed,
+more calmly than before, their newly-found relationship.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys brought with her her Bible, in which her mother had written her
+name, and Mr Jones recognised his sister's hand writing. She had also a
+lock of her mother's hair, and her wedding-ring, and one or two other
+trifles, that drew fresh tears from a brother's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys said that she should like, for her own satisfaction, that a
+certificate of her mother's marriage, and of her birth, should be
+obtained. Her mother was married, she believed, during the short time
+she was in Ireland; and she was born, she knew, in the parish where her
+father's parents lived, to whose care her father had confided her
+mother. Two children had been born, and died before her birth, during
+the period that her parents were abroad.</p>
+
+<p>It may be as well to say here, that the certificates were duly procured,
+through the clergyman of the parish, to whom Mr Jones wrote a statement
+of the case. Also that letters, written for the gratification of Gladys,
+to the Protestant and Roman Catholic clergy of her parent's last
+neighbourhood were duly answered, and confirmed all that Gladys had said
+of them and of herself from first to last. This, of course, took some
+time to effect; but I have so far anticipated the event, to avoid
+fanning to it again.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys now recapitulated, more minutely, the circumstances of her early
+history, a sketch of which she gave Miss Gwynne and Mrs Prothero when
+she was recovering from her fever.</p>
+
+<p>There were a few points that she did not mention at that time, which, we
+will insert for the benefit of the reader, in Gladys' own words.</p>
+
+<p>'My father left my mother in Ireland, and went with his regiment to
+India. My mother lived with my grandfather, who was old and infirm, but
+still managed a small farm, in which my mother assisted. He died, and
+then my mother kept a school, took in needlework, and did what she could
+to help out my father's remittances, which were small, but regular. He
+was severely wounded in the head, and got his discharge upon his
+corporal's pay. Being a clever man, he soon procured work, as a kind of
+under-agent, and we lived very happily together for some years. He was
+never a saving man, so what he earned he spent, and my poor mother spent
+it with him. I had two brothers and three sisters, and when my father
+died, rather suddenly, we had nothing but our own exertions to depend
+upon. My mother and I managed to live and keep the children&mdash;how, I
+scarcely know&mdash;till the famine from the failure of the potato crop, and
+consequent fever and starvation came upon us. God preserve me, and every
+one else, from witnessing such misery again! One child died after
+another, and then the darling mother! I had nothing to give her;
+literally nothing. Every one round us was in the same state. On her
+death-bed she was rambling and incoherent, but talked of Wales, and her
+father and brother.</p>
+
+<p>'&quot;Go to them, Gladys,&quot; she said, &quot;when I am gone. Maybe they'll take to
+ye.&quot; &quot;Where, mother dear!&quot; I asked. But she did not hear me. Thank God!
+she clasped her hands and prayed for pardon of her sins through Jesus
+Christ; and so she died. I don't know how I lived after her&mdash;how I
+buried her&mdash;how I came into Wales. I scarcely remember anything, till I
+awoke from that illness in calm, clean, beautiful Glanyravon; with my
+mistress's blessed face looking down upon me, and Miss Gwynne waiting on
+me, and Mr Rowland praying for me.'</p>
+
+<p>For some years past Gladys had succeeded in obtaining a calm and even
+spirit, by striving to banish these dreadful scenes from her mind, by
+active labours for others, and abnegation of self. Now, they opened once
+more the flood-gates of memory, and as the old recollections rushed
+through, like repressed waters, her strength of mind gave way, and she
+could do nothing but weep.</p>
+
+<p>'Only to-night&mdash;forgive me!' she sobbed. 'I shall be better to-morrow.
+But it all comes back, all; even in the moment of my great happiness.'</p>
+
+<p>Her kind friends soothed and comforted her&mdash;her uncle wept with her, and
+by degrees she once more grew calm.</p>
+
+<p>Before they separated for the night, Mr Jones offered up a thanksgiving
+for the great mercy God had vouchsafed to them; and commending his
+newly-found niece to the further protection of that gracious Providence,
+who had led the orphan to her home; in His presence, and that of his
+wife and her friends, he solemnly blessed her, and adopted her as his
+own child.</p>
+
+<p>It need scarcely be added that his wife registered and signed the vow
+that her husband made.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII" ></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD.</h3>
+
+<p>Most people know what it is to awake from sleep the morning after a
+great sorrow; some, also, know what it is to awake after a great and
+unexpected joy. Gladys opened her eyes upon a dark, thick, cheerless
+November fog in London, one of the most depressing of all the
+atmospheric influences. But she did not think of the fog. Although she
+did not at first fully realise the happiness that she had experienced,
+and was to experience, she felt, on awakening, a strange sensation of
+spirits so light, and a heart beating to such cheerful measure, that it
+all seemed too ethereal to be real. She thought it was the continuation
+of a blissful dream. For many a long year she had retired to rest, and
+arisen in the morning calm, resigned, nay, cheerful; but it was the
+calmness and resignation of a soul attuned by prayer and self-restraint
+to an equanimity that rarely was disturbed by mirth or pleasure. Now,
+that soul seemed to dance within her to exhilarating melodies. So happy
+had been her dreams, so joyous her sleep, that her eyes sparkled
+unwonted fires when she opened them; and as she jumped out of bed, there
+was an elasticity in her movements that surprised her very self.</p>
+
+<p>Netta and Minette were still sleeping, and as she dressed herself
+carefully and neatly, she almost forgot that every one else was not as
+suddenly raised from sorrow to joy as herself.</p>
+
+<p>'He will come to-day,' she thought, as she smoothed her dark hair, 'and
+I shall meet him as an equal, no longer a suspicion of my truth. He will
+not know it yet, but I know it, and oh! the difference of feeling that
+you can clear yourself by a word when you like. Not to him, for he never
+doubted&mdash;generous, kind Mr Owen! but to his father! to all. How can I be
+thankful enough! and such an uncle and aunt! It must be a dream; but
+will he care for me still? so long! and after all my coldness. He has
+asked me again and again, and each time have I refused him; but then I
+was an Irish beggar, and nothing more, and I would have died rather than
+have brought disgrace into his family. And still my promise to his
+father is binding, and without his consent I never could&mdash;but where am I
+wandering? Maybe he'll not care for me now I am all this older&mdash;and he
+so handsome that he may have any one in and about Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys cast a shy look into her glass, and a delicate blush kindled her
+cheek as those dark violet eyes glanced from beneath their long black
+fringes. Gladys! you are but a weak woman after all.</p>
+
+<p>When Gladys was dressed, she gently awoke Minette, and took her into the
+dressing-room to attire her also.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, dear, how pretty you look!' exclaimed the child, 'you have a
+pink cheek, and your eyes are as bright as the sky; and you have such a
+pretty gown and collar, and everything. You are quite a lady, now you
+have left off that gown mamma gave you so long ago. Is Uncle Owen, who
+is coming to-day, as nice as Uncle Rowland? Do you love him as well,
+Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is very, very nice, dear, and as kind as any gentleman in the
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>The little girl clapped her hands.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall like to go to Glanyravon and make mamma quite well.'</p>
+
+<p>Soon after breakfast, Rowland arrived, accompanied by Owen, who had
+travelled all night.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was with Netta in her bedroom, but all the rest of the family
+welcomed Owen. Mr Jones shook him by the hand with peculiar warmth,
+because he was given to understand that he loved his newly-found niece.</p>
+
+<p>Minette was soon on his knee, and in less than ten minutes had duly
+informed him that she loved him next to Uncle Rowland and that Gladys
+told her he 'was the nicest gentleman in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen laughed heartily at this, to conceal his rising colour, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'And how is Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite well; she is coming to Glanyravon with us, to take care of mamma
+and me.'</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs Jones interposed, and explained how matters stood.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments Gladys appeared to say that Netta was ready in her
+little sitting-room to see her brothers.</p>
+
+<p>Owen was not shy, so he walked bravely across the room to meet Gladys,
+and to shake hands with her, so thoroughly <i>con amore</i> that if, as
+Minette expressed it, her cheek was pink when she entered the room, it
+was crimson when she quitted it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr and Mrs Jones looked at one another with great satisfaction, and
+somehow or other Rowland's eyes met Miss Gwynne's, and both smiled
+involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>'He is a fine young fellow,' said Mrs Jones, when Owen and Rowland had
+gone upstairs to Netta, accompanied by Minette.</p>
+
+<p>'I almost wonder how two such sons, with such a fine, sturdy, sensible
+father, should have had such a silly little sister as that poor child
+upstairs; but I must go out. Ask them to dinner, my dear, and don't let
+Gladys tire herself to death before she starts for her journey. Did you
+ever see any one look prettier in your life than she did when she met
+that fine young man? What a couple they will make!'</p>
+
+<p>'What a romance you have worked up already, my dear,' said Mrs Jones
+laughing, 'but certainly one may be proud of Gladys. How thoroughly
+ladylike she is, and looks. And she is so happy; she told me just now
+that she felt as if she had suddenly begun a new life.'</p>
+
+<p>'God grant it may be a happy one, and may He bless you, my dear, for
+taking to the poor child so kindly.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne, who had left the party to put on her bonnet, here appeared,
+and Mr Jones and she set out on parochial business.</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland and Owen had been some time with Netta, they returned to
+Mrs Jones, who pressed them to come to dinner. They declined, however,
+having much to talk of, that could not be discussed in public, even
+before the kindest of friends. Moreover, when Owen had been in London
+before, he told his brother that he would not dine in any house as guest
+where Gladys was considered as a servant. In vain his brother assured
+him that she was more friend than servant&mdash;she did not dine with her
+friends, and therefore he would not dine with them.</p>
+
+<p>When they had left the house, and reached Rowland's lodging, Owen said,
+his usually joyful face clouded by an expression of sorrow and pain,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Curse that fellow! I say, Rowland, I can't help it, it breaks my heart
+to see Netta as she is; and she will kill mother. As to father, there is
+no getting a civil word from him ever since the news came.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose every one knows it?' said Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Of course Aunt 'Lizbeth has employed Mr Rice Rice and a counsel for
+that scoundrel, to do what they can when the case is tried. You know
+they have indicted him, and, present or absent, it is to come on at the
+next assizes. Then, if they prove him guilty, or make out a case against
+him, or whatever they call it, he will be brought to trial as soon as
+they can catch him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio Simpson are furious against him, I
+hear,' said Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'No wonder; I foresaw something bad when I was at Abertewey. But what of
+that rascal, Deep?'</p>
+
+<p>'They can make nothing of him; he is already released, and if he knows
+anything of Howel he has not let it out.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't help liking poor Aunt 'Lizbeth; she says she will spend every
+farthing she has for Howel, and when I tell her to remember her old age
+and keep her money, all I get is, &quot;What will I do if my Howel is ruined?
+What will I care for money if he is gone?&quot; It is pretty well known that
+he has forged her name for thousands of pounds, but she won't own it,
+and swears to all his signatures as her own, I verily believe, with her
+eyes shut.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does father hear all these things?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nobody dares to speak to him. He opens out to me with a vengeance, and
+wants a little of your preaching to refine his language. But who can
+wonder? I am ashamed to show my nose myself. The first bit of pleasure I
+have had since it began was seeing Gladys look so well and happy this
+morning. What has happened to her? Is she going to be married? for
+nothing else have changed a girl's face from November to June. At the
+same time, she might have a little more feeling for us than to look her
+best when we are at our worst. Poor Netta! I'm sure she won't live. I've
+wished myself at sea nearly every day for the last six years, and I'm
+sure I wish myself there now.'</p>
+
+<p>'My good fellow,' said Rowland, 'don't say that; what should any of us
+do without you? You are the only stay of our parents at home, and will
+be poor Netta's last comfort.'</p>
+
+<p>'If I were sure I were of any use I wouldn't mind; but when I see
+Gladys, or think of her, the truth is I get savage. Perhaps it is a
+proper punishment for pretending to stay at home on father and mother's
+account, when it was really on hers. But never mind; I suppose one
+girl's really as good as another. Will you come down at Christmas,
+Rowland?'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish I could; but our rector is so ill that there is no chance of his
+being able to leave Nice this winter, and Jones and I have all the duty.
+The last account was so bad that Mr Wenlock fears, if he returns at all,
+it will be only to die.'</p>
+
+<p>We will not follow the brothers further in their conversation; they made
+the most of the few hours they were together, and after a short night's
+rest, arose early, breakfasted, and went to fetch Netta.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of her favourite brother, and the prospect of returning home
+had roused her, and she seemed more herself than she had been since
+Howel's letter. Gladys was as bright and busy as a queen-bee, and
+Minette was all tears and smiles.</p>
+
+<p>There were a great many 'last words' to be said, and as all the
+preparations had been made the previous day, there was plenty of time to
+say them.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know how to thank you,' said poor Netta to Mrs Jones and Miss
+Gwynne, as they were putting on her last warm cloak. The tears were
+streaming down her pale cheeks, and her hand, as usual, was on her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones kissed her, and Miss Gwynne said cheerfully, 'I shall see you
+soon, Netta, and I want Mrs Jones to come to Glanyravon with me, so it
+will not be a long parting.'</p>
+
+<p>'You have been very good to my child and me,&mdash;God will bless you!'
+sobbed Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'I will come again, Mr Jones, and see you, and Mrs Jones, and the little
+children,' said Minette, who was hugging Mr Jones warmly.</p>
+
+<p>He took her up in his arms, kissed her, and put her into the cab next
+her mother, who had been placed therein by Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys' farewells were the last.</p>
+
+<p>'That's what I call something like it, Rowly,' said Owen tapping his
+brother's shoulder, as he watched Mr and Mrs Jones alternately give
+Gladys a most affectionate embrace.</p>
+
+<p>'But why does the old parson hug her so? He shouldn't do that if I were
+Mrs Jones, or if she were Mrs&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>The truth was, that at the last the uncle's feelings overcame Gladys'
+desire for secrecy, and exploded in a kiss long and fatherly.</p>
+
+<p>When she was in the cab Mr Jones called Owen aside, and said in a
+whisper,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I know you will take care of Gladys, and remember, that although she is
+ready for everything that is good, she is not strong. If your father
+makes the least objection to her remaining with your sister, take her to
+the Park, whence she can return at once to us. As long as I live, no one
+will neglect her with impunity; but I am sure I can trust you and
+yours.'</p>
+
+<p>'That you certainly may,' said Owen, nearly shaking Mr Jones' hand off,
+but saying to himself a few minutes after, 'What could he mean by
+putting her into my care? If his wife had done it, or Miss Gwynne, well
+and good; but I declare parsons are no better than the rest of us, I
+daresay Rowly isn't half as steady as he seems; he and Miss Gwynne are
+wonderfully polite to one another, and he's as grand as any lord.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen jumped upon the box, and Rowland by the side of Gladys inside the
+cab, and so they drove off through the thick fog, some five or six miles
+to the Paddington Station.</p>
+
+<p>Owen took a second-class ticket for himself, but when Netta heard that
+he had done so she begged so hard to be allowed to travel second class
+with him, or that he would come with her, that he was obliged to change
+it, and become, as he expressed it, 'a grand gentleman for once in his
+life.'</p>
+
+<p>They had a compartment to themselves, into which Rowland went, to be
+with Netta until the whistle sounded.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, brother!' sobbed Netta, 'if I never see you again, promise to be
+kind to Howel; promise to give him whatever I leave for him. Perhaps I
+shall die,&mdash;I don't know. Tell him all you have said to me; try to make
+him good, and give him the hope you have given me. Will you, brother?
+Say, will you?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will do everything you wish, my darling sister, if I have the
+opportunity.'</p>
+
+<p>'And will you write to me about what you have been saying to me?'</p>
+
+<p>'I will, dear, regularly. But you have only to believe and pray. God
+bless you, Netta, dear! God for ever bless you!'</p>
+
+<p>The guard was at the door, Owen in the carriage. Rowland gave Netta one
+long, last kiss, and went out upon the platform.</p>
+
+<p>'Kiss me, uncle,' said Minette, putting her little face out of the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>When she drew it in again she wiped off a tear that Rowland had left
+upon her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-bye, Gladys,&mdash;good-bye, Owen,' he said, stretching out his hand,
+which was clasping that of his brother as the train began to move, and
+separated him from the sister, brother, niece, and friend whom he loved
+so well.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Netta cried long and quietly in the corner of the carriage in which
+she had been placed. Of course she had the side without an arm that she
+might put up her feet when she liked, so Owen and Gladys were placed, of
+necessity, side by side, and Minette jumped upon Gladys' lap, and began
+talking of Glanyravon. Owen and Gladys were quite shy with one another.
+The former studied Bradshaw, the latter occupied herself with Minette.</p>
+
+<p>When Netta ceased crying, Owen tried to engage her attention, and amused
+her for a time by accounts of home and country news. But by degrees she
+relapsed into her usual abstraction.</p>
+
+<p>Owen hated railway travelling, and was a great fidget. Out at every
+station, of course, and alternately reading the newspaper and making
+remarks upon the confounded November weather when in the carriage. He
+scarcely addressed Gladys particularly, but talked to Netta or Minette;
+and Gladys thought him very cold and constrained, but did not know that
+he was thinking of what Colonel Vaughan had done years ago, and
+comparing it with Mr Jones' embrace.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you know, Netta, that I am thinking of getting married?' he said
+suddenly, and thoroughly rousing Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be so foolish, Owen! You have been getting married or falling in
+love ever since you were twelve,' said Netta. 'Who is it now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Richards,&mdash;Dr Richards' daughter. It is the talk of the county.
+You know she has plenty of money.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen cast a side glance towards Gladys and saw her turn quite pale,
+which was very satisfactory to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Is Miss Richards pretty, uncle?' asked Minette. 'Is she as pretty as
+Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'That depends upon taste.'</p>
+
+<p>'But what do you think, uncle? She must be very pretty, if she is as
+pretty as my dear Gladys! Isn't Gladys pretty, uncle?'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys knows what I think on that subject,' said Owen, 'but she doesn't
+care what I think.'</p>
+
+<p>This was said so that Netta, sitting opposite, did not hear.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys, involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mrs Snow!' said Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'As the day went on, Netta got very weary, and, finally, slept. Minette,
+also, in spite of Gladys' resolute efforts to keep her awake, fell fast
+asleep, curled up in the corner, with her mother's feet in her lap. And
+so Owen and Gladys were <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The November day was drawing to a close, and it was dull and dark.
+Gladys fancied Owen was asleep, and was thinking how very much more
+cheerful she felt in the morning than she did at that moment; and all
+because Owen said he was going to be married. She was trying to remember
+the great blessings she had lately experienced, and that she ought to be
+thinking of Netta instead of her brother.</p>
+
+<p>At last, Owen started up, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, do you like coming back to Glanyravon?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dearly, sir, if you like to have me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, Gladys, that is too absurd! You know I have wanted to have you all
+these years.'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't mean that, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, tell me why that old Jones kissed you.'</p>
+
+<p>'I&mdash;I&mdash;don't know. Because&mdash;because he is fond of me, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'That is no reason, Miss Gladys. If it was, somebody else would kiss
+you, too. Now I have an opportunity, I must ask you a few more
+questions. I beg you to understand that old Jones, who is so fond of
+you, put you under my especial care.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mr Owen!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mrs Snow! Now, tell me why you let that cunning man of the world,
+Colonel Vaughan, give you ten shillings? This has been on my mind for
+six or seven years, and I have never had an opportunity of getting it
+off before. You know if you won't have me for a lover, you may for a
+brother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Colonel Vaughan offered me the money, Mr Owen, and I returned it to
+him. Who could have told you of that?'</p>
+
+<p>'The boy who saw him give you some money, and picked up the
+half-sovereign you dropped.'</p>
+
+<p>'He gave me money for poor Mr Lloyd, who was ill, and offered me the
+half-sovereign for myself, which I refused.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why did you refuse it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Because I did not want it, and because he had no right to offer it me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bravo, Gladys! You are a capital girl!'</p>
+
+<p>'And yet, Mr Owen, you think all sorts of unkind things of me when I am
+absent. For six years!'</p>
+
+<p>'How can I help it, Gladys? You know that I love you better than my
+life, and yet you won't care one straw for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can tell you it is no trifling mark of constancy, for a wandering
+fellow like me to stick to farming, and doing the dutiful son all these
+years. I should have been off to sea again long ago but for you, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And the father and mother, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, yes, to a certain extent. But you always answer every question
+but one like a pure, straightforward young woman, as you are. Why won't
+you tell me the reason you have for hating me so?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't hate you, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'It must be either love or hate. You don't love me. Do you love any one
+else?'</p>
+
+<p>'No.'</p>
+
+<p>'Have you a heart to give?'</p>
+
+<p>'Ye&mdash;no.'</p>
+
+<p>'Which do you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot tell you, indeed I cannot!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Gladys, if you knew the pain! Why will you not make me happy, or at
+least give me a sensible reason?'</p>
+
+<p>'I&mdash;I&mdash;promised&mdash;oh, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Gladys, what? I will never betray you, and will always be a
+friend, a brother. Who have you promised? Not to marry, not to love&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Your father, Mr Owen. I&mdash;I&mdash;promised never&mdash;to&mdash;without his consent.'</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately it was dusk, and the curtain between the double carriage was
+drawn, and Netta and Minette were, apparently at least, fast asleep, so
+no one saw Owen jump up from his seat with a kind of bound, seize
+Gladys' hand, try to look into her face, and finally sit down again,
+retaining possession of the said hand across the elbow of the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you mean, Gladys, that you promised never to marry me without my
+father's consent?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never to love me without his consent?'</p>
+
+<p>'No.'</p>
+
+<p>'That you don't hate me?'</p>
+
+<p>'No.'</p>
+
+<p>'That if I got his consent you would make me the happiest man in the
+world?'</p>
+
+<p>'I would try, Mr Owen.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing but his consent?</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing, Mr Owen. If you do not change, I cannot.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, do not trifle with me. But you could not trifle. Have you cared
+for me&mdash;may I say loved me&mdash;all these years?'</p>
+
+<p>'All these years.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys bowed her head as if in shame over those clasped hands, and a
+large tear fell upon Owen's. He wanted no other confirmation of her
+words, and felt, as he had expressed it, the happiest man in the world.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV" ></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.</h3>
+
+<p>It was nine o'clock when the fly that took the travellers from Swansea
+to Glanyravon reached the door of the farm. The night was 'dark and
+dreary;' very different was the weather, the aspect of external nature;
+very different were Netta's feelings and all the circumstances, when she
+was at home ten years ago. She had been thinking again on all these
+things during that gloomy drive, when her companions thought she was
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Bright lights are in the windows and passage as the travellers look out
+of the carriage. Mrs Prothero's anxious face is visible in front, Mr and
+Mrs Jonathan's tall forms above her from behind, the servants are
+without, Lion is barking joyously, but there is no Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Is this Glanyravon, mamma?' asks Minette waking up and rubbing her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>Owen jumps out, and without stopping to greet his pale, trembling
+mother, turns to help Netta, who cannot help herself. He carries a dead
+weight into the parlour, and lays it on the sofa. Netta has fainted.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys is at her side in a moment with every kind of restorative but no
+one notices or thinks of her. Mrs Prothero is on her knees rubbing her
+child's cold hands, and looking as white as the corpse-like daughter
+thus restored to her. Mr and Mrs Jonathan look at one another, and then
+at Netta, with a glance of pity and grief.</p>
+
+<p>There is another face for one moment bent over the sofa, and the next a
+loud heavy groan is heard in the corner of the room that comes from a
+heart in extreme agony; but no one, save Minette, seems conscious of
+it. She turns affrighted at the sound, and in the impulse of her quick,
+warm nature runs to comfort.</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma will be better soon,' she says; 'she is often so. Don't cry so
+loud, you will frighten her.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mr Prothero removes his hand from his eyes to behold, for the first
+time, his grandchild. Another heavy groan, almost a cry, and he takes
+the child in his large arms, and presses her to his breast, weeping like
+an infant.</p>
+
+<p>Netta uncloses her eyes on familiar objects for a moment, and shuts them
+again. Has she seen the cheerful, old-fashioned parlour, the bright
+fire, near which the sofa is wheeled, her father's portrait over the
+mantelpiece, her mother at her feet?</p>
+
+<p>'She is getting better,' whispers Gladys, who still holds her place at
+Netta's head, with strong salts in her hand, and a bottle and glass by
+her side.</p>
+
+<p>Again the eyes unclose, wander restlessly from one anxious face to
+another, settling on none; close again, once more unclose and look with
+some consciousness on the breathless group that surrounds the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>'Father! father!' now murmurs Netta; 'where is father?'</p>
+
+<p>The feeble cry has reached that father's ears and inmost heart. He puts
+down Minette and staggers, blinded by his grief, to the sofa. All
+withdrew but his wife. He is on his knees before his poor penitent
+daughter. Her arms are round his neck, and she strives to rise but
+cannot. Oh! the depth, agony, remorse of that long, silent, paternal,
+and filial embrace.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you forgive me, father?' asks Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'All&mdash;all. God forgive us both!' groans Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero lays her head on her hands on the sofa, by which she
+kneels, and gives way to a passionate burst of grief.</p>
+
+<p>'My poor, poor mistress,' says Gladys, unable any longer to refrain from
+approaching her. 'All is well; she will be better now.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother!' cries Netta. 'Don't cry so for me. Come and kiss me, mother.'</p>
+
+<p>Father and mother surround with their arms that wandering, restored
+lamb, and take it into the fold again.</p>
+
+<p>A little voice from behind is heard.</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma! mamma! think of your poor Minette!'</p>
+
+<p>And in another minute Minette is on the sofa, in the midst of her
+mother, grandfather, and grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>Blessed are the warm, gushing tears that fall on the child's head&mdash;tears
+of love and reconciliation.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the worthy vicar and his wife, who have thus far been only
+spectators of the scene, draw near to bless and welcome their niece.</p>
+
+<p>'She will faint again,' whispers Gladys to Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'She is happy now,' replies Owen, looking into Gladys' tearful eyes from
+his own, equally dimmed with tears. It is the first time he has seen
+that face since he has known that Gladys loves him.</p>
+
+<p>But Gladys is right&mdash;happiness is too overpowering for Netta. She faints
+in the midst of all those dear ones, so kind and loving.</p>
+
+<p>Again Gladys is at her side to revive her, which she is able to do more
+quickly than before. When she is better, Gladys raises her pillows, and
+places her in a more comfortable posture. By degrees every one is
+conscious that Gladys is present.</p>
+
+<p>'Dear Gladys!' says Netta, 'I am better now; quite&mdash;quite well, father!'</p>
+
+<p>'Drink this first,' says Gladys, giving her some wine and water that
+Owen has brought.</p>
+
+<p>She drinks the wine and water, and again calls her father</p>
+
+<p>'I brought Gladys, father; I cannot do without her. She has saved my
+life, I think, and mother's, so Owen told me&mdash;didn't you, Owen? May she
+stay with me, father?'</p>
+
+<p>Netta presses her hand to her head, and looks at her father with those
+bewildered eyes, which are only too sadly irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys!' he replies. 'Oh, yes! I haven't seen her yet.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys is by his side, and he turns and shakes her hand warmly, and
+says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Gladys, thank you, I have heard all; but we will talk of
+this another time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Best now, father, whilst I remember. She may stay? You like to have
+her?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course, of course, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero glances rather uneasily at the very lady-like looking young
+woman, for whom he is thus humbly petitioned, and in doing so spies Owen
+close behind her.</p>
+
+<p>His feelings are too much softened by Netta to allow him to feel angry;
+still he does not know what to make of if. Mrs Prothero kisses Gladys,
+and Mr and Mrs Jonathan shake hands with her.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing like the present time,' thinks Owen; but Gladys declares
+decidedly that Netta ought to go to her room, and everybody yields to
+her calm, assured voice.</p>
+
+<p>'Then you will stay with us?' asks gentle Mrs Prothero, looking the
+while at her husband.</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure she will,' says Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, sir; thank you, ma'am. I shall be only too glad,' replies
+Gladys, as humbly as if she were really the servant she professes to be.
+'Miss Gwynne will allow me to stay, if you wish it.'</p>
+
+<p>After they had been upstairs they returned to tea, and Mr Prothero could
+not quit Netta, but sat watching her with a painful anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>She was greatly excited, and her mind and eyes appeared equally to
+wander on the objects of her childhood. She asked her father a variety
+of questions concerning scenes and people that she felt were
+particularly associated with him, and he was quite overcome.</p>
+
+<p>When the meal was finished, Owen carried Netta at once to her room, and
+all the womankind accompanied her. It was then that poor Mr Prothero's
+wrath and grief exploded. Left alone with his brother he vented both in
+language which, as Owen had expressed it, needed clerical revision. But
+Mr Jonathan knew that it must have its course before exhortations could
+take effect. He paced up and down the room pouring curses loud and deep
+upon Howel, and bemoaning his unfortunate daughter. At last he sat down
+and cried bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that his brother drew near to comfort, and that Owen
+returned to the room.</p>
+
+<p>'So young, so pretty&mdash;our only girl! God only knows how I love her&mdash;to
+come to die! Driven mad by that heartless villain &mdash;curse him&mdash;a
+thousand&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, brother! hush! You cannot alter the past. Home and a father's and
+mother's love will soon bring her round, poor dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you think so? why, she looks like a corpse. No rose was redder when
+she went away, when I kissed her the night before. And now! and now! I
+say again, curse the man! I can't help it, brother,&mdash;I won't help it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come, father, let us hope the best, now we have her home again.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder as he spoke, but there was no
+comfort for that sorrowing parent. While he cursed Howel there, was much
+self-reproach within him for long-harboured feelings of anger and
+unforgiveness against his daughter. He even began, to think that if he
+had been gentle and kind he might have saved her. The proud hearts of
+parent and child were alike subdued by heavy sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>The following day Netta was unable to leave her bed. Excitement and
+fatigue had been too much for her. Dr Richards was sent for, who shook
+his head, and ordered quiet and rest. Mrs Prothero and Gladys were with
+her, and as she was continually sleeping, no one else was admitted. Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan left early, after having made friends with Minette, who
+confided to them that she liked them better than grandpapa and
+grandmamma, because they were gentlefolks. She didn't know why there was
+no carpet in the hall, and didn't like stones to her feet. She promised
+to go and see them when her mamma was better. The worthy couple took to
+her as they had done to her mother.</p>
+
+<p>In a day or two Netta was much better and able to be brought downstairs.
+Matters gradually settled into their regular course at the farm, and all
+went on as usual. Mr Prothero spent every spare moment with Netta and
+his grandchild, who soon forgot that 'grandfather,' as he insisted on
+her calling him, 'talked loud, and had large, rough hands.' Gladys
+slipped imperceptibly into her old place, and alternately nursed Netta
+and helped Mrs Prothero in the dairy. Owen found many opportunities of
+entreating Gladys to let him speak to his father, but she positively
+forbade him, as long as there was painful anxiety about Netta; and, at
+the same time, angered him by refusing to consider him as her accepted
+lover until his father's consent was obtained. Mrs Prothero schooled her
+aching heart into outward calm, but her white hair and paleface showed
+what she had gone through, and was still suffering. Howel's name was
+never mentioned, except between Netta and Gladys. It was to Gladys that
+poor Netta opened her mind, and poured out all her hopes and fears about
+Howel's return.</p>
+
+<p>The state of that mind varied continually. Sometimes it was tolerably
+clear, at others sadly wandering, and the least excitement produced
+faintness and pain at the heart; still her friends fancied she gained
+strength.</p>
+
+<p>She had the sofa placed so that she could look out of the parlour-window
+upon the distant hills. The weather cleared up brisk and bright. The red
+and yellow foliage that still remained to cover the huge trunks of the
+oaks shone in the sunlight, and the lights and shadows danced upon the
+mountains. A few white chrysanthemums, and one or two roses still looked
+in at the window, upon her who had once been the brightest flower of
+Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>Netta had been at home a fortnight, and was really stronger and better.
+The sun was setting behind those distant hills, and casting glorious
+shades of red, purple, and gold upon them. She was gazing wistfully on
+the sky, and thinking of Howel, whilst Minette was sitting on a stool at
+her feet, turning over a book, out of which she had been reading to her
+mother, whose chief occupation was trying to teach her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero came in, and took his customary seat at the head of her
+sofa. He was followed, almost instantly, by Gladys, who called Minette
+out to have her cup of warm milk fresh from the cow, ordered by her
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>'Father,' began Netta, abruptly, 'I have something to say to you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Netta, fach!' said her father, cheerfully. 'Say away. I'm all
+attention,'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you like Gladys, father?'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course I do, my dear. Who could help it? She's an excellent young
+'ooman.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish you would promise me one thing, father, before I go away.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you are not going away ever again, my love?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps I may&mdash;far, far away; and perhaps I may go to heaven. I don't
+know. But I should like, when I go away, to leave you a better daughter
+than I have ever been to you. One that will take care of you and mother,
+and my Minette, as long as you and she live; who will make Owen a good
+wife and a happy man, as he is now, a good son and brother. Father, will
+you take her for my sake?'</p>
+
+<p>'My darling, I don't know what you mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean&mdash;You won't be cross, father, bach?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never again with you, Netta, please God.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you promise to grant me this great favour, now that my head is
+clear, and I have no pain, and can ask it right?'</p>
+
+<p>'There is little I 'ould refuse you, Netta; but I should rather hear it
+first.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is about Owen and Gladys, father. They have loved one another ever
+since they were first together. I found it out in the train; and when
+Owen pressed Gladys very hard to tell him why she didn't love him, she
+said it was because she had promised you something. I could not hear
+what; but I heard enough to know that she loved Owen dearly. And she is
+good and clever; and, oh! so kind and gentle to me. I never think now of
+what I used to think so much&mdash;how she was a beggar at our gate; and
+everybody in London looks up to her and loves her. Mr and Mrs Jones,
+Miss Gwynne, and Rowland, all treat her like a lady. I should die, I
+think I should, so much happier, or go away when I am fetched, so much
+happier, if I could know she was with you as a daughter. I have been
+very disobedient and wilful; but she has been obedient and grateful,
+though she was not your child. When I left mother to die of fever, she
+nursed her and saved her life. May God forgive me, for Christ's sake,
+and bless her! She has made Owen steady. She has nursed the sick. She
+has taught in the poor, wretched London ragged-schools, as well as in
+the others. She has made clothes for the poor. What has she not done?
+Oh, that I were like her! And now she is waiting on me, and helping
+mother, and nursing my child, like a common servant. Oh, father! take to
+her instead of me. Indeed indeed, you will never repent&mdash;never!'</p>
+
+<p>As Netta spoke, her wasted cheek flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her
+manner grew more and more animated. Her father listened attentively,
+without interrupting her, and when she paused, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Netta, fach, are you seure you didn't dream or fancy this? Owen
+declared to me, Gladys 'ouldn't have him, and didn't love him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Because you would not let her, father. Think of her making him believe
+this, and yet loving him dearly all the time; and because she was too
+grateful to you and mother to do what you don't like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes; the girl's a good girl, Netta, I don't deny that; but I can't bear
+the Irish, and don't want Owen, who is a fine, sensible young man, who
+might have any respectable young 'ooman, to marry a girl nobody knows
+of, and there's the treuth! If you let him alone, he'd marry Miss
+Richards.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never, father! Only ask him; for my sake&mdash;though I don't deserve you
+should do anything for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'There&mdash;there; don't you begin to cry, and excite yourself. I'll ask the
+boy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, father! He's in the hall; I heard him whistling. Let him come
+here.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero went out and called Owen, who came in forthwith He began the
+subject at once.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen, Netta has got into her head that you and Gladys are making fools
+of one another still, in spite of all I said. Is that treue?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not exactly, father. You know I have been in love with Gladys nearly
+ever since I knew her, and made up my mind never to have anybody else. I
+don't call that making a fool of her; perhaps it was of myself. She has
+refused me, without rhyme or reason, more than once; and it was only
+when we came home with Netta that I found out the cause of her refusal.
+It is just because she won't marry me without your consent. I have been
+waiting for her permission to speak to you about this ever since I came
+home; but she wouldn't let me, because Netta was ill. I must confess to
+you, honestly, that I would have married her any day these seven years,
+and worked for her, by sea of land, if she would have had me. But she
+wouldn't, so there's an end of that I find, now, that your consent is
+wanting alone, and I ask it boldly. If you let us marry, you make us
+happy; if you refuse, you make us miserable, and send me to sea
+again&mdash;for I don't see that you can expect me to work at home, if you
+don't try to contribute to my happiness. I am not angry, father, though
+I can't see what right you had to extract a promise from a girl to whom
+you had done a service. That was not generous, or like Prothero,
+Glanyravon.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there, boy.'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero began to rub his ear; a trick he had when in doubt. Netta,
+seeing this, put her arms round his neck, and whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, father! make us happy. He is a good son, father, bach.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then go you and tell the girl, you may have her, as far as I am
+concerned,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Indeed, father!' said Owen doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you want me to swear, sir? Upon my deed, then, you may marry the
+girl. I have but one objection, and that's the way she came here. The
+girl's a good girl, and I like her well enough. Now, p'r'aps you 'ont go
+to sea.'</p>
+
+<p>'Decidedly not; I'm a steady land-lubber for my life: thank you, father.
+Shake hands upon it! You won't repent. Kiss me, Netta! You have done it,
+I know, and you shall dance at the wedding. Now, I'll go and tell
+Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen and his father shook hands until their arms ached. Then the brother
+and sister kissed one another, and, with a sort of greyhound leap, or
+caper, Owen started off in search of Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Father, you will never repent it. Thank you&mdash;a thousand times,' said
+Netta, covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears.</p>
+
+<p>The worthy farmer cried with her, and thus the father and daughter's
+love returned and increased.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV" ></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BETROTHED.</h3>
+
+<p>Owen found Gladys in the dairy with his mother and Minette. She had a
+candle in one hand, lighting Mrs Prothero, whilst she was looking at the
+fresh milk just put into the pans; Minette held the other.</p>
+
+<p>'All right, Gladys! all right! Father has consented!' cried Owen,
+literally tumbling down the passage between the milk-pans.</p>
+
+<p>Down went a splendid tin of milk right over Minette. Owen didn't mind.
+His arm was round Gladys' waist, and the candle stowed away somewhere,
+before any one knew what he was about. Mother and niece saw the long,
+fervent embrace to which Gladys yielded; but Owen didn't mind that. If
+all the servants, domestic and otherwise, had been there, he wouldn't
+have cared.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mrs. Owen,' said he.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother, she is mine and yours now for ever!' he continued, releasing
+Gladys somewhat from his firm clasp. 'Father has given her to me. I
+needn't ask you. We will live all together. I will herd the cows, and
+she shall milk them.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come into the kitchen, Owen,' said Mrs Prothero, utterly astonished.</p>
+
+<p>'Uncle, you have wet me all over,' sighed Minette.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind. Come by the fire and dry yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>They all went into the kitchen, which was empty. There, by the blazing
+wood fire, Owen kissed Gladys and his mother and Minette, and Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys; and the women cried and Owen laughed. It was a
+long time before he could explain the real state of the case.</p>
+
+<p>'You are quite sure you love me, Gladys? It is not <i>gratitude</i>, but
+love!' said Owen, looking into the pure, lustrous 'violets dropping
+dew,' that he had studied so long and so lovingly.</p>
+
+<p>The answering glance and the quick blush were quite satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>'Then, will you come with me to father and Netta. We owe it all to
+her&mdash;poor dear Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>'Please to wipe my frock first,' said Minette to her grandmother; 'and
+tell me if uncle is going to marry Gladys. I am so glad.'</p>
+
+<p>The frock was wiped, and Owen took the child up in his arms, and told
+her to love her new aunt better than ever.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't love her better, uncle,' was the simple assurance of the little
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>'Nor can I, even as my daughter,' said Mrs Prothero, pressing the hand
+she held with a mother's love.</p>
+
+<p>They all went to the parlour, where Mr Prothero and Netta were sitting,
+quite silent, by the fire-light.</p>
+
+<p>Owen led Gladys to his father, who did not well know what to do on the
+occasion, not being quite satisfied with the respectability of the
+parentage of his future daughter-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys summoned all her courage, and standing before Mr Prothero, said
+firmly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'You will be glad, sir, to know that I have found my friends, and that
+they acknowledge me as their relation. I could never have consented to
+bring disgrace upon you and yours. I do not think I could have accepted
+your present great kindness even, had I not been able to make my truth
+as clear as the noon-day. Mr Jones, with whom Miss Gwynne and I have
+been living so long, is my uncle&mdash;my mother's own brother.'</p>
+
+<p>The general exclamations of surprise may be imagined.</p>
+
+<p>'The girl's dreaming, like Netta,' from Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Why didn't you tell me before?' from Owen.</p>
+
+<p>'I knew she was true,' from Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'How can this be, Gladys?' from Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys told her story simply. Every one was too much engrossed with it,
+to think of the pretty picture that wondering family group made; but as
+we know it already, we will look at the picture whilst she is telling
+her tale.</p>
+
+<p>The large, old-fashioned sofa is placed at one side of the fire-place,
+its head against the wall, its foot towards the window, so as to give
+Netta warmth and the view of the distant hills at the same time. Between
+the head of the sofa and the fire-place is an arm-chair, also against
+the wall, Mr Prothero's favourite seat; and Minette's footstool is by
+the side of her mother, and at the feet of her grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>Netta's pale face is in shadow, but the large, bright black eyes beam
+upon Gladys, with preternatural lustre, and the raven hair shines
+against the white pillow that supports her head. The broad, massive
+figure of the father, in its rough work-a-day clothes, is also in
+shadow. One elbow rests upon the arm of Netta's sofa, one hand smooths
+mechanically the head of his grandchild, resting against his knee. This
+large hand and that tender head come within the glow of the fire-light.
+His grey head is lifted towards Gladys, on whom his keen black eyes, so
+like Netta's, are also fixed. Minette, too, sitting at his feet, gazes
+with child-like wonder on Gladys; her long black curls falling over her
+pale face. Grandsire, daughter, child, so like one another, and yet so
+far apart in age. Three types they are of the ancient Briton.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite this trio, with her left hand clasped in that of Netta, and
+close to her sofa, stands the fair, blue-eyed, graceful Gladys;
+thoroughly Irish in beauty, if Welsh in heart. The red glare of the
+large bright fire brings out her sweet, earnest face, and slight form.
+Her eyes are cast down, as if they cannot support the gaze of so many
+other eyes, and her cheeks are flushed with a strange excitement.
+Towering a full head above her, his arm round her waist, the thick black
+beard touching her hair is the manly, handsome Owen. Love, joy, pride,
+in his honest black eyes, and health on his bronzed and ruddy cheeks.
+Seated on the sofa, her arms on Netta's knees, her head, with its silver
+hair, and plain white lace cap, eagerly pressed forward, is the
+well-beloved mother. For the first time since Netta's return, grief for
+the one child, has merged into joy for the other, and prayer and praise
+for all are in her heart even whilst she listens.</p>
+
+<p>The story is told, Gladys raises her eyes and head somewhat proudly for
+her. Owen lowers his, and kisses the pure, white forehead. There is
+silence for a few moments, no one can speak for tears. Owen is the
+first.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, father! all's right now, at any rate.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you there, Owen, my boy. The only objection is removed;
+everybody will know now that Gladys was honest, God bless you both, and
+make you happy.'</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there was a suppressed sob from Netta. Her mind had
+wandered from the open, straightforward betrothal of Owen and Gladys,
+crowned, after years of difficulty, with a father's and mother's
+blessing, to her own unhallowed marriage&mdash;to her lost husband.</p>
+
+<p>Again poor Netta was the object of every one's thoughts, Gladys forgot
+herself, and Owen his joy, to cheer and comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>It was in private that Mrs Prothero poured out her feelings to Gladys,
+and assured her of her unbounded satisfaction in the prospect of such a
+daughter. It was also in private that Netta solemnly gave her child into
+Gladys' care. She said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'If I die, Gladys, you are to be her mother. You are to bring her up;
+she is never to leave you. If Howel comes back, say to him this was my
+wish. But I will write it for him. You must teach her to love her
+father, and to pray for him; and when she is old enough to be firm in
+her duty, to go to him if he wishes it. But never let Aunt 'Lizbeth have
+her&mdash;never. I <i>must</i> see Aunt 'Lizbeth, I must tell her my wishes
+myself; you must talk to her, Gladys; she must not have my child if I
+die.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen and Minette went together to see poor Mrs Griffey. They found her
+much altered. Owen could scarcely recognise the brisk,
+handsomely-dressed Aunt 'Lizbeth who came to announce her son's gay
+wedding to Mrs Prothero, in that son's mother, as stricken by his crime.
+Moreover, there was a very strong smell of spirits in the room, and Owen
+perceived a bottle and glass, that had been hastily put aside, under a
+table in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins cried a great deal when she saw Minette, and Owen was soon
+very sorry that he had brought the child. However he told her to go to a
+small inner room, the window of which looked into the street, and her
+attention was soon quite absorbed. Her grandmother was in a maudlin
+condition, out of which, under any other circumstances, Owen would have
+extracted mirth, but now he only felt anger and sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>'Have you heard anything of Howel, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, <i>annwyl</i>! No. Mr Rice Rice is telling me there is a 'ditement
+brought against him for forgery, and now they can be taking him
+anywhere, and bringing him to trial as soon as they do find him.
+Forgery! name o' goodness, why 'ould he be forging, as I do say to every
+one, and his own mother as 'ould be giving him thousands of pounds. My
+Howels! Ach a fi! for sham to them! But he 'ont be found guilty, if they
+do tak him. Owen, bach! it was killing me, 'deet to goodness it was,'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't cry, Aunt 'Lizbeth, I wanted to speak to you about Netta.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh seure! she 'ont come to see her husband's mother! and I don't be
+cheusing to be turned out of doors again.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is very ill, aunt. We don't know whether she can ever recover. Her
+mind is wandering, and has been ever since that &mdash;Howel left her; she
+thinks he is gone for debt, and if she knew the real state of the case,
+it would probably be the death of her. If we could manage a meeting
+between you, could you speak only of Howel's debts, and not of this
+terrible suspicion.'</p>
+
+<p>'Seurely I could; but I 'ont go to Glanyravon; if your father was
+turning me out of doors then, what will he be doing now?'</p>
+
+<p>'We must see, Aunt 'Lizbeth? poor Netta sends her love to you, and begs
+you to keep up; she says she is sure Howel will come back; I was to tell
+you this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta! Netta! poor dear, poor dear.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins began to rock herself to and fro in her chair violently, and
+to cry hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>'He was very fond of her, Owen; you don't think she'll be dying? I do be
+wishing all day long that she hadn't gone off with him, and that my
+Griffey hadn't left all that money&mdash;and&mdash;- and&mdash;tak you a glass of
+brandy and water, Owen, it will be warming you after your cold walk, and
+I do feel so poorly and wretched all over, that I'll be having a drop
+along.'</p>
+
+<p>'No thank you, aunt, we must be going; what of the counsel for Howel?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I do be having the best in all London; Prince Albert or Queen
+Victoria 'ouldn't be having a better; to think of him as was dining with
+them wanst.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't believe such nonsense, Aunt 'Lizbeth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Was you thinking that my Howels is not telling the treuth? But I am
+seure they 'ont be finding him; they was telling me that America, where
+they do think he is gone, is bigger than all Wales, and England, and
+London put together. Oh, if I could be going to him, I 'ouldn't be
+vexing shocking, as I was now. All that money that my Griffey was
+putting by in pence and sixpences and shillings all gone, and he no
+better, and Howels no better, and I no better, 'scept that I did be
+seeing London. Come you, Owen, tak you a drop of brandy and water. I do
+tak it very kind of you to be coming to see me.'</p>
+
+<p>'What message shall I give Netta, Aunt 'Lizbeth?'</p>
+
+<p>'Give you her my love, and I'll be seeing her whenever she do like. Tell
+you her that Howels shall be having every penny his poor old mother do
+own to set him right again; he'll be seure to be proving himself right,
+come you. Them Simpsons and Spendalls were always living upon him, and
+now to be turning against him. Ach a fi! now do be taking a drop before
+you do go.'</p>
+
+<p>'No thank you, Aunt 'Lizbeth; and I don't think spirits good for you.
+You had better be careful.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't be drinking a wine glass full in a week, but when I am having
+the spasms, and now I am vexing so, they was coming oftener than they
+was eused to.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen left Mrs Jenkins with a heavy heart, foreseeing her end; Minette
+said she didn't like her because she smelt so of wine, and wasn't a
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>The next day but one Gladys went to see her, and did what she could to
+comfort and help her; she was used to all sorts of sorrow and sin, and
+was so gentle a consoler, and so Christian an adviser, that poor Mrs
+Jenkins asked her to come and stay with her always; but that could not
+be; she went, however, as often as she could leave Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Netta's will and word was now law with her father; he refused her
+nothing; he even allowed her to see her mother-in-law, provided the
+meeting was managed when he was from home. It was so managed, and a
+melancholy meeting it proved; the old woman's tears and sobs were so
+irrepressible, that Gladys was obliged to shorten it as much as
+possible; Netta, however, was calmer than she expected.</p>
+
+<p>'Mother,' she said, 'I want you to promise me one thing. If I die&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Netta, fach! why was you talking of dying? you 'ont be dying.'</p>
+
+<p>'I said <i>if</i>, mother. I wish Gladys, who is going to marry Owen&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Gladys, Owen! name o' goodness! and your father! he 'ouldn't let you
+marry my Howels, and she&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Is very good, mother, whilst I am very bad. But I wish her and Owen to
+bring up my child; you must tell Howel so, when he comes back; and when
+she is grown up, she will be a comfort to you and him. My head is
+confused; I dreamt last night Howel was here, and he was going to take
+away Minette. Is he with you, mother? tell me! do you know where he is?
+Oh! if I could see him once more! once more!'</p>
+
+<p>'He is being safe in America, Netta, fach, but is coming home soon I am
+thinking. Don't you be dying; he was doating upon you, and if he do come
+home, and don't be finding you, he'll be dying too.'</p>
+
+<p>'Are you sure he will come back? Did he tell you so himself?'</p>
+
+<p>'To be seure. He is coming back soon, only he must be paying his debts
+first. Come you!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins' unmitigated falsehoods did Netta a great deal of good; they
+cheered her, and gave her hope for the time. Gladys doubted whether
+hopes so based, and to be so miserably crushed, were to be encouraged,
+but she had not the heart to undeceive her.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr Prothero returned home that evening, he was surprised to see
+Netta looking so much more cheerful than she had done since her return.</p>
+
+<p>'Better, much better,' was her answer to his eager look of inquiry. 'And
+now I am better, I have another favour to ask. I want to see Owen and
+Gladys married while I am here. I think it would almost cure me to feel
+that I had helped to do one kind and right thing in my wrong life. Would
+you mind it, father?'</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be very glad to see them married, my dear; the sooner the
+better. Owen's good-for-nothing now but sitting with his arm round
+Gladys' waist all day long, and I hate those sort of follies.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Davy,' said Mrs Prothero, 'young people will be young people, and
+I'm sure no one can be so modest as Gladys,'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm of Netta's opinion, and the sooner they're married the
+better. I must confess, now I know who Gladys is, there isn't a girl in
+all the country I like so well. And Mr and Mrs Jones have written as a
+gentleman and lady ought to write, owning her, and giving their free
+consent to her marrying our Owen. So, Netta, fach, if you can get the
+young folk's consent you have mine.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen and Gladys had accompanied Mrs Jenkins part of the way home. She
+had particularly asked Gladys to 'send her,' and as it was getting dusk,
+Owen had 'sent her' also. They returned during the conversation
+respecting their marriage and Mr Prothero who had forgotten, if he had
+ever experienced, the shyness of affianced lovers, began the subject at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta wants you two young people to be married directly, so do I. I
+shall be glad when 'tis all over. What do you say to it?'</p>
+
+<p>They had nothing to say, Gladys blushed, and Owen felt awkward on her
+account, not his own.</p>
+
+<p>'There, I always said that lovers were fools,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'We will settle it another time,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Go you and settle it directly,' said Mr Prothero; 'what my little girl
+here says, is law in this house.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Netta always began to cry when her father said anything
+particularly kind. She did so now. There was a reaction on her spirits,
+and she suddenly became as depressed as she had previously been gay. The
+constantly recurring contrasts between herself and Gladys continually
+affected her, and her father's readiness for the marriage reminded her
+of the scenes between him and herself previously to her own.</p>
+
+<p>The topic was given up for that evening, but the following morning Netta
+renewed it with Owen, who declared himself ready to marry Gladys that
+very moment.</p>
+
+<p>The upshot of it all was, that the wedding was settled for New Year's
+Day, at Netta's particular request. No one cared, or indeed thought what
+the world would say at a marriage taking place during a period of such
+heavy affliction. Netta willed it, and to give her pleasure, and an
+object for her poor wandering mind, every member of the family would
+have made any sacrifice; and this was not a sacrifice at all, but an
+event of importance to all.</p>
+
+<p>Mr and Mrs Jones promised to come if only for one clear day, and sent a
+box of presents to their niece, which Netta had the pleasure of
+unpacking. Amongst them was a simple and pretty wedding dress and
+bonnet, that poor Netta wept over, thinking of her own.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, however, Netta was better and more cheerful, and even
+assisted in the preparations that were going forward. She helped to make
+that pretty dove-coloured silk dress that was manufactured at home, and
+tried to join in the happiness which her apparently improved health
+seemed to make allowable.</p>
+
+<p>But Netta's heart was with Howel, and the certainty that she felt of his
+return and constant love, alone sustained her. Alas! that poor,
+fluttering, uncertain heart!</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI" ></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HEIR.</h3>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne returned to Glanyravon on Christmas Eve. She had not visited
+it before, since she left it when her father married. She had seen her
+father, his wife, and her little brother almost yearly in London,
+whither Lady Mary Nugent insisted on dragging her husband annually; but
+she had not hitherto had love, or courage, or Christian charity enough
+to visit them at home. When last in town, and repeatedly by letter, her
+father had urged her doing so, and she had at last complied with his
+request, more from a latent sense of duty than from inclination.</p>
+
+<p>It was a bright, frosty night, when the carriage that had been sent to
+meet her drove up to the door. If poor Netta had fainted on returning to
+the farm, Freda was obliged to brush away gathering tears as she
+returned to the Park. Every branch of tree, as it glittered in the
+moonlight in its dress of hoar frost, was familiar to her, every pane of
+glass in the windows of the old place seemed a friend.</p>
+
+<p>On the lowest step, bare-headed and expectant, were the old butler and
+footman she had left when she went away; she shook hands with each, and
+they almost rung her hand off. In the door-way stood her father, not
+bare-headed, but expectant, who received her with paternal warmth. Freda
+knew that he must for once have forgotten himself and his nervous
+debility to have thus exposed himself to the frosty air. In the hall was
+Lady Mary ready with smiles and embraces, with which Freda would gladly
+have dispensed; but she did her best to seem, if she could not feel,
+glad to see her.</p>
+
+<p>Her ladyship preceded her to her own old bedroom, where a huge fire, and
+bright wax candles bade her welcome, and whither she was followed by
+Frisk, who was exuberant in his demonstrations of delight at his return
+home after his long absence.</p>
+
+<p>'I have ordered my maid to wait on you my dear,' said Freda's
+stepmother, 'because I find your's does not return to you. But we can
+replace her. Dinner will be ready whenever you are; can I do anything
+for you?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, thank you, I shall not be long,' said Freda mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Freda felt that her tact was good after all; for no nice feeling could
+have been more successful than it was. She had received her just as if
+she had come home after a short absence. No demonstrations of any kind;
+her room was much as it had ever been. There were even some of her
+clothes in the wardrobe.</p>
+
+<p>'I won't cry! I won't give way!' muttered Freda, beginning to take off
+her wrappings.</p>
+
+<p>There was a tap at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Come in!' And Anne the old housemaid appeared.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, miss, I am so glad to see you home again, it do seem so natural.
+Please to let me unpack your things, miss. My lady thought you might
+like me better than Mrs Pink.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Anne, it does look like home to see you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shall I get your dress, miss?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't dress to-night, I am too tired. There, that will do. Now I will
+go downstairs.'</p>
+
+<p>She did so, and found her father alone in the library.</p>
+
+<p>'I won't cry,' again she said, as she kissed him affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you for coming, Freda, it will do me good, and my wife is
+delighted. Harold, too, is in ecstasies, and only went to bed with a
+promise that sister Freda&mdash;he calls you sister, you know, and&mdash;and all
+that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>The 'my wife,' grated strangely on Freda's ear, but she promised to go
+and see her little brother.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary came in, and they went to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed strange to see her at the head of the table, and Freda felt as
+if she were in a dream. But nothing could be more perfect than her
+ladyship's manner. She behaved as if nothing had ever happened to cause
+the least estrangement between them, and almost as if she were still
+Lady Mary Nugent. Handsome as ever, and perfectly well-bred, she almost
+made even Freda believe, after her long absence from her, that she
+really was what she seemed. However, Freda tried to take her as she was,
+and to feel thankful that she was no worse. It was she who principally
+kept up the conversation; Freda made great efforts, and signally failed,
+and Mr Gwynne never talked much.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner, Freda proposed to go and see the little brother. As she
+looked at the magnificent boy who lay peacefully sleeping in his little
+crib, she was thankful to be able to kiss him, and say, 'God bless you,
+my brother,' without feeling angered that he had deprived her of the
+inheritance she had once been so proud of. She knew that Lady Mary was
+watching her narrowly, but there was no hypocrisy in her affection, so
+she did not care.</p>
+
+<p>They went down to the library, where were Mr Gwynne, tea and coffee.</p>
+
+<p>'Is he not a splendid fellow, my dear?' said Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>'He certainly is, papa,' replied Freda, aloud, saying inwardly, 'and
+everything with you now. I am quite second&mdash;third I ought to say.'</p>
+
+<p>This was true; Mr Gwynne was proud of his wife and son. The former took
+care of him, and did not greatly interfere with his pursuits or
+peculiarities, the latter gave him new life and hopes. An heir in his
+old age was a gift that might well exceed that of the daughter who could
+not perpetuate his name.</p>
+
+<p>Freda was glad when she went to bed, which she did as soon as tea was
+over. It was a great relief to sit down once more in the easy-chair
+which had helped to nurse so many crude fancies and humours in days gone
+by, and think over the past and present. There was an atmosphere of
+unreality about everything at Glanyravon, that she hoped to clear off on
+the morrow, so she resolved to try not to feel depressed under its
+influence; but having once known what it was to enjoy living with real,
+working men and women, with aims beyond the formalities of society, it
+seemed hard to be thrown back upon the cold worldliness of her
+stepmother, and the selfish nervousness of her father.</p>
+
+<p>She was, however, aroused on the blessed morning of Christmas Day by
+something that was very real.</p>
+
+<p>'A merry Kismas, sister Freda,' shouted a sharp little voice into her
+ear, and before her eyes were half opened brisk little feet were
+stamping at her bedside, and the same voice authoritatively enouncing,
+'Put me up, Dane, I 'ull be put up.'</p>
+
+<p>'I beg your pardon, miss,' said the nurse, who stood in the doorway,
+'but Master Harold would come, and my lady isn't up, and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, let him in,' said Freda, sitting up in bed, and opening her
+arms to receive the rosy, wilful, handsome child, who did not know how
+he had supplanted her.</p>
+
+<p>'A merry Kismas!' he repeated, returning Freda's kisses by pulling off
+her night-cap, and letting down her long hair before she knew what he
+was about. 'Now, I'll dive 'ou to Tewey.'</p>
+
+<p>'Master Harold! don't, sir!' said the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>But Master Harold was jumping on the pillow behind his sister, making
+reins of her hair and horses of her head in no very gentle fashion.</p>
+
+<p>'I sha'n't give you what I brought you from London if you pull my hair,'
+said Freda, catching the bare, firm, sturdy leg of the small tyrant who
+called her sister.</p>
+
+<p>'Is it soldiers?' asked the child, suddenly tumbling down before her.</p>
+
+<p>She caught the little fellow in her arms, and told him that if he would
+go away whilst she dressed he should have the present. After some demur
+he consented, having first informed Freda that ''ittle Minnie, and
+Winnie, and Dot, and baby' were all coming to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>'A family party!' groaned Freda, when the child was carried away by its
+nurse, 'myself the only rightful member of the family, and probably the
+only one who will feel as if she doesn't belong to it.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda got up and looked out upon the fine park and the hills beyond. She
+sighed involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>'Why should I sigh,' she said. 'I am happier than when it was my
+home,&mdash;happier, and, I hope, more useful. My father doesn't want
+me,'&mdash;here she paused. Perhaps that father really did want her, for she,
+at least, loved him, and his wife did not; and she was beginning to be
+conscious, daily more and more conscious, of the exceeding preciousness
+of love.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast passed, with the same effort to feel at home on her part, and
+attempt to keep up a conversation on that of Lady Mary, as had the
+dinner of the previous day.</p>
+
+<p>Harold made a diversion by bursting into the room to ask for his
+soldiers. He, at least, was quite natural, and entirely spoilt.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after breakfast they drove to church. It was delightful to
+Freda to see the good vicar in the reading-desk, and his wife in the pew
+beneath. She felt at home again for the first time. For the first time,
+also, she really listened to the worthy man's somewhat dry sermon, and
+strove to feel 'in charity with all men' on that blessed day. She
+thought once or twice of a sermon Rowland had preached that day
+twelvemonth, which riveted the attention of his large congregation, and
+made her wonder whence he had received the gift, by half-an-hour's plain
+eloquent preaching, of opening the heart to receive truths hitherto more
+understood than felt. Rowland had become to her, and many, the type of a
+preacher and minister of the Gospel, and to him she owed, under God, the
+fuller enlightenment and enlargement of her own mind.</p>
+
+<p>After the service was over she went into the vicarage. Here, again, she
+was at home. She had much to tell Mrs Prothero of the kindness of Sir
+Philip Payne Perry and his wife to her, and many messages to deliver
+from them. She had also to hear Mr and Mrs Jonathan's opinion of Netta,
+and of the approaching wedding. She avoided any word that could recall
+Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'I hope you are not displeased with the match?' said Freda.</p>
+
+<p>'By no means,' was Mrs Jonathan's reply. 'I always thought Gladys very
+superior, and her turning out to be Mr Jones' niece removes our only
+objection. It is quite a romance!'</p>
+
+<p>'She is a clever young woman,' said Mr Jonathan. 'I was surprised the
+other day to find how much history she knew. As to Wales, she has it by
+heart, and is not wholly unacquainted with the antiquities of the
+country. It was quite a pleasure for me, Miss Gwynne, I assure you, to
+meet with any one who took so much interest in ancient lore. And now she
+is to be one of the family she is so much more at her ease. Actually
+asked me, of her own accord, of the fossils in the Park quarry, and a
+very acute question concerning the lords of the marches. She even knew
+that her name, Gladys, meant Claudia, and that the original Gladys is,
+probably, the very Claudia mentioned by St Paul.'</p>
+
+<p>'We shall all be thrown into the shade now, Mrs Prothero,' said Freda,
+laughing. 'Gladys will evidently be the favourite.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am afraid I must break up your conversation, my love,' interrupted
+Lady Mary. 'You can drive or ride over to finish it when you like.'</p>
+
+<p>On their way home her ladyship remarked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose this unfortunate discovery concerning Mr Howel Jenkins will
+quite ruin Mr. Rowland Prothero's position in London society?'</p>
+
+<p>'He is scarcely in what is called &quot;society;&quot; but his friends are not
+likely to be changed by the conduct of his brother-in-in-law. He is far
+too highly esteemed and admired to be injured by such a man as Howel
+Jenkins.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and was convinced that Lady
+Mary noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad to hear you say so, my dear,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a great
+favourite of mine, and I should be sorry to think his prospects were
+injured. They are a rising family. His brother is very much thought of,
+and improving his own and my property amazingly. A most energetic young
+man, and so amusing, that he almost kills me whenever I see him. I am
+glad he is going to marry that pretty Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>When they arrived at home they found the party from Abertewey ready to
+receive them,&mdash;at least, Mrs Gwynne Vaughan and her children. The
+colonel was to join them at dinner.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Freda, dear, I am tho glad you are come home again!' lisped Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan. 'Tho ith Gwynne. He thaith it will be delightful to have
+you. Thith ith little Gwynne, and thith ith Minnie, and we call thith
+one Dot, and baby ith in the nurthery. You thall thee her by-and-by.
+Kith Aunt Freda, Minnie,&mdash;they all call you Aunt Freda, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda, not at all rejoicing in the honour, stooped to kiss all the
+pretty little children by turns, and had soon made friends with them
+all. The children were the greatest possible relief to her; she turned
+to them as a sort of neutral ground between the war in her own heart and
+the tact and inanity of her stepmother and stepsister.</p>
+
+<p>The latter was as unchanged as the former. Very handsome, very
+fashionably dressed, very good-tempered,&mdash;in short, Miss Nugent simply
+turned into Mrs Vaughan. Freda wondered how the really clever and
+agreeable Colonel Vaughan could live with so dull a companion.</p>
+
+<p>Having got through luncheon and the afternoon somehow, thanks to the
+children, the dinner-hour arrived, and therewith the colonel. Freda
+always felt reserved with him, and his studied kindness and politeness
+to her when she had met him occasionally in London, irritated her. She
+had spoken to him before his marriage so unreservedly of his wife, and
+had given him to understand so unmistakably that she knew what had
+passed between him and Gladys, that she fancied he must at heart
+cordially dislike her. Moreover, she had loved him. Much as she despised
+herself now for having done so, she knew it, and she despised him all
+the more on that account.</p>
+
+<p>There was, however, no mistaking the real warmth of his welcome, and for
+the moment&mdash;only for the moment&mdash;Freda's heart beat quick.</p>
+
+<p>'I am so glad to see you, Freda,&mdash;sister Freda, you know, now,&mdash;and
+looking so well.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yeth, ith'nt the looking well. I think the lookth younger than when the
+went away.'</p>
+
+<p>'Handsomer, at any rate. I may pay you a compliment, now, Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda could not return it. Colonel Vaughan looked more than six years
+older since his marriage, and there was a dissatisfied expression on his
+countenance very different from the old suavity.</p>
+
+<p>Freda was not long in discovering that if he had improved his fortune by
+marriage he had not improved his temper, or increased his happiness.
+Fortunately for his wife, her imperturbable placidity and want of acute
+feeling prevented her from appropriating many hard hits from her husband
+that would have made Freda wretched.</p>
+
+<p>Again, she admired the tact of the mother. By it she managed her husband
+admirably, and retained her power over him in precisely the same way as
+she did before she married him; while Wilhelmina wholly lost what little
+she had gained over hers prior to her marriage. Her silliness annoyed
+him continually, and her beauty, for want of expression, palled upon his
+fastidious taste.</p>
+
+<p>Freda's contempt very soon turned to pity. The handsome, fascinating,
+deceitful colonel was amply indemnified for all the hearts he had
+broken, and those broken hearts fully avenged by the tedium of his home
+life.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, Freda did not discover all this during that one Christmas
+Day, but it developed itself during her subsequent stay at Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>'We did not ask any one else to dinner to-day, Gwynne,' said Mr Gwynne,
+'because we thought Freda would like to have us alone, you know, and see
+the children, and&mdash;and all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope Freda enjoys a family-party better than I do,' said the colonel,
+looking at her as he spoke. 'Of all things on earth, it is the slowest.'</p>
+
+<p>'Complimentary,' said Lady Mary.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Gwynne ith alwayth tho fond of thaying what he dothn't mean. He
+often doth to me, don't you, my dear? But I don't mind, becauth I
+underthtand him now.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda looked at Mrs Vaughan to see if she spoke ironically. Not at all.
+She fully believed what she said. Colonel Vaughan saw the glance, and
+smiling, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'All in good faith, I assure you.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda blushed, and to turn the conversation, began to talk to him of his
+children, and to praise their beauty. He smiled again, as perfectly
+understanding her ruse.</p>
+
+<p>'People call them loves and angels!' he said, 'and even go into raptures
+over the baby. For my part, I never look at them when they are babies.
+Indeed, I don't like children, and all ours are so spoilt. Wilhelmina
+doesn't know how to manage them, and now their governess is away, the
+house is like a lunatic asylum.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Gwynne, how abthurd you are! He ith tho fond of them, Freda, you
+can't think, and they are thuch little dearth.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was greatly amused,' said Freda, 'to hear Minnie call Harold &quot;uncle,&quot;
+just now; and he seemed not a little proud of his dignity.'</p>
+
+<p>'Surely, Freda, you haven't learnt to talk baby talk!' said Colonel
+Vaughan. 'You used to eschew such twaddle.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was time for me to learn to like a great many things that I
+professed to hate. I hope I am improved since I was here last. But I
+always liked children.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Harold is so fond of her,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a wonderful boy.'</p>
+
+<p>Here followed a history of various achievements of Harold, during which
+Colonel Vaughan vainly endeavoured to catch Freda's eye. She was only
+too well-disposed to smile at the infatuation of the doating father.</p>
+
+<p>'Here are the children, I think,' said Lady Mary.</p>
+
+<p>In bounded Harold, and jumped, unbidden, on Freda's lap.</p>
+
+<p>'I ull have some of that&mdash;and that,' said Harold.</p>
+
+<p>'And I will have&mdash;' began Minnie.</p>
+
+<p>'You will have nothing if you ask for it,' said the colonel with a
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>His little trio were quiet in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'Ganpapa, take me up,' said Dot, creeping round to Mr Gwynne.</p>
+
+<p>Freda felt her blood creep at that word 'Grandpapa,' and also felt the
+colonel's glance. He seemed to take a pleasure in watching every
+expression of her countenance, and it did, unfortunately, always convey
+her feelings to the watcher.</p>
+
+<p>Freda had never passed so uncomfortable a dinner since the day when the
+present Mrs Vaughan came of age. Probably she was the only one of the
+party who was conscious of Colonel Vaughan's changed manner and temper,
+because it was new to her, and she could scarcely believe him to be
+himself. Her father was wrapped up in his boy&mdash;his wife's attention was
+divided between him and the other children, and Mrs Vaughan smiled and
+lisped on all by turns.</p>
+
+<p>Freda thought of old times, when her father and herself were so happy
+together; and then she thought of the last Christmas day in London, when
+Mr and Mrs Jones, Rowland, and herself dined late off a Glanyravon Park
+turkey, having first feasted as many poor people as the kitchen would
+hold, on geese from Glanyravon Farm. Certainly the comparison with her
+present companions was 'odious' to her.</p>
+
+<p>Freda scarcely knew which was worst&mdash;the riotous, untameable spirits of
+Harold, who did and said what he liked, unchecked either by father or
+mother, or the cowed and altered manner of the other children in the
+presence of their father; they, too, had been noisy enough before he
+arrived.</p>
+
+<p>'It was very good of you to come to-day, Gwynne,' said Lady Mary; 'I
+scarcely expected you, knowing how you dislike this frosty weather.'</p>
+
+<p>'Freda is attraction enough to draw off the frost, though she has become
+so much better than her neighbours. Wilhelmina, my dear, why do you let
+Minnie stuff her mouth so full of orange? The child will choke.'</p>
+
+<p>The dinner came to an end at last, and the children went to bed. Freda
+played and sung some sacred music at Colonel Vaughan's request, and he
+complimented her on her improvement, and said he wished his wife played
+and sung as well, because music was such a resource in a dull country
+place.</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you have practised a great deal since you have been in
+London?' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs Jones and I play and sing whenever we have time, and I have had
+some lessons,' replied Freda. 'Besides, one hears all the first
+musicians and singers, and they teach one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did you see much of that young parson, Prothero? I remember he was
+somewhere in your neighbourhood,' asked the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>Freda was sure this question was a feeler, and she answered
+carelessly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, naturally. He is Mr Jones' brother curate.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now confess, you didn't like those people, and that sort of life? You
+must have been <i>ennuy&eacute;e</i> from morning to night.'</p>
+
+<p>'On the contrary, the days were not half long enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'Freda!' exclaimed Mrs Vaughan, 'I get tho tired, and tho doth the
+colonel, before half the evening ith over.'</p>
+
+<p>'Some one else seems in the same condition,' said Freda. 'Papa is fast
+asleep.'</p>
+
+<p>'And mamma nearly,' said Mrs Vaughan. 'And I am tho tired. I think
+Chrithmath dayth are very dull. One dothn't know what to do.'</p>
+
+<p>'That isn't peculiar to Christmas days in your year,' said the colonel,
+sarcastically; 'but I suppose we had better go to bed. I hope we shall
+be more amusing to-morrow, Freda. All your old friends, the constant Sir
+Hugh amongst them, are invited to meet you. Let me light your candle.
+Remember, I always used to do that, when we had our snug evenings
+together such an age ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yeth, he often talkth of you, Freda, and thayth you were thuch good
+company.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda heard Colonel Vaughan sigh, and thought, as she said 'good-night,'
+and hastened upstairs, that she ought to be thankful that the
+imperturbable and dull Wilhelmina Nugent had been the choice of that
+discontented and irritable colonel, instead of the quick-tempered,
+independent Winifred Gwynne.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII" ></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.</h3>
+
+<p>New Year's Day dawned under the influence of a bright sun, and a clear,
+frosty atmosphere. The old year was dead and buried with all his griefs
+and joys; his son and heir came forward smiling, to begin his career of
+times and seasons, clouds and sunbeams.</p>
+
+<p>With him, Owen and Gladys were to commence their united lives. An
+auspicious morning ushered in this, their bridal day, and the year's
+birthday. Nature had put on all her jewels in honour of the joint
+festivities. Her very tears were turned into diamonds that sparkled on
+her capacious breast, neck, and arms, more brilliantly than stomachers,
+necklaces and bracelets of gems, on the courtiers of an Indian monarch.</p>
+
+<p>Truly, as the fair and gentle Gladys drove through the roads and lanes
+that led from the farm to the church, the hedge-rows sparkled with these
+brilliants, and her very pathway was strewn with them. Attired in that
+Quaker-like garb of dove-colour and white, her soft cheek tinged as from
+the sun, her eyes cast down in modest shyness, and her heart beating
+with quiet happiness, she seemed a fitting bride to wait upon that heir
+of so many by-gone generations.</p>
+
+<p>And assuredly a happier never drove to a church to meet her expectant
+bridegroom, her hand clasped lovingly between the kindly palms of her
+future mother, sitting by her side; and the affectionate glances of her
+uncle and aunt cast upon her from the opposite seat. She felt as if it
+were all a dream. She, the Irish beggar&mdash;the friendless&mdash;the
+wanderer&mdash;the orphan!</p>
+
+<p>And now so honoured! All whom she most cared for in the world, with the
+exception of Rowland, were assembled in that village church to meet her.
+There were Owen and his father&mdash;Miss Gwynne and Minette&mdash;Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>Gentleness, gratitude and simple merit, were, for once rewarded, even in
+this world.</p>
+
+<p>The kind and worthy Uncle Jonathan&mdash;so soon to be <i>her</i> uncle&mdash;married
+her. Her own uncle gave her, with prayers and blessings, to him whom she
+had loved so long and truly&mdash;her former mistress, now her fast friend,
+and another mistress's grandchild, were her bridesmaids.</p>
+
+<p>If a tear gathered in her eye, it was a tear of joy; and there, at the
+altar, amongst all those to whom she was henceforth to be united by the
+ties of relationship, she inwardly vowed to devote herself to their
+happiness, and to the fulfilment of the promises she was making to him
+who would be one with her for ever.</p>
+
+<p>The churchyard was full of spectators, as the proud and happy Owen led
+his bride through it to the vicarage, and the general opinion was, that
+there had never been married so handsome a couple in the church of
+Llanfach.</p>
+
+<p>The bells and the sunbeams rang out and shone out together, and all the
+wedding-party forgot their private sorrows in the joy of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Even Netta, who had been taken to the vicarage for the occasion,
+received them with one of her old bright smiles. She threw her arms
+round Gladys, and called her 'sister.'</p>
+
+<p>'<i>My</i> sister,' she said more than once emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>And if tears would, from time to time, spring into her eyes, as she
+contrasted herself with Gladys, she brushed them away, and did her best
+not to cast a shadow from her grief, on the brightness of a brother and
+sister's joy. That little drawing-room at the vicarage contained as
+pretty and pleasant a group as could well be seen, of which Owen and
+Gladys formed the centre figures.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, my good girl, let me give you a real kiss,' said honest Mr
+Prothero, 'and tell you that I am proud of my daughter. Mother, what do
+you say?'</p>
+
+<p>'I say, thank God for all His mercies,' said quiet Mrs Prothero, shaking
+Gladys' hand, which she seemed loath to part with.</p>
+
+<p>If there is a great variety of character and feeling displayed in
+shaking hands, there assuredly is, also, in kissing. Gladys experienced
+it in that same little drawing-room, where she submitted her blushing
+cheeks to all sorts of impressions.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero gave her three very hearty smacks, which resounded through
+the room, and seemed to say at once, 'I am your father; his wife's
+embrace was quieter, but more tender. Mrs Jonathan stooped majestically,
+and imprinted her lips patronisingly on the forehead, as much as to say,
+'I receive you into the family of the Payne Perrys, since you are
+respectably connected.' Mrs Jones kissed her on the lips, and said, 'God
+bless you, my dear.' Miss Gwynne, who hated kissing, and did not
+consider herself one of the family, looked on, but took no active part.
+Was that pride? she asked herself afterwards, and the answer was, 'Yes.'
+As to Mr Jones, his embrace made Owen exclaim, 'It is well I know you
+are her uncle now. I was as jealous as could be when you kissed her in
+London.' Minette's embrace was a long hug, and when the vicar came in,
+he wound up the scene by a salute as original as himself, which called
+forth the following reproof from his brother:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Why, man, you don't know how to kiss. You stumbled upon the very tip of
+her nose, and almost put her eyes out with your spectacles.'</p>
+
+<p>Heedless of the interruption, Mr Jonathan addressed his niece as
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'My dear Niece, Claudia,&mdash;I shall henceforth call you by that name, in
+memory of her of the Epistle, and I so registered it just now, Gladys or
+Claudia&mdash;I wish you and my good nephew, Owen, all happiness and
+prosperity, both spiritual and temporal. I pray that you may, according
+to the example of your illustrious namesake, devote yourself to works of
+piety and hospitality, making your husband's home happy, and keeping a
+place therein for his and your friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'To be sure she will, uncle,' said Owen, 'and we will have an especial
+corner for you, called &quot;The Claudia,&quot; where the little hypocrite shall
+talk to you of all the druidical remains, and fossil mammoths, that she
+pretends to be so interested in.'</p>
+
+<p>'You had better come and take off your bonnet now, my dear,' said Mrs
+Jonathan to the flushed and shy Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'I hope I shall never be married,' whispered Freda to Mrs Jones, 'if I
+am to undergo that sort of ordeal. But I suppose all brides are not
+kissed in that way.'</p>
+
+<p>Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had prepared a substantial early dinner&mdash;they
+did not dignify it by the name of <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i>, or miscall it
+breakfast&mdash;to which, in the course of an hour or so, the family party
+sat down, much as they would have sat down to any ordinary dinner. The
+dining-table just accommodated ten comfortably, and Netta sat in her
+easy-chair by the fire, with a small table by her side, making the
+eleventh.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne remained to luncheon only, being engaged to dine at
+Abertewey, and not considering herself quite as one of the guests. She
+had come uninvited and unexpected, to show due honour to Gladys and her
+dear friends, Mr and Mrs Jones, and the whole party were gratified by
+the attention.</p>
+
+<p>The remarks upon her doing so made by her friends at home, were various.</p>
+
+<p>'Freda is certainly very eccentric,' said Lady Mary to her husband. 'Her
+former maid&mdash;your tenant's son&mdash;the brother-in-law of that Howel
+Jenkins. Do you think it discreet, Mr Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, really, Lady Mary, I didn't think about it. She has always done
+what she likes; they are very worthy, respectable people, you know, and
+all that sort of thing.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, if you don't object, of course it is no affair of mine. But it
+looks very much as if she still thought of Mr Rowland.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, an excellent young man! It was only yesterday I saw his name
+mentioned in the <i>Times</i>, as having attended a large meeting in the
+place of his rector, who is ill. It was upon the general question of all
+sorts of improvements of the low parts of London. I can't exactly
+remember what they were, religious, and sanitary, and all that sort of
+thing you know. Well, the thanks of the meeting were awarded him, for
+his very clear and accurate information, or something of the sort. Very
+satisfactory, you know.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh very! but that can have nothing to do with Freda.'</p>
+
+<p>'She is very good, is Freda, much improved! she never disputes and
+quarrels with me now. I hope she will live with us&mdash;indeed I cannot part
+with her again.'</p>
+
+<p>At Abertewey, Mrs Vaughan asked the colonel whether 'he thought Freda
+would come away from that thupid wedding, in time for dinner.'</p>
+
+<p>'If she doesn't, I will never ask her here again,' was the reply. 'Now
+Freda really is a capital girl, unaffected and sensible; improving every
+year. I wish all women were more like her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tho do I, Gwynne; the ith very nice, tho kind to the children, and not
+tho thatirical to me as the uthed to be. I uthed to be afraid of her,
+but I am not now, at all. Don't you think thatirical people very
+dithagreeable? I hope Winnie won't be thatirical, don't you? Mamma
+thaith&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind what she says, my dear. I hope Freda will come. All the
+people will be so disgusted if she does not, particularly poor Sir Hugh.
+I wish she would marry him&mdash;but she is too good for him. Intellectual
+people ought not to marry those who have no brains.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, thertainly not. Oh! here they are! Freda and all. I hear her
+voithe. I am tho glad.'</p>
+
+<p>To Freda's surprise, every one seemed really glad to see her, and to the
+surprise of every one, the more they saw of her, the more they liked
+her. The very people whom she had shunned as bores, and who had shunned
+her as 'tho thatirical,' now became friendly and pleasant to her, and
+she to them; how it was they could not tell, but various reasons were
+assigned for the change.</p>
+
+<p>'How altered Miss Gwynne is,' said one; 'I suppose the birth of the
+brother has made her more humble.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothing like London to pull the pride out of our country gentry,' said
+a second. 'Lords at home, they are only one of a multitude there. Miss
+Gwynne has learnt her true position at last.'</p>
+
+<p>'How much more agreeable Miss Gwynne is,' said a fourth. 'I suppose it
+is because she has been living in a clergyman's family, where they are
+obliged to be pleasant to all the parishioners.'</p>
+
+<p>'How much less fastidious, satirical, and overbearing Freda Gwynne is,'
+a fourth; 'her very countenance is altered; I am sure there has been
+some great change in her mind.'</p>
+
+<p>And thus the neighbours rang the changes upon Freda's change; but Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan had been, perhaps, the nearest to the real cause. She was
+no longer satirical, no longer striving to find out vulnerable points in
+people's characters to laugh at; she had learnt to make allowances for
+others, who in turn made allowances for her. Satirical people are very
+amusing, but rarely welcome, companions; not that Freda was exactly
+satirical, but she had the gift of finding out every one's weak
+points&mdash;a good gift to those who will kindly cover the point, but a bad
+one to such as like to lay it bare.</p>
+
+<p>The party at Abertewey went off very well; the colonel was in good
+humour, and devoted to Freda, who tried to treat him as her
+brother-in-law; and Sir Hugh was more gallant than ever, and long before
+the evening was over, had managed to tell Freda that he would rather
+have her without the Park than with it, which Freda pretended to take as
+a joke on the part of her old admirer.</p>
+
+<p>The following day, Mr and Mrs Jones spent at the Park, according to a
+special invitation from its master and mistress. Lady Mary's attention
+to Freda's friends did more towards reconciling her to her step-mother
+than anything else; and she even forgot to ask whether it was tact or
+not. Mr Jones was obliged to return to London the next day, but at
+Freda's earnest entreaty, he left his wife behind him for a week, which
+was spent by her between the Park and farm very agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>Before she left, Mr Gwynne had a little private conference with her, to
+the following effect, and very nervous he was meanwhile:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I am very much obliged to you and Mr Jones, I am sure, for your
+kindness to Freda. I hope you understand how satisfied, and&mdash;and&mdash;all
+that sort of thing, you know, I am whilst she is with you.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones saw that she must say something to help him on.</p>
+
+<p>'We are only too glad to have her society and aid. I assure you she has
+been invaluable in the parish, and is beloved by every one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Exactly; I perceive a wonderful change in her; she is gentler, and less
+excitable. I feel that you&mdash;that your husband&mdash;in short, I
+mean&mdash;that&mdash;hem&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Freda has such a fine natural character, Mr Gwynne.'</p>
+
+<p>'Precisely; I would say that I am convinced you would not influence her,
+and so forth, in remaining away from&mdash;you understand&mdash;from me, in
+short.'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly not. I should be very glad to think that she would return
+and live happily at her natural home, sorry as I should be to lose her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you very much indeed; you have always been her true friend. I am
+very anxious&mdash;so we are all you see&mdash;Lady Mary would like a
+companion&mdash;Harold attends to her better than to any one else. I hope you
+like Harold; ah&mdash;yes&mdash;he is a fine boy, and so talented; and you
+know&mdash;to be sure. I should wish to have Freda to read with me again; I
+assure you I miss her in many ways. And the colonel and Mrs Vaughan&mdash;the
+children&mdash;in fact&mdash;in short&mdash;you understand?'</p>
+
+<p>'Perfectly, and will not throw any obstacle in the way of Freda's
+remaining at home.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you very much. You are a true friend, Mrs Jones; thank you.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones made a point of repeating that conversation to Freda, whose
+look of blank dismay quite startled her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Serena, you want to get rid of me. I could never live this kind of
+life again. Lady Mary would kill me in another month; not an idea in
+common. Her daughter is fifty times more endurable, for she is innocent
+in her silliness. And then that cranky, exigeant colonel, longing to
+make love to me if I would let him; the stiff dinner parties, tiresome
+people, spoilt children&mdash;though I do delight in Harold and Winnie and
+Gwynne and Dot and baby, too, for that much&mdash;and&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'And your father,' quietly suggested Mrs Jones.</p>
+
+<p>'I never thought you would wish me to leave you, Serena. Those happy,
+useful days! The poor, the schools, the church!'</p>
+
+<p>'They are everywhere, my love.'</p>
+
+<p>'But so different. I never felt so happy or useful before I lived with
+you in London.'</p>
+
+<p>'The change is in yourself, not in the place.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! Serena, this is cruel! I could live with my father anywhere, but
+the others&mdash;impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>'Think it over. You know that you have a home with us whenever you like;
+that it would be my pleasure as well as interest to have you always.
+That we shall miss you in every possible way; still duty is duty. As
+long as your father did not care, and Lady Mary was rather glad to have
+the Park to herself, the thing was, perhaps, different, at any rate
+Freda was not then the Freda she is now.</p>
+
+<p>'Serena, you are a bitter-sweet, and a horrible little apple that is.'</p>
+
+<p>'But they say it makes good cider.'</p>
+
+<p>'At any rate you ought not to influence me. I will not decide whilst you
+are here, and that is all I will promise. If I do, it will be to go to
+you undoubtedly. But I will think it over.'</p>
+
+<p>That very night before she went to bed, Freda did think it over, sitting
+by the fire in her delightful, warm, well-lighted, well-furnished
+bedroom; but she could not come to any determination. She made out a
+sort of debtor and creditor account in her own head, and cashed it
+according to her somewhat imperfect notions of book-keeping.</p>
+
+<p>'My father&mdash;of course I owe him a great deal in the way of duty and
+love; but he owes me something for letting me have my own way all my
+life, bringing me up with the notion that I should be an heiress, and
+then disappointing me by marrying a woman whom I utterly despise. Lady
+Mary&mdash;I owe her nothing whatever, beyond the common proper treatment
+that one must give to every one; she, on the contrary, owes me
+compensation for marrying my father when I am sure he didn't want her,
+and certainly I did not.</p>
+
+<p>'Colonel Vaughan&mdash;I don't owe him anything beyond a little improvement
+in my style of singing and drawing; yes, I owe him a heavy debt of
+gratitude for not proposing for me instead of Wilhelmina, for assuredly
+I should have married him, and he owes me something for making a fool of
+me. Wilhelmina&mdash;I owe her a good deal, firstly, for despising her,
+laughing at her, ridiculing her&mdash;and she all the time better than I was,
+for she never retaliated&mdash;and secondly, for trying to prejudice the
+colonel against her. Harold&mdash;I owe him the love of a sister, and he owes
+me nothing as yet; here I am decidedly debtor. The poor, of course,
+wherever one is, one owes them a great debt of Christian charity and
+love; and I must confess that they are not quite so well seen to as when
+Gladys was my almoner; but then she is here again to see to them, and
+that, on her own responsibility, and it is Lady Mary's place to care for
+them now.</p>
+
+<p>'On the other hand, Serena&mdash;I owe her everything; all my few good
+thoughts, words and works. She owes me nothing. Mr Jones, ditto; I am
+wholly creditor in London: the poor, the ragged schools, I owe them
+every farthing I can give, for they want it, and have few to help them.
+I feel almost sure I should be best in London. Rowland Prothero, I owe
+him compensation for my great, unpardonable rudeness and pride; I am
+more ashamed of that one action than of any other. He so superior to me
+in every way, but the mere accident of birth.'</p>
+
+<p>Thus far Freda got in her arithmetic. But Rowland seemed to open a new
+rule, farther on in Butler than addition and substraction. In short,
+she found herself lost in the maze of fractions, and could not extricate
+herself. When she jumped up from her easy-chair, she was trying to
+reduce the following complex fractions, into one simple one, and
+entirely failed.</p>
+
+<p>'A curate, the son of my father's tenant, the brother-in-law of my
+former maid, brother-in-law also of a man indicted for forgery. But,
+proud as myself; below me here, but above me in London; infinitely my
+superior in everything worth the consideration of a person travelling
+quickly through a world of silly distinctions, to one where we shall all
+begin life on very different principles. The fact is, Freda, that the
+tables are turned, and you now esteem this same Rowland Prothero much
+higher than he esteems you. Constant intercourse has brought out all his
+grand points, and all your weak ones. His mind has conquered your vulgar
+prejudices, but has also fully seen through them, and despises you
+accordingly. Well, I suppose duty and propriety concur in my remaining
+at Glanyravon Park, discretion being the better part of valour.'</p>
+
+<p>And so ended Freda's arithmetic.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII" ></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PENITENT.</h3>
+
+<p>A week after the marriage of Owen and Gladys, the following conversation
+took place between Gladys and Netta. The latter had been much more
+wandering in mind since the wedding, and had been occupying herself by
+writing a variety of letters, all of which were addressed to Howel, with
+the exception of one, which was to her brother Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'You see, dear sister,' said Netta, 'that Howel cannot come to me,
+because he is in debt, so I must go to him. He is in America, I know.
+His letter was from America.'</p>
+
+<p>'But America is an immense continent, dear Netta,' said Gladys; 'you
+would not know where to seek him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, yes! I should find him very soon. My love would point the way. I
+should track his steps like a dog, Gladys&mdash;like a dog.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you cannot go till you are better and stronger. Then we can all
+consult upon the best way.'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush not a word to any one. They would stop me. And you know now
+Howell is my husband, I must leave father and mother to follow him. I
+know I was wrong to leave them to marry him; though he loves me, Gladys!
+he loves me! Don't you think he does?'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure he does. Still, it might not be well for you to go to him, if
+he is hiding for debt. He might prefer your remaining here?'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you not go to Owen? Would he like you to be away from him in
+trouble? You, who have only been married a week, know better; and I have
+been married years.'</p>
+
+<p>'Owen shall tell you, my dear love, whether he would wish me to go to
+him at such a time. Perhaps men know best what other men would like?'</p>
+
+<p>'But I mean to go, Gladys. Neither Owen nor you can hinder me.'</p>
+
+<p>'And what of Minette? You would kill her, if you took her so far.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! that is what I wanted to say to you. I knew there was something;
+but my head aches so, I forget. If I go away, will you take care of
+Minette till I come back. Will you love her as if she were your own?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wherever you go I will be a mother to her; but she would not like to
+part from her own dear mother, any better than you will from yours. We
+will not think of the journey just yet, dear; we will be happy together,
+all of us, for a little longer. You cannot leave so soon, after you have
+made Owen and me so blest.'</p>
+
+<p>'None of you want me now; father and mother have a new daughter, a
+better one than I have ever been; Owen a wife! What a word that is,
+Gladys! We don't understand it till we are parted from our husband; and
+I give Minette a mother in my place. I must go very soon.'</p>
+
+<p>Poor Netta laid her head on Gladys' shoulder, and began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, dear,' said Gladys soothingly, 'we will see about it, you and I.
+But you must not go till I think you strong enough, and till we are
+prepared with clothes and money.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I can beg! I don't want clothes or money to get to Howel.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys knew that it was of no use to try to combat Netta's purpose. All
+she could do was to seem to yield.</p>
+
+<p>'We will see,' she said, 'when the days are a little longer. But you
+have not told me about the letters yet.'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I was forgetting them. If anything happens to me, or it I should
+miss Howel on my way, I want him to have this packet of letters. In
+them, I have told him that I wish Minette to remain here with you and
+mother; I have said a great deal to him, but mostly to beg him to
+forgive me, as I forgive him, all our unkindness to one another. Was
+that right, Gladys?'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right, love. We must forgive, as we hope to be forgiven.'</p>
+
+<p>'Father and mother have forgiven me. Do you think my heavenly Father
+has?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I do; because you have repented, and &quot;come to your Father,&quot; and
+asked forgiveness for His Son's sake.'</p>
+
+<p>'I have, Gladys; so I can go on my journey cheerfully.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys could scarcely refrain from tears, when she thought of the
+journey she was really travelling.</p>
+
+<p>'I know you have forgiven me, Gladys, for all I said of you when you
+came here first. Strange that I should have been willing to leave you in
+the barn, or anywhere, to die; you who have done so much for me! Oh,
+Gladys!'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't think of those times, Netta, dear; they are past, thank God.'</p>
+
+<p>Here the door opened, and Owen appeared, his face beaming with a
+happiness that it did all around him good to see.</p>
+
+<p>'What! tears! both of you! Only a week married!' he said, half
+playfully, half reproachfully, as he kissed, alternately, his wife and
+sister, and finally, sat down by the side of the former.</p>
+
+<p>'It was my fault, Owen,' said Netta.</p>
+
+<p>'Is that true, Gladys&mdash;quite true?' asked Owen, taking Gladys' hands in
+his, and looking into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'Quite true, Owen,' said Gladys, smiling lovingly on the open
+countenance of Owen, whilst a quiet tear rolled down her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Owen kissed off the tear.</p>
+
+<p>'You are happy, my love?' again he asked, as if fearing that a shadow
+should pass over that fair, sweet face, to obscure the light of their
+spring of wedded life.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys pressed his hands, assured him by a glance true as oaths, and
+looked at Netta. The hint was taken.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Netta's were the thin hands that Owen clasped, her's the
+face into which he gazed.</p>
+
+<p>'Owen,' she said earnestly, 'if I go away, will you take my child, as if
+she were your own? Will you love her, and bring her up?'</p>
+
+<p>'You are not going away, Netta! But you may be quite sure that I will
+love Minette, without any going away. We will all keep together now, we
+are too happy&mdash;so happy, my Gladys, are we not?'</p>
+
+<p>There was a strange restlessness about Netta. This resolution to go
+away had taken such a hold upon her, that she reverted to it again and
+again. Gladys confided it to Owen and their mother, and they all decided
+that it would be necessary to watch her night and day, without letting
+her know that she was watched.</p>
+
+<p>They resorted to every possible means of amusement, but in vain. She was
+quite preoccupied, and even her child failed to attract her attention.
+Again she became nervous at every sudden sound, and started at every
+footfall. She told Gladys that she knew that Howel would either come to
+her during the course of that week, or that she should go to him.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother assisted her in going to bed that night, and before she laid
+down, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Dear mother! do you remember that you used to come to this dear room
+when I was a child, the last thing at night, and, sleeping or waking, to
+kiss me before you went to sleep? and do you remember that I always said
+my prayers at your knee, in that very corner by the little table?
+Sometimes I feel as if I was a child, or quite a young girl again. It
+was so good of you to give me my own room, and my own bed, that I love
+so well. If I go away, I should like Minette to have this room. It will
+make her think of me. I pray she may be a better child than I have
+been.'</p>
+
+<p>'Will you not get into bed, dear, and try to sleep?' said Mrs Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'I think I should like to say my prayers again alone with you; so, at
+your feet. You shall pray for me, and I will join with you.'</p>
+
+<p>Netta knelt, as if she were, indeed, once more a child, at her mother's
+knees, and clasped her thin white hands together.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you pray for Howel, mother?' asked Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero laid her hand on her kneeling daughter's head, and
+uplifting her tearful eyes to heaven, prayed aloud for Netta, for Howel,
+for all. Netta repeated each sentence after her mother, and when the
+prayer was concluded, threw her arms around her, and thanked her for
+praying for Howel.</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot deceive you again mother, fach,' she said 'I am going away to
+seek Howel, because he cannot come to me. If I should never find him,
+mother&mdash;but I shall, I know I shall, if I should die on the road&mdash;tell
+him that I never loved any one but him all my life, and I am sure he
+loves me. And now I am at peace with all the world, and have repented of
+all my sins. Gladys thinks I shall go to heaven if I die. And I humbly
+believe I shall. I feel quite calm and happy in my own mind, only
+wishful to go to my poor Howel, who is alone and unhappy. Now, mother, I
+will go to bed.'</p>
+
+<p>She went to bed accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>'Let Minette come and say good-night to me, mother,' she said, when Mrs
+Prothero had made her comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero called the child, and her grandfather brought her upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>'How does my girl feel to-night?' asked Mr Prothero cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>'Better, father, thank you; quite well indeed. God bless you, darling.
+Be a good child to grandmother and Aunt Gladys, and all. God bless you,
+father. I think I should like to have Owen and Gladys to wish me
+good-night; it is so nice to see you all together.'</p>
+
+<p>Owen and Gladys came, and Netta bade 'God bless' them all, and said she
+should now go to sleep quite happy.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys went to put Minette to bed, and Mrs Prothero sat by Netta's
+pillow.</p>
+
+<p>'Good-night, mother; God bless you,' Netta said, more than once, before
+she fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When Gladys returned, she was sleeping peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>'The excitement of the day seems to have passed away,' whispered Gladys.
+'Let me watch by her, dear mother.'</p>
+
+<p>The words 'mother' and 'daughter' had come quite naturally to Mrs
+Prothero and Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>'No, Gladys, thank you; not to-night. I will be in the room to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then you will go to bed soon?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, very shortly.'</p>
+
+<p>The two women embraced one another tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>'We can only pray for her, poor lamb,' said Mrs Prothero gently. 'I have
+given her to the Lord to do with her according to His good pleasure.'</p>
+
+<p>'He will not leave her nor forsake her,' said Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero sat a long time by her child's side watching her, but she
+slept so calmly that at last she went to the little table by the fire,
+and read her Bible. It was late&mdash;very late for the farm&mdash;when she
+undressed herself and lay down on the little bed, placed near the larger
+bed of Netta. Even then, more than an hour passed before she slept. The
+last thing she heard before she closed her eyes was her daughter's
+somewhat irregular breathing&mdash;the last words that rang in her ears were
+her 'God bless you, mother.'</p>
+
+<p>Gladys, uneasy, she knew not wherefore, was in the room at about three
+o'clock in the morning. She had learnt to move so gently that the
+sleepers were not conscious of her presence. She was most thankful to
+find them sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys was up and dressed by six o'clock. She was anxious to spare her
+mother all possible trouble, and to see that the household was astir
+before she arose. It was a cold, dark January morning. As she went down
+the passage, a candle in her hand, towards Netta's room, she felt the
+chill air press heavily around her. She put the candle on the floor,
+outside the room, and went in. The night-light had burnt out, and the
+fire was dim, though not extinguished. Gladys passes Mrs Prothero
+without awaking her, and stands at Netta's bedside.</p>
+
+<p>She cannot see clearly the face of the sleeping Netta, but such a
+restless anxiety about her had haunted her all the night, that she
+stoops down to listen to her breathing. It is so faint that she kneels
+down, and puts her ear close to the face. So very faint it is, that she
+is not quite sure that she hears it at all. She goes into the passage
+for the candle, and meets Owen. She signs him to silence, and her pale
+face frightens him. He goes with her into Netta's room. Shading the
+candle with her hand, she again stoops over Netta, so does Owen.</p>
+
+<p>Very calm, very pale, and most lovely is the face on which they gaze
+with an eager, throbbing anxiety. Gladys presses her hand on Owen's arm,
+as she puts the candle near that placid face. He, too, puts his ear
+close to the half-open mouth, touches the hand that lies on the white
+counterpane, feels for the pulse, so quick but yesterday. He is about to
+utter the fear that oppresses him, but Gladys points to his mother,
+still heavily sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps it is a swoon,' she whispers, and goes for the draught ready
+for such an attack. The light of the candle awakes Mrs Prothero, and she
+is out of bed in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>'Netta has fainted, mother; she has one of her spasms,' says Owen,
+turning his pale face to his mother.</p>
+
+<p>'My God, it is death!' cries the stricken mother, falling on her knees
+by the bedside of her child.</p>
+
+<p>And it is death. Without a groan the spirit has quitted its dwelling of
+clay to enter upon its eternal rest!</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX" ></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RECTOR.</h3>
+
+<p>Life and death! What are they? A soul in chains, and a soul set free.
+Darkness and light, uncertainty and certainty! Warfare and peace! A
+railway journey and the great terminus! A span of time and immeasurable
+eternity! A bounded horizon and illimitable space! Earth and heaven!
+Satan and Christ! Man and God!</p>
+
+<p>Life! On New Year's morning Glanyravon Farm was gay with preparations
+for a wedding. All its inmates were hopeful and cheerful! Two human
+beings were made as happy as human beings can be in this world. Three
+generations witnessed the auspicious event, and blessings and
+congratulations mingled with the marriage bells!</p>
+
+<p>One short week, and Glanyravon Farm was mournful with lamentations for
+the dead. All its inmates were weeping. Death's angel had glided in
+unawares and unexpected, and had borne away one of that loving family,
+leaving only her earthly tenement behind!</p>
+
+<p>Another short week, and Glanyravon Farm held no longer even that once
+beautiful tenement. Quiet forms moved about in black clothing, and
+melancholy faces looked sadly at one another, and spoke low of her from
+whom they were parted for an indefinite period.</p>
+
+<p>Such is life!</p>
+
+<p>Death! what know the living of death? Is it not 'swallowed up in
+victory?' Death, then, to the believer in Christ is victory.</p>
+
+<p>Such is death!</p>
+
+<p>These were thoughts that presented themselves to Rowland Prothero after
+he had followed his sister's body to the grave. It was with such
+thoughts, simplified when put into words, that he attempted to comfort
+his mother, and to raise his father's mind from a morbid ruminating upon
+the past, to the hope that his beloved child had found death victory.
+Whilst Gladys comforted Owen and Minette, Rowland seemed to be all in
+all to his parents, and devoted himself to them during the period that
+he was able to leave his duties in London. The news of the death of his
+rector abroad had reached him the day before the intelligence of that of
+Netta; and, had it not been for the kind exertions of Mr Jones, he could
+not have stayed with his family the Sunday that followed the funeral.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones, however, managed everything for him in London, and procured
+help in the emergency. Thus Rowland was able to accompany his family to
+church, and to be with them a few days of the week succeeding that on
+which his dear sister was buried.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the afternoon of one of these few and precious days that he
+was sitting alone with his mother. The rest of the family were about
+their necessary avocations. Gladys, followed by poor little Minette in
+her black frock, was managing the household. Owen and his father were
+out of doors, the former doing his best to cheer his poor father, who
+had been perhaps more entirely cast down by his loss than any other
+member of the family, Mrs Prothero not excepted. As he himself said, he
+had not known what an idol he had made of his girl until she was gone
+from him.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland and his mother were talking of Netta. It was Mrs Prothero's one
+theme when alone with him or Gladys. They could comfort her aching heart
+by assuring her that they believed her child's repentance to have been
+sincere, and her faith, if at times troubled and confused by the
+wandering mind and puzzled brain, placed on the One sole and sure
+foundation.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the midst of this conversation that Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+entered, unushered, into the parlour where they were sitting.</p>
+
+<p>At the earnest request of his wife and all his children, backed by the
+feeling that Netta would have wished it, Mr Prothero had consented to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to the funeral, which she had attended, together with
+Mrs Prothero, Mrs Jonathan, and Gladys. Mr Prothero had shaken her by
+the hand on that sad day, but had not spoken to her. Sorrow had so far
+bowed his spirit as to teach him to forgive her, if not Howel.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins scarcely gave herself time to say 'How do you do?' when she
+poured out the grief which had brought her to Glanyravon.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Mrs Prothero, fach! Ach, Rowland! what will I do? They was finding
+him in America&mdash;the pleece was finding him, my Howels! And he do be in
+jail in London, 'dited for forgery. He, my beauty Howels&mdash;he forge! Why
+'ould he be forging? Annwyl! Fie was innocent, Rowland&mdash;on my deet, he
+was innocent. Oh, bach gen anwyl!' [Footnote: Oh, darling boy!]</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins wrung her hands and cried bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>'How do you know this, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' said Rowland. 'Tell me calmly,
+and then we will see what can be done,'</p>
+
+<p>'Read you that letter. By to-morrow he'll be in all the papers. He&mdash;so
+clever, so genteel, so rich! And all my Griffey's savings&mdash;hundreds of
+thousands of pound&mdash;nobody do be knowing where they was. Ach a fi! ach a
+fi!'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland read a letter from a celebrated London counsel retained by Mr
+Rice Rice for Howel, to the effect that Howel had been taken in America
+on the very day that his poor wife was planning to wander away in search
+of him, and was a prisoner the day she died. He had arrived in London,
+and been lodged in Newgate the previous day, the one on which that
+letter was written.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland gently told his mother the contents of it.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank God that my child did not live to see this day!' exclaimed Mrs
+Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Better dead, cousin, than to be living as Howels is!' sobbed Mrs
+Griffey. 'In a prison, too, my beauty Howels! But I was wanting to know,
+Mr Rowland, when you was going to London? Seure, I do think of going
+to-night, or to-morrow morning.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why must you go, aunt?' asked Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'Why must I be going? Why ask such a question? 'Ould I be staying at
+home, and my Howels in gaol? I do go to tak care of him, to pay for him,
+to be seeing justice done him, to be near him. Night or morrow morning I
+do mean to go.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother,' said Rowland, 'I am sure you will not mind sacrificing one day
+to poor Aunt Griffey and Howel. I must be in London the day after
+to-morrow. I will go to-morrow instead, and take her up with me, and see
+what is to be done for Howel. He will not have too many friends near him
+at such a time.'</p>
+
+<p>'God bless you, Rowland, bach,' said Mrs Griffey, springing up from her
+chair, and running to Rowland and kissing him vigorously&mdash;a compliment,
+it must be confessed, he could have dispensed with. 'And you will be
+standing up for him, and be telling of his character&mdash;and of his living
+at Abertewey&mdash;and how he was so clever, and did never be doing anything
+wrong. You will be saving him, Rowland, seure!'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>'I will go with you, Aunt 'Lizbeth, and take you to my lodgings till I
+have seen Howel, and told him you are in London. We shall then see what
+can be done.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you will be speaking up for him, Rowland, bach?'</p>
+
+<p>'Cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero, 'if Howel had been a good son, and
+a steady young man, you could scarcely ask Rowland to speak up for him,
+and his own sister in Llanfach churchyard! &quot;As we have sown, so must we
+reap,&quot; in this world.'</p>
+
+<p>'It do be fine for you, cousin, to be preaching, who was having
+fortunate sons, but&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if you please,' interrupted Rowland. 'I will take
+you to London to-morrow, if you are resolved to go. You must meet me at
+the omnibus.'</p>
+
+<p>(There was now a railway within a few miles of Llanfawr.)</p>
+
+<p>'Then I will be going home to get ready. You was seure to come, Mr
+Rowlands?'</p>
+
+<p>'Sure, if nothing unforeseen prevents me.'</p>
+
+<p>At this point of the conversation, Mr Prothero entered the parlour,
+leading Minette, who had two letters in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Here are two letters for you, Uncle Rowland,' said the child.
+'Grandfather says one must be from a bishop. What's a bishop, uncle?
+Oh, Grandma Jenkins!'</p>
+
+<p>Minette gave the letters to Rowland, and then went to kiss her
+grandmother, who began to cry when she saw her. Mr Prothero suppressed a
+very equivocal question concerning the reason of her again appearing at
+Glanyravon, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'How d'ye do, Mrs Griffey?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland opened his letters. One was from Mr Jones, the other, as Minette
+said, was from a bishop&mdash;the Bishop of London. He read Mr Jones' first,
+and turned more than usually red as he did so. He uttered an exclamation
+of surprise when he finished reading it, and put it into his father's
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>He then read the second letter. It was short. He got up, sat down, got
+up again, gave the letter to his father, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'It is too much! I do not deserve it! I wish it were Jones instead of
+me. He is much better&mdash;more suited&mdash;married. I cannot believe it!'</p>
+
+<p>Neither could Mr Prothero, to judge from the expression of his face. He
+read each letter twice over, and seemed struggling with some great
+emotion as he ejaculated, 'Rowland, my boy!' and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Prothero had not cried before since Netta's death, and those were,
+indeed, precious tears.</p>
+
+<p>Minette, terrified at seeing her grandfather cry, ran off in search of
+Gladys, who had been every one's refuge since her marriage.</p>
+
+<p>She and Owen were at the front door, receiving Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero, who had just arrived.</p>
+
+<p>'Aunty, grandfather is crying,' said the child. 'You said you wished he
+would cry; but I don't like it. I think he is crying for poor mamma, who
+is in heaven, and can't come to him.'</p>
+
+<p>All hurried into the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>They found Mr Prothero holding one of his son's hands, and shaking it
+nervously, and Mrs Prothero holding the other, and vain attempts to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>'Brother Jo! sister-in-law! Just in time. If our Netta was but here!'
+said Mr Prothero. 'Mrs Jonathan shall read the letters. It was she who
+got him the curacy.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan was not a little surprised to be greeted by having two
+letters thrust into her hands, and being requested to read them.</p>
+
+<p>'This one first, sister-in-law.'</p>
+
+<p>At any other time Mrs Jonathan would have resented the epithet of
+sister-in-law, but she now swallowed it, and began to read as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'MY DEAR ROWLAND,&mdash;I should have written to you earlier, but I
+     could not do so until a question that has been pending ever since
+     you left was decided. Deputations and round-robins have been
+     issuing from this parish by unanimous consent, and tending to St
+     James'. For once High Church and Low Church have united in paying
+     you the greatest compliment you can have paid just at present,
+     viz., in requesting the bishop to give you the living of which you
+     have been more than ten years curate. I believe it is pretty nearly
+     settled that you are to be our new rector, and that I shall have to
+     knock under, and solicit you to continue me in the curacy. I
+     congratulate you from my heart; so does my wife; so, I am sure, do
+     rich and poor around us. There never was a more popular
+     presentation. May God prosper your labours as a rector as He has as
+     curate.</p>
+
+<p>     'Give our love to my niece, Gladys, and kind regards to all the
+     rest of your family, with a kiss to Minette, and believe me, most
+     faithfully yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; WILLIAM JONES.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mrs Jonathan Prothero had begun to read this letter with a firm voice.
+It faltered before she got half way through it, and nearly failed before
+she completed it.</p>
+
+<p>'Read the other before you say anything,' said Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>She began accordingly, clearing her throat and eyes at the same time.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'MY DEAR SIR,&mdash;I have great pleasure in offering you the living of
+     which you are now curate, vacant by the lamented death of Mr
+     Stephenson. I assure you that the united request of your friends
+     and parishioners was but the echo of my own will, as I have long
+     known and appreciated your untiring labours for the good of the
+     souls committed to your care, particularly during the long illness
+     of the rector, when you were of necessity brought more prominently
+     forward.</p>
+
+<p>     'Praying that God's blessing may rest on you and your
+     parishioners,&mdash;I remain, my dear sir, faithfully yours,</p>
+
+<p class='right'>'LONDON.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>'Rowland! my dear nephew!' exclaimed Mr Jonathan Prothero, 'this is
+incredible! Such a living, without interest, personal application, much
+acquaintance with his lordship&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'You forget, my dear,' said Mrs Jonathan interrupting her husband in his
+speech, and herself in an embrace she was about to give Rowland; 'you
+forget that Rowland frequently met the bishop at Sir Philip Payne
+Perry's, and was not without interest, I am proud to say.'</p>
+
+<p>'And I am proud that he has got on by honest merit,' said Mr Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>'And so am I, uncle, much obliged as we are to the &quot;three green peas,&quot;'
+said Owen. 'Let us shake hands upon it, Rowly, and here's Gladys waiting
+for a kiss; she'll be running away from me again to be your district
+visitor, or Sister of Charity, or whatever you call it. Quite grand to
+have a near relation a London rector; I am half a foot taller already.'</p>
+
+<p>'Kiss me, Uncle Rowland; I am very glad the bishop has written you such
+a nice letter,' said Minette. Rowland took the child up in his arms.
+'Grandma Jenkins is crying so in the corner,' she whispered; 'is it for
+papa, or poor mamma?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland's attention was instantly recalled to Mrs Jenkins, who was,
+indeed, crying and sobbing very much. He pointed her out to his mother,
+who at once went to her.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I am thinking of your Rowlands and my Howels, so different!' said
+the wretched mother; 'he to be beginning life so rich, and your son with
+nothing; and now! oh, anwyl! oh, anwyl!'</p>
+
+<p>'Come with me, cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero kindly; 'come
+upstairs, and I will make you some tea, and then Owen shall send you
+home.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Prothero and Mrs Jenkins left the room, followed by Gladys, who was
+soon making the required beverage.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst congratulations were still going on in the parlour, Miss Gwynne's
+voice was heard in the passage.</p>
+
+<p>'Not a word to Miss Gwynne, or indeed to any one, of my having the
+living, to-day at least,' said Rowland, leaving the room hastily, and
+repeating his request to Gladys in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>'I can only stay a few minutes,' said Miss Gwynne, when she had shaken
+hands with the party in the parlour, 'I wished to ask how Mrs Prothero
+is, and to see you, Mrs Jonathan. I have been delayed at the school, and
+it is nearly dusk already.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, don't go yet, Miss Gwynne,' said Minette, creeping up to her, and
+getting on her lap, 'it is so nice with you. Poor mamma is gone to
+heaven, Miss Gwynne.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, love,' whispered Miss Gwynne, kissing Minette, 'but we will not
+talk of it before your grandfather, you see it grieves him.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you won't go; it is moonlight now&mdash;a pretty moon&mdash;I see it. It will
+light you home.'</p>
+
+<p>The 'pretty moon' rather frightened Miss Gwynne, who said that if she
+did not go, she would have the servants in search of her.</p>
+
+<p>'Will you allow me to walk with you, Miss Gwynne?' said Rowland; 'it is
+too late for you to return alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, I shall be really obliged, if I am not taking you from your
+friends. I am a much greater coward than I used to be. London lamps
+spoil one for country roads. Tell your grandmother that I will come
+again to-morrow and see her, Minette.'</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne and Rowland left the house together. Mr Prothero saw them to
+the door, and watched them up the road.</p>
+
+<p>'Strange times!' he said to his brother, when he returned to the
+parlour. 'Rowland walking with Miss Gwynne quite familiar. I hope he
+isn't too forward; to be seure he don't offer his arm, or go near her;
+but it seems out of place their going together in that way at all.
+Gwynne, Glanyravon is a proud man, perhaps he 'ouldnt like it; but
+Rowland is so grand and so good now, that I daren't say a word.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' said Mrs Jonathan, drawing herself up to her fullest height, 'a
+Rugby boy, and an Oxford man is a companion for any lady&mdash;and a London
+rector is a match for any lady in the kingdom, allow me to assure you,
+Mr Prothero; and Rowland has been in quite as good, or better society in
+town, than you can meet with in this neighbourhood. Sir Philip is quite
+in the first circles.'</p>
+
+<p>'And Rowland isn't spoilt by it, brother,' said Mr Jonathan. 'He is a
+son and nephew we have reason to be proud of.'</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in the midst of heavy sorrow, a joy came to the inmates of
+Glanyravon Farm. A sunbeam through the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>Such, too, is life!</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L" ></a>CHAPTER L.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DISINHERITED.</h3>
+
+<p>Miss Gwynne and Rowland walked on quietly together for a little space.
+There was something in the heart of each, unknown to the other, that
+seemed to close up speech. It was nearly five o'clock, and a January
+evening; but for the 'pretty moon' and the white mist from the river,
+and the frost-bitten snow on the roads, it would have been dark; but it
+was really a fine, bright night. That river-mist rose from the meadows
+beneath like a large lake, and the moonlight pierced through it and
+mingled with it.</p>
+
+<p>It was such a night as lovers of a healthy, natural tone of mind might
+rejoice in; frost and snow being no refrigerators of true, honest
+warmth, but rather tending to keep it alive, by exhilarating the spirits
+and clearing the atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland broke the silence, and so clear was the air, that his own voice
+startled him.</p>
+
+<p>'I am going to London to-morrow, Miss Gwynne; may I give Mrs Jones some
+hope that you will soon be back again?'</p>
+
+<p>'I fear not,' said Freda; 'my father wishes me to remain at home, and I
+have decided upon doing so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not entirely?' asked Rowland, in a voice that all his self-command
+could not render calm.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe it is so settled. He makes a great point of it. Lady Mary is
+equally urgent, and I have promised. Do you not think it is right?'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose so; but what shall we do without you?'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland spoke as he felt, from his heart. Miss Gwynne was touched by the
+words and tone.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be very sorry,' she said, simply. 'I never was so happy as in
+that dingy old square.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland felt that his new living, with all its increased
+responsibilities, would be a heavy burden to him without Freda's ready
+energy to lighten it. He did not at that moment pause to think how
+closely even our highest duties are entwined with our affections, and
+thereby lowered to earth&mdash;but so it is. The conscientious man does them;
+but a helping hand, a friendly voice, a loving word, is a wonderful aid
+towards doing them with a cheerful spirit.</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a few minutes between Rowland and Freda, and their
+quick steps slackened. At last:</p>
+
+<p>'I thank you from my heart, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland, for all your
+kindness to my dear sister. It must cease, alas! but it will never be
+forgotten.'</p>
+
+<p>'Poor Netta! my old playfellow! I was only too thankful to be of any
+service. I wish we could have saved her.'</p>
+
+<p>'God knows best. Her husband is in Newgate gaol.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland said this with a great effort; Freda started, and there was
+again a brief silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne, I have long wished to say to you, how much I have felt
+your devotion to the schools and poor of our parish. Now that we are
+about to lose you, perhaps, I may do so. Glanyravon will gain what our
+poor East End loses.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you. If I leave London in a better spirit than I entered it, I am
+in great measure indebted to you for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'To me!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes. I do not wish to flatter, or to be religiously sentimental; but
+your practical, simple sermons, and your still more practical life have
+done me much good. Now we will not compliment one another any more.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Miss Gwynne! you do not know what you do when you say such words
+to me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I simply tell the truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'I, too, have another truth to tell, which, if not told now, will never
+be told.'</p>
+
+<p>Freda's heart beat quick, and her face flushed. She was thankful that
+silence concealed the one, and night the other. But the truth was not
+what the heart whispered, and the pulsation slackened.</p>
+
+<p>'Years ago&mdash;I know not how many years, the time seems so long, and yet
+so short&mdash;I insulted you by words that should never have been said. We
+were on this very drive, near this very spot&mdash;the same moon was looking
+down upon us. This very tree was over our heads. Do you remember? You
+do&mdash;alas! you must. Pride, most improper pride in one who should be a
+teacher of humility, has prevented my alluding to the subject ever
+since.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland paused, and he and Freda stood still beneath that old oak, so
+well remembered by both. She did not speak; she could not for the
+moment; and Rowland continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Those words, which called forth your severe and deserved reproof,
+should never have been said; but your kindness, the hour, the scene, my
+own excited feelings, my&mdash;in short, they were called forth
+involuntarily, but were wholly inexcusable. I forgot my birth and
+position, and was punished accordingly. Pride has kept me silent ever
+since. Pride has prevented my saying that I am sorry now that I so
+forgot myself then, and pride has made me cold and reserved to you, when
+I saw clearly that you wished to be my friend, and have since proved
+yourself such. Will you forgive me?'</p>
+
+<p>Freda did not, as when they once before stood beneath that huge oak,
+draw herself up to her full height, and make an indignant answer. She
+trembled, and glanced very timidly into the face that looked down upon
+hers. There, in the cold moonlight, with the icicles hanging from the
+old tree, and the frost-spirit hovering near, she read that face more
+truly than she had done in the genial summer moonshine, and wished those
+words had never been spoken. She said, gently but decidedly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Mr Rowland, it is I, not you who ought to crave forgiveness. You did me
+an honour of which I was not deserving, and, therefore, I could not
+appreciate it. I have repented of those proud words almost ever since. I
+am heartily ashamed of them, and beg you to try to forget that they were
+ever uttered.'</p>
+
+<p>Once more there was a momentary silence, then Rowland said firmly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Gwynne, you must understand that I only regret the boldness of my
+conduct, and that I did not conceal my feelings from you as from the
+rest of the world. I do not regret the feelings; do not apologise for
+them. They were my own, engendered by nature and circumstances, given me
+by God, as part of my portion of trial in this world; they grew with me
+from childhood, ever since I used to play with you at the vicarage&mdash;they
+were fostered by your father's kindness and my own self-esteem, as well
+as by your presence, which I ought to have fled; they are with me still,
+have never left me, will be my weakness and my strength so long as this
+earthly warfare lasts.'</p>
+
+<p>'And is it really so?' said Freda, a large tear glittering in the eyes
+into which the moon, the frost-spirit, and Rowland were equally looking.</p>
+
+<p>Two hands were tightly clasped that had hitherto scarcely dared to touch
+each other; two hearts were for ever united, that hitherto had been as
+far estranged as Vesuvius and the icebergs.</p>
+
+<p>I know that many cynical and sentimental readers will ask if there is no
+danger of the pair of lovers taking cold on an evening in January,
+whilst thus mutually discovering the 'eternal passion' in the presence
+of the 'Erl-king.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland and Freda seem to ask the same question, for, loosening that
+close grasp of hands, and without one word of love, they walk hastily
+towards the house. Rowland talks rapidly the whole way, interrupted by
+an occasional sentence from Freda. Readers, there is no proposal, no
+acceptance. The conversation is as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;I have just received letters from the Bishop of London and
+Mr Jones offering me the living, and telling me that the parishioners
+wish me for their rector. I am most thankful now, for it puts me in a
+very different position&mdash;it allows me to hope, and with less
+presumption.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;It makes no difference to me, you are yourself whether rector
+or curate. But I rejoice for your sake, and to know that they appreciate
+you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;You will know and believe that it was Miss Gwynne, Freda,
+the woman, not the heiress, that I have loved so long and so well.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;I am no longer an heiress; you are far the best off.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;I am most thankful. Had this wide park still been yours, I
+could never have said what I have dared to say to-day; but let me repeat
+once more your words that I may remember who I am&mdash;a farmer's son, your
+father's tenant.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;A clergyman, a gentleman, and a Christian.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;My brother-in-law a&mdash;a&mdash;felon.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;Yourself not changed by your brother-in-law's crimes.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;If then in the course of another year our present painful
+position should be forgotten, or at least, at rest, when I am
+established at the rectory as rector, when I can come forward on my own
+responsibility, when, in short, I can say without compunction all I now
+feel, may I hope?'</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;Then as now, you may be certain.</p>
+
+<p>They were on the steps before the door of the house; again their hands
+were firmly clasped.</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;Till then, farewell, and God bless you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;Will you not come in?</p>
+
+<p><i>Rowland.</i>&mdash;No, I would rather not now.</p>
+
+<p><i>Freda.</i>&mdash;Then God bless you, and be with you during your coming trial.</p>
+
+<p>And thus they parted, happy, and having perfect faith in one another.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI" ></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CONVICT.</h3>
+
+<p>Forgeries of all sorts are so much the taste of genteel rogues of the
+present age, that the reader will readily dispense with a detailed
+account of the trial and conviction of Howel Jenkins. Any one of the
+various cases that fill those columns of the <i>Times</i>, devoted to such
+criminalities, will give a very good general idea of his. All that his
+mother's remnant of his father's hoarded wealth could do, was done, to
+prove him guiltless, but in vain. Counsel pleaded, some of his turf
+friends, themselves of doubtful reputation, spoke to his character, and
+he sat through his trial as imperturbably as if he had been at a
+dinner-party. The prosecutors, Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio
+Simpson, met with deserved reproofs for allowing themselves to be
+swindled, almost before their faces, out of money and property to an
+enormous amount.</p>
+
+<p>Long before his father's death, Howel had begun a system of betting-book
+cheating, and forgery on a small scale, which had ceased for a short
+time when he came into his enormous wealth, but recommenced as that
+wealth dwindled. Numerous instances came out from various sources whilst
+he was in America,&mdash;all his former associates being ready to leave his
+setting sun, for the rising one of his accusers.</p>
+
+<p>Sir S. Spendall and Sir H. Simpson were sole prosecutors, and between
+forgeries on banks, and in betting-books, and the unjust acquisition of
+Spendall Lodge, Howel was found guilty of forgeries to the amount of
+some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, and sentenced to transportation for
+fourteen years. So much general villainy transpired amongst the set in
+which these crimes were committed, and the prosecutors themselves were
+so weak and dissipated, that the sentence was supposed to be less severe
+than it might have been under other circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>The nefarious conduct of Mr Deep as Howel's attorney, and the enormous
+interest he was found to have received, caused him to be struck off the
+rolls, and very little evidence was wanting to prove him an accomplice
+in Howel's villainy. However, it was not forthcoming, and so Howel
+suffered alone.</p>
+
+<p>It was generally rumoured that Howel had forged his mother's name, at
+various times, to a very large amount; but, as she vigorously denied the
+fact, and acknowledged every signature as her own, the case was, of
+course, not brought forward.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her manifold exertions in his favour, in spite of all
+Rowland's efforts, Howel positively refused to see either of them before
+the trial took place. He declared to his mother, through his attorney,
+that if he saw her, she would take away some of that nerve and courage
+so necessary to establish his innocence; and to Rowland, he politely
+hinted that he did not wish to see him at all.</p>
+
+<p>As the trial was almost immediate upon the imprisonment, they did not
+press the point. Rowland and Mr and Mrs Jones, pitying Mrs Jenkins in
+her evident misery, would have had her remain amongst them, but she
+insisted on taking a lodging near the gaol, that she might, at least, be
+in her son's neighbourhood, and hear from his attorney and others of his
+health daily.</p>
+
+<p>He was always reported to be well, and in good spirits, and indeed was
+so, to all appearance. He ate, drank, and slept much as if he had never
+committed crimes that at one period would have brought him to the
+gallows; and to the last moment of his leaving the prison for his trial,
+jauntily talked of what he should do when he was out of 'that confounded
+hole.'</p>
+
+<p>It was with great difficulty that Rowland persuaded Mrs Jenkins to
+remain in her lodging during the time of the trial, which he attended
+himself, more on her account than his own; for he was so fully convinced
+of Howel's guilt, that he knew he should only witness his degradation.</p>
+
+<p>In the court he fell in with Captain Dancy, who told him that he had
+wished to say a good word for Howel on his wife's account, for whom he
+entertained a great respect; but that Howel had positively refused any
+aid whatever from him. He thought this strange, as he owed him a large
+sum of money, and he had not brought forward his claim. Rowland thought
+it strange too, not knowing then, that Howel had one soft part in his
+hard nature, and that was love for Netta.</p>
+
+<p>Howel bore the summing up of the judge and his severe reprimand with
+indifference. He seemed slightly moved when the sentence was pronounced;
+but recovering perfect calmness, he said aloud, so that the whole court
+could hear,&mdash;'If I am guilty, my prosecutors are guilty, and all the
+speculators in the world are guilty.'</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland went to Mrs Jenkins' lodging after all was over, he found
+Mrs Jones with her, her husband having been with him during the trial.
+Mrs Jones had been endeavouring to prepare the poor mother for the
+probable sentence, but nothing could persuade her that 'her Howels, so
+clever, so genteel, who dined with the Queen and Prince Albert, and was
+handsomer than the Prince, for she had seen him,' could be transported
+for forgery.</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland told her the truth, as gently as he could, the effect it
+had upon her was quite different from what he had expected. She burst
+into a passion, not of grief, but of rage. She had been drinking brandy
+before Mrs Jones went to her, and had been greatly excited the whole
+morning, as she had also been on the previous day, the trial having
+lasted two days. At the climax, the true nature of the woman showed
+itself, and the friends who surrounded her thought she was insane.</p>
+
+<p>Judge, jury, witnesses, prosecutors, and finally every member of the
+Prothero family came in for a share of abuse of the coarsest kind.
+Rowland felt thankful that the greatest part of it was uttered in Welsh,
+and that, therefore, Mrs Jones could not understand it, although the
+strong guttural, made stronger by uncontrolled passion, was enough, in
+itself, to frighten any one. Happily, she was surrounded by Christians
+who pitied her, and did not leave her in her sin and sorrow to the
+strange people who came, uncalled, to see what was the matter, and who
+would fain have remained; but Rowland told them, decidedly, to go away.</p>
+
+<p>Mr and Mrs Jones, also, withdrew at Rowland's request when the outburst
+had somewhat subsided, and left him to reason with the wretched,
+maddened woman alone.</p>
+
+<p>He let the fury wear itself out, and then stood by to hear his
+unfortunate sister and his father abused as the primary causes of
+Howel's downfall.</p>
+
+<p>'If he didn't be marrying beneath him, he 'ould be holding up his head,
+and looking for a lady, who do be keeping him in his place. And Netta
+Prothero so 'stravagant! ach a fi! and Prothero, Glanyfavon, who was
+turning against him, and kicking me out of his house. Shame for you all,
+Rowland Prothero! your own cousin and brother-in-law! and no one to be
+saying a word to help him. Oh, anwyl! my boy! my Howels! What 'ould his
+poor father be saying if he was knowing all! and how his money was going
+and all mine too! I shall be going to the Eunion, and then you'll be
+feeling satisfied, Rowland Prothero! and your mother, and that Gladys,
+and all so grand! 'll be looking down upon me. And my Howels over the
+sea! 'sported for fourteen years, and I 'ont be living to see him come
+back again. Anwyl! anywyl!'</p>
+
+<p>Here tears came, and Mrs Jenkins sank upon a chair, and covered her face
+with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland let them flow for a time, and then putting his hand kindly on
+her shoulder said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Aunt 'Lizbeth! you must try to keep up for Howel's sake. He will like
+you to visit him now, perhaps,'</p>
+
+<p>The kind tones touched a gentler chord in the poor woman's heart, and
+she looked up at Rowland, like one awaking from a dream.</p>
+
+<p>'Seure! Mr Rowland Prothero! I'm thinking you're too fine for us now. A
+clergy and a rector! oh seure! you'll not be going to see my poor
+Howels!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I will, if you will try to be calm. I will see him first, and
+prepare him for your coming; I will not even ask his permission but go
+to him. I can gain admittance at once, I know, both as a clergyman and
+relation.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now! go you directly! tell you my Howels&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think I can go to-night. It is too late&mdash;but to-morrow I will
+go, on condition that you compose yourself, and return with me to my
+lodgings.'</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ont be going to your lodgings, I 'ouldn't be leaving my Howels for
+the world.'</p>
+
+<p>'You cannot see him to-night, you must not stay with the people of this
+house after what you said to-day, or they will take advantage of your
+being alone, to make you say more. I cannot remain here to-night, and I
+am the only friend you have in town to whom you could go.'</p>
+
+<p>'Treue, for you, Rowland Prothero. There's my Lady Simpson was asking me
+to stay with her, when my Howels and I was having money enough to buy
+her presents, and her son and doater did go to Abertewey when they did
+like&mdash;and now, not wan of all the fine folks do come and say, &quot;How was
+you, Mrs Jenkins?&quot;'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland ventured to repeat a few verses from Scripture, and to beg her
+to turn her mind to better thoughts. Then he induced her to put on her
+bonnet and cloak and go home with him, promising to bring her back the
+following day, and retaining the lodging for another week.</p>
+
+<p>They passed a miserable evening. It was in vain that Rowland strove to
+comfort or advise his guest. She did nothing but abuse justice, and
+lament her son's past grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>The following day, Rowland fulfilled his promise. He left her at her
+lodging and went to the gaol.</p>
+
+<p>He had previously obtained full permission of the authorities, through
+the chaplain, who was well-known to him, to visit Howel when he liked,
+and to give him the letters left for him by his deceased wife. The
+chaplain had told him that the prisoner was quite indifferent to all
+that he said to him on religious subjects, and listened to them, if,
+indeed, he listened at all, with a scoffing, incredulous, hardness of
+manner, that was more painful than mere carelessness.</p>
+
+<p>When Rowland entered the cell, Howel was sitting with his back to the
+door, and did not turn or take any notice of the incomers. He had a
+piece of paper before him, and a pencil in his hand, over which he
+seemed rather to be dreaming than writing. The gaoler closed the door,
+having orders to remain without, and left the cousins alone.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland stood some time irresolute in the gloomy cell, but finding that
+Howel did not move, he went round in front of him, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Howel!'</p>
+
+<p>The word was quite sufficient. He started up, and whilst the blood
+rushed to his face, said coolly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'To what am I indebted for the honour of a visit from Mr Prothero? I
+think I sent you a message to the effect that I am not now in a position
+to receive company. My chambers are anything but suited to convivial
+society, and I prefer solitude just at present. I have already had the
+benefit of clergy, and do not need any of your sermons, excellent as I
+am told they are. Indeed, divinity was always out of my line.'</p>
+
+<p>'I come to fulfil the dying request of your wife and my sister, which
+that letter will explain,' said Rowland, calmly and gravely, placing an
+open letter on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Howel's countenance changed at once&mdash;the flush of passion passed away,
+and left a painful pallor, whilst the sarcastic mouth became compressed
+into a marble rigidity. He sat down again, and pushing aside the paper
+that had previously been before him, drew the letter towards him. He put
+his elbows on the table, and shrouded his face so that Rowland could
+not see him, and bending over the letter, gazed on the writing without
+attempting to read, as one might gaze on a spirit without daring to
+speak to it. The letter was, indeed, a voice from the dead, and dated
+the very day before that on which Netta died. Its contents were as
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>'MY DEAR BROTHER,&mdash;I intend leaving Glanyravon, and all my dear
+     relations, to go in search of Howel, who, you know, is my husband;
+     and therefore to be loved and obeyed before any one else. If I die
+     before I find him, as perhaps I may&mdash;my heart being so bad&mdash;I wish
+     you to see him when he comes back, and to give him the accompanying
+     sealed packet yourself. Nobody knows how I have loved him all my
+     life, and perhaps if I had been better tempered and less jealous,
+     he might have stayed at home, and not been obliged to go away for
+     debt. But when I have found him, I will be very loving and patient,
+     and then we shall be happy together again. If I don't find him,
+     however&mdash;if I die first&mdash;will you, dear brother, talk to him as you
+     have talked and written to me, and then I may meet him again in a
+     happier world, where I am praying and striving to go, through the
+     atonement of Him who died for sinners&mdash;even for me and Howel, who
+     are both great sinners&mdash;yet not too great to be saved. Thank you,
+     my dear, dear brother, for showing me the way to heaven, and for
+     all your goodness to me and Minette&mdash;(my poor Minette, I must leave
+     her, but you will all take care of her better than I have done).
+     Thank you, I am very sorry that I was such a wilful, perverse
+     sister, when you tried to do me good.</p>
+
+<p>     'God bless you for ever and ever&mdash;you and all&mdash;Your loving but
+     afflicted sister,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; NETTA JENKINS.'</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Rowland sat down at one end of the cell, on the iron bedstead and that
+he might not seem to be watching Howel, took a small Testament from his
+pocket and began to read. This, too, he had brought for Howel. It was
+the one Netta had used, as long as she lived, and in it she had written,
+'To be given to my dear husband, if I die.&mdash;Netta.' She had marked many
+passages, and appended her initials to each of the marks.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland could not read long. It was impossible not to see the trembling
+of that iron man who sat before him; the heaving breast and the
+convulsed hands. And yet Howel did not read the letter. He saw the
+familiar handwriting once more of the only thing he had ever
+loved&mdash;loved and murdered&mdash;and he sat transfixed before it.</p>
+
+<p>At last Rowland rose, and going to him, put his hand on his shoulder.
+He started as if Netta's spirit had appeared, and looked up wildly.
+Seeing Rowland, he struggled for self-possession and again shrouding his
+face, began to read.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland kept his hand on his shoulder, gently pressing it, as if to
+assure him of sympathy. He felt him trembling beneath his touch.</p>
+
+<p>As he stood thus his eye fell on the paper that Howel had had before him
+when he entered the cell. He could not help seeing the words, 'From my
+cell in Newgate&mdash;my judge and jury.' Underneath this heading appeared to
+be the commencement of a poem, and beneath that were caricatures of a
+man in a large wig, and of others, with every variety of nose and chin.</p>
+
+<p>This had been Howel's occupation within four-and-twenty hours of his
+conviction!</p>
+
+<p>Three times Howel turned the sheet of paper that he was reading, as if
+he had not understood the words that were written on it, and then he
+uttered a groan, so deep and loud, that Rowland could restrain himself
+no longer, but said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, for her sake, listen to me, her brother. Look on me as your
+friend, your brother.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel looked up, and for one moment there was remorse and agony in his
+face; the next, no stone was harder and colder.</p>
+
+<p>'Brother!' he said, with a voice of icy sarcasm, 'you have shown
+yourself my brother of late! I saw you in the court, cold and
+calculating; not a word for this, your <i>brother</i>! Bah!'</p>
+
+<p>'What would you have had me say?' asked Rowland, recovering his
+composure, and glancing from Howel to Netta's letter.</p>
+
+<p>'I understand you; you mean that I murdered her. I did, virtually. Then
+why be hypocrite enough to call me brother?'</p>
+
+<p>'She forgave you, and called you husband.'</p>
+
+<p>'Because she&mdash;she loved me.'</p>
+
+<p>There was another involuntary groan, and a brief silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are her papers? Give them me, and go,' said Howel imperatively.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland put a neatly-sealed packet on the table, on which was written,
+'For my husband, Howel Jenkins;&mdash;to the care of my brother, Rowland
+Prothero. Janetta Jenkins.'</p>
+
+<p>'This, too, she left for you,' said Rowland, putting the small
+Testament, originally her mother's, on the table. Again the stony lips
+trembled, the eyes softened. 'Howel, Howel, for her sake!' once more
+ventured Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>There they lay&mdash;the letter, the packet, the Testament. All that was left
+to him of the once bright, loving, and lovely creature, who had been
+devoted to him all her life.</p>
+
+<p>He turned the leaves of the Testament mechanically; touched the
+packet&mdash;shuddered; then leaning his head upon his folded arms on the
+table, burst into an uncontrollable agony of grief.</p>
+
+<p>'She is&mdash;she was&mdash;where?' he said, after a short interval, rising from
+his seat, and beginning to pace the cell.</p>
+
+<p>'Her soul is in heaven, I hope and believe; her body rests in Llanfach
+churchyard, under the large hawthorn bush near the vicarage gate.'</p>
+
+<p>Often and often had Howel gathered Netta bunches of May from that very
+tree that now sheltered her remains.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell me&mdash;- tell me all,' he said, 'from the time I left her, till&mdash;how
+you found her&mdash;everything.'</p>
+
+<p>'You must sit down, Howel, and hear me patiently if you can.'</p>
+
+<p>Howel sat down on the bedstead, and again covering his face with both
+hands, listened; whilst Rowland took the seat he had left, and fulfilled
+his bidding.</p>
+
+<p>He told him everything that had happened to Netta, from the period of
+her being left in the lodgings in his parish, until her death at the
+farm. He felt that the one hope of softening Howel, or doing him any
+good, was through his love for his wife; he therefore narrated simply
+what she had suffered and said; he told how that she had been hourly
+expecting him back, until his one short note; how she had listened for
+his footsteps, and refused to leave the place where he had left her,
+until he came. All that her friends had done for her, was introduced
+incidentally; Howel understood that she had been taken to her relations
+again, as the prodigal son to his father, but he was not told so.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland did not spare him, however, as regarded Netta. He knew him to be
+utterly callous as to the follies and crimes of his life; he must,
+therefore, be made conscious of their weight, through their effects upon
+others; he knew that they had been the cause of Netta's death, and this
+would show him the enormity of sin if nothing else would.</p>
+
+<p>As he detailed the wanderings of poor Netta's mind, and then her anxious
+inquiries of him of the way of salvation for Howel, as well as herself,
+he was visibly affected. Not even his determination that Rowland should
+not see his emotion could conceal it; but he did not speak a word. He
+listened to the end, and then, without uncovering his face, he said in a
+voice tremulous from emotion,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you; now go; and come back to-morrow; I would be alone with her.'</p>
+
+<p>'And to-morrow I must bring your mother,' said Rowland</p>
+
+<p>'No, no, let me see you alone,' was the hasty reply.</p>
+
+<p>'God bless you, Howel, and grant you His help,' said Rowland, passing
+before the stooping figure.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply, so, with a heavy sigh and an inward prayer, Rowland
+left the cell.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII" ></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PENITENT HUSBAND.</h3>
+
+<p>The following morning, Rowland again took Mrs Jenkins to her lodging and
+left her there. It was with very great difficulty that he persuaded Mrs
+Jenkins to remain behind, and only under a promise to prevail upon Howel
+to see her immediately after his interview with him.</p>
+
+<p>As he expected, he found Howel almost as cold and impassive as on the
+previous day. But he fancied that this was an assumed manner, and that
+he could trace workings of more natural feelings underneath. He was at
+least civil to him, and instead of receiving him as before, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I thought you would never come; but I suppose prosperous people are
+never in a great hurry to visit the unfortunate. Ha! ha! Certainly my
+reception-rooms are not very inviting.'</p>
+
+<p>'I came as soon as I could gain admittance. I wish you would believe,
+Howel, that I am very anxious to be of any use to you that I can. You
+know that you refused to see me before.'</p>
+
+<p>'And it is no great compliment now; this confounded place will kill me.
+I have been haunted by spectres all the night, five thousand times worse
+than a voyage to Australia. That will be amusing, ha! ha! But to have my
+father in one corner, and&mdash;and Netta in the other,&mdash;and that cursed
+money rolling about everywhere, just as it did&mdash;well, never mind that!
+but hanging outright would have been better. Don't preach; it is no
+good; I am far beyond that, and I know you have your sermon ready; but
+your presence is some relief after such a night. I tell you what it is,
+Rowland, if you are a better and a happier man than I, it is because you
+had honest parents; it is no merit of yours, and no fault of mine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel, I claim no merit; but we are all responsible for our own
+actions, God forgive those who set a bad example: they will have to
+answer for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pshaw! Do you think I meant that? I mean that if my father hadn't
+heaped up all that gold&mdash;bah! the word makes me sick,&mdash;and denied me a
+sixpence whilst he lived; and if I hadn't seen my mother rob him
+whenever she could, and learnt from her to do the same, I shouldn't be
+here now! No, I should be a plodding shopkeeper, or at least a country
+lawyer, or doctor, and should have been living in a house with three
+steps to it, and a portico, by this time, with&mdash;don't suppose I regret
+such a house&mdash;but Netta! oh, God! Netta!'</p>
+
+<p>Howel beat his forehead with his hand, and pointed to the corner of his
+cell.</p>
+
+<p>'There she is! there she has been all the night. Pale as when I laid her
+on her bed that miserable day!'</p>
+
+<p>'Howel! you loved Netta, I see, and believe it now,' said Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'You do! And why not before? Ah! I see. Because I have never done
+anything to prove it. But I did not know how I loved her until I knew
+how she loved me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Would you prove it now, if you could?'</p>
+
+<p>'Would I? Why do you mock me by such a question?'</p>
+
+<p>'Because she, being dead, yet speaks. Her last wishes, thoughts, words,
+writing, were for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do I not know it? Have I not read? All night have her words not haunted
+me?'</p>
+
+<p>'And her prayers, Howel? Shall they be forgotten? And that Book in which
+she wrote last, will you not read it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know. I tried last night, and I could not. I have never read
+the book since I wrote Greek at school.'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta begged you to read it.'</p>
+
+<p>'What is that to you, Rowland Prothero? Who put you over me as judge and
+counsellor?'</p>
+
+<p>'Netta. As spiritual counsellor, at least; and in her name, since you
+will not let me appeal to you in a Higher name, I command you to listen
+to me.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland saw that he had gained an advantage by appealing to Netta, and
+that Howel checked the irony that was on his tongue, out of reverence
+for her name. At once he spoke as an ambassador in that Higher name he
+had feared to use before.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland had had ten years' experience of men as bad and worse than
+Howel, and had learnt how to speak to them, and to seize the mood of the
+listener. He knew Howel well; and he, therefore, used the strong and
+powerful language of the Bible, as the priests, prophets, and apostles
+used it&mdash;as the word of God to man. Not diluted by their own
+reflections, but in its bare and grand simplicity. He had not made the
+Bible his study in vain. He knew how to bring it to the heart of men
+with a power that none 'could gainsay or resist,' Even Howel, sceptic,
+scoffer as he was, listened in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>Rowland was a humbler man than he had been, when he used, years before,
+to argue with Howel, and endeavour to convert him to the truth. He was
+equally right in his views then, but he gave them forth more
+dogmatically, and allowed self to peep in; now self was wholly swallowed
+up in the Word itself; and so Howel gave heed as to God, and not to man.</p>
+
+<p>He laid bare Howel's heart to himself, for the first time that it had
+ever been so exposed, and then showed him the denunciations of the law
+against sin. He did not spare him. He knew that the only way to save
+such a man was by bringing him to know himself first, and then to ''
+preach repentance and remission of sin.'</p>
+
+<p>In his energy and longing to rescue him from destruction, he stood
+before him as one sent to tear up his unbelief by the roots not to dally
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>'Flee from the wrath to come,' might have been the text of his
+discourse, as it was that of the Baptist.</p>
+
+<p>When he paused, as if for breath, Howel exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Enough! enough! Stop! I can hear no more; you have opened to me the
+gates of hell wide enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'And now I would open those of heaven. Let us pray.'</p>
+
+<p>Rowland's eyes flashed such a fire as Howel had never seen in them
+before; his voice and words had a command that he had never heard.
+Perforce he obeyed. And there, in that narrow cell, actuated by fear,
+rather than remorse, astonishment rather than contrition, bowed by a
+will yet stronger than his own, Howel fell on his knees beside his
+cousin, and listened to a prayer for pardon and help, that might have
+melted the heart of a Nero.</p>
+
+<p>At first he heard as in a dream, then his ears were opened, then his
+heart. And at last Rowland's spirit breathed within him the blessed
+words, 'Behold he prayeth.'</p>
+
+<p>It is not for us to look into the heart of the criminal, and decide how
+God works in it. Even Rowland could not tell the ultimate effect of his
+preaching and prayers. All he knew that from that day Howel welcomed him
+to his cell as the one hope of his life. He was awakened to a sense of
+his condition, and Rowland thanked God, and took courage.</p>
+
+<p>As the meetings and partings of parent and child&mdash;however wicked they
+both may be&mdash;in the cell of a felon, simply harrow the feelings of the
+reader, I will pass over those of Howel and his mother. Some
+recrimination, and much grief on the one side&mdash;some remorse, and much
+misery on the other. Rowland did what he could for both until the last
+parting was over. And then he left the mother to the care of Mrs Jones
+to accompany the son on board the ship that was to convey him to his
+convict home.</p>
+
+<p>We are not to suppose that the 'Ethiopian's skin' was changed because it
+was pierced. Howel continued outwardly proud, scornful, and hard to the
+last; but Rowland witnessed the struggle that went on within to maintain
+that bearing, and knew that some good might arise even out of the
+spendthrift and the forger.</p>
+
+<p>'You will take care of Minette amongst you, for her mother's sake,' he
+said to Rowland.</p>
+
+<p>'And for yours, and her own,' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Tell her not to hate her father. You who never told her mother of my&mdash;I
+suppose I must use the word&mdash;crime, will be as gentle as you can in
+letting the child know who and what her father is. I thank you all, more
+for keeping <i>her</i> in ignorance till death, than for all the rest.'</p>
+
+<p>'And for <i>her</i> sake, Howel, you will read that book, and pray to be kept
+from temptation.'</p>
+
+<p>'What temptation shall I have? I shall be more inclined to pray to be
+thrown into temptation.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Howel!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well! This convict ship and the ocean, and chains and hard labour at
+the end, don't seem very inviting. I know it has been my own fault and
+my father's, but that doesn't make it better; however, I will try. And
+if ever I get back to Old England again a reformed character, will you
+lend me a helping hand, or turn your back upon me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Give you the hand of friendship and brotherhood.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you; and don't let them quite desert my mother. Bad as she is, I
+am worse, and I have ruined her; a worse thing that than getting a
+little money out of those turf-dupes and idiots, though hers was
+ill-gotten wealth.'</p>
+
+<p>'We will take care of your mother amongst us as well as we can. My
+mother never forsakes an old friend.'</p>
+
+<p>'Give my love to her; she was kind to me and to my child. All the rest
+have deserted me, and wished me hanged. But I have to thank you, who
+always despised me, for being here now, and for your anxiety about me.
+Rowland, you are a better fellow than I thought you, and you have helped
+to rid me of some of those spectres that haunted me night and day. You
+must go! I know it. Alone! alone! with this crew! Is this Heaven's law
+or man's? and I was not made for this. I shall destroy myself&mdash;I must&mdash;I
+will. Good-bye! oh Rowland! cousin! brother! remember me, for God's sake
+and for hers!'</p>
+
+<p>The hands of the minister of the Gospel and the felon were clasped for
+a few seconds, as if they could never unlink, and then, with a heavy
+groan, Howel sank down upon some timber that was near him, and covered
+his face with his hands. Thick tears filled Rowland's eyes as he stooped
+over his wretched cousin, and again whispered, 'God bless you, cousin
+Howel, God bless you.'</p>
+
+<p>And so they parted.</p>
+
+<hr class='smallbreak' />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII" ></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>GLADYS REAPING HER FRUITS.</h3>
+
+<p>Our story began at Glanyravon, in the cheery month of June, and at
+Glanyravon, in the same cheery month, we will end it.</p>
+
+<p>I must beg my readers to pass over in their imaginations one
+twelvemonth, of which I do not mean to say anything, and to accompany me
+to the gate at Glanyravon Farm, where they first made acquaintance with
+Mrs Prothero and Gladys. A hasty glance will suffice to show that all is
+much the same at this said gate as it was ten years ago, save and except
+that the extraneous accompaniments are changed. Instead of a group of
+Irish beggars and a dying girl, it is surrounded by a party of
+well-dressed peasants in high, smooth hats and striped flannel gowns.
+Moreover, it is surrounded by an arch of evergreens and flowers, of most
+tasteful form and beautiful colour.</p>
+
+<p>We will not linger here at present, but pursue our way along the road.
+We meet more peasants, in holiday costume, talking and laughing
+together, with Miss Gwynne's school children in their scarlet cloak and
+best frocks. They all seem to be lingering about, with nothing to do,
+and enjoying their idleness and June holiday as thoroughly as the
+greatest philanthropist in the world could desire. As we approach the
+entrance of the Park, we see another magnificent arch spanning the road.
+We turn to the large iron gates, and they, too, are circled with laurels
+and roses.</p>
+
+<p>We walk through the gates, and to the right, far in amongst the trees,
+are long lines of tables covered with white, and bearing the remains of
+a huge feast, at which, we take it for granted, the people we have met
+have been regaled. Scattered here and there amongst the oaks, elms, and
+ashes are more peasants and school children amusing themselves
+variously.</p>
+
+<p>We pursue our way up the drive until we come to the memorable oak,
+under which words were spoken greatly influencing the fates of two of
+the individuals in whom I have been endeavouring to interest my readers.
+From this venerable tree to another, almost as venerable, hangs another
+wreath, flanked with banners. We reach the house, and another garland
+entirely surrounds the door. White roses and lillies of the valley make
+the air heavy with their breath, drawn out by the attractive rays of the
+beaming afternoon sun.</p>
+
+<p>We enter the hall, and peep into the different rooms. In the dining-room
+is the remains of an ample repast. At the head of the table is an
+enormous cake, covered with silver doves and ornaments of all kinds;
+servants are drinking the remains of champagne out of glasses and
+bottles with healths innumerable. In the library and hall, children in
+white frocks, with silver bows fastened to them, pattering to and fro in
+unchecked excitement. In the drawing-room we pause, and listen to the
+conversation that is passing between Mr Gwynne, Lady Mary, Colonel and
+Mrs Gwynne Vaughan, and Sir Hugh Pryse.</p>
+
+<p>'I am so thankful it is over, and that it has all gone off so well,'
+says Lady Mary.</p>
+
+<p>'Really, Lady Mary,' says Mr Gwynne, 'great thanks are due to you for
+the admirable manner in which you managed everything. I think it was
+wonderful that we amalgamated, and all that sort of thing, don't you,
+Gwynne?'</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Vaughan replies, yawning,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I don't know what on earth we shall do without Freda! And she to throw
+herself away upon that stupid London parish, where all her charming
+manner and talent will be lavished upon ragged schools and missionary
+meetings. I wish she had never come back.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Gwynne, I'm thure Mr Prothero ith very nithe, and tho gentlemanlike
+and good and handthome. And, you know, clergymen are ath good ath any
+one in London.'</p>
+
+<p>'Prothero is better than most, I think,' says Sir Hugh, 'because there
+is no humbug about him. And I'm sure, since Freda wouldn't have me, I'm
+glad she had him, though I never guessed she liked him; I used to think
+she liked you best, Vaughan.'</p>
+
+<p>The colonel sighs.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I never flattered myself so far, I wish&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Certainly, I could not have believed the Protheros were such superior
+people,' says Lady Mary. 'As to Mr Owen and his wife, they might be
+introduced into any society.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thweetly pretty, Gladyth ith, I never thought tho much of her before,'
+lisps Mrs Vaughan. 'Tho interethting the looked in that dreth, the one
+the wath married in, my maid thaith.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was obliged to call at the farm myself, to induce old Prothero and
+his wife to come,' says Mr Gwynne, 'Freda wished it so much; I cannot
+say I did: you see it was rather awkward. But he did not change his old
+manner towards me&mdash;or&mdash;in fact&mdash;you know, Sir Hugh he might have been&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'Bumptious,' breaks in Sir Hugh; 'exactly, not a bit of it. They're
+better behaved. Besides, there was Mrs Jonathan to support the honour of
+the family, and her husband the learning.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes,' says Lady Mary; '' it is a comfort that they are really
+gentlefolks. And Mr and Mrs Jones too&mdash;in short, with the exception of
+the parents, after all, there is no great objection. Many girls make
+worse matches. Only they live so near.'</p>
+
+<p>Here little Harold comes bouncing into the room, followed by the other
+children.</p>
+
+<p>'Mamma! papa! do you know I am going to marry Minette, I told her so;
+her name is Victoria, after the Queen, she said. I shall go to see her
+to-morrow; she is bigger than Minnie, and looked prettier in her veil.
+Didn't Dot look funny in a veil? Dot nearly cried, but Aunt Freda gave
+her some cake. Why did Mr Prothero come, papa? isn't he a farmer?'</p>
+
+<p>'And isn't your papa a farmer? and am not I a farmer, Master Harold?'
+exclaims Sir Hugh, catching the boy up in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>'I am so sorry Aunt Freda is going away,' says quiet little Minnie to
+her mother.</p>
+
+<p>'And tho am I, my dear.'</p>
+
+<p>'And tho am I, mamma,' lisps Dot, exactly as lisps her mamma.</p>
+
+<p>'I hope she will be happy,' says Mr Gwynne, aside to the colonel; 'do
+you think she will?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, I am sure she will; she is evidently sincerely attached to Rowland
+Prothero, and he to her. He is a good man and a gentleman, one cannot
+deny that. Pshaw! why am I so sorry she is gone? we shall miss her
+dreadfully after this twelvemonth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you, Gwynne; she has been very good and kind to us all; so much
+improved, and she told me she owed it all to Rowland. Well, I liked him
+from the first. You saw the Bible his school children gave him, and the
+presents from his parishioners and the letter from the bishop, so
+complimentary, you know, so flattering, and all that sort of thing. God
+bless them,'</p>
+
+<p>Mr Gwynne very nearly begins to cry, and Colonel Vaughan feels inclined
+to join; but by way of consoling himself, says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I shall go and see the Protheros sometimes now. I never saw anything in
+my life so lovely as that younger Mrs Prothero.'</p>
+
+<p>'Take care, my dear,' cries Lady Mary to her daughter; 'the colonel is
+going to visit the fair Gladys.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! I thant allow that, Gwynne, the ith much too pretty.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let us go out and look at the people before dinner,' says Colonel
+Vaughan; 'I must say it was cruel of Freda to refuse to have a party.
+This is fearfully dull; the vicar and his wife, or Mr and Mrs Jones
+would have been better than nobody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Much obliged!' says Sir Hugh.</p>
+
+<p>As all the party go into the Park, we will follow them, and leaving them
+there, retrace our steps to the farm.</p>
+
+<p>There is high tea going on in the parlour, and a pleasant, cheerful
+party they are, assembled round the tea-table. Gladys in the
+wedding-gown, with a colour on her cheeks and a light in her eyes that
+were not there in former days, presides. Owen divides his attentions
+between her and some object in the corner of the room; first jumping up
+to peep into this curtained curiosity, and then returning to put cream
+into the tea-cups, hand the cakes and bread and butter, or do any and
+everything that his loving and lovely Gladys asks him, with whom he is
+just as much in love as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Jones and Mr Prothero sit on either side of Gladys, and seem to vie
+with one another in showing a father's and uncle's affection to her.
+Next to Mr Jones we have Mrs Prothero, looking more like what she looked
+when first we saw her, than she has done for years. Then Mr Jonathan and
+Mrs Jones; and between Mrs Jones and Owen we are glad to see poor Mrs
+Jenkins, very kindly treated by her neighbours, and dressed in the
+<i>moir&eacute;</i> and a handsome shawl; then Mrs Jonathan, in the richest of
+silks, and the loveliest of caps; and, finally, Minette between her and
+her grandfather; completing a 'round table' more cheerful and natural
+than that of King Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open window and white netted curtains&mdash;Gladys' treasured
+work&mdash;the roses and sunbeams look in together, and the distant mountains
+are blue and hazy as the sky. Flowers are on the mantel-piece and
+tables, bridal-favours are scattered here and there. Above all, there is
+a large white and silver bow, surmounting that 'curiosity' in the
+corner, towards which all eyes occasionally turn. Perhaps we may as well
+peep within the little white curtains.</p>
+
+<p>There lies a wee baby, fast asleep, with its tiny hand outside the
+coverlet, and its lace cap on the little pillow. 'Netta,' is the name of
+that small fragment of humanity. Owen and Gladys' first-born.</p>
+
+<p>Having surveyed the company, we will listen to their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, father, don't you feel vain-glorious to-day?' says Owen,
+stopping suddenly on his way to the cradle, and pulling his father's
+grey whisker.</p>
+
+<p>'I feel very thankful that it is all over, and very unnatural.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not unnatural, David, bach,' says his wife.</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, unnatural. It was never intended for Miss Gwynne to be my
+daughter-in-law, and I breakfasting at the Park. I felt like a hog in
+armour, fidgeting inside and out.'</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps it was never intended for me to be your daughter, either,' says
+Gladys, looking archly at the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>'Treue for you, my dear. That was a piece of luck that came without my
+seeking, and I like it all the better for that reason, I suppose.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am sure you may rejoice in the present Mrs Rowland Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jonathan; 'and you certainly need not imagine, for one moment, that
+she is degrading herself by marrying your son. In London he is in the
+first society, and meets people constantly, on equal terms, who would
+quite throw your Lady Marys into the shade. Does he not, Mr Jones?'</p>
+
+<p>'I cannot quite enter into these points, ma'am,' says Mr Jones; 'but he
+and his bride are as well suited to one another as any young people I
+ever saw, and will be a blessing to their parish and their friends.'</p>
+
+<p>'Besides, if you come to family, brother David,' says Mr Jonathan, 'ours
+is of considerable antiquity, and I cannot think how it got Anglicised
+into Prothero. You know I have been enabled to trace it back to
+Rhyddrch, or Rhodri, a prince who fought with and frequently defeated
+Ethelbald. You may not be aware, Mrs Jones, that our name, properly
+Prydderch, means Ap Rhyddrch, and that we owe it to this illustrious
+source.'</p>
+
+<p>'Now, aunt,' exclaims Owen, 'never mention the Payne Perrys again. Why,
+you cannot light a candle to us. I am sure your Herefordshire Perry
+can't date back to the conquest, and here are we long before it. What
+date, uncle?'</p>
+
+<p>'720, Owen. And I wish you, as the eldest son, would begin to write your
+name in the proper way. I contemn, absolutely, this altering our fine
+old language into that jargon of Anglo-Saxon, Danish, Norman, and
+French, now yclept English.</p>
+
+<p>'Very well, uncle, let us spell it R, H, Y, D, D, R, C, H,&mdash;eight
+consonants without the aid of one single vowel. I declare the very name
+is courage itself,&mdash;no auxiliary forces. Gladys, I beg you will always
+sign yourself so when you write to Mrs Jones; and be sure you spell your
+own name as it ought to be spelt,&mdash;G, W, L, A, D, Y, S. Even this shows
+the weakness of the female sex; you do require one little vowel to help
+along the consonants,'</p>
+
+<p>'Ha, ha, ha!' shouts Mr Prothero, 'he has you now, brother Jo.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not at all. Owen seems to have forgotten that w and y are vowels. But
+he never had a taste for study, Rowland is quite different; and our dear
+niece, Claudia, is much better suited to him than to Owen, for she
+appreciates the wisdom of a past age.'</p>
+
+<p>'The little hypocrite,' cries Owen. 'She doesn't&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I never could have supposed Lady Mary could be so affable,' interrupts
+Gladys, fearing a dispute.</p>
+
+<p>'She can be anything she likes,' says Mrs Jones. 'She pressed me and Mr
+Jones to stay there to-day, but I could not have done so without Freda.
+She was especially kind all last week, and resolved to go through
+everything properly. I told her that your uncle could only stay two
+clear days, and that we had promised to spend them here. It is such a
+relief to be here, Mr Gwynne and Mrs Gwynne Vaughan are very well; but
+her ladyship's constant tact and effort to do exactly the right thing
+are wearying.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do my Laddy Marry be very grand? Grander than Laddy Simpson, Mrs
+Jones?' asked Mrs Jenkins, in an undertone, of her neighbour. She has an
+infinite awe of Mrs Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't think I ever saw Lady Simpson,' says Mrs Jones,</p>
+
+<p>'Not be seeing Laddy Simpson! Well, it is no loss for you. She was as
+ugly an 'ooman as I ever was seeing. I am hating the Simpsons, and no
+wonder. But Miss Gwynne is a lady,&mdash;Mrs Rowland Prothero, I am meaning.
+She was coming to see me the other day, and says she, &quot;I know you have
+been unfortunate Mrs Jenkins, fach! and no fault of yours.&quot; And she was
+giving me this new white shoal. And, seure, if it wasn't for Rowland
+Prothero and she, I 'oudn't be in that tidy cottage by there, with Mrs
+Owen and my grandoater coming to see me and reading to me; and Mrs
+Prothero too, is seure, and bringing me something nice, and my Griffey
+with hundreds of thousands, Mrs Jones, as you was knowing,'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jenkins gradually gets excited, as she finds Mrs Jones listens, and
+by degrees she gains the ear of the rest of the party, who all, in spite
+of Gladys' efforts to divert their attention, turn to her when they hear
+the words 'Rowland and Miss Gwynne.'</p>
+
+<p>'I must be telling you now, Mrs Jones, ma'am,' continues Mrs Jenkins,
+'that I am not forgetting all your kindness to me up in London, when
+every one else was turning away. Ach a fi! and they 'joying themselves
+at Abertewey.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs Jones presses Mrs Griffey's arm, and whispers 'hush!'</p>
+
+<p>'To be seure! I was forgetting. But, indeet, Rowland Prothero did be
+more than a son to me, and if Miss Gwynne was my own doater she couldn't
+be kinder. She was buying up enough of my beauty furniture to fill the
+little cottage. I did be finding it out 'esterday, and seure it was
+their wedding present to a poor, childless widow, as 'ould be in the
+Eunion, and I with hundreds and thousands!'</p>
+
+<p>'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins!' growls Mr
+Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles,' says Mrs Prothero,
+brushing a tear from her eye.</p>
+
+<p>'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much!' says Minette, to the great relief
+of the rest of the party.</p>
+
+<p>'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx,' says Mr Prothero,
+patting the child's back gently.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh! but he told me he should marry me, and that Colonel Vaughan said he
+was my uncle.'</p>
+
+<p>'Children and 'oomen all alike,' says the farmer; 'thinking of marriage
+as soon as they can speak. Gladys, why don't you teach the child
+better?'</p>
+
+<p>'It was the champagne, father,' says Owen. 'My full impression is, that
+a few glasses more and you would have kissed Lady Mary. I wish we had
+brought a glass for you to drink the bride and bridegroom's health, Aunt
+'Lizbeth.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I have been drinking that pain!'</p>
+
+<p>A sudden little cry in the corner prevents any allusion to the occasion
+on which Mrs Jenkins drank champagne.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys has her baby in her arms in a few seconds. The infant is attired
+in her christening robe and cap, and seems to add a new beauty to the
+sweet and gentle Gladys. All eyes are directed towards them, all hearts
+warm towards them. Minette is instantly kissing her little cousin, even
+Mrs Jonathan takes its tiny hand, as Gladys carries it round in her
+mother's pride and joy.</p>
+
+<p>'Your grandchild and my grandniece, Mr Prothero,' says Mr Jones, 'may
+she grow up as good as her mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Amen!' replies Mr Prothero.</p>
+
+<p>And with this word we end our story. The wedding wreath&mdash;the
+christening-robe&mdash;the shroud! Again the wreath and the robe! Such has
+been our tale, and 'such is life!'</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr />
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h6>Printed By<br />
+Morrison and Gibb Limited<br />
+Edinburgh</h6>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 15315-h.txt or 15315-h.zip *******</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Gladys, the Reaper, by Anne Beale
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Gladys, the Reaper
+
+Author: Anne Beale
+
+Release Date: March 10, 2005  [eBook #15315]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+GLADYS, THE REAPER
+
+by
+
+ANNE BEALE
+
+Author of _Fay Arlington_, _Simplicity and Fascination_,
+_The Miller's Daughter_, etc. etc.
+
+
+
+
+... standing like Ruth amid the alien corn
+
+
+
+
+Griffith Farran Browne & Co. Limited
+35 Bow Street, Covent Garden
+London
+
+1881
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Frontispiece.]
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE FARMER'S WIFE.
+
+
+It is an evening in June, and the skies that have been weeping of late,
+owing to some calamity best known to themselves, have suddenly dried
+their eyes, and called up a smile to enliven their gloomy countenances.
+The farmers, who have been shaking their heads at sight of the unmown
+grass, and predicting a bad hay-harvest, are beginning to brighten up
+with the weather, and to consult upon the propriety of mowing to-morrow.
+The barometer is gently tapped by many a sturdy hand, and the result is
+favourable; so that there are good prospects of a few weeks' sunshine to
+atone for the late clouds.
+
+Sunshine: how gracious it is just now! Down yonder in the west, that
+ancient of days, the sun throws around him his evening glory, and right
+royally he does it. The rain-covered meadows glow beneath it, like so
+many lakes--the river looks up rejoicing, and the distant mountains are
+wrapped in garments dyed in the old king's own regal colours. The woods
+look as smooth and glossy as the braided locks of maidens prepared for
+conquests; and the roads and paths that wind here and there amongst the
+trees, are as gay as little streamlets in the sun's reflected light.
+
+Suddenly a rainbow leaps, as it were, out of the river, and spans, with
+its mighty arch, the country scene before us.
+
+     'A rainbow at night
+      Is the shepherd's delight;'
+
+so the proverbially-grumbling farmers will have another prognostic to
+clear their countenances.
+
+Perchance the worthy man who inhabits the farm we have just reached, may
+be congratulating himself upon it, as he jogs home from market this
+Saturday evening. If he could look upon his homestead with our eyes, I
+feel sure he would cease to despond. How cheerily the wide, slated roof
+gleams forth from amongst the trees, and returns the warm glance of the
+sun with one almost as warm, albeit proceeding from a very moist eyelid!
+How gladly the white smoke arises once more, spirally, from the large
+chimneys, after having been so long depressed by the heavy atmosphere!
+and how the massive ivy that covers the gable end, responds to the songs
+of the birds that warble their evening gladness amongst its gleaming
+leaves! The face of the dwelling is as cheerful as are the sun, river,
+mountains and meads, that it looks down upon from its slight elevation.
+Every leaf of the vine and pyrus-japonica that covers its front, is
+bedecked with a diamond; and the roses, laburnums, nasturtiums, and
+other gay flowers in the garden, drop jewels more freely than the maiden
+in the fairy tale, as they glisten beneath the rainbow.
+
+This is what we see from the hawthorn lane below the house; but walking
+up into the highroad at the back, the scene changes, and just as our
+sympathies with beautiful nature were called forth below, so are they
+instantaneously assailed by our fellow-creatures above.
+
+We come to the substantial gate that is the entrance to the pretty farm,
+and a curious and a motley group is there. We see such groups almost
+daily, here in Carmarthenshire; but as all the counties of England and
+Wales are not thoroughfares for the Irish from their country to England,
+we will describe these poor people as graphically as we can. There is
+evidently a consultation going on amongst them, and the general
+attention is directed to one individual of their party.
+
+This is a young girl of some seventeen or eighteen years of age. She is
+seated on the ground, and leans her back against the stone wall that
+flanks the substantial gate afore mentioned. To judge from her general
+appearance she can scarcely belong to the ragged set that surround her,
+for there is an attempt at neatness and cleanliness in her attire,
+though it is poor enough, that the rest cannot boast of. She wears a
+cotton gown, shawl, straw bonnet, and shoes and stockings, which were
+once respectable and seem to have been originally intended for her.
+True, they are all worn and shabby-looking. The gown is faded, the
+bonnet very brown, and the shoes have holes in them; but they indicate
+a mind, or station, at least a degree above those of her companions. Her
+head is so inclined upon her breast, that it is difficult to see more
+than a pale face underneath the bonnet; but a pair of thin white hands
+that rest listlessly upon her lap, still tend to induce the notion that
+the girl cannot quite belong to the wild-looking company with which she
+is mixed up.
+
+Right in front of her, and looking alternately from her to a man to whom
+she is talking, stands a middle-aged woman of good-natured but terrified
+aspect. A checked and ragged handkerchief confines her black, rough
+hair--a torn red cloak covers a portion of her body, and a curious
+collection of rags and tatters makes a vain effort to shelter the rest.
+In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up,
+its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in
+munching and holding a crust of bread. At the feet of the woman are
+sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, and a tin
+saucepan, are the most conspicuous. The man to whom she is talking is a
+tall, gaunt specimen of Irish poverty and famine. He holds a rake and
+pitchfork in his hand, and leans upon them for support. Gazing into his
+face is a rough, surly-looking youth, who seems cordially to agree with
+all that he says.
+
+Leaning against the wall that flanks the gate on the side opposite that
+which supports the girl, are another man and woman, who cast from time
+to time pitying glances at the pale face beneath the straw bonnet. These
+are as raggedly picturesque in their attire as the rest--a short red
+petticoat, a blanket substituted for a shawl, and a bundle on the back,
+distinguish the female; a long great coat and short trousers the male.
+They are deep in conversation upon the common theme. A young man of more
+stalwart figure stands beside the girl, and failing to attract her
+attention, kneels down on one knee and speaks low to her. A little boy
+is seated at her feet, alternately stroking her hands, and stirring up a
+small puddle of water with a short stick. Two other children are engaged
+at a little distance in making a lean cur beg for a mouthful of bread,
+which the generous urchins would evidently rather share with the dog
+than eat alone.
+
+The one prevailing feature of the party is rags, and how they hold
+together no tongue can tell.
+
+At last there is a general movement, as well as general clamour of
+voices and much gesticulation. All, old and young, with the exception of
+the girl, gather round the woman in the red cloak, and seem to be urging
+her to do something that she does not like to do. They point to the
+girl, and the appeal is not in vain.
+
+The woman moves slowly and somewhat sulkily towards one of the boys,
+takes him by the hand, and returning to the gate, opens it, and walks
+down the good broad road that leads to the farm, the boy trotting by her
+side. We watch the bright red cloak till it disappears amongst the trees
+that surround the house; and turn again to wonder what can be the matter
+with the girl. She neither moves nor speaks, although her kindly
+companions in turn endeavour to attract her attention.
+
+In the course of a few minutes the red cloak is again seen coming up the
+road, closely followed by another figure. We soon hear sounds of earnest
+pleading, in a broad Irish brogue, from our friend of the red cloak. As
+they approach the gate sound distinctly the words,--
+
+'It's all thrue, my leddy--as thrue as the blessed gospel. I'm afeered
+she's dyin' if yer honour's glory won't lend us a hand.'
+
+'I don't know how to believe you, my good woman, for some of you come
+every week and deceive me with all kinds of stories.'
+
+'An' she's Welsh, yer honour. She's come to find out her friends, my
+leddy! God bless ye, ye've a kind eye and a gintle voice,'
+
+Red cloak spoke the truth. The woman who is now added to the group has
+truly 'a kind eye and a gintle voice.' She is short and small of form,
+of middle age and matronly appearance; neatly and even handsomely
+dressed, as becomes the mistress of one of the largest and wealthiest
+farms of a country where large farms are rare. She has a handsome,
+placid face, and looks as if the world had moved on quietly and happily
+ever since she had been on its surface. Her dark eyes, that must once
+have been bright and piercing, are softened down to gentleness by the
+quieting hand of time; and the black hair is slightly streaked with
+white by the same unsparing fingers. But for this, age would seem to
+have little to do with the comely dame who is now bending her
+neatly-attired head before the shabby-looking girl against the wall,
+
+'What is the matter with you, my poor girl?' says the 'gintle voice,'
+
+These kind words have a power that the equally kind ones of the rough
+friends around had not. The brown straw bonnet is raised from the
+breast, and we perceive that the girl is neither dead nor sleeping. We
+perceive something more--a pair of the most painfully melancholy, and
+beautiful violet eyes that we ever looked into, which are languidly
+uplifted to the farm-lady. With the words, 'I am very tired, ma'am,' the
+eyes reclose, and we see long black fringes of soft hair rest upon the
+pale, thin cheek. The ready tear of compassion springs to the matron's
+eyes, as she stoops still lower to feel the pulse in the wan hand.
+
+'What is the matter with her?' she inquires, turning to the bystanders.
+
+'Tis tiert all out she is, my leddy. We come by say from Watherford to
+Milford, and thin, yer honour, we come on foot all trough Pembrokeshire,
+and County Carmarthin, and now she's jist kilt.'
+
+'But what is she going to do? Why do you come away from Ireland at all?'
+
+'Och, my leddy, shure we're starvin' there. And we jist come to luk for
+the work in the harvest, an' we're goin' to Herefordshire to git it. An'
+plaase yer honour's glory, she come wid us to this counthry to luk for
+her mother's relations that's Welsh, my leddy, small blame to thim,
+seein' her mother married an Irishman, and come to live in our
+counthry.'
+
+'I will give you a night's lodging, and that is all I can do for you,'
+says the gentle mistress of the farm.
+
+'The Lord bless ye, my leddy, the holy angels keep ye, the blessed
+Vargin and all the saints--'
+
+'Oh, hush! hush!' exclaims the good woman, highly shocked. 'Help the
+poor girl, and come with me.'
+
+The woman went towards the girl, and trying to assist her to rise,
+said,--
+
+'Now, Gladys, asthore! An' shure, my leddy, she's a thrue Welsh name.
+I'll help ye, my darlin', there! Och! an it's betther she is already, as
+soon as she heerd of a night's lodgin'.'
+
+The young man who was kneeling by the girl just now, goes to her other
+side, and succeeds in supporting her by putting his arm round her waist,
+whilst the woman holds her by one arm; and thus they follow the good
+mistress of the farm, followed in their turn by the rest of the party.
+
+They move slowly down the road, underneath the fine oak and ash trees
+that shelter the back of the farm, until they reach a large farm-yard,
+wherein some thirty fine cows, of Welsh, English, and Alderney breed,
+are yielding their rich milk at the hands of some three or four
+rough-looking men and women who are kneeling down to get it.
+
+'Come here, Tom,' cries the mistress, authoritatively.
+
+Tom gives a knowing wink to the nearest girl, mutters, 'Irish again,'
+and goes to his mistress.
+
+'See if there is good clean straw spread in the barn, Tom, and make
+haste.'
+
+Tom goes to a large building outside the farm-yard, whither his mistress
+and the rest follow him.
+
+'Plenty of straw, ma'am, good enough for such folk,' says Tom.
+
+'Spread some more, and shut the window in the loft.'
+
+This is done in a slow grumbling way.
+
+The barn is a large, clean, airy building, that must look like a palace
+to these ragged, way-worn people.
+
+'Now you may sleep here to-night, provided you go off early and quietly
+to-morrow morning. There is a good pump down below, where you can get
+water to wash yourselves, and at eight o'clock I shall lock the barn
+door; my husband always insists upon that.' Thus speaks the mistress.
+
+'Heaven bless his honour, we're all honest. We wouldn't harm a hair of
+your blessed heads. We heerd o' ye many a time, and o' the good lodgin'
+and supper--the sun shine upon ye--ye give to the poor Irish on their
+thravels.' Thus answers the Irishwoman.
+
+'You tell one another then! And this is why we have more calls than any
+one else!'
+
+'The Lord love ye, and why wouldn't we? 'Tis the good as always gets the
+blessin'.'
+
+Whilst this little conversation is going on, the girl, Gladys, is laid
+upon the shawl-blanket of the woman who wears that singular attire, and
+a pillow, half rags, half straw, is contrived for her head. The bonnet
+is taken off to increase her comfort, and, as her head falls languidly
+back upon the rough pillow, a wan, thin face is disclosed, that, from
+the regular outline of the profile, must be pretty, under happier
+circumstances, and is interesting.
+
+Whilst the guests prepare to make themselves comfortable in different
+ways, the kindly farm-lady leaves them, amid many and enthusiastic
+blessings, and returns to the house.
+
+In less than half-an-hour she reappears, followed by a female servant,
+both carrying tokens of a true hospitality that expects no return. She
+goes towards the poor girl with a small basin of good broth and a plate
+of toasted bread, such as might tempt the palate of a more dainty
+invalid; whilst the servant places a can of real Welsh broth, smelling
+strongly of the country emblem, the leek, in the midst of the hungry
+crew who are scattered over the barn. To this she adds various scraps of
+coarse bread and hard cheese, which she draws from a capacious apron,
+and evidently considers too good for the luckless vagabonds before her.
+She is soon, however, as much interested as her mistress in the sick
+girl, to whom the latter is administering the warm restorative. Spoonful
+after spoonful is applied to her lips, and greedily swallowed though
+with evident effort. The toasted bread is soaked in a portion of the
+broth, and is also devoured as speedily as offered, with an avidity made
+still more painful by the difficulty of swallowing, occasioned by some
+obstruction in the throat.
+
+'God help you, poor girl,' says the good Samaritan, as she puts the
+last mouthful to the lips of the patient.
+
+The eyes unclose, and a tear falls upon the wan cheek, as a murmured,
+'Thank you, my lady,' is faintly heard.
+
+The 'lady' turns away with a heavy sigh, whilst the servant begins to
+arrange the blanket-shawl and rags more comfortably, and finally takes
+off her large linsey-woolsey apron to make a softer resting-place for
+the head and neck of the girl. The grateful friends that stand around
+now bless the servant as zealously as they blessed her mistress, and if
+she understood the language in which the warm Irish hearts express their
+gratitude, she would probably wonder who 'the Vargin and all the holy
+saints and angels' are, that are invoked for her sake.
+
+Again the farm-lady goes away, and returns bearing a small bottle of
+medicine, that she bids the red-cloaked woman give the sick girl in
+about an hour. She then leaves her patient and motley guests to their
+supper and night's repose, followed by such prayers as the poor alone
+know how to utter, and perhaps how to feel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE FARMER.
+
+
+The rainbow was a true prophet; the sun that went down so gloriously
+last night amid the half-dried tears of a lately weeping earth, has
+arisen this morning with a resolution to dry up all the remaining tears,
+and to make the Sabbath as it should be--a day of rejoicing. Sunrise
+amongst the hills and valleys! I wish we all saw it oftener. Not only
+would the glorious spectacle make us wiser and better, but the early
+rising would be not only conducive to health and good spirits, but to
+the addition of a vast amount of time to the waking and working hours of
+our very short life.
+
+All nature arouses herself by degrees, as the great source of light
+rises from his couch, curtained with rose and daffodil-coloured drapery.
+As these gorgeous curtains spread east and west, and he takes his
+morning bath in the clouds and vapours, rises up the proud monarch of
+the farm-yard, as if in bold rivalry, outspreads his fine plumage in
+emulation of the rose and daffodil curtains, and bids him welcome with a
+voice so loud and shrill, that he must almost hear it from his domed
+throne above. More arbitrary in his kingdom than the sun in his, this
+grand Turk insists on arousing all his subjects; and the sleepy inmates
+of his harem withdraw their heads from beneath their wings, and, one by
+one, begin to smooth their feathers, and to descend lazily from their
+dormitories. A faint twittering is heard amongst the ivy-leaves, in
+answer to 'the cock's shrill clarion,' and in a few seconds, the little
+sleepers amongst the oak and ash trees take it up, and by the time the
+sun has come out of his bath, and the cock has ceased crowing, there is
+a full chorus of heart stirring minstrelsy round about the quiet farm.
+Down below in the meadow, the cattle begin to shake off the dew-drops
+from their hides, and to send forth a plaintive low as they slowly seek
+their early breakfast in the spangled grass, or by the steaming river.
+Away among the hills, the faint bleat of the sheep echoes from heath to
+heath, whilst their white fleeces dot the plains. Over the face of happy
+nature creeps a glow that seems to come from the heart, and to make her
+look up, rejoicing, to the sun as part of herself, and yet a type of the
+Great Creator.
+
+But whilst this Sabbath morning hymn thus rises, betimes, to the throne
+of Him who sits beyond the sunbeams, tired man sleeps on. The farmer's
+household is still slumbering, and after a week of hard labour, taking
+an additional hour's repose on that day which was graciously appointed
+as a day of rest. Scarcely can the sun peep in through the drawn
+curtains and shutters of the windows, and no song of birds, or low of
+cows, seems as yet to have reached the closed ears of the sleepers.
+Master and men alike obtain the bounteous gift of sleep so often denied
+to the less laborious rich.
+
+We are wrong in supposing that all are slumbering in the farm-house.
+Quietly the mistress steps out of the back door which she has
+noiselessly opened, as if afraid of disturbing her household. As the
+brisk little figure moves across the farm-yard, it is instantly
+surrounded by a flock of poultry that seem intuitively to expect an alms
+at her hand, as do the poor Irish who haunt her dwelling. But she has
+nothing to give them thus early in the morning, and scarcely heeds their
+cackling and crowing. The fierce house-dog, however, will be noticed as
+bounding through the poultry, and knocking down one luckless hen, he
+jumps upon his mistress, and almost oversets her also. The 'Down Lion,
+down,' of the 'gintle voice,' serves only to make him more
+demonstrative, as he gambols roughly on her path as she proceeds towards
+the barn.
+
+Mrs Prothero--such is the name of our farm-lady--had been haunted all
+night long by visions of the poor Irish girl. She had not slept as
+soundly as the other members of her family, because there was a
+fellow-creature suffering within her little circle. Although she had
+lived nearly fifty years in the world, and had been variously cheated
+and imposed upon by beggars of all kinds, her heart was still open to
+'melting charity,' and liable to be again and again deceived. As she
+stopped before the barn door with the key in her hand, Lion began a low
+growl. He could never get over his antipathy to Irish beggars, and all
+his mistress's influence was necessary to prevent the growl becoming a
+bark. She put her ear to the door and listened, but no sound disturbed
+the stillness within. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. At
+last she thought she heard a feeble voice say something which she
+interpreted into 'Come in,' and she turned the key in the lock of the
+door and opened the top half of it. She looked in, and saw all her
+mendicant guests in profound repose, excepting the girl Gladys, who
+endeavoured to rise as she perceived the kindly face, but fell back
+again immediately. She unclosed the other half of the door, and
+carefully excluding Lion, by shutting it after her, walked softly across
+the barn to the rough couch on which Gladys lay. She appeared to be in
+the same state of exhaustion as on the previous night; and if she had
+noticed Mrs Prothero at all, the transient effort was over, and she
+remained with closed eyes and listless form, whilst the good woman
+looked at her and felt her pulse. Then her lips moved slightly, as if
+wishing to say something, but emitted no sound. What was to be done for
+one in such a helpless state? Mrs Prothero's kind heart sank within her.
+
+As she did not like to disturb the weary wretches, who were sleeping so
+soundly in their rags amongst the hay and straw, she prepared to leave
+the barn; but as she moved away, the girl's eyes unclosed, and glanced
+dimly at her through a film of tears. Nourishment seemed the only remedy
+that presented itself to her mind. She smiled kindly at the girl,
+murmured 'I will come again,' and went through the sleepers towards the
+door, pausing, however, to look at the peaceful face of the baby, as it
+lay on its mother's arm, covered with the old red cloak.
+
+She returned to the house, and went to the clean, large dairy, where she
+took a cup of the last night's milk, already covered with rich cream,
+from a pan and went with it to the back kitchen, where was a fire, kept
+up all night by means of the hard Welsh coal, and heat-diffusing balls.
+She warmed the milk, procured a piece of fine white bread, and once more
+returned to the barn.
+
+She administered these remedies to her patient, who swallowed them with
+the same avidity and difficulty as she had done the broth. She fancied
+she again heard the words, 'God bless you, my lady,' but they were so
+faint that she was not sure.
+
+Again she threaded her way amongst the sleepers, and left the barn. She
+went into her garden, and walked for a few moments amongst the flowers,
+as if for council. The bees were beginning to hum about the hives, and
+the butterflies to flit amongst the flowers. She stood and looked at the
+beautiful scene before her--the woods, hills, river, and above, the
+morning sun--and offered up a prayer and thanksgiving to the Giver of
+all good things. Her thoughtful face brightened into a smile, and her
+walk became more brisk as she left her garden, and went again into the
+farm-yard.
+
+The cow-man was bringing up the cows to be milked, and he looked
+astonished as he greeted his mistress. So did the two ruddy, disheveled
+farm maidens, who had barely turned out of their beds to milk the cows,
+and had paid small attention either to their toilet or ablutions.
+
+The house was perfectly quiet as she entered it, and she crept upstairs,
+and into her bedroom very softly, for fear of disturbing any one.
+
+'Where in the world have you been, my dear?' greeted her, in a gruff
+voice from amongst the bed-clothes, that covered a large old-fashioned
+bed, hung with chintz curtains.
+
+'Go to sleep and don't trouble, Davy, _bach'_, [Footnote A Welsh term of
+endearment, equivalent to 'dear,' pronounced like the German.] quietly
+replied the brisk little dame.
+
+'Go to sleep, indeed! Easier said than done, when one wakes up in a
+fright, and finds you gone, nobody knows where. Now where _have_ you
+been? You 'ont let one sleep, even of a Sunday morning.'
+
+'Well, now, don't get into a passion, my dear--I mean, don't be angry.'
+
+'What have I to be angry about when I don't know what you've been
+doing?'
+
+This was said in an injured tone, as if the heart under the bed-clothes
+were softer than the voice.
+
+'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought--'
+
+'You thought what?'
+
+'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was
+uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she
+had been doing wrong.
+
+Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes,
+ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel.
+
+'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner
+of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our
+money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of
+good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.'
+
+'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.'
+
+'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?'
+
+'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!'
+
+'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give
+her a lift home.'
+
+'But if she has no home?'
+
+'Then let her go to her parish.'
+
+'But they don't seem to have any parishes in Ireland.'
+
+'No parishes! I suppose that's the geography the vagabonds teach you?
+Well you pay dear enough for your lessons. But I tell you what, Mary,
+you just go and tell 'em all to decamp this minute.'
+
+'But the girl is too weak and ill.'
+
+'Then send her to the Union, I say, and they are bound to forward her.'
+
+'But a Sunday! and the House miles away! Oh, Davy, we really cannot do
+it to-day!'
+
+'What with the Irish, and one charity and another, I declare there's no
+peace in life! Name o' goodness, 'oornan, why do you harbour such folk?
+If the girl's too ill to go on with her gang, they must leave her at the
+Union, or else get the overseers to send for her.'
+
+'Will you just go and look at her?'
+
+'No, I 'ont, and that's plain speaking!'
+
+Here the red face, and white night-cap and tassel, suddenly, disappeared
+amongst the bed-clothes.
+
+Mrs Prothero considered a few minutes, and again left the room, and went
+to the barn. Here, all was confusion and consultation. They had tried to
+help Gladys to rise, and the girl could not stand.
+
+A clamour of voices assailed Mrs Prothero, who was bewildered by the
+noise, and terrified at the remembrance of her husband.
+
+'My good people, I don't know what to advise,' she said at last.
+
+'She don't want to laive Carrmanthinshire, my leddy.'
+
+'We'll be ruined intirely if we stop till she's cured, yer leddyship!'
+
+'Niver a frind in the worrld, yer honour.'
+
+'Her mother and father, sisthers and brothers, all dead of the faver
+and the famine.'
+
+'Nobody left but her relations in Carrmarrthinshire, and, maybe, they're
+all dead and buried, yer honour's glory.'
+
+'And what'll we do wid her, poor sowl?'
+
+Mrs Prothero was looking compassionately on the poor girl, whilst
+sentence upon sentence was poured into her ear; and as the death of her
+relation was mentioned, she fancied she perceived a movement in her
+seemingly impassive features. She opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs
+Prothero, who went to her, and seeing her lips move, knelt down by her
+side.
+
+'Let them go, and send me to the workhouse, if you please, my lady,' she
+murmured.
+
+Mrs Prothero once more left the barn, promising to return shortly, and,
+with trembling steps, again sought the apartment where her lord and
+master was reposing. A very decided snore met her ear. She stood by the
+bedside, and looked at the tassel, which was the only portion visible of
+her better half. She sat down on a chair; she got up again; she fussed
+about the room; she even opened the drawers and took out the Sunday
+attire of that Somnus before her. But nothing she could do would arouse
+him.
+
+At last she gently touched the face. A louder snore was the only reply.
+She gave a nervous push to the shoulder, and whispered into the
+bed-clothes, 'My dear.'
+
+'Well, what now?' growled the justly irritated sleeper.
+
+'My dear, I am very sorry, but the poor girl is too ill to move, and I
+really don't know what is to be done.'
+
+'Upon my very deed, if you are not enough to provoke a saint!' broke out
+Mr Prothero, now fairly sitting up in bed. 'If you will encourage
+vagrants, get rid of 'em, and don't bother me. I'll tell you what it is,
+Mrs Prothero, if all of 'em are not off the farm before I'm up, I'll
+give 'em such a bit of my mind as 'll keep 'em away for the future; see
+if I don't.'
+
+Mrs Prothero saw that her husband was redder in the face than usual, and
+she had a very great dread of putting him in a passion; still she
+ventured one word more very meekly.
+
+'But the girl, David?'
+
+'What's the girl to you or me! we've a girl of our own, and half-a-dozen
+servant girls. We don't want any more. Send her to the Union.'
+
+'How can we send her?'
+
+'Let the rascally Irish manage that, 'tis no affair of mine; but if you
+bother me any more, I vow I'll take a whip and drive 'em, girl and all,
+off the premises.'
+
+'Very well, David,' said Mrs Prothero, submissively, and with a heavy
+sigh: 'but if the girl should die?'
+
+She walked across to the door, paused on the threshold, and glanced
+back; but there was no change in the rubicund face. She went into the
+passage, and slowly closed the door, holding the handle in her hand for
+a few seconds as she did so. She walked deliberately down the passage,
+pausing at each step. Before she was at the end of it, a loud voice
+reached her ear. She joyfully turned back and re-entered the bedroom.
+
+'Yes, David?' she said quietly.
+
+'If the girl is really bad, send her in the cart, or let her have a
+horse, if you like,' growled Mr Prothero. 'Only I do wish, mother, you
+would have nothing to do with them Irishers.'
+
+'Thank you, my dear,' said the quiet little woman. 'Then if the rest go
+away, I may manage about the girl?'
+
+'Do what you like, only get rid of 'em somehow.'
+
+'Thank you.'
+
+'Oh, you needn't thank me! I'd as soon send every one of 'em to jail as
+not; but I can't stand your puffing and sighing just as if they were all
+your own flesh and blood.'
+
+'We're all the same flesh and blood, my dear.'
+
+'I'd be uncommon sorry to think so. I've nothing but Welsh flesh and
+blood about me, and should be loath to have any other, Irish, Scotch, or
+English either.'
+
+Mrs Prothero disappeared.
+
+'That 'ooman 'ould wheedle the stone out of a mill,' continued the
+farmer, rubbing his eyes, and deliberately taking off his night-cap,
+'and yet she don't ever seem to have her own way, and is as meek as
+Moses. She has wheedled me out of my Sunday nap, so I suppose I may as
+well get up. Hang the Irish! There is no getting rid of 'em. She's given
+'em a night's lodging, and a supper for so many years, that they come
+and ask as if it was their due. But I'll put a stop to it, yet, in spite
+of her, or my name isn't David Prothero.'
+
+When Mr Prothero came forth from his dormitory, he was in his very best
+Sunday attire. As he walked across the farm-yard in search of his wife,
+there was an air about him that seemed to say, 'I am monarch of all I
+survey.' Indeed, few monarchs are as independent, and proud of their
+independence, as David Prothero of Glanyravon.
+
+He was a tall, muscular man, of some fifty years of age. He was well
+made, and of that easy, swinging gait, that is rather the teaching of
+Dame Nature, than of the dancing mistress or posture master. His face
+was full and ruddy, betokening health, spirits, and that choleric
+disposition to which his countrymen are said to incline, whether justly
+or unjustly is not for me to determine. His hair had a reddish tinge,
+and his whiskers were decidedly roseate, bearing still further testimony
+to a slight irrascibility of temperament. But he was a good-looking man,
+in spite of his hair and whiskers, which, as his wife admired them, are
+not to be despised.
+
+'Where's your mistress, Sam?' roared Mr Prothero across the farm-yard.
+
+'In the barn, master,' answered a man, who was eating bread and cheese
+on the gate, and swinging his legs pleasantly about.
+
+'Tell her I want her,'
+
+In answer to the summons, immediately appeared his worthy helpmate. She
+carried a very beautiful half-blown rose in her hand, which, as soon as
+she approached her husband, she placed carefully in his button-hole,
+standing on tiptoe to perform this graceful Sunday morning service.
+
+'Thank you, mother,' said Mr Prothero, smiling, and looking down
+complacently on his little wife.
+
+What went with all his lecture upon the profligacy of Irish beggars? I
+suppose it was silently delivered from his breast to the rose, for none
+of it came to his lips, though it was quite ready to be heard when the
+rose made her appearance.
+
+All the Irish are gone except the girl, Davy, _bach_' said quiet Mrs
+Prothero, 'and they are gone to the Overseer to tell him about her, and
+I will see that she is sent to the workhouse to-night, that is to say if
+I can.'
+
+'I suppose you fed and clothed the ragged rascals?'
+
+'I just gave them some scraps for breakfast, and indeed their blessings
+did me good,'
+
+'I should think they must. People that left a dying girl behind 'em.'
+
+'They promised to come back and see after her when the hay-harvest is
+over. They are going into Herefordshire to get work, and she, poor
+thing, is looking for her relations in this county, and meant to get
+work here.'
+
+'Well, I want my breakfast. I promised brother Jonathan to go to church
+to-day. He is going to preach a charity sermon for the Church Building
+Society, and wants my shilling. He and Mrs Jonathan are to come
+to-morrow, you know, my dear. I hope in my heart everything is as fine
+as fippence, or my lady 'll turn up her nose.'
+
+'I can't make things neater, Davy.'
+
+This was said by Mrs Prothero, in a desponding tone, quite different
+from her former quiet cheerfulness, and she accompanied the words by
+rubbing her hands nervously one over the other.
+
+'There now, don't look as if you were going to be smothered. Mrs
+Jonathan isn't so bad as all that. I wish to goodness Jonathan hadn't
+married a fine lady. But then she brought him a good fortune, and it's
+all the better for our children.'
+
+'I don't want her money.'
+
+'But if it wasn't for her, my dear, Rowland would never have had an
+Oxford edication.'
+
+'I'd as soon he had gone to Lampeter, or been made a good Wesleyan
+minister, and then he might have been content to stay in Wales, instead
+of going off to England.'
+
+'There, there! never mind! He'll be a bishop some day; and though you do
+still incline to the chapel, you'll be proud of that. Now, name o'
+goodness, let's have some breakfast.'
+
+With this peculiarly Welsh interjection, Mr Prothero turned towards the
+farm, and, followed by his wife, went to the desired repast.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+'Nobody has come for that poor girl, Netta, and I have'n't the heart to
+send her away,' said Mrs Prothero to her only daughter Janetta, towards
+the close of the Sunday, the morning of which we noticed in the last
+chapter.
+
+'I am sure, mother, you have been plagued quite enough with her already.
+You have neither been to church nor chapel, and scarcely eaten a morsel
+all the day. I can't imagine what pleasure you take in such people.'
+
+'I wouldn't care if your father was at home; but I don't quite like to
+have her into the house without his leave, and she is not fit to be left
+in the barn.'
+
+'Into the house, mother! That wild Irish beggar! Why, father would get
+into a fury, and I'm sure I should be afraid to sleep in the same place
+with such a creature.'
+
+'Oh, my dear child! when will it please the Lord to soften your heart,
+and teach you that all men and women are brothers and sisters.'
+
+'Never, I'm sure, in that kind of way.'
+
+Whilst the mother and daughter continue their conversation about Gladys,
+of which the above is a specimen, we will glance at Janetta Prothero,
+the spoilt daughter of Glanyravon Farm.
+
+She is decidedly a pretty girl? some might call her a beauty. She has
+dark eyes, black hair, a clear pink and white complexion, a round,
+dimpled cheek, a fair neck, a passable nose, and a very red-lipped,
+pouting mouth. She is small of stature--not much taller than her
+mother--but so well-formed, that her delicate little figure is quite the
+perfection of symmetry. Her movements are languid rather than brisk like
+her mother's, and she either has, or is desirous of having, more of the
+fine lady in her manners and appearance. We discern, as she talks, more
+of obstinacy than reason, and more of pride than sense, in her
+conversation, and the face rather expresses self-will than intellect,
+although not deficient in the latter.
+
+We are led to suppose, from the appearance of the room in which the
+mother and daughter are located, that Miss Janetta is somewhat
+accomplished; more so than young ladies in her position commonly were
+some thirty or forty years ago. This is a large parlour, with some
+pretensions to be called a drawing-room. True, the furniture is of
+old-fashioned mahogany, the sofa of hair, the curtains of chintz, and
+all that appertains to the master and mistress of the house, of solid
+but ancient make. But the square piano, the endless succession of
+baskets, card-racks, etc., the footstools with the worsted-work dog and
+cat thereon emblazoned, the album and other books, so neatly and
+regularly placed round the table, and above all, three heads in very bad
+water-colours that adorn the walls--all proclaim the superior education
+of the daughter of the house, and her aspirations after modern
+gentility.
+
+We will just take up the thread of the conversation of the mother and
+daughter at the end of it, and see what conclusions they have arrived
+at. In a somewhat doggedly excited tone, Miss Janetta says,--
+
+'Well, mother, I know that father would be very angry, and that she
+might give us all low Irish fever. I shouldn't wonder if she brought a
+famine with her.'
+
+'Remember, Netta, who said "and if ye have done it unto the least of
+these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."'
+
+'If those people are one's brethren, as father says, the sooner we
+disown our relations the better.'
+
+Whilst Miss Janetta was uttering this unchristian speech, and greatly
+shocking her mother thereby, a young man entered with a book in his
+hand, and throwing himself on the sofa, began to read. It was soon,
+however, evident that he was listening to the conversation, although he
+professedly kept his eyes on his book. Poor Mrs Prothero continued her
+efforts to enlist her daughter on the side of charity, but did not
+greatly prevail. The young man did not interfere, probably being aware
+that it is better to let two women finish their own quarrel.
+
+Again, however, they were interrupted by the appearance of a fourth, and
+more animated personage.
+
+'Good evening, Mrs Prothero. How do you do, Netta?' exclaimed the new
+comer, shaking Mrs Prothero's hand, and pulling Netta's curls. Hereupon
+the young man arose from the sofa, and bowing profoundly, said,--
+
+'Good evening, Miss Gwynne,' with a tone as grave as his appearance.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Mr Rowland,' said the young lady, who we now
+introduce in form as Miss Gwynne of Glanyravon Park.
+
+With a very becoming grace, she advanced and held out her hand to Mr
+Rowland Prothero, eldest son of the good farmer and his wife, just
+returned from Oxford. Mr Rowland slightly touched the hand, bowed again
+gravely, and placed a chair for Miss Gwynne.
+
+'I thought I should never come here again,' said that young lady,
+turning from Mr Rowland with a nod and a 'thank you,' and retreating
+towards the window where the mother and daughter were standing, 'what
+with the rain, and poor papa's nervous complaints, and all the affairs,
+I declare I have been as busy as possible.'
+
+'Now, Miss Gwynne, I am sure you will agree with me,' cried Netta,
+suddenly brightening up and getting animated 'Do you think it right to
+encourage those Irish beggars?'
+
+'Right! no, of course I don't.'
+
+'And do you think people ought to allow them to come into the house--to
+take them in, and to--to shelter them in short?'
+
+'Decidedly not. I hope you don't do such things, Mrs Prothero?'
+
+There was a wicked twinkle in a merry eye as this was said.
+
+'The truth is, Miss Gwynne,' said Mrs Prothero, slowly rubbing her hands
+one over another, 'there is a poor Irish girl in the barn almost dying,
+and it is impossible to send her to the Union to-night, or to leave her
+where she is.'
+
+'Oh, I'll write an order for the Union in papa's name. You can't believe
+a word those Irish say. You had better get her sent off directly.'
+
+This was said with the air of command and decision of one not accustomed
+to have her orders disputed.
+
+'But, Miss Gwynne, if you only knew--' began the overwhelmed Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+'I know quite well. We are obliged to commit dozens of them as vagrants,
+and I should not at all wonder if we should not be compelled to have
+you taken up some day for harbouring suspicious characters.'
+
+The tears stood in Mrs Prothero's kind eyes. She had not much authority
+amongst the young people apparently.
+
+'There, mother! I knew Miss Gwynne would agree with me.'
+
+'And do you think the law of Christian charity would agree with you,
+Netta?' here broke in a grave and stern voice from the sofa.
+
+Both the young ladies coloured at this interruption? Miss Gwynne with
+mortified dignity, Netta with anger. Mrs Prothero cast an appealing
+glance at her son, who came forward.
+
+'She may have my bed, mother,' said the young man, colouring in his
+turn, as he met Miss Gwynne's defiant glance, that seemed to say, 'Who
+are you?'
+
+'How very absurd, Mr Rowland,' said that young lady, laughing
+scornfully. 'I suppose, according to your law of Christian charity, we
+must fill our houses with all the Irish beggars that come through
+Carmarthenshire! A goodly company!'
+
+'Have you seen this poor girl. Miss Gwynne?'
+
+'No, certainly not, but I know by heart all she has to say.'
+
+'If you would but just see her,' said Mrs Prothero entreatingly not
+daring to contradict the heiress of Glanyravon Park, who had a will of
+her own, if Mrs Prothero had not.
+
+'With the greatest pleasure; but I know all the "my leddy's," "yer
+honour's," and "the sweet face o' ye," that I shall hear.'
+
+'Don't go, Miss Gwynne, you may take the fever. I wouldn't go for the
+world,' cried Netta.
+
+'I am not afraid of fevers or anything else, I hope,' said Miss Gwynne
+contemptuously. 'You will be afraid of catching a toothache from
+infection next,' and herewith she left the room, followed by Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+During their short absence, Mr Rowland Prothero read his sister a very
+proper lecture for a clergyman, on Christian charity and filial
+obedience, to which she listened with pouting lips and knitted brow, but
+with no answering speech, good or bad. She was not silent because she
+had nothing to say, but because she was afraid of her brother, who was
+the only person of whom she was afraid. Her feelings, however, found
+vent in the leaves of a rose that she was pulling to pieces and
+scattering ruthlessly.
+
+The lecturer on Christian charity was a tall, gentlemanly-looking young
+man, whose apparently habitual gravity of deportment warmed into
+earnestness and animation as he talked to his sister. He looked and
+spoke as if his soul were in the words he uttered, and as if it had
+been choice and not compulsion that led him to become a minister in
+Christ's family.
+
+The entrance of Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne was a great relief to
+Netta. She looked up briskly at the latter, as if sure of sympathy, and
+if eyes full of tears could give it, she certainly was satisfied.
+
+Mr Rowland Prothero perceived the tears, and retired to his sofa, taking
+up his book and pretending to read.
+
+'Can I help you, Mrs Prothero? There does not seem a moment to lose. I
+will send for a doctor, or do anything I can,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Thank you, dear Miss Gwynne,' replied Mrs Prothero, 'I will put her in
+Owen's room.'
+
+'Who can we get to bring her in? Shall I go and fetch one of the men?
+Netta, do get some one to help us.'
+
+'I will help you, if you will allow me,' said Mr Rowland, rising from
+his sofa, and looking at Miss Gwynne with a glance of warm approval.
+
+'Pray do; now; at once. I will go with you whilst your mother prepares
+the room. You could carry her quite well, for she is as thin as a ghost;
+I never saw such a wretched girl.'
+
+Miss Gwynne hurried to the barn, followed by Rowland. They found Gladys
+with a farm-servant by her side, apparently either dead or asleep.
+
+Rowland Prothero knelt down, and took her up gently in his arms, Miss
+Gwynne assisting. The poor girl unclosed her eyes, and looked wistfully
+at the face that was bending over her.
+
+'You are with friends, and in God's hands,'said Rowland gently, as the
+eyes languidly reclosed.
+
+He carried her upstairs to his brother's room, and having placed her on
+the bed, left her to the care of his mother and Miss Gwynne.
+
+Whilst they were employed in getting her into bed, a house-servant came
+to say that Miss Gwynne was wanted. She found a footman awaiting her,
+who told her that his master had sent him in search of her, and was in a
+state of great anxiety about her. She ran up to Mrs Prothero for a few
+minutes.
+
+'Really papa is too absurd, too provoking,' she said with a vexed voice;
+'he has sent after me again, and I am sure he must know I am here. Let
+me hear if I can be of any service, Mrs Prothero; I will send anything
+in the way of medicine or nourishment. Good-bye, I will come again
+to-morrow.'
+
+'Mr and Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, come to-morrow,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Yes, they are to dine with us on Wednesday, and told me they meant to
+sleep here. Good evening. Dear me, how wretched that poor girl looks.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was soon hastening homewards, heedless of the splendid sky
+above, or the glowing fields beneath. She was making reflections on the
+excellence of Mrs Prothero, the silliness of Netta, the precision of
+Rowland, and the misery of the girl Gladys. Thence she turned her
+thoughts upon herself, and suddenly discovered that she had been too
+decided in at once ordering any person to the workhouse, without at
+first knowing the case.
+
+'But it is no wonder that I am too decided sometimes, when my father is
+so dreadfully weak and vacillating,' she said to herself; 'indeed I do
+not think, after all, that one can be too decided in this irresolute
+world.'
+
+This very decided young lady is the only child and supposed heiress of
+Gwynne of Glanyravon, as her father is usually called. She is an
+aristocratic-looking personage, with a certain I-will-have-my-own-way
+air, that you cannot help recognising at once. She is rather taller than
+most tall women, and the tokens of decision in her carriage, eyes,
+voice, and general deportment would be disagreeable, but for the extreme
+grace of her figure, the unaffected ease of her manner, and the
+remarkable clearness and sweetness of her voice. She is handsome, too,
+with a noble forehead, sensible grey eyes, glossy chestnut hair, and a
+very fine complexion. The many of her nominal friends and admirers who
+at heart dislike her, prophesy that in a few years she will be coarse,
+and say that she is already too masculine; but the few who love her,
+think that she will improve both in person and mind, as she rubs off the
+pride and self-opinionativeness of twenty years of country life against
+the wholesome iron of society and the world. But we shall see.
+
+At present she is fortunate enough to rule everybody she comes in
+contact with; her father, his servants, his tenants, the poor, the very
+mendicants that come to the door.
+
+Certainly there is something very charming in her appearance, as she
+hurries up the fine old avenue that leads to her ancestral home. The
+ease of her port, the graceful dignity of her extreme haste, the
+heightened colour, and the glowing eye, are all very handsome, in spite
+of the coarseness in perspective. The poor footman can scarcely keep up
+with her; he has not found the last twenty years at Glanyravon
+productive of the same lightness of step to him, as to his young
+mistress, and wishes she were a little less agile.
+
+A handsome country house in a good park has not often in itself much of
+the picturesque. Ruskin would not consider Glanyravon, with its heavy
+porch, massive square walls, and innumerable long windows, a good
+specimen of architectural beauty; still it is a most comfortable
+dwelling, beautifully situated; and the magnificent woods at the back,
+and grand view in front, would make the most unartistic building
+picturesque in appearance if not in reality.
+
+Miss Gwynne ran up the broad stairs, through the large hall, and into a
+good library. Here a very tall, thin, sickly-looking man was seated in
+an easy-chair.
+
+'My dear Freda, I am so thankful you are come!'
+
+'My dear father, how I wish you would not send for me the very moment I
+go out. I really cannot be pestered with servants. It fidgets me to
+death to have a man walking and puffing after me.'
+
+'But just consider, my love, the lateness of the hour.'
+
+'It is scarcely eight o'clock now, papa, and as light as possible.'
+
+'I am too nervous, my love, to bear your being out alone.'
+
+Miss Gwynne rang the bell authoritatively, and the footman entered.
+
+'Tell Mrs Davies to send some jelly, and whatever strengthening things
+there are in the house, to Glanyravon Farm immediately,' she said; then
+turning to her father, added, 'do you know, papa, Mrs Prothero has taken
+in a sick Irish girl, and I have abetted it.'
+
+'You, child! I hope she has no infectious disease; it quite alarms me.'
+
+'I really don't know. But Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero are going to
+Glanyravon to-morrow, and remember you invited them to dinner on
+Wednesday.'
+
+'I am very sorry! that man kills me with the antiquities of the Welsh
+language, and heaven knows what old things that happened before the
+flood. But you must entertain them. I suppose we had better ask young
+Rowland.'
+
+'Oh, papa! He is so dreadfully quiet and stiff, and thinks there is only
+one man who ever went to Oxford, and he is that man; and I can't endure
+him.'
+
+'Perhaps not, my dear--indeed, perhaps not.'
+
+'If we ask him, we must ask Netta. She has come home quite accomplished
+from boarding school, and would do in a quiet way. Mrs Jonathan would be
+pleased, and you know she _is_ a lady, though awfully particular. I
+can't endure her either.'
+
+'Perhaps you could invite Lady Mary, and Miss Nugent to meet them?'
+
+'I don't think they would like it. They would not object to the two
+clergymen, because, as Lady Mary says, 'You see, my dear, the cloth is a
+passport to all grades of society;' but they would not approve of Netta.
+That is to say, Lady Mary would think herself insulted if we introduced
+her sweet Wilhelmina to a farmer's daughter.'
+
+'She is a very superior woman, my love, and understands etiquette, and
+all that sort of thing, better than any one I ever met.'
+
+'She seems to me to understand her own interests, papa, as well as most
+people. But I will tell her that Sir Hugh and the Protheros are coming,
+and that we have asked Netta, so she can accept or decline as she
+likes.'
+
+'Do you think it wise, my dear, to put yourself so much on a level with
+Miss Prothero, as to invite her?'
+
+'Oh! she understands how we are very well. It will be a source of pride
+and satisfaction to her, without making her presume more than before;
+and the vicar and his lady will like the attention.'
+
+'I dread the vicar. His genealogies are too much for me.'
+
+'Oh, I can put up with the vicar's antiquities, but not with the young
+vicar's pedantic Oxonianism. He does think so well of himself, and quite
+rules every one at home.'
+
+'Oh! that is very fatiguing, I should think.'
+
+'I wish he would fall in love with Miss Nugent, and she with him, and
+carry off her forty-thousand pounds. She is silly enough for anything,
+and it would be such a downfall to her mother's pride.'
+
+'Her mother is much too careful, my dear, and by far too superior a
+woman. And Miss Wilhelmina is very accomplished and all that sort of
+thing, you know, and likely to make a fine match. She is very pretty,
+too.'
+
+'Yes; she and Netta Prothero would run in harness. Pretty, silly, rather
+affected, and having drawn each four or five drawings, and learnt six
+tunes on the piano. Only the one is more fashionable than the other. Do
+you know, papa, Miss Nugent can play the Irish and Scotch quadrilles,
+and Netta '_Ar hydy Nos,_' with small variations. We will have a
+concert; you know I have asked the Rice Rices?'
+
+'Very well, my dear. Now I think I will read a sermon to the servants,
+so just ring the bell.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE MISER.
+
+
+Whilst Mr Gwynne is reading his sermon, and Mrs Prothero is nursing the
+mendicant Gladys, an event is passing in the neighbouring country-town,
+involving matters of interest to her, and those belonging to her. In a
+small bedroom over a little huckster's shop, an old man lies dangerously
+ill. By his side is seated a middle-aged woman watching. In a dark
+corner, behind the bed, stands a man, who is so deep in shadow that you
+scarcely know whether he is young or old.
+
+The room is small and shabby, and contains apparently few comforts for
+one nearly approaching his last hour.
+
+There is a tap at the door, upon which the man behind the bed goes out,
+and returns, almost immediately, followed by Rowland Prothero. He goes
+towards the bed, and stooping down, whispers to the sick man.
+
+'Father, you wished to see Rowland--he is here.'
+
+Rowland advances, and takes the seat vacated for him by the woman.
+
+The three inmates of the room are Mr and Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and their
+only son, Howel. They are cousins of the Protheros, Mrs Jenkins being Mr
+Prothero's first cousin, and the members of the younger generation being
+consequently second cousins.
+
+Griffith Jenkins motions to his wife and son to leave the room, which
+they do immediately. Rowland kneels beside his bed, the better to hear
+what he has to say. He appears, however to revive, and is distinct
+enough in his enunciation of the following words, though very slow.
+
+'My son Howel is come back, Mr Rowland, and do promise to be study.'
+
+'I am very glad to hear it; it must be a great comfort to you,'
+
+'But I am not seure of him. He will be spending my money that I have
+been takking such pains to make.'
+
+'I hope he may do good with it, Uncle Griff.'
+
+'Good! no such thing. Squander, squander! Spend the beauty gold! Will
+you promise me to see to it? tak' care of it?'
+
+'I, Uncle Griff! I have no power with Howel. Would it not be better to
+pray to God to guide Howel, and trust in a higher power than mine?'
+
+Mr Jenkins put a long, thin, bony hand out of bed, and grasped
+Rowland's hand tightly. He fixed two keen black eyes upon him, and, as
+he half raised himself in bed, displayed a withered face, the most
+remarkable feature of which was a very prominent, hooked nose, like the
+beak of a large bird.
+
+'You wasn't thinking I was going to die, was you, Rowland? I 'ont just
+awhile, see you. But tell you your father there's more gold than he is
+thinking of; and Howel'll be a husband for any one, much less for Miss
+Netta. Promise me to be lending him a hand, if he do keep constant to
+your sister.'
+
+'I am sorry, Uncle Griff, that I cannot promise anything for Howel. If
+he grows steady as you say, there can be no objection; but he must prove
+it first. Would you like me to read to you, and pray to Almighty God,
+for Christ's sake, to change his and all our hearts?'
+
+'I didn't be wanting a parson, but a relation, sir; and I don't be going
+to die yet. Look you here. There's money in the bank--there's more in
+mortgages on Davies, Llansadwn, and Rees, Llanarthney--there's more on
+loan to Griffiths, Pontardewe,--Jones, Glantewey,--Pugh the draper,
+Llansant--and others. And there's a box beside. Mind you, I 'ont die
+yet, but I tell you, because I can trust you; and Howel don't know
+nothing.'
+
+'May I write it down for you, Uncle Griff; or would you have a lawyer?'
+
+'No, no. I've had enough of law in paying for Howel, and nothing come of
+it. But you may be writing down a little. Here, in that chest, there's
+pen, ink and paper; tak' you my keys, and open you it.'
+
+Griffith Jenkins took from under his pillow a bunch of keys, and
+fumbling amongst them, gave one to Rowland, with which he opened the
+chest, and procured the necessary writing apparatus.
+
+'Give you me my keys--quick, quick!' cried the old man, again hiding
+them somewhere in his bed.'
+
+At his dictation, Rowland wrote a list of the different moneys he
+possessed in various places, and was utterly astonished to find that he
+had soon written down between sixty and seventy thousand pounds.
+Everybody knew that Griffith Jenkins was rich, but nobody had guessed
+how rich he was.
+
+'Now say, "I give and bequeath to my wife, 'Lizbeth Jenkins, ten
+thousand pound out of the aforesaid mortgage on Jacob Davies Llansadwn's
+property."'
+
+'Is that all, Uncle Griff?'
+
+'Yes, I sha'n't say no more.'
+
+'And the box of gold?'
+
+Again the miser grasped Rowland's hand, and fixed his keen eyes on his
+face.
+
+'I 'ont be dying yet, and I 'ont be putting that down to-night. Tell you
+your father what there is, without the box, and without more mortgages
+and loans; but don't you be talking to anybody about it. Mind you, not
+to Howel nor to 'Lizbeth: promise me.'
+
+Rowland promised.
+
+The miser fell back exhausted.
+
+'And now Uncle Griff, may I pray for you? Only think how soon you may be
+called to your account, to say exactly how you have employed your time,
+and the talents given--'
+
+'I have done plenty--plenty--all out at interest, at five, six, even ten
+per cent.; none wrapped up in a napkin. I don't be calling a box a
+napkin, Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'May I call in Mrs Jenkins and Howel, and pray for you? Think; oh think,
+of the great Judge, and great Mediator. O God, have mercy upon us,
+miserable sinners!'
+
+As Rowland said this, he clasped his hands, and looked upwards, in
+unutterable supplication. The old man was alarmed.
+
+'I don't be going to die, but you may call 'em in.'
+
+Rowland rose and obeyed. Mrs Jenkins appeared with a candle in her hand.
+The old man rose with an effort as she drew near the bed.
+
+'Put--out--the--candle,' he muttered.
+
+As the night was fast drawing in, Mrs Jenkins hesitated.
+
+'Put--out--the--candle,' repeated the dying man, with a still stronger
+effort to rise and extinguish it himself. 'The ruling passion strong in
+death' must be attended to, and the light was extinguished.
+
+Rowland Prothero clasped his hands with a groan, and repeated aloud a
+prayer from the service for the dying. The terrified wife knelt down by
+the bed in the deep gloom, and in the still deeper gloom behind, the son
+buried his face in his arms, and leaned upon the little table.
+
+Whilst Rowland Prothero was praying from the very depth of his heart for
+the soul that was thus awfully passing to its account, they were all
+aroused by the last fearful struggle between death and life of him who
+had made gold his god. For some time they feared to rekindle the light,
+but at last they ventured. It was but to witness the last dread pangs of
+one who had made wife and son secondary to the great absorbing passion
+of avarice; and now he was constrained to depart from the scene of his
+toil, and to leave all that he had grovelled for behind him, for ever!
+
+We will not dwell upon the awful hours that succeeded his final words.
+He neither spoke nor was conscious again. Light and dark were alike to
+him. Save that he grasped something in his right hand with an iron hold,
+reason and power had left him; death was still fighting with life, and
+gradually gaining the last great victory.
+
+A few hours afterwards, and when that victory had been gained, the scene
+was changed in that small house. The chamber of death was deserted, and
+the wretched clay of the miser, decently covered with a white sheet, lay
+heavy and still, where the spirit that formerly animated it had been
+accustomed to brood over the miserable gains of its clays and years on
+earth.
+
+In the small sitting-room below, behind the little shop where these
+gains had been begun and continued for half-a-century or more, sat the
+widow, surrounded by a score of gossips, who had left their beds and
+homes at daybreak to condole with her.
+
+It would have been much more unnatural than natural if Mrs Jenkins had
+grieved at heart for the husband she had lost. Married, or rather sold
+to him, when he was fifty and she thirty, she had lived five or six and
+twenty years of pure misery with him. She had starved with him, when she
+could not pilfer from him, and had endured patiently all these years
+what seemed past endurance in expectation of the closing scene. She had
+married and lived upon the prospect of his death, and it was come at
+last; and now that it was come, the awfulness of that last struggle
+overpowered her, and she wept and lamented as copiously as if her
+husband had been the kindest and most liberal in the world. Still, she
+was free, with competence, she hoped, in perspective? and this thought,
+together with the ever all-pervading one of her idol, her treasure, her
+only son, and his expectations, more than counterbalanced that of the
+death she had witnessed.
+
+'Come you, don't you be takking on so,' said one old woman soothingly,
+as the widow rocked herself to and fro, and held her handkerchief to her
+eyes.
+
+'Tak' you this drop o' tea,' said another, 'it'll be doing you good,'
+
+'The Lord will be having mercy on his soul,' said a third, whose
+conscience was large when she was offering comfort.
+
+'There now, keep up your spirits, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' said a fourth,
+entering with a comfortable glass of gin and water that did seem of an
+exhilarating nature.
+
+'There's a comfort Howel will be to you now!' said a fifth triumphantly.
+
+'Deed to goodness, Griffey Jinkins was a saving man, and you have lost
+him, Mrs Jinkins, fach,' began the friend with the gin and water; 'but
+I am seeing no use in takking on so. When John Jones died, he was
+leaving me with ten children, and they have all come on somehow. And you
+have only wan son, and he is so ginteel! Drink you this, my dear, and
+don't be down-hearted.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins turned from the tea to the gin and water with no apparent
+reluctance, and swallowed a portion of it. Revived by the beverage, she
+responded to the condolences of her friends by more rockings, sobs, and
+applications of the handkerchief and finally unburdened herself of her
+grief in the following manner.
+
+'My son Howel, oh yes, he'll be a blessing to me, I know. Says I to my
+poor Griffey--oh, dear, only to be thinking of him now!--says I, "Let us
+be giving Howel a good eddication, and he so clever as never was, and
+able to be learning everything he do put his mind to, and never daunted
+at nothing--grammar, nor music, nor Latin, nor no heathen languages, and
+able to read so soon as he could speak, and knowing all the beasts in
+the ark one from another, when he was no bigger than that," says I, to
+my poor Griffey; "oh, annwyl! we have only wan child, let him be a
+clargy, or a 'torney, or a doctor, or something smart," and says he, "I
+can't afford it." He was rather near or so, you know, was my poor
+Griffey; but I never was letting him rest day or night, and the only
+thing he wasn't liking was being much talked over. So says I, "Come you,
+Jinkins, bach,"--he liked to be called by his sirname--"if you do larn
+Howel well, he'll be making his fortune some day," for he do say so, he
+do be always saying, "I'll be a great man, and get as much money as
+father." I eused to put in the last words of myself, for Howel never was
+taking to making money, but 'ould as soon give it away as not. Only poor
+Griffey--oh dear! oh dear!--was never knowing that, because I did be
+hiding it from him as much as I could.'
+
+Whilst the widow talks on in this strain to her sympathising friends,
+her son and Rowland Prothero are in another small room of the house,
+engaged in a very different style of conversation. The room in which
+they are is worth a few words of description, not for any beauty or
+desert of its own, but for its heterogeneous, contents. You would think
+a small music warehouse, a miniature tobacco shop, or branch depot of
+foreign grammars and dictionaries were before you. Every kind of musical
+instrument seems to have met with a companion in this tiny apartment.
+Here are a violin, violoncello, horn, and cornopean; there an old Welsh
+harp and unstrung guitar. On this shelf are pipes of all sorts and
+sizes, forms, and nations--the straight English, the short German, and
+the long Turkish; on that are cigar-boxes, snuff-boxes, and
+tobacco-boxes of various kinds and appearances. Scattered about the room
+are play-books without number, from Shakspeare to the dramatists of the
+present day; and, interspersed with these, collections of songs of all
+countries and of all grades of merit. Some few novels, mostly French,
+live with the plays and songs; and Latin, French, German, Italian,
+Welsh, Spanish, and English grammars and dictionaries take up their
+abode in every available corner. A quantity of fishing tackle and a gun
+are thrown upon the window seat, and an embroidered waistcoat, blue
+satin cravat, and a pair of yellow kid gloves lie on an unoccupied
+chair.
+
+From the general appearance of this room, the imagination would conceive
+great things of its inmate. All we shall here say is that he is one who
+has the reputation of being a natural genius, and firmly believes that
+he is one.
+
+As all natural geniuses are supposed to have something very remarkable
+in their appearance, we will just take a sketch of the miser's son, as
+he alternately leans on the table or stalks about the room during his
+earnest conversation with his cousin. He has decidedly sentimental hair;
+long, black, shining, and with a tendency to curl; he has what might be
+termed poetical eyes, bright, piercing, and very restless; the sharp,
+aquiline nose of his father, slightly modified; and a mouth and brow
+which curl and knit in a manner that may be poetic, but might be
+disagreeable, under less soothing influences. That he is very handsome
+no one could dispute, and it is equally certain that he has an air much
+above the position in which he was born; but the expression of his face
+inspires distrust rather than confidence, and conveys the impression
+that there is more of passion than feeling beneath the fiery eyes and
+compressed mouth.
+
+A great contrast to this family genius is presented in the person of his
+cousin Rowland, now addressing him earnestly and seriously upon the
+grave subjects naturally uppermost at such a time. He, too, is
+sufficiently good-looking, with an open, though grave, cast of
+countenance, fine, soft, hazel eyes, and a tall, manly figure. By
+'sufficiently good-looking,' I mean that he is neither very handsome nor
+ugly, and when his lady friends debate upon his outer man they generally
+wind up by saying, 'Well, if he isn't handsome, he is very genteel.'
+
+We are not going to repeat here the well-known fable of the 'Hare and
+the Tortoise,' but something of the character of those animals may be
+found in the cousins. At their first dame's school, as well as at the
+more advanced grammar school of their little town. Howel was always able
+to beat Rowland in swiftness, whilst Rowland effectually distanced
+Howel in the long run. It was Rowland who carried off the prizes, when
+study and prolonged endeavour were necessary to obtain them, whilst
+Howel eclipsed all his contemporaries, if a theme were to be written, or
+a poem learnt.
+
+Such differences are so frequent, and have been so often discussed that
+it is scarcely necessary to pursue the contrast further; but the result
+at the present stands thus. Howel, the elder of the two, has dipped a
+little into everything; has gained a reputation for genius; has been
+articled to an attorney--but is in no apparent danger of becoming
+one--has written various articles for the county papers, and has had the
+pleasure of seeing them printed; has acquired a smattering of several
+languages, and various styles of music; and has proved himself an
+admired beau amongst the ladies, and a favourite boon companion amongst
+the gentlemen. He has been idolised and spoilt by his mother, and
+stinted and pinched by his father, and having no very great respect or
+admiration for the talents or conduct of either parent, has not tried
+much to please them, save when it suited him.
+
+The result of all this, if not already apparent, will doubtless be seen
+hereafter, for, at four or five and twenty, conduct and principles begin
+to establish themselves.
+
+Rowland Prothero is very much the reverse of all this. From a child he
+had a desire to enter the Church, which desire was fostered by his uncle
+and aunt into a resolution, when he grew old enough to resolve. As they
+very nearly adopted and educated him, his parents made no objection, and
+as they were ambitious to raise their family in worldly position, they
+spared no expense.
+
+Rowland was reckoned dull, but plodding, at Rugby, whither his uncle
+sent him. However, his dulness and plodding were more successful than
+the brightness of many, since they managed to gain a scholarship at
+school, which helped him at Oxford. He was called proud and obstinate,
+and he was both. Pride and obstinacy were the characteristics of his
+family, but in him they fortunately tended to good: inasmuch as his
+pride generally led him to do well, and his obstinacy kept up his pride.
+
+At present, it would be difficult to say whether he is a young man
+likely to shine in the path he has chosen, or to walk quietly along it
+unnoticed. His friends do not anticipate anything remarkable, but they
+expect him to be slow and sure. He did very well at college, but gained
+no greater honours than the respect and goodwill of those he was known
+to. Query--Is not that worth as much, morally, as a first class?
+
+At home, he is understood by few. He has not many associates, because,
+either from his own fault, or some mental peculiarity, he cannot fall in
+with those who are immediately about him; and consequently is rather
+feared by his acquaintances and reckoned proud, stiff, and
+conceited--above his birth, in short.
+
+With him, as with Howel and every one else, the course of years will
+show the man. 'Handsome is that handsome does.'
+
+'The fact is, Rowland,' said Howel, as he suddenly stood still in one of
+his rapid walks across the room, 'you and I never could agree in
+anything, and never shall.'
+
+'I hope we may yet agree in many things,' said Rowland gently. 'At
+present, all I wish you to do is to pay your debts, go to London, take
+out your stamps, and become an attorney.'
+
+'I am the best judge of that, and shall be my own master now. At all
+events, I can make some people ashamed of themselves.'
+
+'I only wish to advise you for your good, now that you are your own
+master. Your poor father begged me--'
+
+'Oh, Rowland, I can't stand any more about my father. Everybody knows
+what he was, and, I suppose, nobody expects me to live in the same line.
+I am emancipated, thank heaven! and the world shall soon know it.'
+
+'Still, he was your father.'
+
+'No one knows that better than I do, I should imagine; but if you expect
+me to mourn as others do for a parent, you will be disappointed. He
+never showed me one token of love, or acted by me as a father from the
+day of my birth till his death.'
+
+'At least he has left you and your mother handsomely provided for, and
+with his last words, hoped that you were now very steady.'
+
+'He did! I wonder who dares to say that I am not steady? But how do you
+know how we are provided for?'
+
+'He begged me to write down what he was worth. I will give it you at
+some future period, but not now.'
+
+'Why not now?'
+
+'Because I think it is scarcely yet a time to consider money matters.
+After the last duties are performed you shall have the paper. Part of
+his property is written down, but a box of gold and some other sums he
+did not name. After that last sad scene one can scarcely think of
+anything earthly. Oh, Howel! I wish you would consider the shortness and
+uncertainty of life, and what is its end.'
+
+'So awful do I consider its end that I mean to enjoy it while it lasts.
+But don't go off with the impression that I was not shocked and
+frightened with what we have just seen. It is one thing to read and
+write about a death-bed and another to witness it. But I cannot weep or
+pray as some people can.'
+
+'You might do both if you would only seek aright.'
+
+'There, enough! I am past being preached to as a naughty boy, and can
+now look forward to some enjoyment without robbing my own father, or
+getting my mother to rob him, to procure it. But I shall never forget
+that last struggle? no, never.'
+
+Here, with a face of horror, Howel began his restless walk again.
+Rowland sat in melancholy silence.
+
+'Rowland,' suddenly broke in Howel, 'how is Netta?'
+
+'Quite well, I thank you,' answered Rowland gravely.
+
+'I have not seen her for a long time? will you remember me to her?'
+
+'I cannot promise to do so.'
+
+'Do you think me a fiend, sir, that my name cannot be mentioned to my
+cousin? I will manage to convey my own remembrances.'
+
+'Howel, you know how it is? I do not mean to be unkind. If only you
+would give up your old life, enter your profession, and begin another--'
+
+'That is as I choose. I shall be glad of the paper you wrote for my
+father, and then you and I, Rowland, are best apart.'
+
+'Good-bye then, Howel? perhaps some day you may know that I wish you
+well. I will bring the paper at the funeral.'
+
+'For heaven's sake stay, or send some one else! I cannot bear to be
+alone here? his ghost will haunt me.'
+
+'Then let me read to you.'
+
+Howel assented gloomily and threw himself on the bed in the corner of
+the room. Rowland took a small Testament from his pocket and resolutely
+read several chapters.
+
+During the reading Howel fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE FARMER'S SON.
+
+
+At about ten o'clock on Monday morning Miss Gwynne rode up to the door
+of Glanyravon Farm, and, dismounting, entered the house. She was
+attended by a groom, and told him that she should not be long.
+
+'How is that poor girl, Netta?' were her first words on entering the
+house.
+
+'Very ill indeed, I believe,' said Netta, rather sulkily.
+
+'Where is your mother?'
+
+'She has been with the Irish beggar all the morning, and all night too.
+I don't know what father and uncle and aunt will think.'
+
+'Will you ask your mother whether I can see her for a few minutes?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+'Netta, you must come and dine with us on Wednesday, with your uncle and
+aunt.'
+
+'Thank you,' said Netta, brightening up as she left the room.
+
+'I'm sure I scarcely know whether she will behave rightly,' muttered
+Miss Gwynne, tapping her hand with her riding-whip.
+
+Mrs Prothero soon appeared.
+
+'You good, clear Mrs Prothero!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, running up to her
+and taking both her hands. 'You look quite worn out. How is that poor
+girl?'
+
+'Alive, Miss Gwynne, and that is almost all,' was the reply very gravely
+uttered.
+
+'Can we do anything? Did Dr Richards come?'
+
+'Yes, Miss Gwynne, and was very kind. He has been again this morning.'
+
+'I came to invite Mr Rowland and Netta to dinner on Wednesday, with Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan Prothero.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss Gwynne, I will tell Rowland; but I really think Netta
+had better not go.'
+
+'I have just told her of the invitation.'
+
+'Dear me! I am really very sorry. I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne, but it
+will put ideas into her head above her station.'
+
+'We shall be very quiet.'
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rowland. He
+drew back on seeing Miss Gwynne, and bowed, as usual, profoundly. She
+also, as usual, advanced and held out her hand.
+
+'My father begged me to ask if you would come and dine with us on
+Wednesday,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Thank you, I am much obliged,' stammered Rowland, whilst a bright Hush
+overspread his face, 'I shall be very happy, if I am not obliged to be
+elsewhere. Mother, poor Griffith Jenkins is dead. I have been there all
+the night.'
+
+'Dead! I had no idea he was so ill! Oh, Rowland, how did he die?'
+
+'Just as he lived, mother. With the key of his coffers so tightly
+clasped in one hand that it was impossible to take it from it after he
+was dead. And the said coffers hidden, nobody knows where. But poor Mrs
+Jenkins has no friend near who can be of any real comfort to her. I wish
+you could go to her for a few hours.'
+
+'This poor girl, Rowland--what can I do with her? And your uncle and
+aunt coming.'
+
+'I think I can manage my uncle and aunt till your return. As to the poor
+girl I really know not what to say.'
+
+'Oh! if you will trust her to me, Mrs Prothero, I will nurse her till
+you come back!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne eagerly. 'I assure you I can
+manage capitally, and will send back the horses, and a message to papa.'
+
+'I am afraid it would not be right--I think the girl has low fever--Mr
+Gwynne would object.'
+
+'I assure you it would be quite right, and I don't fear infection and
+papa would let me do just as I like. In short, I mean to stay, and you
+must go directly. Is young Jenkins at home, Mr Rowland?'
+
+'Yes, he returned a few hours before his father's death.'
+
+'I suppose that horrid old man died as rich as Croesus, and, according
+to custom in such cases, his son will spend the money.'
+
+'I wish he had not got it,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'That is scarcely a fair wish, mother. Let us hope that he will do well
+with it.'
+
+'Never, never. He was not born or bred in a way to make him turn out
+well.'
+
+'Nothing is impossible, mother.'
+
+'You must take care of Netta, Mrs Prothero. But now do go to that
+wretched Mrs Jenkins, and leave the poor girl to me, and Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan to Mr Rowland. I hope you have been studying the antiquities of
+Wales at Oxford, Mr Rowland?'
+
+This was said as Mrs Prothero left the room; and Rowland was startled
+from a rather earnest gaze on Miss Gwynne's very handsome and animated
+face, by this sudden appeal to him, and by meeting that young lady's
+eyes as they turned towards him. A slight blush from the lady and a very
+deep one from the gentleman were the result. The lady was indignant with
+herself for allowing such a symptom of female weakness to appear, and
+said somewhat peremptorily,--
+
+'Will you be so good as to tell Jones to take the horses home, and to
+let my father know that he must not wait luncheon, or even dinner for
+me?'
+
+'Excuse me, Miss Gwynne,' said the young man, recovering his composure,
+'but I do not think my mother would be justified in allowing you to
+attend upon that poor girl.'
+
+'Allowing me! Really I do not mean to ask her. I choose to do it, thank
+you, and I will speak to the servant myself.'
+
+It was now Miss Gwynne's turn to grow very red, as, with haughty port,
+she swept past Rowland, leaving him muttering to himself.
+
+'What a pity that one so noble should be so determined and absolute. Let
+her go, however. Nobody shall say that I lent a hand to her remaining
+here. In the first place she runs the risk of infection, in the second
+every one else thinks she degrades herself by coming here as she does.
+Still, her desire to take care of the girl is a fine, natural trait of
+character. I must just go and look over the _Guardian_. A curacy in
+England I am resolved to get, away from all temptation. Yet I hate
+answering advertisements, or advertising. If my aunt's friends would
+only interest themselves in procuring me a London curacy, I think I
+should like to work there. That would be labouring in the vineyard, with
+a positive certainty of reaping some of the fruits.'
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the reappearance of Mrs Prothero,
+dressed for her walk.
+
+'Mother, you ought not to let Miss Gwynne stay.'
+
+'I! my dear Rowland! Do you think she would mind what I say to her?'
+
+Miss Gwynne entered.
+
+'I have sent off the servant, and now let me go to the girl.'
+
+This was said with the decision of an empress, and with equal grandeur
+and dignity was the bow made with which she honoured Rowland as she made
+her exit, followed meekly by Mrs Prothero.
+
+A short time afterwards she was alone by the bedside of the sick girl.
+Every comfort had been provided for her by Mrs Prothero, and Miss Gwynne
+had little to do but to administer medicines and nourishment.
+
+'Is there anything I can do for you, my poor girl?' she said, leaning
+over her bed. 'Anything you have to say--any letter I can write--any--'
+
+'If--you--would--pray--my lady,' was the slow, almost inarticulate
+reply.
+
+Pray! This was what Miss Gwynne could not do. 'Why,' she asked herself,
+'can I not say aloud what I feel at my heart for this unhappy creature?
+I never felt so before, and yet I know not how to pray.'
+
+She went to the head of the stairs, and called Netta.
+
+'Will you ask your brother whether he will come and read a prayer to the
+poor girl?' she said.
+
+A few seconds after there was a knock at the door. She opened it and
+admitted Rowland. He went to the bed, and began to whisper gently of the
+hope of salvation to those who believe. Gladys opened her eyes, and
+caught the hand extended to her.
+
+'More--more,' she murmured. 'Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.'
+
+Rowland read the Office for the Sick, from the prayer book, and she
+responded inwardly, her lips moving. Miss Gwynne came to the bed, and
+kneeling down, joined in the prayers.
+
+Again Rowland spoke soothingly to the girl of the need of looking to
+Christ, the Saviour, alone in the hour of her extremity; and she
+murmured, 'He is my rock and my fortress.'
+
+'Do you trust wholly in Him?'
+
+'In whom else should I trust? All human friends are gone.'
+
+'Not all, you have friends around you.'
+
+'Have I? Thank you, sir? God bless you.'
+
+'I will come again and read to you when you are able to bear it.'
+
+Rowland said this and withdrew, without speaking again to Miss Gwynne,
+or even bowing as he left the room.
+
+'He certainly reads most impressively,' thought Miss Gwynne; 'I could
+scarcely believe he was not English born and bred; but still he is quite
+a Goth in manners, and I am sure he thinks no one in the country so
+clever as himself.'
+
+Rowland met Netta at the foot of the stairs.
+
+'Netta, I really am ashamed to think that you can allow Miss Gwynne to
+wait upon that girl in your own house.'
+
+'I'm sure, Rowland, Miss Gwynne needn't do it if she didn't choose. I
+don't want to catch the fever, and I never will run the risk by nursing
+such a girl as that.'
+
+'Surely, Netta, you cannot be our mother's daughter, or you could not
+use such unchristian expressions.'
+
+'I'm no more unchristian than other people, but you're always finding
+fault with me.'
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a loud knocking at the house door,
+and Farmer Prothero's voice was heard without, calling,--
+
+'Mother, mother, where are you? Here we are, all come!'
+
+Netta flew to open the door, and was soon industriously kissing a lady
+and gentleman, who had just alighted from a little four-wheeled
+carriage, and were waiting, with her father, for admission. Rowland,
+also, in his turn, duly embraced the lady, who seemed much pleased to
+see him. They brought in various packages, and proceeded to the parlour.
+
+'Where's mother, Netta?' exclaimed Mr Prothero.
+
+Rowland answered for her.
+
+'She is gone to Mrs Griffey Jenkins, father; perhaps you have not heard
+that Uncle Griff is dead.'
+
+'Not I, indeed. Well! he's as good out of the world as in, though I'm
+sorry for the old fellow. But what'll we do without mother? She's always
+nursing somebody or other, either alive or dead.'
+
+Rowland turned to his aunt, and said that his mother begged him to
+apologise for her necessary absence for a few hours.
+
+'I shall do very well, I daresay,' said the aunt, whose countenance wore
+a somewhat austere expression.
+
+She was a lady of middle age, who prided herself upon having a first
+cousin a baronet. Her father, a clergyman, rector of a good English
+living, was the younger son of Sir Philip Payne Perry, and she an only
+child, was his heiress. Mr Jonathan Prothero had been, in years gone by,
+his curate, and had succeeded in gaining the affections, as well as
+fortune, of the daughter, and in bringing both into his native country.
+He had the living of Llanfach, in which parish Glanyravon was situated,
+and lived in very good style in a pretty house that he had built
+something in the style of an English vicarage.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero, or Mrs Prothero, the Vicarage, as she was usually
+called, was tall and thin, very fashionably dressed, with a very long
+face, a very long nose, very keen greenish grey eyes, a very elaborately
+curled front, a very long neck, very thin lips, and very dainty manners.
+She was proud of her feet and hands, which were always well shod,
+stockinged, gloved, and ringed, and as these were the only pretty points
+about her, we cannot wonder at her taking care of them. People used to
+say she would have been an old maid, had not a certain auspicious day
+taken the Rev. Jonathan Prothero to her father's parish, who, having an
+eye after the fashion of servants of a lower grade, to 'bettering
+himself,' wisely made her a matron. Having no children of their own,
+they lavished their affections on their nephews and niece, and their
+money on their education.
+
+'My dear Rowland,' said Mrs Jonathan, 'I think I have agreeable news for
+you. I wrote to my cousin, Sir Philip Payne Perry, whose wife's brother
+is, as you know, high in the church, and received this answer.'
+
+She put a letter into Rowland's hands, and watched his countenance as he
+read it.
+
+'My dear aunt, how very good of you!' exclaimed Rowland; 'the very
+thing I wished for. Oh, if I can only get it, I shall be quite happy. A
+curacy in London, father! Just read this. Sir Philip thinks I might not
+like it in the heart of the city, but that is really what I wish. Plenty
+to do all the week long. Oh, aunt, how can I thank you enough?'
+
+'By making every effort to advance yourself in life, and to rise in the
+world, my dear nephew,' said Mrs Jonathan.
+
+'What do you think, uncle?' asked Rowland, turning to Mr Jonathan
+Prothero, who was seated in the window, with a large book before him,
+that he had brought from the carriage.
+
+'He! what! what did you ask?'
+
+'Only what you think of this London curacy that my aunt has been so kind
+as to write about.'
+
+'Me! I! Oh, capital! just the thing in my humble opinion. If you get it,
+you will be able to go to the Museum, and look up the old genealogy we
+were talking about. Do you know I have made a remarkable discovery about
+Careg Cennin Castle. It was built--'
+
+'Never mind, my dear, just now; we were talking of Rowland's curacy,'
+interrupted Mrs Jonathan, who generally managed all business matters.
+
+'To be sure, my dear, to be sure, you know best,' said Mr Jonathan
+absently, resuming his book.
+
+'For my part, sister,' said the farmer, 'I 'ould rather he had a curacy
+in his own country, and so 'ould his mother; but he's so confoundedly
+ambitious.'
+
+'Aunt, won't you come upstairs and take off your things?' asked Netta,
+interposing, for once in her life, at the right time.
+
+'Thank you, my dear, I should be very glad,' and they accordingly
+disappeared.
+
+'Father,' began Rowland, as soon as they were gone, 'I think it right to
+tell you, that we were obliged, out of sheer charity, to take that poor
+Irish girl into the house. It was impossible to move her without risk of
+instant death.'
+
+'And upon my very deed, Rowland, if this isn't too bad,' cried the
+farmer, stamping his foot on the floor, and instantaneously swelling
+with passion. 'As if it wasn't enough to have paupers, and poor-rates,
+and sick and dying, bothering one all day long, without your bringing an
+Irish beggar into the house. I never saw such an 'ooman as your mother
+in my life; she's never quiet a minute. I 'ont stand it any longer; now
+'tis a subscription for this, now a donation for that, then sixpence for
+Jack such a one, or a shilling for Sal the other, till I have neither
+peace nor money. Come you, sir, go and turn that vagabond out directly,
+or I'll do it before your mother comes home, hark'ee, sir.'
+
+'I can't father, really.'
+
+'Then I will.'
+
+Off stalked the farmer in his passion, crying out in the passage,
+'Shanno, come here!'
+
+A servant girl quickly answered the summons.
+
+'Where's that Irish vagabond?'
+
+'In Mr Owen's room, sir.'
+
+Upstairs went the farmer, leaving Shanno grinning and saying, 'He, he,
+he'll do be turning her out very soon, she will, he, he.'
+
+Rowland ran upstairs after his father, calling out gently, 'Stop,
+father, Miss Gwynne--' but the father was in the bedroom before he heard
+the words, and had made the house re-echo the noise of his opening the
+door.
+
+He was instantaneously checked in his career by seeing Miss Gwynne
+advance towards him, with her finger in the air.
+
+'Hush, Mr Prothero,' she whispered, 'she is asleep. Look here; gently,
+very gently.'
+
+She led the enraged farmer by one of his large brass buttons to the
+bedside, where the white-faced Gladys lay. She looked so much like a
+corpse, that he started back affrighted. Then Miss Gwynne led him out
+into the passage, and seeing from his angry face the state of the case,
+instantly said,--
+
+'It was I who had her brought here, Mr Prothero; and by-and-by I will
+get her sent back to her parish, but until she is better we must take
+care of her.'
+
+At these words from the all-powerful Miss Gwynne, Mr Prothero was fain
+to put such check upon his rising choler as the shortness of the notice
+would allow. He could not, however, fully restrain the whole of the
+invective that had been upon his lips a short time before.
+
+'No offence, Miss Gwynne? but 'pon my soul, I'm sick to death of my
+missus's pensioners and paupers, and I'm determined to have no more of
+'em. You may do as you please, miss, at your own house, and I'll do as I
+please in mine.'
+
+Here Rowland popped his head out of a neighbouring bedroom
+
+'Father, Miss Gwynne is taking upon herself a risk and encumbrance that
+should be wholly my mother's. She has nothing to do with the girl,
+beyond showing her great kindness.'
+
+'Really, Mr Rowland Prothero,' began Miss Gwynne, drawing herself up to
+her fullest height, 'I wish you would allow me to manage my own
+affairs.'
+
+'Yes, yes, Rowland. What, name o' goodness, have you to do with Miss
+Gwynne? I'm ashamed of the boy. I really beg your pardon, miss, but I
+believe he's so set up by having a chance of going to London, that he
+don't know whether he stands on his head or his heels. Go you away,
+Rowland, directly. I won't have you interfaring with me.'
+
+Miss Gwynne could not help laughing as she saw Rowland's sense of duty
+struggle with his pride at this authoritative mandate; but she was very
+much surprised to see him bow politely to her and walk away. She
+wondered whether anything on earth could have induced her to obey a
+similar order.
+
+She followed Mr Prothero downstairs and made herself so agreeable to him
+and Mrs Jonathan, that they quite forgot Mrs Prothero's absence, until
+the sudden return of that good woman set all matters right, and enabled
+Miss Gwynne to leave the farm.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE MISER'S WIFE.
+
+
+'I must have money,' said Howel Jenkins as he sat alone with his mother
+in their little parlour, the evening after Mrs Prothero had left them.
+
+'My dear, there will be plenty when we can find it, be you sure of that.
+I do know well enough that your poor father was having a chest full,
+only he was keeping his door locked and barred so that I couldn't see
+him at it.'
+
+'But surely, mother, you must have some idea where my father kept his
+gold. If I don't pay a man in London by tomorrow's post, I shall be in
+jail before a week is over my head.'
+
+'Mercy! Howel, bach! Now don't you be spending the mint o' money that'll
+be coming to you, there's a good boy, before you do know what it is.
+Remember Netta! You'll be as grand as any of 'em now, if you do only
+begin right, and are being study and persevaring, and sticking to your
+business. I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be a councillor some day. Only
+to think of me, mother of Councillor Jenkins! You may be looking higher
+than Netta, and be marrying a real lady, and be riding in your coach and
+four, and be dining with my Lord Single ton, and be in the London
+papers; and I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be visiting the Queen and
+Prince Albert again, and behaving your picture taken to put into your
+own books and the "'Lustrated." I always was saying I 'ould be making a
+gentleman of you, and I have.'
+
+'But, mother, before I can do anything like this I must pay my debts and
+make a new beginning. I will marry Netta, now, in spite of the whole
+tribe of Davids and Jonathans, and they shall see us as much above them
+as--as--money can make us. Now, mother, we must have a search for the
+money.'
+
+'Not whilst your father is in the house, Howel; I should be afraid. Be
+you sure his spirit'll be looking after the money till the funeral's
+over.'
+
+'Nonsense; where are the keys? We'll have a turn at the old bureau
+anyhow. Money I must have, at once, and Rowland is as obstinate as a pig
+about what the governor told him.'
+
+'Indeet, and indeet, Howel, you had better don't. Suppose it 'ould bring
+him to life again?'
+
+'I'll risk that. Give me the keys.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins handed a bunch of keys to her son with trembling fingers.
+
+'Tak you a drop of spirits first. It do show how rich they are thinking
+us now. There's Jones, the Red Cow, and Lewis, draper, are letting us
+have as much credit as we like; and they 'ouldn't let us have as much as
+a dobbin or a yard of tape before poor Griffey died.'
+
+Howel drank a wine-glass of raw brandy and went upstairs with the keys
+in his hand. He crept stealthily into that room where the miser breathed
+his last, as if fearful of arousing the body within the drawn curtains.
+He proceeded to the bureau and tried the various keys of the large bunch
+that he now grasped for the first time in his life. At last one key
+entered the lock and turned in it. Hush! there is a sound in the room.
+He turns very pale as he glances round. He sees no movement anywhere.
+The curtains are so still that he almost wishes the wind would stir
+them. He opens the bureau and again looks wistfully round. He is almost
+sure that the curtains move. 'Coward that I am,' he cries, 'what do I
+fear?'
+
+He turns again, and, looking into the bureau, sees that all the open
+divisions are filled with papers, and imagines what must be the contents
+of the closed and secret compartments. As he touches one of these a
+tremor seizes him, and he fancies that a hand is on his shoulder. He
+starts and turns, but the curtains are motionless as ever. He goes into
+the passage and calls, 'Mother, come here. Quick! I want you directly.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins comes upstairs, looking as pale as her son.
+
+'Just help me out with this bureau, mother; I cannot examine it in this
+room, you have put such ridiculous notions into my head.'
+
+'I'm afraid, Howel.'
+
+'Nonsense, come directly, or I must get some one else.'
+
+The pair went into the room and tried to move the bureau that had stood
+for nearly fifty years in that corner untouched, save by the husband and
+father, now lifeless near them. It was very heavy, and scarcely could
+their united strength move it from its resting-place. They finally
+succeeded, however, in dragging it towards the door, in doing which they
+had to pass the foot of the bed. Unconsciously they pushed the bed with
+the corner of the bureau and shook it. They nearly sank to the ground
+with terror, expecting, for the moment, to see the miser arise, and
+again take possession of his treasures. The mother rushed into the
+passage, the son again called himself a coward, and, with a great
+effort, pushed the bureau through the door and shut it after him.
+
+'Now, mother, help to get it into my room. One would think we were
+breaking into another man's house, instead of taking possession of our
+own property.'
+
+With the whole of their joint strength they succeeded in getting the
+heavy piece of furniture into Howel's room, where, having first locked
+the door, they proceeded to examine its contents. Disappointment awaited
+them; they could find nothing but papers. Deeds, mortgages, bills,
+letters, accounts, were arranged in every open and shut division. The
+drawers contained nothing else, and the little locked cupboard in the
+centre, the key of which was found upon the bunch, also enshrined
+nothing but a few very particular documents.
+
+'These papers could not have made the bureau so heavy,' said Howel,
+biting his nails. 'There must be secret drawers.'
+
+He pulled out the drawers and papers, and threw them on his bed. He
+tried to move the bureau, and found it almost as heavy as ever.
+
+'I am thinking, Howel, bach, that cupboard don't go through to the back
+of the bureau,' suggested Mrs Jenkins.
+
+Howel seized the poker and aimed a blow at the cupboard; the mahogany
+did not give way, but they fancied they heard a chinking sound within.
+
+'I am thinking,' said the mother, 'that it must be a double bureau. It
+is looking so much broader than it do seem.'
+
+Howel examined it, and began to think so, too; he took some carpenter's
+tools down from the shelf, and set to work to try to pierce the back of
+the bureau with a gimlet, in order to see if the gimlet would appear on
+the other side.
+
+He worked the implement through a portion of the wood, and then found
+its course stopped by some still harder matter. He had recourse to his
+penknife, with which he hacked a hole in the wood, large enough to find
+that there was an inner back of iron, or some kind of metal. Each new
+obstacle served only to inflame his impatience, and to provoke his
+temper. He forgot the bed in the next room, and everything else in the
+world except the attainment of his object, and running downstairs,
+returned with a large sledge-hammer that he found in the coal-hole. With
+his strength concentrated in one blow, he swung it against the back of
+the bureau, and had the satisfaction of finding his wishes gratified.
+The concussion moved some secret spring somewhere, for as the piece of
+furniture tottered on its foundation, and fell forwards against the bed,
+out rolled such a profusion of gold, as led Howel to believe, the 'El
+dorado' was found at last. Mother and son lifted up their hands in
+astonishment; gold pieces were in every corner of the room, scattered
+here and there like large yellow hail.
+
+The noise of the blow, however, and the subsequent fall of the bureau
+had alarmed a neighbour, and before one piece of the tempting gold had
+been picked up, there was a loud knock at the door.
+
+'Say the house has fallen in; the inquisitive fools!' exclaimed Howel,
+as his mother left the room.
+
+Howel began to fill his pockets with gold pieces, and opening a box,
+pushed as many as he could hastily gather up into it also. There were
+thousands upon thousands of sovereigns upon the floor.
+
+'It was old Pal, the shop,' said Mrs Jenkins, returning to her golden
+harvest, 'she was up nursing next door, and heard the noise. I tell her
+it was the table falling down.'
+
+'Now, mother, as soon as all is over, I must go to London and clear off
+my debts with some of this money; but I must see Netta first.'
+
+'Why don't you be putting it in the bank, Howel, bach? It will make a
+gentleman of you.'
+
+'There's enough besides to make me a gentleman, if I am not one already;
+and I promise you, that when I am clear again I will come back and make
+all the rich men in the country hang their heads. But I want to see
+Netta.'
+
+'Write you a bit of a note, and I will manage to send it.'
+
+'Pick up the money, mother, and I will write the note.' Mrs Jenkins
+proceeded to obey her son, whilst he unlocked a desk, and wrote the
+following hasty lines:--
+
+'I must be in London next Monday. I must see you before I leave. Meet
+me at the old place in the wood by the little Fall, Sunday evening,
+during church time.'
+
+He folded the note without signing it, and gave it to his mother,
+without adding any address.
+
+'Seal it mother, and deliver it, or rather send it by some one you can
+trust.'
+
+'I'll manage that. Now pick you up some of the money. Here's a hundred
+pound in my apron now, and gracious me! the lots more!'
+
+'If you will keep the hundred pounds in your apron, mother, and let me
+have the rest, I shall be satisfied.'
+
+'But what'll you be doing with all this goold?'
+
+'Preparing to make you the mother of Councillor Jenkins, or of a famous
+man of some sort or other. What do you say to a poet or a prime
+minister?'
+
+'I 'ould rather you do be a councillor, than anything--like Councillor
+Rice, Llandore.'
+
+'Well, I shall perhaps, be a judge with all this money, and I daresay my
+father--'
+
+Here a vision of the bed in the next room stopped the young man's
+speech, and shuddering slightly, he kicked a heap of sovereigns that lay
+near his foot, and sent them rolling into different corners of the room.
+
+'Take away the ill-gotten gain, mother, it will never prosper; you had
+better go to bed, and I will do the same. I suppose it would be
+impossible to sleep with that yellow usury on the floor. I should have
+Plutus at the head of the imps of darkness about my bed, instead of
+"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John," that I used to pray to "bless the bed
+that I lie on."'
+
+'Don't talk so fullish, Howel.'
+
+'Why it was you taught me all that Popery.'
+
+'The Lord forgive you, Howel, I never did see the Pope, and 'ould sooner
+teach you the Methodist hymn book.'
+
+'Well, never mind, let us go to bed.'
+
+'I'll go down and sit by the fire. Lie you down here. God bless you, my
+boy, give your poor mother a kiss.'
+
+'Good-night, mother, or rather good morning,' said the son, bending down
+carelessly to be embraced by the parent who would sacrifice her life for
+him.
+
+When Mrs Jenkins had left the room, Howel hastily collected the gold
+that was scattered about, and tossed it, without counting it, into the
+box already mentioned, which he locked, and put the key in his pocket.
+He then lay down on the bed without undressing, and tried to sleep. In
+vain, no sleep would come to 'steep his senses in forgetfulness.' The
+bed in the next room, with its grim, gaunt inmate, was constantly before
+his eyes. If he dozed for a moment, the miser, his father, and the gold
+he had for years longed to obtain possession of, haunted him, and made
+him start like a thief, as if taken in the act of stealing the coin now
+by inheritance his own.
+
+'Cursed gold!' he exclaimed at last, jumping from the bed, 'what shall I
+do with it? Pay my debts, and turn a sober man? I will try. If 'Netta
+will have me, perhaps I may; indeed I am sure I could. We will come here
+and cut a dash first, however. I should like to humble some of our Welsh
+aristocrats by showing them how the son of Griffey Jenkins can eclipse
+their genealogies, by the magic power of the Golden God. I will stay
+over the funeral, then off to town and get rid of my pressing debts;
+then pay Levi and Moses, and all my debts of honour; then set myself up
+in clothes and jewels, and come home and carry off Netta; and, finally,
+have a year's pleasure at least. Take Netta to the continent, and teach
+her to _parlez-vous_ a little more fluently than she does now, and to
+assume more aristocratic manners; in short--in short--'
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the sudden explosion of some substance
+under his feet, upon which he accidentally trod as he was pacing up and
+down the room. He swore an oath that emanated from his fear, and thought
+that the lower regions had actually opened to receive the gold he was
+meditating upon, since fire and smoke accompanied the noise, together
+with a smell of gunpowder. He rushed out of the room, just as his
+mother, alarmed by the sound, was running upstairs.
+
+'They will carry him off before the funeral,' he cried, as his mother
+asked what was the matter.
+
+Ashamed of his cowardice, he made an effort to return to the room,
+followed by his mother. There was such a strong smell of sulphur that
+both recoiled.
+
+'What fools we are!' exclaimed Howel, forcing himself to enter. He
+stooped to examine the floor, and to his amusement and disgust, found
+the remains of a cracker, which had burst beneath his foot-tread. There
+were several others scattered about, that had been unnoticed, because
+they looked simply like bits of paper. These had evidently been placed
+by his father amongst the gold, in the hope of frightening any one who
+might wish to finger it, and had rolled out with the treasure they were
+intended to protect.
+
+Mother and son again left the room, the latter locking the door as he
+did so, and putting the key in his pocket. They descended to the little
+parlour below stairs, where they finished the night, alternately dozing
+in their chairs, and talking, and occasionally supporting themselves by
+draughts of the different liquors that were spread upon the table near
+them. In spite of his best efforts to throw aside such thoughts, Howel
+could see nothing all that night but the gold, the father who had won
+it, and the poor wretches who had been ruined in paying usurious
+interest for it.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SQUIRE.
+
+
+The dinners at Glanyravon were always unexceptionable. Mr Gwynne was a
+bit of an epicure, and kept a capital cook, and his daughter liked to
+see everything done in good style. Even Mrs. Jonathan Prothero declared
+that the dinner-parties at her cousin's, Sir Philip Payne Perry's, were
+scarcely more agreeable or better managed.
+
+Still, at the dinner in question, all the elements were not quite well
+amalgamated. Although the dishes were so discreetly seasoned, and the
+_entremets_ so exquisitely prepared, that the most fastidious critic of
+the gastronomic art would not have found a grain too much of any one
+ingredient, there was a less judicious mixture amongst the guests.
+Nothing could be more perfect than the bearing of the host and hostess.
+Mr Gywnne was a gentleman, even in his peculiarities--fastidiously a
+gentleman--and comported himself as such to every one. But he was too
+nervous, and had too low a voice to put his guests at ease: one half did
+not hear him at all, and the rest were slightly afraid of him on account
+of this extreme fastidiousness, his nervous complaints and his being
+very easily tired, or bored. Miss Gwynne was more successful at her end
+of the table, but she rather annoyed some of her guests by being too
+much bent on bringing out her friend Netta, and playing her off against
+Miss Nugent.
+
+She was, however, very polite to all, and, for so young a woman, made a
+very agreeable and fascinating hostess. So, apparently, thought all the
+gentlemen, as they principally addressed their conversation to her, and
+had manoeuvred, particularly the young ones, to sit as near her as
+possible. The Rev Jonathan Prothero had the place of honour at her
+right, and did not take up much of her time. He appeared to be deep in
+the speculation concerning the ancient castle of which we have already
+heard, and was learnedly descanting upon it to Mrs Rice Rice, a lady on
+his other side. The said Mrs Rice Rice, having _un oeil aux champs, et
+l'autre a la ville,_ was ostensibly listening to him, whilst she was
+really attending to her son, who was making visible efforts on the heart
+of the heiress, Miss Gwynne.
+
+The Rice Rices were people of family and fortune, living in the
+neighbouring town. Mr Rice Rice was in the law, and was at that moment
+engaged in discussing the affairs of the deceased Mr. Griffith Jenkins
+and his quondam articled pupil, Howel, with Rowland Prothero across Miss
+Nugent. He was a portly well-to-do-looking man, with a bald head and
+good-humoured countenance. His wife was even more portly than himself,
+and sat, in black velvet and marabout feathers, as stately as a princess
+at a drawing-room. The task of keeping up the family reputation of the
+ancient house of Rice Rice devolved in a great measure on this lady,
+assisted by her daughter; and, it must be said, that if any one could
+have doubted the antiquity of this honourable race after an hour's
+conversation with this enthusiastic pair he must have been a sceptic
+indeed! Family pride is a common weakness, but one could almost call it
+the stronghold of Mrs. Rice Rice, just as the various archaeological and
+historical glories of Wales and the Welsh was the fortress of Mr.
+Jonathan Prothero.
+
+It was into these towers of strength that these worthies retreated on
+all occasions. One saw the bulwark in Mrs. Rice Rice's ample, immoveable
+figure, and in the glance of the eyes that looked over the somewhat
+mountainous cheek; one saw it in a certain extension of the chin, turn
+of the mouth, and slightly _retrousse_ nose. One saw it, above all, in
+her manner to the Protheros.
+
+But Mrs. Jonathan Prothero was quite as capable of sustaining the
+dignity of the Philip Payne Perrys as the Welsh lady that of the Rice
+Rices, and a satirist might have made a clever caricature of these
+patriotic dames--the one thin and stiff, the other stout and stiff--as
+they compared their family honours.
+
+But the lady of undoubted rank and pretension of the party is Lady Mary
+Nugent, who can afford to patronise or throw over-board whomsoever she
+will. She is seated next to Mr Gwynne, and is lavishing a considerable
+share of good looks and eloquence on that gentleman. Still in the prime
+of life, elegant, refined, pretty, and a skilful tactician, she is a
+dangerous rival of the young ladies, and is not wholly innocent of a
+desire to eclipse them. She and her daughter are dressed very nearly
+alike, in some white and light material, and at a little distance she
+might pass for the fair Wilhelmina's elder sister. A profusion of
+ornaments, too well arranged to appear too numerous, alone distinguish
+mother and daughter. She has a handsome profile and a captivating
+manner, two dangerous things in woman; but therewith she has an
+occasionally malicious expression of eye and mouth, that somewhat
+impairs the effect of the captivation.
+
+Her daughter is like her in profile, but has not her fascination of
+manner. She is, however, beautiful as a statue, with chiselled features
+and marble complexion. But she does not at present appear to have
+character enough to possess the clever malice of her mother. This may
+possibly come with suitors and rivals, who generally draw out all the
+evil, and sometimes much of the good, of woman's nature.
+
+She is now simpering and blushing and saying pretty nothings between
+Rowland Prothero and a certain Sir Hugh Pryse, who, on their respective
+parts, think her a goose, being attracted elsewhere. Sir Hugh is
+exerting his lungs to their utmost, and much beyond the boundaries that
+etiquette would vainly try to impose upon them, in endeavouring to
+attract the attention of Miss Gwynne; whilst Rowland is, as we before
+said, discussing the death of Mr Jenkins and the prospects of his son.
+
+Perhaps the most uncomfortable person at the table is Netta, who really
+does not quite understand how to behave herself in the new atmosphere in
+which she finds herself. She never was at a dinner-party before, never
+waited upon by grand servants, never surrounded by such gay people; and,
+in spite of her ambition to eclipse by her beauty the Misses Nugent and
+Rice Rice, she feels and looks rather awkward. Miss Gwynne does all in
+her power to reassure her, but she sits, looking very pretty--by far the
+prettiest person in the room--and very ill at ease, until the ladies
+adjourn to the drawing-room, and she takes refuge in the pictures of the
+drawing-room scrap-book and her aunt.
+
+The gentlemen arrive in course of time, which they must do, linger as
+long as they will over the delights of port and politics, and then the
+various schemes and thoughts engendered at the dinner-table are brought
+to light over the coffee-cup.
+
+Miss Gwynne patronisingly singles out Rowland Prothero, who, reserved by
+nature, feels doubly so amongst the ill-assorted elements around him.
+
+'Have you seen that poor girl since I was last at your house, Mr
+Prothero, and how is she to-day?' inquires the heiress.
+
+'She asked to see me yesterday, and I went to her. She seemed more
+composed, and liked being read to; but she is in a very precarious
+state.'
+
+'Is your father more reconciled to her being with you?'
+
+'Not at all. And it certainly is very unfortunate. But he would not
+allow her to be neglected now she is thrown on his kindness.'
+
+'I wish she had never come,' interposed Netta, who had ventured to cross
+the room to Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Have you heard of the great catch you are all likely to have, Miss
+Gwynne?' here broke in Sir Hugh Pryse, of stentorian reputation.
+
+'I do not know what you mean,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Why, Mr Rice Rice tells me there is more than a hundred thousand pounds
+to be raffled for by all the young ladies in the country. They have
+simply to put themselves into the lottery, and only one can have the
+prize.'
+
+'I never knew you so figurative before. Sir Hugh.' 'Don't pay any
+attention to him, Miss Gwynne,' said a fresh addition to the circle that
+stood round that young lady's chair. 'He means that old Griffey Jenkins,
+the miser, is dead, and that Howel comes into all his immense wealth.'
+
+Miss Gwynne gave her head such a magnificent toss that her neck looked
+quite strained.
+
+'I do not imagine many _young ladies_ will purchase tickets in that
+lottery,' she said, with a stress upon the 'young ladies.'
+
+'I have no doubt there are dozens who would, and will, do it at once,'
+responded Sir Hugh. 'And quite right too. Such a fortune is not to be
+had every day.'
+
+'But it is gentlemen, and not ladies, who are fortune-hunters,' said
+Miss Gwynne, changing her tone, when she suddenly perceived that Netta's
+face and neck were crimson.
+
+But the subject was become quite an interesting piece of local gossip,
+and, one after another, all the party joined in it.
+
+'Howel Jenkins might make anything of himself if he would but be
+steady,' said Mr Rice Rice.
+
+'Except a gentleman by birth,' said his lady.
+
+'Or the least bit of an archaeologist,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero. 'I
+tried one day--you will scarcely believe it, Mr Gwynne--to make him
+understand that Garn Goch was an old British encampment, but he would
+not take it in.'
+
+'Ah, really; I do not very much wonder myself, for I cannot quite "take
+in" those heaps of stones and all that sort of thing,' responded the
+host.
+
+'What can they find to interest them in that sort of person?' asked
+Lady Mary in an aside to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Miss Gwynne overheard it, and answered for her father.
+
+'He is a young man of great talent, very rich, very handsome, and has
+had a miser for a father. Is not that the case Mr Rowland?'
+
+'I--I--really, it is scarcely fair to appeal to me, as he is a
+relation.'
+
+'And do you never say a good word in favour of your relations?'
+
+'I hope so, when they deserve it,' said Rowland resolutely, glancing at
+his sister, who was biting her glove.
+
+'If I may be allowed an opinion,' said Mrs Jonathan decidedly, also
+glancing at poor Netta, 'I should say that Howel Jenkins was a complete
+scapegrace. What he may yet turn out remains to be proved.'
+
+'Well, that is putting an end to him at once,' said Miss Gwynne, 'and I
+think we had better play his funeral dirge. Lady Mary, will you give us
+'The Dead March in Saul,' or something appropriate? Never mind, Netta; I
+daresay cousin Howel will turn out a great man by-and-by;' this last
+clause was whispered to Netta, whilst the young hostess went towards a
+grand piano that stood invitingly open, and begged Lady Mary Nugent to
+give them some music.
+
+That lady played some brilliant waltzes, after which, her daughter
+accompanied her in the small bass of a duet.
+
+'Pon my soul, that's a pretty girl, that little Prothero!' said Sir Hugh
+Pryse to young Rice Rice. 'I never saw such a complexion in my life.
+Roses and carnations are nothing to it.'
+
+'Rather a vulgar style of beauty, I think,' said Mr Rice Rice, junior,
+taking up an eyeglass, and finding some difficulty in fixing it in his
+eye. He had lately discovered that he was nearsighted, to the great
+grief of his mother, who, however, sometimes spoke of the sad fact in
+the same tone that she used to speak of the Rice Rice, and Morgan of
+Glanwilliam families. She herself belonged to the latter.
+
+'I vow she's lovely!' cried the baronet, so emphatically that every one
+in the room might have heard him. Most of the ladies, doubtless, did,
+and appropriated the sentiment, but, by-and-by, Netta was triumphant, as
+he went and sat by her, and complimented her in very audible terms.
+
+She blushed and coquetted very respectably for a country damsel, and
+wondered whether a poor baronet, or a wealthy miser's son would best
+help her to humble the pride and condescension of the Nugents and the
+Rice Rices.
+
+Whilst Lady Mary Nugent was playing, Mr Gwynne very nearly went to
+sleep, and Rowland Prothero, who liked nothing but chants, and a solemn
+kind of music that he chose to think befitting a clergyman, was, in his
+turn, looking over the drawing-room scrap book. Miss Gwynne gave her
+papa a sly push, and whispered, that she believed Mr Rowland Prothero
+played chess.
+
+Mr Gwynne aroused himself, and challenged his young neighbour. Miss
+Gwyne, assisted by all the gentlemen, brought the chess-table, and the
+game soon began.
+
+There is no doubt that there is nothing in the world more selfish, more
+absorbing, more disagreeable to every one excepting the players, than
+chess. Mr Gwynne began his game half asleep; Rowland began his in a very
+bad temper. The former was glad of anything that could keep him awake,
+the latter was disgusted at having been made the victim of Miss Gwynne's
+anxiety to preserve her father from falling fast asleep in the midst of
+his guests. But, by degrees, the one was thoroughly aroused, and the
+other forgot his annoyance. Both soon ignored the presence of any human
+being save himself and his opponent.
+
+Music and talking sounded on all sides, but they made no impression on
+the chess-players. Lady Mary performed all her most brilliant airs and
+variations in vain, as far as Mr Gwynne was concerned; and Rowland was
+even unconscious that Netta had resolutely played through all the small
+pieces she had learnt at school at the particular request of Sir Hugh
+Pryse.
+
+'That game will never finish,' at last exclaimed Lady Mary, approaching
+Mr Gwynne. 'How can any one like chess?'
+
+Mr Gwynne kept his finger on a piece he was about to move, glanced up,
+but did not speak.
+
+'They tell me you ought to have at least five or six moves in your eye
+whilst you are making one,' said Sir Hugh. 'For my part, I always find
+one move at a time more than I can manage. It certainly is the dullest
+game ever invented.'
+
+'Chess is a game of great antiquity,' said the Rev. Jonathan
+sententiously. 'It is supposed to have been invented in China or
+Hindustan, and was known in the latter place by the name _Chaturanga_,
+that is, four _angas_, or members of an army.'
+
+'The army must be proud to send such members to parliament,' said young
+Rice Rice, with a consciousness of superior wit, in which the remainder
+of the party did not appear to participate.
+
+'True, young gentleman,' said Mr Jonathan, 'and well she might, for they
+were elephants, horses, chariots, and foot-soldiers; but what such
+members of an army have to do with parliament, I should be glad to hear
+you explain. I do not remember mention being made of parliament till the
+twelfth century. It was first applied to general assemblies in France
+during the reign of Louis the Seventh; and the earliest mention of it in
+England is in the preamble to the statute of Westminster in 1272. It is
+derived from the French word _parler_, to speak.'
+
+'Then,' said Miss Gwynne, 'there must be some truth in what I have
+heard, that the first parliament was composed of women.'
+
+'Good, good, 'pon my soul!' roared Sir Hugh.
+
+'But Sir William Jones says of chess,' continued Mr Jonathan, in the
+same unchanged tone and manner, 'that the Hindus--'
+
+'Oh, my dear, pray do not let us hear anything of Sir William Jones; I
+am sick to death of all the Jones',' interrupted Mrs Prothero, causing a
+diversion, and a suppressed laugh at her expense, instead of at young
+Rice Rice's, who had made the last sally upon Mr Jonathan, and a
+somewhat mortifying retreat.
+
+It was remarkable, that whoever made a sly attack upon that worthy, with
+a view to a joke, was sure to have the tables turned upon him, by the
+matter-of-fact way in which his joke was received, refuted, and cut to
+pieces.
+
+'I assure you, my dear, there have been many very celebrated Jones', Sir
+William at the head of them. He was a great Oriental scholar. Then there
+was Inigo Jones, the architect; and John Paul Jones, the admiral; and Dr
+John Jones, the grammarian, born in this very county; and--and--'
+
+'That celebrated Mr David Jones, Mr Prothero, whose locker was so deep
+that I am sure he must have been a relation of the admiral,' suggested
+Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Truly so, my dear--but I have read--'
+
+'I am afraid I must trouble you to order my carriage, Mr Gwynne,' said
+Lady Mary, looking impatiently, first at the chess-table, secondly at
+her daughter, who was engaged in animated nonsense with Mr Rice Rice,
+junior; and thirdly at Sir Hugh, still occupied in making Netta blush.
+
+'I beg your pardon; one moment, Lady Mary; I must just castle my king.'
+
+'Perhaps you had better put an end to the game, papa,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Not for the world, my dear. What do you say, Mr Rowland?'
+
+'I should certainly like to finish it, but perhaps we are
+inconveniencing others.'
+
+'Ah, yes, to be sure. Then will you come and dine with me to-morrow, and
+we will finish it?'
+
+'Thank you, I shall be very happy,'
+
+Mr Rice Rice, junior, and Sir Hugh wished that they were good chess
+players. It was quite an honour to be invited to a family party at
+Glanyravon.
+
+'Put the chess-table into the book-room, Winifred, and lock the door.'
+
+Mr Gwynne actually rose in the excitement of the moment.
+
+'If the servants come they will disturb the men, and--and--all that sort
+of thing, you know.'
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland carried the chess-table into a small room,
+opening into the drawing-room, and duly locked the door after them.
+
+'I suppose you are fond of chess,' said Miss Gwynne for want of
+something to say.
+
+'Very,' said Rowland laconically, and she little knew what was passing
+in his mind.
+
+Always the same thoughts when in her presence--thoughts of mingled
+approbation and dislike. But she cared little what he thought of her.
+
+'Dry and pedantic, and very disagreeable,' was what she thought of him.
+
+'Your nephew is rather a sinking-looking young man,' were Lady Mary's
+words to Mrs Prothero, during his temporary absence.
+
+'Yes, he is very clever and gentlemanlike. He gained high honours at
+Oxford, and my cousin. Sir Philip Payne Perry, is going to procure him a
+London curacy,'
+
+Lady Mary looked still more favourably upon Rowland when he returned,
+with a flush on his face, from the book-room.
+
+'Do you know that young Prothero is a very handsome young man?' she said
+to Miss Gwynne.
+
+'Very handsome,' said Miss Gwynne, remembering her intentions for
+Wilhelmina. And the carriages were announced.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE MISER'S SON.
+
+
+It was Sunday evening, and all the inmates of Glanyravon Farm were
+either at church or chapel, with the exception of Netta and one of the
+servants, who remained to watch the sick Gladys. Netta said she had a
+headache, and preferred staying at home. By way of curing it she put on
+her best bonnet and went for a walk. As soon as she was out of sight of
+the house she set off at a pace that did not bespeak pain of any kind.
+She soon struck out of the country road, with its hedges of hawthorn,
+into a field, and thence into a small wood or grove, almost flanking the
+road. The warm June sun sent his rays in upon her through the trees, and
+helped them to cast checkered shadows upon her path, lighting up, every
+here and there, a bunch of fern or flowers, and brightening the trunks
+of the interlacing trees. As she saw the lights and shadows dancing
+before her she became serious for a moment, and fancied they were like
+the will-o'-the-wisp, and portended no good; but she soon quickened her
+pace, and at the first opening went out again into the road, where the
+sun was uninterrupted in his gaze, and her few fanciful thoughts took
+flight.
+
+She glanced furtively into one or two cottages as she passed them, and
+the absence of all inmates seemed to reproach her for her Sunday evening
+falsehood. At last she reached a small cross-road or lane, down which
+she turned, heedless of the profusion of wild roses that actually
+canopied the way. Another path, narrower still, and thickly bordered
+with blackberry bushes in full blossom, brought her to what seemed a
+large mass of brambles, low underwood, and occasional young oaks. There
+were, however, little patches of grass here and there amongst the
+thicket, and into one of these she got with some difficulty. This was
+the hall from which diverged one or two little passages, that looked so
+dark, narrow, and brambly, that they appeared inaccessible. But Netta
+managed to push aside some briars with her parasol and enter one. Almost
+at her first footstep she tore her pretty muslin dress, but folding it
+closer round her, she pushed her way. The smart pink bonnet was in great
+danger, but escaped uninjured.
+
+At last she found herself on the brink of a deep ravine, almost
+precipitous, and heard the sound of rushing water beneath her. Large,
+gloomy trees outspread their brawny arms on each side of this gorge and
+lovingly embraced above it, so that the rays of the sun were again
+thwarted in their purpose, and turned and twisted about before they
+could glance upon the dark waters below.
+
+Netta did not know all the tangles and tears she was to meet with when
+she set out on her walk. She had not visited this spot for some time,
+and then she had taken a more frequented path, on the other side of the
+ravine. She looked around, and down into the depth below, but she could
+see nothing but trees and brushwood. She was not strong-minded, so she
+began to be afraid. However, summoning up her courage, she pushed into
+a kind of broken stony path, down the side of the gully, and at the
+expense of a few more rents in the muslin dress, and some scratches on
+her hands, she succeeded in scrambling to the bottom.
+
+Here was a wild and beautiful scene. A waterfall rolled from a height,
+over rocks and brushwood, down into a foaming stream beneath, that
+rushed, in its turn, over huge stones through the dark ravine.
+
+As Netta stood almost at the base of the waterfall, and on the edge of
+the rapid brook, something like reflection took possession of her
+volatile mind. There was a solemn gloom and grandeur about the scene
+that reminded her of the Sabbath she was desecrating, and therewith of
+her parents, and her duty to them. For a moment--only for a moment--she
+thought she would return, and strive to atone for the falsehood, by
+giving up the object of her evening wandering. But a bright gleam of
+sunshine darted through the trees--the stream foamed and leapt towards
+it--the waterfall sparkled beneath--the arrowy fern glittered like gold,
+and Netta's heart forgot her duty, and thought of her recreant lover.
+Her repentance must come in gloom, her sin in sunshine.
+
+She plucked a bunch of the wild roses that hung around and above her,
+and dashed them petulantly into the stream. She watched them as their
+course was interrupted by the large masses of rock, and they were tossed
+here and there by the angry mischievous water. At last they hung
+trembling on a huge stone, stranded, as it were, on their impetuous
+course. Again, for a moment, a serious comparison arose in her mind, and
+she wondered whether her life might be like that of the flowers she had
+cast away from her? whether she might be carried, by the force of
+contending passions, and left to wither upon some hard shore that as yet
+she knew not of. Such ideas naturally present themselves to the mind of
+all who are not wholly devoid of imagination and when the rapid stream
+again bore, away the bunch of roses, and Netta saw them no more, she had
+quite believed that such would be her course upon the troubled waters of
+the world.
+
+But she was not long left to speculate upon her future. Whilst her eyes
+were yet fixed upon the spot whence the roses had vanished, she felt a
+hand on her shoulder, heard a voice call her name, and starting round,
+saw her cousin Howel behind her. He had crept so softly down that she
+had not heard him, and she uttered a sharp cry that sounded like one of
+terror, as she suddenly felt his touch.
+
+'A strange greeting, Netta,' were the first words, after they had shaken
+hands.
+
+'You frightened me, and why were you not here sooner? I have been
+waiting an hour,' was the rejoinder, in a tone of voice that belied the
+radiant joy of the young face.
+
+Suddenly Netta seemed to recollect something that brought a shadow over
+the sunshine.
+
+'Cousin Howel, I--I am very sorry for you. Poor Uncle Griff! How is
+aunt?--and you--you look ill, Howel; what is the matter?'
+
+It was difficult for Netta to know what to say about the death of the
+miser. She was not sorry, and she could not tell how her cousin felt.
+
+'Oh, yes; my mother is pretty well. I have been ill, but shall soon be
+all right again. Netta, how long is it since we met?'
+
+'A twelvemonth next Friday.'
+
+'You remember the day, dear Netta. Then you do not hate me, although
+they have done their best to make you do so, by calling me gambler,
+spendthrift, drunkard, and all the charming etceteras.'
+
+'Oh no, Howel.'
+
+'Take off that bonnet, and let me see if you are altered.' He unfastened
+the strings, and let the long black curls fall over the girl's neck.
+'No, you are only prettier than ever, cousin Netta. How would you look
+in lace and pearls, and all the goodly array of a fine lady?'
+
+'I don't know, Howel; but tell me what you wanted me for.
+
+'Just let me twist this bunch of roses into your hair first, to see how
+an evening toilette would become my pretty cousin Netta.'
+
+Howel had torn a spray from the rose-bush at their back, and he inserted
+it carelessly amongst the curls.
+
+'How well you look, Netta. I should like to see you in a ball-room. We
+will go together to plenty of balls, if you will only consent.'
+
+'I don't like those roses, cousin,' said Netta hastily, 'they are
+unlucky I think,' and she tore them from her hair, and threw them, as
+she had done the previous ones, into the brook. 'Now let us see where
+they will go.'
+
+'We have not time, Netta, and I do not know why I am fooling away the
+hours. You must answer all my questions truly and plainly. I am become a
+rich man, how rich I do not myself know; and I mean to let every one
+belonging to me see that I can spend my money like a gentleman, and be
+as grand as those who have hitherto lorded it over me.'
+
+'Particularly the Rice Rices and Lady Mary Nugent,' interrupted Netta.
+
+'Would you like to be grander than they, Netta? have a finer carriage,
+more beautiful clothes, a handsomer house, plate, jewels, servants, and
+all sorts of magnificence?'
+
+'Oh, yes, of all things in the world.'
+
+'Then you shall be my wife, Netta, and we will soon see whether we
+cannot be as grand as the grandest.'
+
+'Oh, cousin!'
+
+'Well, dear Netta; tell me, are you changed?'
+
+'No, cousin.'
+
+'If I ask your father's consent, and he gives it, will you marry me?'
+
+'You know we settled that long ago, cousin Howel; but father will not
+consent, unless--unless--'
+
+'Pshaw, but if I ask his consent, and he refuses it, will you marry me
+then, dear Netta, dear, dear cousin?'
+
+Howel fixed his large, piercing eyes upon Netta, who coloured and
+trembled, and murmured, 'Oh, Howel, I don't know--how can I?'
+
+'How can you? Who is to prevent you? We can marry and go abroad, and
+return and ask pardon, and I will take a fine house, and they will be
+only too proud to own us?'
+
+'Not father, Howel, unless--'
+
+'Unless I become a steady fellow, and settle down, as I mean to do, if
+you will marry me. But if you refuse me, I shall just go on as I am, or
+put an end to my wretched life perhaps.'
+
+'Howel, don't be so wicked,' cried Netta, bursting into tears.
+
+'Then, Netta, you must give me your promise to be mine, whether your
+father consents or not, whenever I write you word, through my mother,
+that I will have a carriage ready at the corner near the turnpike. But I
+can settle all particulars at the proper time, provided only you
+promise. Remember, you have told me hundreds of times that you will be
+my wife, and neither father nor mother should prevent it.'
+
+'I do not know--I cannot tell whether it would be right.'
+
+'Not right to save me from destruction, to make me what I ought to be,
+to cleave to your husband as if he were yourself, in spite of parents or
+relations! I am sure, Netta, that you are taught to do all this;
+besides, you cannot help it, if you love me. You know that I would have
+married you when I had nothing, as readily as I will now that I have
+tens of thousands, and surely this deserves a return?'
+
+Netta began to sob.
+
+'You know how it is, Howel. I am afraid of father, and could not bear to
+annoy mother, but--'
+
+'But you love me better still, Netta; so do not cry, and we will be as
+happy as the day is long. Will you promise me?'
+
+Netta sobbed on and hesitated.
+
+'I am going to London to-morrow, cousin Netta, to pay debts, and make
+myself clear of the world. If you will promise, in a few months I will
+return for you; we will travel, we will do anything in the world you
+like; I shall have plenty of money, I shall probably write a book when
+we are abroad, which will make me famous as well as rich; we will come
+home and astonish the world. If you do not promise, I shall never come
+here again, and shall probably live a gay, wretched life on the
+continent, or elsewhere, and be really the good-for-nothing fellow I am
+thought to be;--will you promise, dear cousin Netta?'
+
+Howel knew well how to assume a manner that should add force to the
+feelings he expressed, and rarely did he employ his powers of persuasion
+in vain, particularly with the fair sex, never with his cousin, to whom
+he was really attached, and who was wholly devoted to him.
+
+'Netta,' he added, in a low, sad voice, 'I fear, after all, you do not
+love me, and I have very few who care for me in this world.'
+
+'Do not say this, cousin,' sobbed Netta, 'you know I always promised--I
+always said--I--I--will do anything in the world you wish me, cousin
+Howel.'
+
+'Even if your father refuses?'
+
+'Yes, I will not care for any one but you.'
+
+'Thank you, dear Netta; now I know that we shall be happy, and you shall
+have everything you can desire.'
+
+'Stop, cousin; I shall not marry you because you are rich, or great, or
+likely to be as grand as other people--though I should like to put them
+down, just as well as you--but because we have loved each other ever
+since we were little children, and I could not care for any one
+else--not even if Sir Hugh Pryse were to ask me.'
+
+Howel was both touched and amused.
+
+'You are a good, kind, little cousin, Netta; but what can you mean about
+Sir Hugh?'
+
+Netta tossed her head, and looked vain-glorious.
+
+'Oh, I dined at Glanyravon on Thursday, and the Rice Rices, and Nugents,
+and Sir Hugh were there; and Sir Hugh was very attentive to me, and said
+a great many things to me. And he has been at our house since, and has
+met me in the road, and been as polite as possible.'
+
+'But he is desperately in love with Miss Gwynne, or her fortune; so you
+need not alarm yourself, my little cousin.'
+
+'You need not alarm _yourself_, you ought to say,' and Netta again
+tossed her head.
+
+'Well, I am not jealous. Sir Hugh, with his loud voice, vulgar manners,
+and stupid fat face, could not light a candle to me, and as to his
+title, I will back my fortune against that.'
+
+'It sounds very grand to be called my lady.' Netta said this to pique
+her cousin, and she succeeded; but she did not expect to provoke the
+storm that she raised. The dark brow lowered, and he said,--
+
+'Netta, I am in no mood to be trifled with. If you wish to be 'my lady,'
+take Sir Hugh, if he will have you; but I go halves with nobody. Now is
+the time to resolve; I shall never ask you again; and whatever your
+opinion may be upon the subject, I consider that I do you as great
+honour in asking you to be my wife, as if there were fifty Sir Hughs at
+your feet.'
+
+It was now Netta's time to pout and look cross. She generally did before
+her private interviews with her cousin ended. Their quick tempers were
+sure to inflame each other.
+
+'I am sure I don't care whether you ask me again or not. It is not such
+a great favour on your part.'
+
+'Very well; then "your ladyship" has probably decided in favour of
+this,' and Howel made a face to represent Sir Hugh swelling his cheeks
+to their utmost extent. Netta tried to smother a laugh.
+
+'I am sure he is quite as good looking as you are, with your cross face.
+You are enough to frighten one out of one's wits.'
+
+'If you had any, Miss Netta. But come, this is absurd. Is it to be Sir
+Hugh in perspective, or cousin Howel at once?'
+
+Netta was still pouting, fidgeting with her parasol, and restlessly
+pushing her foot through the grass and flowers, when they were startled
+by a voice crying,--
+
+'Is that you, Netta?'
+
+Both looked up in affright, and, to their extreme disgust, perceived
+their very sedate brother and cousin, Rowland, threading his way down
+the opposite side of the ravine. He was soon at the bottom, and in less
+than a minute had crossed from stone to stone over the brook, and stood
+by the side of his sister.
+
+'Netta, what can you be doing here?' he asked abruptly.
+
+'I came for a walk,' was the somewhat hesitating reply.
+
+'Then, perhaps, you will have no objection to walk home with me,' said
+Rowland, looking reproachfully at Howel. He met a defiant glance in
+return.
+
+'Howel,' he said, 'I do not think my father would approve of Netta's
+meeting you here, and, I therefore, must beg to break up an interview
+that had been better avoided.'
+
+'Whatever right your father may have, sir, to prevent my seeing your
+sister, at any rate you have none,' was Howel's indignant reply.
+
+'Then I shall take a brother's right, and in the absence of my father,
+assume his place. Netta, you know you are doing wrong; come with me.'
+
+Netta hesitated, but her brother's manner was authoritative, and she
+felt that she dared not disobey.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Rowland, you have always assumed a tone with me
+that I neither can nor will brook,' passionately exclaimed Howel.' I beg
+you to account for your conduct, and to understand that I will have
+either an apology or satisfaction for your ungentlemanly proceedings.'
+
+'I never apologise when I have done no wrong; and as for satisfaction,
+as you understand it, I have not the power of making it. I will not
+desecrate the Sabbath by an unseemly quarrel amidst the most beautiful
+works of creation, nor offend my sister's ear by recrimination. If you
+have any real regard for her, you will allow her to go home quietly with
+me, and remember that we are all relations, and ought to be friends.'
+
+'Friends we can never be. The only friend I have in your family is Owen,
+except, perhaps, Netta, who is turned by one and the other of you, like
+a weathercock by the winds.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, cousin Howel,' began Netta.
+
+'We have had enough of this,' said Rowland calmly. 'If you choose to
+come and see us as a relation, in a straightforward manner, Howel, we
+should be glad to see you, but underhand ways are equally disagreeable
+to us all.'
+
+'How remarkably condescending!' said Howel with a sneer. 'But I will not
+waste time with a canting, Methodist parson like you. I wish you as many
+converts as you desire, but not myself amongst them. Remember, Netta!
+Good bye. I suppose your most excellent brother will allow us to shake
+hands.'
+
+Netta held out her hand, and as Howel shook it, he again repeated the
+word 'remember.' Rowland advanced a pace or two, and partly extended his
+hand. Howel turned abruptly away, and with a contemptuous glance, merely
+said, 'Good day to you,' The brother and sister took an opposite course
+to his, and had to cross the brook, whilst he pushed his way through the
+briers that had impeded Netta's path. He turned and watched them as they
+stepped from stone to stone, and finally ascended the ravine. Netta
+looked round, and he kissed his hand to her, to which she responded by
+nodding her head; but Rowland neither turned to the right nor left.
+
+'Meddling coxcomb!' he exclaimed, 'what is there in him that commands
+the attention and respect that I fail to obtain with ten times his
+talents?'
+
+He stood for a few minutes musing, whilst the music of the waterfall
+insensibly soothed his irritated mind.
+
+'Why should I care for Netta, who could marry any one I like?' were his
+thoughts. 'I suppose because she really loves me, and because they all
+oppose me. Well, supposing I do turn over a new leaf, and spend the gold
+my father got so usuriously, in doing good! That would be making a use
+of a miser's money, rarely, if ever, made before? and might be worth the
+trial, if only to work a new problem, whether ill-gotten wealth could
+conduce to moral health. I should like to out-Herod that puppy Rowland,
+and make a saint of myself out of a sinner. That would be working out
+two problems at once. I wonder whether Netta will help me to solve
+them?'
+
+Netta, meanwhile, was receiving a very severe lecture from her brother,
+to which she did not condescend to reply, until he spoke of what his
+father would say to her meeting Howel clandestinely,
+
+'I suppose you are not going to be cross enough to tell father,' said
+Netta'
+
+'I shall certainly think it my duty to tell him,' was the reply.
+
+'Then you are an unkind, unfeeling, unnatural brother,' cried Netta,
+bursting into tears.
+
+'Will you promise not to meet Howel again without my father or mother's
+consent?' asked Rowland, relenting,
+
+'I won't promise anything? and Howel is a thousand times nicer and
+kinder than you are. You have no feeling for any one. I wish Owen were
+at home.'
+
+'Netta, you are very unjust? you know I only wish your good.'
+
+'And I suppose you wish Howel's good, too. Just as his father is dead,
+and he meaning to be good, and only wishing to see me before he goes to
+London, and having plenty of money to do what he likes, and intending to
+pay his debts with it, and--and--'
+
+Here sobs and tears came to the rescue of the voluble words that would
+soon have worn themselves out--for Netta had no great flow of language.
+
+Rowland was perplexed. He was fond of his sister? he wished Howel well?
+he did not know whether it would be best to let them marry or not. If
+they were prevented, they would either take French leave, or hate all
+their relations? and if they married they would not be happy, he was
+sure. But he knew it was wrong to deceive his parents. In this uncertain
+state of mind they reached home, through, the little hawthorn lane
+before described. Mrs Prothero was on the look out for them, she having
+returned from chapel and missed them.
+
+Netta ran past her mother into the house, without replying to her
+question concerning her headache, and Rowland at once related to his
+mother what he had seen of Howel and Netta's private interview, which
+that good lady was very much distressed to hear.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE IRISH BEGGAR.
+
+
+Glanyravon farm was anything but a quiet home during the ensuing week.
+Mrs Prothero thought it right to inform her husband of what had passed;
+and he blustered and raged even more than he had ever done about the
+Irish beggars. Everybody thought proper to try to convert Netta, but
+none of them knew the indomitable obstinacy of her character, and all
+signally failed. Even Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had their turn, and drove
+over on purpose to canvass the matter; but as the elders disagreed upon
+the various points at issue, it was no wonder that all remained much as
+it was before the unfortunate meeting we have mentioned.
+
+'For my part,' said Mrs Jonathan Prothero, when all were assembled,
+except Netta, in family conclave, 'I cannot see so much against the
+young man after all. Such a fortune as his is not to be met with every
+day, and I must say he is very handsome and clever.'
+
+Here we must remark that this lady's sentiments had undergone a change,
+since it had been rumoured that Howel was worth more than a hundred
+thousand pounds.
+
+'I tell you what it is, ma'am,' roared the farmer, 'if he were worth his
+weight in gold, he 'ouldn't be a good match for any prudent 'ooman. To
+my certain knowledge he drinks and gambles, and he shall never have my
+consent to marry Netta so long as I live, and you may tell him so.'
+
+'I do not know enough of him, sir, to have any communication of the kind
+with him,' said Mrs Jonathan, stiffly.
+
+'My dear,' interposed mild Mrs Prothero, 'if he gets steady, and settles
+down, it might be better to let them marry, than to make them miserable
+for life.'
+
+'_Study_! miserable! mother, you're a--I beg your pardon, but when
+Howel's study, I'll turn to smoking cigars. Why, the very night of his
+father's funeral he was half drunk, instead of being decent for once.'
+
+'He couldn't care much for his father, my dear; you must make
+allowances.'
+
+'An odd man, that Griff, brother David,' said Mr Jonathan Prothero, as
+if just awaking from a dream. 'Do you remember when we were lads
+together, and used to go up to Garn Goch looking for treasures? I knew,
+even then, that it was an old British encampment, and began to speculate
+upon its date, and so on; you used to hunt rabbits, and provoke me by
+overturning the walls, but Griff got it into his head that there was
+money buried somewhere, and never ceased digging for it. At last he
+found an old coin of very ancient date, and seeing that I wished to have
+it, he bargained with me, until he got all the money I had for it. Of
+course the coin was worth any money, and satisfactorily proves that Garn
+Goch was an old British encampment at the time of the invasion of the
+Romans.'
+
+'Well, brother, you _are_ by the head! That old coin is nothing but a
+well-used sixpence.'
+
+'I have every reason to believe, and I am supported in my opinion by
+various antiquaries, that it bears the inscription either of Cunobelin
+or Caractacus. There is a decided C, and we are told that money was
+coined in Britain in the time of Cunobelin.'
+
+'And how on earth did he get up to Garn Goch?'
+
+'Why, you know that Caractacus commanded the Silures, or people of South
+Wales, against the Romans, and that they held out bravely, I have no
+shadow of doubt that Garn Goch was one of their strongholds.'
+
+'But what can Garn Goch have to do with Netta and Howel? Brother, I
+always shall say you are by the head with your antiquities.'
+
+'Well, I think you had better let them marry, I really do. It's no good
+opposing young people, when they will have their own way at last.'
+
+'I sha'n't send for you to consult with again. Mother, go and bring
+Netta here, and let us see what she has to say for herself.'
+
+'My dear Davy, would it not be better to speak to her privately?'
+
+'Not a bit. I can't say a word when I am alone with her, but I could
+give her a bit of my mind when you are all present. Why don't you go,
+and not stand looking as if you was as much by the head as brother Jo.'
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero perceived that her husband was determined to have
+Netta publicly reprimanded, so, much against her will, she left the
+room. Rowland was preparing to follow, not liking the prospect of a
+scene, when his father peremptorily called him back.
+
+'Stay you, sir. If you was the better for going to Oxford, you'd try to
+teach your sister how to behave, instead of cutting off the moment
+you're wanted.'
+
+'I really do not think, father, that a public reproof is likely to make
+Netta change her mind. You would do better to talk quietly to her.'
+
+Here Mrs Prothero returned, followed by Netta, looking as sulky as she
+possibly could, and with the traces of tears on her face. There was an
+awkward silence for a few seconds, during which both Mr Prothero and
+Netta were getting redder and redder, and their inner man
+correspondingly choleric. At last the father began the strife.
+
+'Now, I say, Miss Netta,' there was a pause for a few minutes. 'Do you
+hear, miss?'
+
+'Yes, father, I hear very well,' said Netta, and muttered to herself in
+continuation, 'who could help it?'
+
+'You hear very well--I should think so. You hear a good deal you've no
+business to listen to. Do you mean to give up that scamp Howel?'
+
+No reply.
+
+'Now it's no use for you to stand there and say nothing, for an answer I
+will have.'
+
+'I don't think he's a scamp,' said Netta boldly.
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero trembled, and looked imploringly at Netta.
+
+'My dear Netta, you should not contradict your father,' said Mrs
+Jonathan, with a severe look.
+
+'You don't think he's a scamp. Then you mean to have him, I suppose?'
+said Mr Prothero.
+
+'I didn't say that, father. But I don't see why I may not speak to my
+own cousin.'
+
+Every one was surprised at Netta's answers. Like her father, she could
+talk better before numbers. She had done nothing but cry when her mother
+had reasoned with her.
+
+'Very well, miss. All I can say is, that if you meet him again
+I'll--I'll--I'll--' the good farmer did not know what he would do. He
+was not prepared to say.
+
+'He is gone to London, father,'
+
+'Will you promise not to meet him any more, you good-for-nothing girl,
+you? You most disobedient daughter!'
+
+Again Netta was silent.
+
+'Will you promise your father, Netta,' said Mrs Prothero, gently, 'not
+to meet Howel again, or have anything to say to him, without his
+consent?'
+
+Still Netta was silent.
+
+'He may reform, you know,' suggested Mrs Jonathan, 'and then you may be
+allowed to marry,'
+
+'No chance of that,' roared Mr Prothero, advancing towards Netta, taking
+her by the arm, and looking as if a few more of her rejoinders would
+bring her a good shaking. 'Do you mean to promise, miss?'
+
+'Father, you're hurting me,' said Netta petulantly. 'You needn't pinch
+me so.'
+
+Mr Prothero relaxed his hold. He doated on this obstinate, pretty,
+wilful child of his--the only girl, and whose temper was the very
+facsimile of his own.
+
+'It's you're hurting me most, Netta, by rushing into certain misery.
+Will you promise?'
+
+Again he took hold of the arm.
+
+'One would think you were a Papist, father, and this the Inquisition,'
+said Netta, growing learned under the torture of her father's grasp,
+
+'Well said, Netta,' broke in Mr Jonathan, aroused by any allusion to any
+subject out of the present. 'A cruel court that perhaps more properly
+called Jesuitical than Papistical.'
+
+Mr Prothero gave Netta a slight shake, which shook more passion into
+both of them, and frightened Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Once for all, Netta, will you promise to give up that scamp of a cousin
+of yours, Howel Jenkins?' roared the father.
+
+'I won't promise anything at all,' replied Netta doggedly; and freeing
+herself from her father, she ran to her uncle as if for protection.
+
+'You won't!' said Mr Prothero, pursuing her, 'then I tell you what it
+is. The moment you are known to keep company with him, you may find some
+other home than this; and if you determine to marry him, you shall be no
+longer a daughter of mine. I'll never, as long as I live--'
+
+'Hush, hush, David, hush, please,' said Mrs Prothero, putting her hand
+on his arm. 'Netta will not disobey us, I am sure. But it is her
+obstinate temper; she never would say anything she was commanded to
+say.'
+
+'Then you ought to have taught her better. She is a good-for-nothing
+girl, and I'll--'
+
+'Netta, you had better leave the room,' said Rowland, opening the door,
+through which Netta gladly escaped. '"Fathers, provoke not your children
+to wrath,"' he added, turning to his father. 'You will do nothing with
+her at present. She is worked up to a spirit of resistance by too much
+argument, and the more you say the more obstinate she will become.'
+
+'You are all as obstinate as mules,' said Mr Prothero; 'I can't think
+who you turn after. And then to have the impudence to say I was a
+Papist! Why, I'd rather be a Methody preacher any day. And you to
+encourage her, brother Jonathan. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'
+
+Brother Jonathan started up from his dream of Garn Goch and the
+Inquisition, to repudiate the imputation of encouragement.
+
+'I was merely glad to find that she knew anything about the Inquisition,
+and had any information at all in her head; generally speaking, women
+know so little. I assure you, David, it was far from me to wish to
+encourage her in disobedience, or to offend you; so give me your hand.'
+
+The brothers shook hands very warmly, and in so doing, the contrast
+between them was very great. The farmer I have already described. The
+clergyman was a remarkable specimen of the 'dry-as-dust' species. Very
+tall, very thin, with very loose joints, seemingly hung together on
+wires, and a very prominent nose. He had acquired the habit of poking
+his chin and looking on the ground, as if he were always in search for
+something, which he possibly was, as he never despaired of finding some
+antiquity or curiosity at any moment. It must not be augured from his
+devotion to antiquarian lore that he made a bad clergyman On the
+contrary, he was always ready at the call of the poorest parishioner,
+regular in his visits to the sick, charitable in no mean degree, and
+humble in his deportment to rich and poor. True, his sermons were
+somewhat dry, and occasionally too learned for the greater portion of
+his flock; but he made up for this by the simplicity of his conversation
+when he talked to them at their own houses.
+
+He seldom was seen without a sort of school-boy satchel at his back,
+containing a small hammer and other useful tools, which, it was
+believed, had actually carried his lesson-books years ago. All the
+villagers knew his strong-and-weak point, and he rarely appeared amongst
+them without having various stones and imaginary curiosities presented
+to him, particularly by the young people. Many of these stones found
+their way into his bag, and it was not to be wondered at that he had a
+somewhat round back, as he frequently carried a load upon it, that a
+beast of burden would not have rejoiced in.
+
+He and Mrs Jonathan were a remarkable pair; one of those ill-assorted
+couples that you wonder at. 'How in the world did they come together?'
+was the usual question, the philosophic reply to which would have been,
+that theirs was actually one of the 'Matches made in heaven.' The
+gentleman got money to enable him to follow the bent of his genius
+without anxiety for his daily bread, and therewith a stirring wife to
+take care of him and his house; the wife got her great desideratum, a
+husband, and therewith the desideratum of all women, her own way.
+
+But we must return to Netta and the other belligerents. As nothing more
+was to be made of her at present, they let her alone, perhaps the wisest
+thing they could do, and sat down to dinner. Netta declined eating, and
+consequently was left to her own reflections. Mr Prothero inquired
+anxiously of his wife, when he had cooled a little, whether he had
+really hurt Netta when he took hold of her arm; to which Mrs Prothero
+replied with unusual severity, 'No, perhaps it had been better if you
+had; she wanted some trial or punishment to bring down her proud
+spirit.'
+
+In the course of the evening, a little before Mr and Mrs Jonathan left
+Glanyravon to return home, Miss Gwynne came to inquire for the poor
+Irish girl. She joined the party in the parlour for a short time, and
+gave a message from her father to Rowland, to the effect that he was
+very anxious for another game of chess, and begged him to come and dine
+at the Park on the morrow. Of course Rowland was only too happy, and the
+rest of the party too proud.
+
+'Papa is disgusted at your having beaten him the other night,' said Miss
+Gwynne to Rowland.
+
+'I think Mr Gwynne got tired,' said Rowland modestly.
+
+'What affectation,' thought Miss Gwynne, as she said, 'oh, no! he says
+you are the best player.'
+
+'I disclaim that entirely,' said Rowland. 'I merely beat two games out
+of three, and we had not time for another.'
+
+Rowland had been, according to promise, to dine and play chess with Mr
+Gwynne; Miss Gwynne had dined with them, but had left them after dinner
+to follow their own devices, whilst she had followed hers, and did not
+reappear during the evening. Mr Gwynne had reproached her for her
+absence, and she had declared that she hated to be so long without
+talking, and that chess and young Prothero were perfect antidotes to
+conversation.
+
+'That ancient, Saracenic game, as Mr Jonathan Prothero calls it, played
+by a Goth,' she said, 'is beyond my store of politeness.'
+
+Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne went to see the poor Irish girl; they found
+her rather better, and able to speak to them with some degree of
+composure. The fever and its accompanying delirium had abated, and the
+danger was past; but, as is usual in such cases, extreme weakness was
+the result.
+
+'God bless you, my ladies,' she murmured, as Miss Gwynne stooped over
+her to inquire how she did, and Mrs Prothero took her thin hand. 'I am
+better, thank ye; I can see and understand, and know now all that you
+have done for the wretched beggar.'
+
+Here the poor girl's tears began to flow.
+
+'We only wish to see you get well,' said Miss Gwynne softly, 'and then
+we can help you to find your friends.'
+
+'I have no friends in the world miss, asthore; my father died years ago,
+and my mother, brother, and sister all died of this horrible famine and
+pestilence! oh me! oh me!'
+
+The tears flowed still faster, and Mrs Prothero begged her to be silent,
+and not to excite herself; but with restless eagerness she went on, as
+if anxious to pour forth her sorrows whilst she felt the strength to do
+so. It was remarkable that her English was very good, and that, with the
+exception of an occasional Irish epithet of endearment, you would
+scarcely have discovered her country. Indeed, the Welsh peculiarities of
+expression and accent sometimes appeared, so that it would have been
+difficult to say where she was born or brought up.
+
+'I am going to look for my friends, if I live, and then, may be, I may
+be able to repay you for your kindness to me, a poor, wretched wanderer
+on the face of God's earth. If you'll be pleased to listen whilst I have
+the strength, I will tell you my story.
+
+'My mother was a Welshwoman, born in some part of South Wales; she was
+the daughter of a clergyman, and respectably brought up. Her father
+taught her a great many things that we ignorant people in Ireland used
+to think a great deal of. Oh, she was a good and tender mother to me,
+ladies, avourneen.
+
+'My father was an Irishman, and a fine, handsome man. He was a soldier,
+a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers, and used to be called Corporal
+O'Grady. He was going through this country to Ireland, to visit his
+friends, on leave, when he first saw mother, and fell in love with her,
+and she with him. She knew that her father would not be willing that
+they should marry, so she ran away with him to Ireland. They travelled
+about for some time with his regiment, but, after I was born, mother
+went to settle in Ireland with father's family, and there she had three
+other children, two boys and a girl. After this my father was wounded in
+India, and got his discharge and his half-pay. He became a kind of
+under-agent for a gentleman that lived in England, so we were very well
+off as long as he lived; but he died when I was about twelve years old,
+and then mother did not well know what to do. I remember my father's
+death, and all our trouble, as if it was yesterday.
+
+'She set up a little school, and for some years did pretty well. She
+could teach all that the farmers' daughters wanted to learn, and I
+helped her; so we managed to live. It was a hard struggle sometimes, but
+everybody was kind to widow O'Grady and her orphans; God reward them.
+
+'But the bad time came for poor Ireland; the famine visited us, and
+then the pestilence! Ye have heard enough of the horrors, without doubt,
+but not half of what they really were. We were all starving, dying--I
+saw enough people die to make me wish myself dead hundreds of times, to
+be hidden from the sight; but I was fated to live. You, ladies, in your
+charity, have saved me again; but oh! if it were not wicked, I should
+wish myself with my mother, brothers, and sister in heaven.'
+
+Here the poor girl's sobs choked her speech, and Mrs Prothero entreated
+her not to proceed.
+
+'Only one word more, my ladies, and I have done. When they were all
+gone--all--all--and I only left, I did not care what became of me. I
+went about amongst those stricken down with the fever; but, woe is me, I
+never caught it. I fasted from morning to night, day after day, but I
+could not die of starvation; nothing would kill me. I was alone in the
+wide world, yet it would not please God to take me to another, much as I
+prayed to Him.
+
+'Before mother died she told me to go into Wales, and try to find if she
+had any relations left. It was all she said, or had strength for; and
+before she got ill she seldom talked of her friends. All that I know of
+them I heard from my father when I was quite a child. He told me that
+mother had written to her father when she settled in Ireland, and that
+her letter had been returned with a note, saying that he was dead, and
+his only son gone away, no one knew where. This was her brother, and my
+uncle, but I do not know where to find him, only I am come to seek them,
+that I may do her bidding.'
+
+'And what was your mother's name?' asked Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Margaret Jones, ma'am,'
+
+'My poor girl, there are hundreds of that name in South Wales. But we
+will make inquiries for you, and when you are better--'
+
+'I am better now, thank you, ma'am. To-morrow I think I may go on my
+way. I would not trouble you any more; a poor beggar like me is not
+fit--oh dear! oh dear!'
+
+'Now I insist on your being quiet and going to sleep, and forgetting all
+those horrors,' said Miss Gwynne, assuming her most decided voice to
+hide her emotion. 'You are not to go away to-morrow; but I daresay in a
+few days you will be able to do so, and we can help you a little. But
+your best plan now is to get as strong as you can whilst you have the
+opportunity,' and herewith Miss Gwynne put a large spoonful of jelly
+into the girl's mouth.
+
+Mrs Prothero was wiping her eyes, and stifling a rising sob behind the
+curtain, which caused Miss Gwynne to become very severe, and to utter
+something about giving way to foolish weakness which aroused Mrs
+Prothero, and made the patient bury her head beneath the bed-clothes.
+
+Miss Gwynne beckoned to Mrs Prothero, and they left the room together.
+Upon asking for Netta, Miss Gwynne was let into the secret of the family
+troubles and consultations, and greatly fearing to be made a party in
+the lecturings overhanging the luckless head of the offender, she took a
+hasty leave of Mr and Mrs Jonathan, and begging Mrs Prothero not to be
+too hard upon Netta, or to let her son Rowland preach too many sermons,
+went her very independent way.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+'You will oblige me by remaining at home this evening, my dear,' said Mr
+Gwynne to his daughter.
+
+'That I assuredly shall, papa,' was the reply, 'for dear Miss Hall is
+coming to-day, and that princess of bores, Miss Nugent, has invited
+herself to tea. I certainly do wish Rowland Prothero would fall in love
+with her. She is quite ready for the _premier venu_, be he prince or
+peasant.'
+
+'Does not Lady Mary come, my dear?'
+
+'No; I am thankful to say she is gone to spend a few days with the
+Llanfawr family.'
+
+'I am very glad Miss Hall is coming, Freda. I wish she would live with
+you; it would be very pleasant, and a protection for you, and all that
+sort of thing.'
+
+'Oh, do ask her, dear papa. I have tried a thousand times to persuade
+her to come here and live with us for ever; but I think she will not
+come on my invitation.'
+
+'I could not possibly ask her, my dear. I should break down at the first
+word; we never were very familiar. She is stiff, and I am
+nervous--and--and--I really could not summon courage.'
+
+Miss Hall had been Miss Gwynne's governess during a few years of her
+education era, and had succeeded in entirely gaining her affections, as
+well as a small portion of ascendancy over her determined will. She had
+left Glanyravon to reside with an aged father, who, having lately died,
+left her again under the necessity of seeking a situation. Miss Gwynne
+had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost
+immediately.
+
+She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage
+that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in
+great excitement, and scarcely allowed her _ci-devant_ governess to
+alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces. Mr Gwynne followed
+somewhat more leisurely, and received Miss Hall with his usual nervous
+reserve of manner, but great courtesy. She responded most warmly to the
+embraces of Freda, and quietly to the welcome of Mr Gwynne.
+
+We will not give a minute description of the new comer, because she is
+not quite a person to be described. She is neither very good-looking nor
+very plain, neither very old nor very young, neither very tall nor very
+short, neither very talkative nor very reserved, neither very much
+over-dressed nor very much under-dressed, neither very merry nor very
+grave. Freda used to say that she was the personification of gentle
+dignity and serenity, and in the days of her Italian studies called her
+occasionally _La Dignita_, but more frequently _La Serenita_, which
+epithet would sometimes be abbreviated into Serena, or Sera, or Nita, or
+anything but Miss Hall, which the love of the impulsive pupil, so hard
+to obtain, and so great when obtained, thought much too formal.
+
+When Freda took Miss Hall to the delightful apartment she had been
+adorning for her for a week past, the first impulse of the older lady
+was to throw herself upon the neck of the younger, and burst into tears.
+
+'Dearest Serena, I have been so very sorry for you,' was all that Freda
+could say.
+
+For a minute there was silence, when Miss Hall, recovering herself,
+said,--
+
+'Dear Freda, this is all so kind of you. If anything could console me
+for the loss of my last earthly support, it is such affection as yours.'
+
+We will pass over the long conversation of those two friends, its
+melancholy and its mirth, for there was much of both, and bring them to
+the dinner-table and Messrs Gwynne and Rowland Prothero.
+
+They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not
+flow easily. Mr Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarrassment Miss Hall's
+natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make
+herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited,
+were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees,
+however, they thawed a little. Mr Gwynne wished to say something that
+would set his young chess opponent at his ease, and said the very thing
+likely the most to confuse a shy man. He made a personal remark and paid
+a compliment.
+
+'I am sure your uncle and--and your father, of course, must have been
+much gratified, and so forth, at your gaining that fellowship at
+Oxford.'
+
+'I think you labour under a mistake,' said Rowland, looking more than
+usually confused when he saw Miss Gwynne's eyes turned upon him; 'I
+merely gained a scholarship at Rugby, which is really nothing. I did not
+even try for a fellowship.'
+
+'Conceited!' thought Freda. 'I suppose he thinks if he had tried he
+would have got one.'
+
+'Were you not at Baliol?' asked Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Yes; I went there because my aunt had a fancy for the college, her
+father having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College
+and tried for a Welsh fellowship, which is more easily obtained, because
+there are few competitors.'
+
+'Did you know anything of Mr Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked
+Miss Hall.
+
+'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we
+became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'
+
+'Is he clever?'
+
+'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to shine at the
+bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an
+invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have
+time before I go to be ordained.'
+
+'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in
+the corner of her eye.
+
+'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a
+blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'
+
+'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a--a great deal
+of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever,
+or I mean a--an enterprising woman.'
+
+Mr Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question,
+yet thinking it incumbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter
+glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so
+dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from
+Mr Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not
+help smiling, but said with much spirit,--
+
+'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt
+of gratitude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the
+world.'
+
+'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to
+London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.
+
+'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the
+reply.
+
+'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?'
+said Mr Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day?
+Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'
+
+Mr Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most
+respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.
+
+Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr Rowland Prothero. She
+was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with
+him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was
+to be ordained by the Bishop of London.
+
+There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in
+due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they
+found Miss Nugent awaiting them.
+
+'Whose _beaux yeux_ do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked
+Freda.
+
+'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent
+lisped.
+
+'Do you call his _beaux yeux_? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess
+again.'
+
+'Young Rithe Rithe?'
+
+'Wrong again.'
+
+'Not Captain Lewith?'
+
+'Some one much nearer home.'
+
+'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr Howel Jenkinth, who, they
+thay, will be quite a grand man.'
+
+'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr Rowland
+Prothero?'
+
+'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am
+thure he is very _gauche_ and countrified.'
+
+'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in
+excellent society, and is going at once to a London living--curacy I
+mean, but it is all the same.'
+
+Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been
+lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'
+
+'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho
+interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black
+hair, and thuch a beautiful voice. Ith Mr Prothero going to Tht
+Jameth'th?'
+
+'You shall ask him yourself; I daresay he will like you to seem
+interested.'
+
+'Are you going to Tht Jameth'th, Mr Prothero?' inquired Miss Nugent,
+when that young man entered the room shortly after.
+
+'I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand what you mean.'
+
+'Mith Gwynne thaid you were going to a London curacy; I thought it might
+be Tht Jameth'th.'
+
+'I believe not. If I go to London I shall probably be in the city--a
+very different locality to St James's.'
+
+'Oh! when we are in town we alwayth go to Tht Jameth'th, it ith thuch a
+nice church.'
+
+Freda perceived that Miss Nugent's interest fell as soon as she found
+that Rowland was going into the city. She also saw a smile lurking about
+Rowland's mouth when he said,--
+
+'I have never been in London; but I suppose St James's is one of the
+fashionable parts.'
+
+'Oh yeth, very. Numberth of grand people go to Tht Jameth'th; don't you
+with you were going to be curate there instead of the thity?'
+
+Rowland was grave in a moment.
+
+'I should wish to labour wherever there is the largest field to work in,
+Miss Nugent, whether in the city or St James's.'
+
+'Yeth, to be sure, I believe there are loths of poor people in Tht
+Jameth'th. I onthe went by chance into thuch a nathty alley clothe by
+Tht Jameth'th Threet. Thuch dirty children!'
+
+'Alas,' said Miss Hall, coming to the rescue of Rowland, who was looking
+quite distressed, 'we cannot go many steps in the London parishes, be
+they fashionable or unfashionable, without entering a "vineyard" amply
+wide enough for any one who wishes to work in it, whether priest or
+layman.'
+
+Rowland looked round brightly and pleasantly at Miss Hall. Freda could
+not help noticing the sudden animation in a face that she had considered
+a minute ago almost heavy.
+
+'When are we to have our game at chess?' interrupted Mr Gwynne. 'The
+poor of London is a subject I quite dread to hear discussed, it is so
+hopeless. One can do no good, and what is the use of tormenting oneself
+about it here in Wales.'
+
+'Oh, papa! they want very decided measures; plenty of police, active
+magistrates, and I don't know what besides,' said Freda.
+
+'Would you allow me to supply what you have omitted?' asked Rowland;
+'they want Christian sympathy, Christian teaching, brotherly kindness,
+and the aid of the rich and powerful.'
+
+Freda considered Rowland's finale to her sentence impertinent and was
+about to take up the defence of her magisterial system very warmly,
+when she met a glance so earnest and appealing, and withal so beautiful
+in its earnestness, that she could not find in her heart to answer it by
+a hard look or word; so, for want of better reply, she went to prepare
+the chess-table.
+
+'I wish you joy of that Saracenic game,' she said ironically, as her
+father and Rowland sat down to chess, not perhaps quite by the wish of
+one of the pair.
+
+'I thought you liked chess, Freda?' said Miss Hall.
+
+'Oh, pretty well, when I can get any one who does not beat me. I hate so
+to lose a game that I think it is better not to play at all than to run
+the risk of feeling in a passion, and not being able to give vent to
+it.'
+
+'Perhaps the better plan would be to control the passion,' said Miss
+Hall.
+
+'Impossible! I am sure it must be just such a feeling as a good general
+would have if he lost a battle, after having done his best to win it.'
+
+'I suppose the best general is always the calmest, both in victory and
+defeat,' murmured Rowland, without taking his eyes from his men.
+
+'If you would oblige me by not talking,' said Mr Gwynne nervously; 'I
+can never play if my opponent talks.'
+
+'I beg your pardon,' said Rowland; 'I know it is very disagreeable.'
+
+'Are you too tired to visit some of your old haunts, Serenita?' said
+Freda. 'By the way that would be a good name for Mr Prothero's ideal
+general.'
+
+'Not quite,' began Rowland, but was silent in a moment.
+
+'My dear Freda, are you going out? I really am sorry to stop your
+amusement, and so forth, but I cannot play,' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Exactly, papa; we will go directly if Miss Hall likes.'
+
+The three ladies left the room, and, as Rowland glanced after them, he
+very decidedly wished that he might be permitted to accompany them. One
+other great wish he also had at his heart, the conversion of Miss Gwynne
+to a purer and higher tone of mind. He did not, we grieve to say, bestow
+a similar pastoral thought on Miss Nugent.
+
+'That position of your queen at such an early stage of the game must be
+an oversight, I think. Excuse me, but I could not take such an unfair
+advantage,' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+Rowland was roused at once. He gave himself up to his game, and an hour
+afterwards, when the ladies returned from their walk, and candles were
+ordered, it was still in progress, but he had the best of it.
+
+'Will you sing for us, Serena?' said Freda.
+
+'Will you sing a duet with me?' was the reply.
+
+The duet was sung, and another and another and another, and Rowland lost
+the game.
+
+Mr Gwynne arose, very much elated and rubbing his hands gently,
+according to his wont.
+
+'How do you feel, general, defeated?' asked Freda.
+
+'Very much like a subaltern,' said Rowland.
+
+'Do you sing, Mr Prothero?' asked Miss Hall; 'all the Welsh are so
+musical that I think there are few who have not voices.'
+
+'I sometimes sing chants and sacred music; but I know very few songs,
+and those old ones.'
+
+'Perhaps you will take the bass of some of these old glees. Here is "The
+Chough and Crow," "When shall we three meet again," "The Canadian Boat
+Song," "The Sicilian Mariner," and I know not how many more,' said Miss
+Hall, turning over the leaves of a thick old book full of glees.
+
+'I will do my best,' said Rowland, and the glees began in earnest.
+
+All the Protheros were musical, and Rowland had a very fine clear voice.
+Miss Hall was right in saying that the Welsh are a musical people;
+Rowland was a happy example. He had been studying Church music a good
+deal, and learning to take different parts, so he acquitted himself very
+creditably in the glees, all of which he had either tried or heard sung.
+Freda was quite astonished. She had a great taste for music herself, and
+a good voice, but would never sing with any one but Miss Hall, a piece
+of wilfulness that her father occasionally reproached her with. The
+addition of Rowland was rather agreeable to her, as it enabled them to
+sing the glees that she was fond of. She no longer objected to the
+chess, and when her father proposed giving Rowland his revenge on the
+morrow, she added, 'And then we can wind up with a few more glees.'
+
+Rowland bowed his thanks and departed.
+
+During the ensuing month there were frequent chess and glee clubs at
+Glanyravon. What the effect such associations had upon Rowland he never
+confided to any one, but when Miss Hall expressed her opinion that 'Mr
+Prothero was a sensible, unaffected young man, but shy,' Freda
+condescended to say, 'Well, he is not quite such a Goth or half as
+affected as I fancied he was, but he has a very good opinion of himself,
+nevertheless.'
+
+In due course Rowland went to London to be ordained, and so ended the
+chess and glee clubs.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SAILOR.
+
+
+Argument and persuasion were alike thrown away upon Netta Prothero. She
+would make no promises, no concessions; she stood her ground with the
+obstinacy of a Cadwallader. Her father stormed for about a week, when he
+got tired of the subject and of Netta's resolute manner and cross face,
+and gave it up. He heard that Howel had started for London, having put
+his affairs in the hands of an attorney, and that it was not at all
+unlikely that he would marry some lady of rank. He laughed heartily at
+the notion. It was also rumoured that he meant to return and take a
+place in the neighbourhood, stand for the county, and be one of the
+greatest men in South Wales. In short, the enchanter, the merlin, the
+open sesame, the omnipotent sorcerer _gold_ was to work the miracles to
+which Howel had been so long looking forward. And the gossips were not
+far wrong. Gold is truly a famous master-key to all hearts and to all
+companies.
+
+But whilst the gossips--and who is not a gossip in a country
+neighbourhood?--whilst the gossips were settling Howel's future so
+comfortably and respectably for him, he was dispensing his gold amongst
+gamblers and the like--paying debts of honour as they are called.
+
+However, Mr Prothero thought it not unlikely that what the gossips said
+might prove true, and was therefore tolerably comfortable about his
+spoilt pet, Netta. When his anger and her pouting had subsided, matters
+went on much as usual for a time at the farm. Even the blaze that was
+kindled at the incursion of the Irish girl, had well-nigh gone out, and
+Mr Prothero had nearly forgotten her existence.
+
+She, meanwhile, was slowly recovering under Mrs Prothero's kind care.
+One day, that good woman was sitting with her in the little room that
+had been allotted to her, and said,--
+
+'Is there anything you could think of that would amuse you, my dear?'
+
+'If I might--' Gladys began and paused.
+
+'Pray, go on, do not be afraid to ask.'
+
+'If I might only make up that cap for you, ma'am, I should be so proud.
+I used to make caps at home.'
+
+Mrs Prothero was manufacturing a cap for herself, and had a certain
+womanly fear as to how it would turn out, if transferred to other
+fingers; but she did not like to refuse the request, so she resigned it
+into the thin hands of Gladys. She was almost immediately called away,
+and did not return for some hours. When she again visited her invalid
+she found her quite excited with her work that she had just completed.
+
+'Oh, what a pretty cap!' said Mrs Prothero, quite astonished at the
+taste displayed. 'I must just run and show it to Netta--I am so much
+obliged to you.'
+
+Mrs Prothero left the room and soon returned, followed by her daughter.
+
+'Can you trim bonnets as well as make caps?' asked Netta, forgetful of
+infection when her personal interest was involved.
+
+'Yes, miss, a little,' replied Gladys modestly.
+
+'I wish you would trim mine for me to-morrow.'
+
+'Oh, thank you, miss! If you will only let me try I shall be so
+grateful.'
+
+'She does not seem like a beggar after all,' thought Netta. 'Who taught
+you to work so nicely?' she said aloud.
+
+'I was apprenticed to a mantua-maker and milliner for six months, miss,
+and after that I worked for the neighbours.'
+
+'How could you work for them, when they are all rags and tatters?'
+
+'There were some farmers' wives, miss,' said Gladys, colouring slightly,
+'and the clergyman's family, and the steward's--I used to work for
+them.'
+
+'Then how came you here?'
+
+'People couldn't work, or pay for work, miss, when every one was
+starvin' around them.'
+
+Mrs Prothero looked at Netta reproachfully. The girl was not really
+hard-hearted, so she changed the subject.
+
+'I daresay you can knit and mark samplers?' she said.
+
+'Yes, miss, mother taught us to do that at school.'
+
+'I think, Netta,' interrupted Mrs Prothero, 'that she must go to bed
+now. She looks tired, and has been up long enough.'
+
+'What a fuss mother makes about the girl,' muttered Netta as she left
+the room.
+
+The following day the bonnet was tastily trimmed under Netta's
+superintendence, and work enough hunted up to employ Gladys for a month
+at least. Netta even found an old cotton gown, which she presented to
+her in return for her labours. It was not long enough, but Gladys
+thought she might be able to lengthen it.
+
+Whilst her convalescence and Netta's needlework were thus progressing,
+there was an arrival at the farm. One evening the family were assembled
+in the large hall, their usual sitting-room. Mr Prothero was reading the
+newspaper at a small round table, with an especial candle to himself.
+His worthy wife was mending or making shirts. At another round table,
+not very far off, Netta had some work in her hands, and one of Captain
+Marryat's novels open before her.
+
+'Why don't you do your work instead of reading those trashy stories,
+Netta?' suddenly exclaimed Mr Prothero.
+
+'I am working, father,' said Netta.
+
+'Pretty working sure enough. What nonsense have you got reading now?'
+
+'Peter Simple, father, oh it is so funny.'
+
+'Ah! it was that stupid stuff, and 'The Pilot,' and 'The Spy,' and I
+don't know what else, that sent Owen off to sea. I suppose it's there
+you learn all your nonsense. I wish you would read the cookery book, and
+help your mother to take care of the house and dairy, instead of doing
+what's no good in the world.'
+
+A loud knocking at the door interrupted a rather pert reply.
+
+'Who on earth is that at this time of night?' exclaimed the farmer,
+throwing down his paper.
+
+'Shanno,' called Mrs Prothero into the passage, 'ask who it is before
+you open the door.'
+
+'It's no great things,' suggested Netta, 'for they're knocking with a
+stick, and not with the knocker.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, what's the row?' said the farmer.
+
+'Who's there?' demanded Shanno, in the passage.
+
+The answer did not reach the hall, but Shanno came rushing in, 'It's
+them Irishers again, master, upon my deet, they do be here for ever.'
+
+'Give me my stick!' exclaimed Mr Prothero, 'if I don't give them a
+lesson my name isn't David.'
+
+He seized a stick and went into the passage, followed by his wife,
+murmuring, 'Oh, David, bach,' and by Netta as far as the door, from
+which she peeped down the passage.
+
+'Who's there?' roared the farmer in a voice of thunder.
+
+'May it please yer honour, I'm cowld and hungry. Long life to yer honour
+and her leddyship, if yell only give the loan o' yer barn, or maybe yer
+loft, or--'
+
+'I'll show you the way to my barn, you idle, good-for-nothing scamp,'
+cried Mr Prothero, opening the door, and levelling a blow with his stick
+into the moonlight, that must infallibly have knocked down any one less
+agile than the man for whom it was intended. As it was, the unwelcome
+visitor jumped aside, whilst the portly farmer tripped himself up by his
+own impetuosity, and fell upon the threshold. Mrs Prothero and Netta
+screamed, and Shanno took hold of the beggar's arm, to prevent his
+escape. But the beggar had pulled Mr Prothero up, and was beginning to
+sympathise with him in broad brogue, when that valiant anti-Irishman got
+hold of his stick again, and began to belabour the unoffending party's
+back most manfully.
+
+'Enough's as good as a faist, yer honour,' cried the stranger, skipping
+from side to side, and evading the blows very skilfully; 'pon my sowl,
+yer honour 'ud do for a fair or a wake. 'Tis madam as has the heart an'
+the conscience for the poor Irish, an' miss, too, asthore!'
+
+The impudent fellow ran round to where Netta stood, who, in terror, went
+into the house, followed by the man, and after him, the rest in full hue
+and cry.
+
+'Tin thousand pardons, miss,' said the man, taking off his hat and
+confronting Netta.
+
+'Owen! Owen!' screamed Netta. 'For shame upon you, you naughty boy,' and
+therewith Netta and the unexpected guest were hugging one another, most
+lovingly.
+
+''Tis the mother will give the poor Irisher a lodgin' and a drop o' the
+cratur,' cried that mother's well-beloved eldest born almost catching
+her up in his arms, and smothering her with kisses. 'And the masther
+isn't so hard-hearted as he looks,' he added, shaking the astonished
+farmer by the hand.
+
+'Owen! oughtn't you to be ashamed of yourself?' cried the farmer,
+laughing aloud, and rubbing his right leg.
+
+'Not kilt intirely, yer honour! didn't I take you all in, that's all!'
+
+'Where did you come from? How did you come? When did you leave your
+ship?' were the questions reiterated on all sides of the welcome guest.
+
+'I'll tell you all that to-morrow. At present I am dying of cowld and
+hunger, and haven't broke me fast since morning. Let me show you how the
+locker stands.'
+
+Owen emptied his pockets, and from a corner of one of them turned out a
+solitary halfpenny.
+
+'I shouldn't have had that if old Nanny Cwmgwyn hadn't given it to me
+just now. But I'll tell you my story to-morrow in character.'
+
+'Not an improved one anyhow,' said Mr Prothero with a gathering frown.
+
+'Don't lecture to-night, Datta, bach; you shall have an hour on purpose
+to-morrow, when I promise to listen to edification. 'Pon my word it is
+pleasant to be at home again. How I long to sleep in my comfortable bed
+once more.'
+
+Poor Mrs Prothero's countenance fell, and Netta looked malicious.
+
+'Not likely to sleep there to-night, boy,' said the farmer; 'mother has
+got visitors.'
+
+'Visitors!' exclaimed Owen, 'and gone to bed already! what sleepy
+people.'
+
+'Some of your friends of the cowld and hungry sort,' said the farmer.
+
+'Not mother's old friends, and my relations, the Irish beggars?'
+
+'Singular number, and a young lady!' said the farmer with a sneer and a
+puff of the tobacco with which he was beginning to solace himself, at
+the sight of the bread and cheese that were appearing.
+
+'A poor girl, Owen, who was taken ill,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'I understand it all, mother; never mind, she's welcome for once,
+provided I get a good bed, but to-morrow she must turn out.'
+
+'Very well, my dear,' said Mrs Prothero submissively; for Owen, though a
+prodigal, was the eldest son, and generally had his own way.
+
+'Now don't be frightened at my appetite,' said Owen, sitting down to
+cold meat and strong ale.
+
+'Bless you and your appetite,' said Mrs Prothero, kissing his forehead;
+upon which he jumped up again, and hugged her with all his heart.
+
+'Now, Netta, let us go and see about the sheets,' said Mrs Prothero,
+smoothing her dress.
+
+The mother and daughter left the room, and were not long in preparing
+the best bedroom for Owen. This done, they hastened back to the hall,
+where they found diminished ham and increased smoke, Owen having lighted
+a short pipe, and taken to smoking with his father, over a large jug of
+ale.
+
+'We must have your adventures to-night, Owen,' cried Netta, as she
+entered, 'and you must tell us why you came home so very shabby. I
+suppose you have been wrecked on a desert island.'
+
+'To be sure,' said Owen, laying down the pipe. 'But I must go out and
+find my wardrobe, and all my valuables, that my hospitable Daddy there
+caused me to throw down, when he gave me such a warm welcome.'
+
+Owen disappeared, but soon returned with a box in his hands, apparently
+of some weight, and a bundle slung across his shoulder, suspended on a
+walking stick. Putting down the box he began to sing,--
+
+     'A handkerchief held all the treasure I had.'
+
+whilst he flourished his walking-stick and bundle over his mother's
+head. When he had finished his song, he put down his bundle and went to
+the box.
+
+'I have shown you the size of my wardrobe, now allow me to show off the
+rest of my fortune and stock in trade. Father, you shall have the first
+peep. Let me put my box on the table, and the light--so. Now, stoop,
+so--look through that glass, so--and--have you got the right focus?
+Yes!--To the right, you beholds the gallant 'ero, Lord Nelson, him as
+lost his harm, a just fallin' in the harms of Capen 'Ardy and
+Victory.--To the left--but first his lordship is a singin' "England
+expects every man to do his dooty." To the left--'
+
+'Well, if that isn't as pretty a picture and as much like life as
+anything I ever saw,' said Mr Prothero, interrupting the showman. 'Come
+here, mother; Netta, look here.'
+
+Mrs Prothero glanced into the box, which was nothing more nor less than
+a penny peep-show, and Owen began again.
+
+'To the right you beholds,' when Netta, impatient, looked through a
+second glass, and exclaimed in ecstasy, 'Where did you get this, Owen?'
+
+In answer, the scene shifted, and Owen recommenced.
+
+'Here you beholds Lisbon, that wast city, or rayther what wos Lisbon
+after the great earthquake. See the ruins all around, and the women and
+children a screamin'; and the priests a-prayin'--those men in robes is
+priests, papishers, like them Irish beggars.'
+
+'Hush, Owen,' interrupted Mrs Prothero. 'Look, father, do look here!'
+
+While Mr Prothero and Netta gazed admiringly, Mrs Prothero was off and
+returned with Shanno, Mal, and Tom the boy, who were all in a broad grin
+of delight at the arrival of their prime favourite, Owen.
+
+He, meanwhile, is in his element; begins with Lord Nelson again, and
+makes the whole party take turns. Then he goes to Lisbon; afterwards he
+has The Queen of the Cannibal Islands; The Great Fire of London; a
+portrait large as life of the immense fat man Daniel Lambert, at sight
+of which the servants all exclaim 'Ach!' and a variety of other splendid
+designs, which we decline to enumerate. Suffice it to say that they all
+draw forth the approving commendations of the spectators, from Mr
+Prothero, master, to Tom, serving-lad.
+
+When the peep-show has been duly exhibited, Netta again demands her
+brother's history, and a particular account of how he procured the show.
+
+'Oh! there is not much to tell,' says Owen, 'and I won't tell that
+unless father promises to keep his lecture till to-morrow. I hate a
+sermon late at night, but don't so much mind it in the morning. Don't
+look so serious, mother; I don't mean a clerical preachment. Do you
+promise, father?'
+
+'Well, there, as you like,' said Mr Prothero, laughing? 'but I wish you
+hadn't made me break my shin.'
+
+'Here's a patch of diaculum, father. I hope you have not really hurt
+yourself?'
+
+'No, wild goose. Now, let's have the story.'
+
+'Well, here goes. Since this time twelvemonth I have been a voyage to
+Australia and back: seen Sydney and Botany Bay, and my brethren the
+convicts; done a little in the mercantile way: speculated in gin and
+'baccy on my own account, and helped the captain. Came home as first
+mate of the 'Fair Weather,' and had enough of tailoring in the worst
+voyage I ever made. We were almost wrecked more than once, and almost
+starved for the last month, owing to the time the leaky old hulk took in
+the voyage. When we landed in Plymouth we had a spree, as you may
+suppose, and soon spent most of our money. I and a messmate were to
+travel together as far as Swansea, so we just saved money enough to pay
+our way, and enjoyed ourselves with the rest; but, as ill luck would
+have it, we fell in with a poor Welsh woman, who had come to Plymouth in
+the hope of meeting her husband, and being disappointed, and having
+spent all her money, she didn't know how to get back to her home again.
+Of course we couldn't leave a fellow-countrywoman in distress, so we
+gave her what we had: enough to pay her journey home, and a few
+shillings over. We then sold some of our clothes, and stumbling upon a
+man with this old box in his arms, we bargained with him, and bought it
+for twelve shillings. He wanted a pound, but we beat him down.
+
+'Having thus a fortune in our possession we set out with our peep-show,
+and thought of getting interest for our money. We have been about three
+weeks journeying from place to place; and I assure you we have seen a
+good deal of life. We unfortunately spent the interest of our fortune as
+it came in; but, as you will perceive, I have brought the whole capital
+home with me. When we entered a town on a fair or market-day, we made a
+great deal of money, but then the temptations to spend were all the
+greater. I used to have all the labour of the imagination, for my friend
+Jack Jenkins had not the gift of eloquence; so we agreed that I should
+be showman, and he porter--a division of work that we thought quite
+fair. When we arrived at Swansea I gave him all the money we had in
+hand, and he resigned the peep-show to me, and so we parted company; he
+to go to his friends in Glamorganshire, I to come on here.
+
+'I had a rare lark on my way home. I went to uncle's, and finding aunt
+in the garden, slouched my hat over my face, and began my story. She
+ordered me off the premises instantly as a vagrant. I went round to the
+back door and got a penny a-piece from the servants, who were quite
+delighted. Then I met uncle, and telling him that I had a wonderful box
+of antiques to exhibit, he gave me sixpence, and with great curiosity
+poked his proboscis against the glass. It was worth something to see
+him. I at once put a picture of Stonehenge, and afterwards one of
+Herculaneum into the box, that I had bought on purpose for his benefit.
+I went through the history of the Druids, and managed a touch of Garn
+Goch and the Welsh castles with a strong and masterly nasal, that so
+delighted the worthy vicar, that he actually invited me in to see his
+museum. I excused myself by saying that my wife was waiting for
+me--mother, that was my only fib, I assure you--and hastened away, lest
+in his delight at finding an itinerant archaeologist, he should ask my
+wife to see his museum as well. The rest of my adventures you had the
+honour and glory of sharing, so I must beg to say they are at an end.
+And now I am really and truly and soberly come to settle at home for the
+remainder of my days, and to become a farmer in good earnest if father
+will take me into partnership. The two things I like best in the world
+are, the rolling sea by moonlight and a field of golden corn in broad
+sunshine, of a fine day in autumn.'
+
+'Oh, you naughty boy!' cried Netta, as Owen ended his story.
+
+'A fine sturdy farmer you would make,' said Mr Prothero, trying to
+stifle a very hearty fit of laughter, that burst out at last in spite of
+himself. 'I'm glad you took in brother Jonathan, or he'd have had the
+laugh against me.'
+
+Mrs Prothero had a tear in her eye as she smiled sadly, and shook her
+head at the darling son who had caused her nothing but love and grief
+since he was born; but the tear was soon kissed away, and the smile
+turned into a cheerful one by that son's merry lips.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE SEMPSTRESS.
+
+
+Owen Prothero, like his sister Netta, had been very much spoilt by his
+father during his childhood and boyhood. Indeed it would have been
+difficult not to have spoilt him. Handsome in person, and frank in
+manners, he was a general favourite. His uncle, the vicar, quite
+idolised him, and would have lavished a fortune on his education had he
+been of a studious nature. His mother, alone, conscious of his many
+faults, strove to correct them, and to counterbalance the undue
+admiration he received on all sides, by impartial justice in her praises
+and reproofs.
+
+But we have not much to do with his boyhood, which was wild and
+untameable; beyond the fact that, when sent by his good uncle to Rugby
+with a view to his becoming a clergyman, he resolutely declared his
+intention of going to sea, and ran away from school to effect his
+purpose. He was captured, however by the masters, and a sharp look-out
+kept upon him for the future, which prevented further escapades.
+
+He did not make brilliant progress in his studies, though he was clever
+enough, and accordingly his aunt persuaded her vicar to adopt her
+favourite nephew, Rowland, in his stead, and to let Owen go a voyage or
+two in a merchant vessel, to cure him of his love for a seafaring life.
+
+It was Mr Prothero's wish to have one of his two sons a farmer, he did
+not much care which, so it was with some difficulty that Aunt Jonathan
+induced him to listen to her proposal of making a clergyman of Rowland.
+He yielded at last, however, in the hope that when Owen had had enough
+of the sea, he would come and settle at home, since, next to this, his
+favourite hobby, he professed to like farming.
+
+Owen was about fifteen when he first went to sea--he was just
+seven-and-twenty when he came home with the peep-show. During the
+intermediate twelve years he had been all over the world: not merely as
+a sailor, but as an adventurer, traveller, speculator, merchant, and
+wandering Jack-of-all trades. As quickly as he made money, so he lost
+it, spent it, or gave it away; and when he had no other resource, he
+worked as a common sailor, or labourer, until some lucky chance opened a
+passage for some fresh excitement. There is this to be said in his
+favour. During this long period he was never chargeable to his father in
+any way. If he got into difficulties, he got out of them pretty easily:
+if he was in want of bread, which had been frequently the case, his
+friends at home knew nothing of it. Beyond the regular new outfit, in
+the way of clothes, that his mother made for him each time that he
+returned home, he had never had anything from his parents, and
+resolutely refused it if offered. Always cheerful, hopeful, in high
+spirits, open as the day, affectionate, and attractive, he was a welcome
+guest wherever he went. Did he come home in rags, or as now, with a
+peep-show in his arms, or as once before, with a hurdy-gurdy and
+monkey, all his old friends made merry, and gave parties in his honour.
+And whatever the state of his wardrobe or exchequer, he was sure to be
+in the fields the following day, reaping, hay-making, ploughing, sowing,
+or even milking, as either of these, or similar avocations, came in his
+way. Nobody could be angry with him, and his father's lectures, and his
+brother's reasonings all melted away before the row of white teeth that
+he was for ever displaying in his joyous laughter.
+
+Of middle height, athletic, sunburnt--with hands almost as brown as his
+merry brown eyes--with black, long, curly hair, a bushy beard, and
+plenty of whiskers, a bronze neck from which, in sailor fashion, the
+blue and white shirt-collar receded--and a broad forehead, showing all
+kinds of bumps, particularly those of locality over the bushy black
+eyebrows--Owen Prothero was as fine a type of an English sailor as could
+be found the broad seas over.
+
+He was in the habit of falling desperately in love with at least one out
+of every five or six girls that came in his way, and of making frightful
+havoc in the hearts of females of all ranks and ages. Netta's general
+inquiry was,--'Well, Owen, who is the last new love?' to which Owen
+would gravely reply, by a recapitulation of the charms of some fair
+damsel on whom his affections would be for ever fixed, could he only
+afford to marry. All his beauties had bright eyes, bright complexions,
+mirthful smiles, and were very 'jolly,' which seemed to be the word
+including all that was necessary to make a woman charming in his eyes.
+
+'So, Netta, Howel has come into a fine fortune!' he began one morning,
+when he and his sister were alone together. 'I suppose he won't think of
+little cousin Netta now?'
+
+'Oh! indeed,' was Netta's reply with a toss of the head.
+
+'I wish he was here now. He is a fine fellow in his way. I do like
+Howel.'
+
+'I knew you would say so,' exclaimed Netta. 'You are a kind, dear
+brother. They are all turned against him, even mother, who can take in
+the scum of the earth, and make much of a wretched Irish beggar, and
+will not ask Howel here, who is a gentleman,'
+
+'Oh! oh! that's the way the wind blows. So you do not forget cousin
+Howel, Miss Netta.'
+
+'No, I assure you; and I won't forget him, that's more.'
+
+'Bravo! Netta. I admire a girl of spirit. But, perhaps now he is so rich
+he will not think of you.'
+
+'I suppose that depends upon whether I choose to think of him. They say
+he is coming down soon, and that he will be the grandest man in the
+county.'
+
+What Netta had heard rumoured came to pass in due time, Mr Howel
+Jenkins did come from London, and established himself in the best hotel
+of his native town, throwing out hints as to the probability of his
+taking a certain beautiful park in the neighbourhood. He was soon
+supplied with the best horses, dogs, and general appointments of any man
+in the county; and being really clever, handsome, and sufficiently
+gentleman like, had made his way into society that had hitherto been
+closed to him. Like Prince Hal, he eschewed most of his former
+companions and appeared to be beginning life anew, in a new world. The
+country rang with rumours of his enormous wealth, which, considerable as
+it was, report nearly doubled. Indeed he himself scarcely knew what he
+was worth, as he was continually finding memorandums of moneys out at
+high interest, of which his father had not chosen to speak to Rowland,
+but which his carefully secreted books and papers proved, as well as the
+knowledge of Mr Rice Rice, who had been his attorney.
+
+In the course of the autumn the Irish girl was quite convalescent and,
+although not strong, had recovered from the fever, and was regaining
+some degree of health. As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta
+did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should
+remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen's wardrobe was in a decent
+condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half
+lumber-room, half work-room, as shirt-maker in ordinary to the son and
+heir. He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father
+kept at a distance from the bone of contention.
+
+However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when
+Mrs Prothero was sitting stitching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better
+half made his appearance suddenly in the room.
+
+'Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,' he exclaimed?
+'I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded
+hedge.'
+
+As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who
+had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly. Mr
+Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not
+suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.
+
+'Oh, young 'ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me. You've got a
+new manty-maker, mother; where's Jane Morris, name o' goodness?'
+
+'We're only making shirts for Owen, father,' replied the wife meekly,
+dreading an outburst.
+
+Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst
+Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.
+
+'There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs
+Jonathan will be as proud as Punch. Rowland has been ordained by the
+Bishop of London himself, and "passed a very good examination," or
+whatever they call it. He has taken lodgings up in London, and preached
+his first sermon in a great church that 'ould hold three of ours. He has
+dined with the rector, and been to call on Sir Philip Payne Perry,--the
+three green peas as Owen calls him--and I wonder what even Mrs Jonathan
+'ould desire more?'
+
+Mrs Prothero read, her dear son's letter with tears in her eyes, the
+sudden sight of which caused sympathetic tears to flow from the eyes of
+the poor work-girl, much to the surprise of Mr Prothero, who chanced to
+look round to see whether his coat was finished.
+
+'Hang the 'oomen,' he muttered to himself, 'they can't read a bit of a
+letter without blubbing. How long will that take you to do?--what's your
+name?'
+
+'Gladys, if you please, sir,' said Gladys, looking up from her work. 'I
+shall have finished it directly, sir.'
+
+'Gladys? Gladys what?' asked Mr Prothero.
+
+'Gladys O'Grady, sir,' was the reply whilst the mending was coming to a
+close.
+
+'Where on earth did you pick up such names as that?'
+
+'One was my mother's, and the other my father's, sir,' said Gladys,
+rising and presenting the coat with a deep curtsey.
+
+Mrs Prothero was absorbed in her letter.
+
+'Name o' goodness where did your father get such a name? and where do
+you live?'
+
+The girl bent her head over the coat she held in her hand, and her tears
+fell upon it.
+
+'There, never mind? give me my coat. Thank you. Why, Lewis the tailor
+'ouldn't 'a mended it better. Why, girl, where did you learn tailoring?'
+
+'Mother taught me to mend everything, sir.'
+
+'There then, take you that old hat and see if you can make as good a job
+of sewing on the brim as you done of the coat. Mother, come you here, I
+want to speak to you.'
+
+Mr Prothero left the room, and Mrs Prothero followed.
+
+'Who's that girl, mother? I never saw her before,' were his first words
+in the passage, whilst pulling to the coat that he had begun to put on
+in the work-room.
+
+'Why, David, you see--it is--there now, don't be angry.'
+
+'Angry! what for? Hasn't she mended my coat capital, and isn't she as
+modest looking a young 'ooman as I ever saw?'
+
+'She is very delicate, but she works night and day. Indeed, she does
+more in a day than most girls in a week Owen wanted some shirts, you
+see--she made that cap you admired so much, and that new gown of
+Netta's; and has more than paid for--'
+
+'But who the deuce is she?'
+
+'There now, don't be angry, David. 'Tis that poor Irish girl that was so
+ill of the fever.'
+
+'I'll never believe she's Irish as long as I live--she's too pretty and
+tidy and delicate and fair. She's no more Irish than I am, mother, and
+you've been taken in.'
+
+'She is Welsh on the mother's side. But are you very angry, David?'
+
+'No, I don't mind her doing a little work in an honest way like that.
+I'm not such a fool. When she has done the work send her off, that's
+all. Poor soul! she does look as if she had been dead and buried and
+come to life again. Mother, you're a good 'ooman, and God bless you!'
+
+Mrs Prothero looked up into her husband's face with an expression of
+such love and joy as must have delighted a much harder heart than that
+spouse possessed. Don't laugh, gentle reader, at the conjugal embrace of
+that middle-aged pair, which seals the quarrel about the Irish girl; but
+believe me, there is more real sentiment in it than in most of the
+love-scenes you may have read about.
+
+Mrs Prothero took advantage of her husband's approval of Gladys's
+exterior to send her out into the garden in the evening to breathe the
+air, and afterwards into the fields. The girl's strength gradually
+returned, but with it there appeared to be no return of youth or hope. A
+settled melancholy was in her countenance and demeanour; and when Netta
+rallied her on being so sad and silent, her reply was, 'Oh, miss, there
+is no more joy or happiness for me in this world! all I love have left
+it, and I am but a lonely wanderer and an outcast!'
+
+When the shirts were finished, it was time to think of her departure,
+for she had exhausted all the sewing-work of the house. Mrs Prothero
+could not bear to turn the friendless, homeless girl adrift on the
+world. She ventured upon the subject one day at dinner.
+
+'What will become of her, David? And she so beautiful! I declare I think
+I never saw a prettier girl.'
+
+'Well, mother, who will you call pretty next?' said Owen, who had seen
+her once or twice by chance. 'Why, she has no more colour in her face
+than this tablecloth, and I don't believe she has any eyes at all; at
+least, I never saw them; but I mean to try whether she has any some day,
+by making a frightful noise when she drops me that smart curtsey in
+passing.'
+
+'I am sure we want hands badly enough in the wheat field, said Farmer
+Prothero. 'If the girl could pick up her crumbs a little by harvesting,
+you could keep her a while longer, and then send her off in search of
+her relations.'
+
+'Thank you, David. I will ask her what she can do,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Not much in that way, I am pretty sure,' said Netta. 'How should those
+wretched Irish, who live on nothing but potatoes, know any thing about
+the wheat harvest?'
+
+'Treue for you there, my girl,' said Mr Prothero, 'but I daresay mother
+will make believe that she knows something.
+
+'Mother' found the object of their conversation that very evening in the
+wheat field, sitting under a tree, at work. She had sent her out for a
+walk, and this was her exercise. Owen and Netta were with their mother,
+and as they approached, Gladys rose, curtseyed, and was going away, when
+Owen made an unnatural kind of whistle, as if to frighten away some cows
+in the distance. Gladys started, and with a terrified face glanced at
+him. He found that she had very beautiful, violet eyes, with lashes so
+long and black, that when she looked to the earth again they made a
+strange contrast to her pale face.
+
+'What sad, uncomfortable eyes,' thought Owen; 'I must have another
+glance at them by-and-by. If she had a colour she might be pretty, as
+mother says, but it makes one ill to look at her.'
+
+'Do you think,' said Mrs Prothero, addressing Gladys, 'that you could
+manage to help in the harvest; My husband says he will employ you, if
+you can.'
+
+'Oh, thank you, my lady! I would do my best, and if I could only stay
+here longer under any circumstances--I should--oh, be so thankful!'
+
+This was said with much hesitation.
+
+'Very well, then; if you will try to-morrow we shall be able to judge
+what you can do.'
+
+'She don't look strong enough to bind the sheaves,' said Owen.
+
+'I will try, sir, if you please,' said Gladys.
+
+'What is the name of the friends you are seeking?' asked Owen with a
+glance at his sister.
+
+'Jones, sir,' replied Gladys, again looking at Owen.
+
+'Perhaps there is a David in the family?' asked Owen.
+
+'I believe that my grandfather's name was David,' was the reply.
+
+'Now, if you walk through Carmarthenshire, and just ask every one you
+meet if they know David Jones, I am sure you would find him. It is
+astonishing what a powerful name David Jones is. I know a Rev. David
+Jones very well? a clergyman too--'
+
+'Oh! if you could only tell me where to find him. I would go anywhere
+for my poor mother's sake!'
+
+The girl clasped her hands and looked imploringly at Owen. He was
+silenced by the appeal of the eyes he did not believe in. Mrs Prothero
+glanced at him reproachfully, and said,--
+
+'It is such a common Welsh name that I am afraid it would be no guide to
+you, unless you would remember the place where he lived.'
+
+'I daresay it began with Llan,' broke in Owen.
+
+'I am almost sure it did,' said Gladys; 'but mother never liked to talk
+of the place,'
+
+'What do you say, mother, to writing to the Rev. David Jones, Llan.,
+etc., Carmarthenshire?'
+
+Netta laughed aloud; she could not help it; whilst Gladys again looked
+upon the ground.
+
+'Owen,' whispered Mrs Prothero, taking her son's arm and leading him
+away, 'what is a joke to you is death to her, remember that.'
+
+'There, don't be angry, mother; I will help her to do her work
+to-morrow.'
+
+'He was as good as his word, and the following day resolutely kept near
+the poor, timid girl, aiding her to bind up the full-eared corn, and
+carrying it himself for her to the mows, into which they were hastily
+forming the sheaves for fear of rain. He could not resist occasionally
+alluding to Mr David Jones, but receiving no encouragement to carry out
+the jest, and finding her as silent and shy as a frightened child, he
+gave up the subject, and with it all attempt at conversation. He
+declared afterwards that she worked like a slave, and knew all about
+harvesting as well as anybody, only she was not strong, and that she was
+the dullest Irish woman he ever saw in his life, since even the beggars
+had a bit of fun in them. Indeed he didn't believe her to be Irish, or
+credit a word of her story; but, as to beauty, he began to agree with
+his mother, for if she had only a colour she would be as pretty a girl,
+with as graceful a figure, as anybody need wish to see.
+
+The farmer declared that she had well earned her supper; and that if
+mother thought she would do, she might keep her instead of Betty, after
+Hollantide; the said Betty having signified her intention of getting
+married at the matrimonial season of the year. Mrs Prothero said she
+would think it over, but she was afraid she was not strong enough for
+hard farm service. It was evident that Gladys had taken a step into the
+kind heart of the worthy farmer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE WIDOW.
+
+
+'Whose grand groom is that, half afraid to ride through the yard?' asked
+Mr Prothero, as he and his son Owen were standing by the big wheat-mow,
+awaiting the arrival of a load of corn.
+
+'I'll go and see what he wants,' said Owen, and off he went.
+
+He returned, bearing a note for his father.
+
+'He says he is Mr Griffith Jenkins's groom, and waits for an answer.
+Howel doesn't do the thing by halves anyhow.'
+
+'Mr Griffith Jackanapes!' said the farmer, breaking the seal of the note
+hastily, and reading it.
+
+Owen watched his countenance assume an angry expression, and then heard
+him utter a very broad Welsh oath.
+
+'Tell that feller there's no answer,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'What is it about father? you had better let mother see it first.'
+
+'The impudent young ass! does he think I am to be taken in by all that
+gold and plush? He shall never have my consent, and you may tell him so,
+Owen.'
+
+'Come into the house a minute, father, and let us see the note.'
+
+They went into the house, the farmer giving an indignant grunt at the
+groom as he passed.
+
+'Mother, come here!' he roared as he entered the parlour, followed by
+Owen.
+
+The obedient wife left her kitchen and went to her husband.
+
+'Read you it out loud, Owen.'
+
+Owen read.
+
+     'SIR,--Being in a position to marry, and to marry any lady in the
+     county, I think you need not be surprised at my now aspiring to the
+     hand of your daughter, to whom I have been many years attached. I
+     beg, therefore, to say that my object in writing to you is, to ask
+     your permission to pay my addresses to her, and to make her my
+     wife. My attorney will see to any arrangements you may require as
+     regards settlements, which are matters of no importance to me,--I
+     remain, sir, your obedient servant,
+
+     'HOWEL GRIFFITH JENKINS.'
+
+'The impudent scoundrel!' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'Well, father, I don't see--' began Owen.
+
+'You don't see, sir, I daresay you don't. Wasn't he as near ruining you
+as possible! Didn't he teach you to gamble, and fleece you, and lead
+you into all kinds of mischief? Didn't I forbid him the house for it?
+Didn't he rob his own father, and make his mother miserable? Didn't he
+drink and keep company with the worst profligates of the country? Didn't
+he as good as rob me, sir, out of a ten-pound note when he was a bit of
+a boy, and when I found it out, called it a lark? Do you think a great
+fortune will all of a sudden change such a chap as that into an honest
+man? No, what's ill got is ill spent, and old Giffrey Jenkins's money
+'ill never turn to good account. He that grinds the poor, and goes
+against scripture as a usurer, 'ill never find his son do well. Howel
+shall never have my consent to marry Netta, and there's an end of it.'
+
+'But suppose they are determined,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Then I'll wash my hands of 'em for ever, and vow Netta's no girl of
+mine. Go you, Owen, and send off that fine yellar-band, sent to astonish
+me, and tell him I'll have nothing to do with his master nor him.'
+
+'But, father, you must write!'
+
+'Write! not I: but stop, I'll write. Bring the paper. Haven't you got
+any with a fine gloss, and coloured?'
+
+'Now, David, bach, if you would only consider a little. I am really
+afraid of the consequences.'
+
+'Now, mother, my mind's made up, and you won't wheedle me in this
+matter. So, here's the pen and ink,'
+
+Mr Prothero sat down and wrote the following reply to Howel's note:--
+
+     'HOWEL,--You have had my answer before now, and you may have it
+     again. When I know you're out-and-out a changed man, I may think
+     differently; but I don't know it yet, so you shall not have my
+     consent to marry Netta. One hundred pounds of steadiness and
+     honesty is worth a hundred thousand pounds of gold. I wish you
+     well, but if you was king of England you shouldn't have my girl as
+     you are now.'--Yours to command, 'DAVID PROTHERO,'
+
+'There, mother, there's my mind,' said Mr Prothero, giving the note to
+his wife.
+
+'Well, David, I believe you are right, only Netta is so determined!'
+
+'Determined, is she! Then I'll lock her up. Take that to yon
+yellar-band, Owen.'
+
+Owen took the note to the servant
+
+'Tell your master that I am coming to see him this evening,' he said,
+and soliloquised thus when the man was gone. 'Howel is a good fellow, I
+believe, only a little extravagant and gay. I must tell him not to be
+down-hearted about Netta. Why, the girl isn't worth such a bother? I
+never saw one that was yet. It would take a great deal of time and
+trouble to work me up into that kind of thing--and at least a dozen
+girls. Netta's very pretty, to be sure, but she has a will of her own,
+and so has Howel. I am sure they would soon fight. As to father, he is
+as obstinate as a mule. And Howel with such a mint of money! But I like
+father's pride, and I must say I reel proud of him for it. I would never
+give in just because a man has suddenly got a fortune.'
+
+When Owen had arrived at this conclusion, he perceived Netta coming
+towards him.
+
+'What did that servant want, Owen?' she asked when she came quite near?
+'and what were those two notes about?'
+
+'I dare say you know, Miss Netta. It is all over with you for this
+present. Howel has popped the question, and father has refused him.'
+
+If Owen had ever been really in love, he would have spoken less abruptly
+on such a delicate subject, as he found, when he saw Netta turn pale,
+then red, then burst into tears and run away from him into the house.
+
+He followed her, somewhat distressed, to the door of her bedroom. He
+knocked gently, but received no answer.
+
+'Netta, let me in, I have something to say to you,'
+
+No reply, but a passionate sobbing audible.
+
+'Netta, dear Netta, I am so sorry for you. Let me in.'
+
+He tried the door, but it was locked.
+
+'Netta, if you don't let me in I'll go and fetch mother directly. One,
+two, three, and, now, open the door, I'm going. One, two, three, and
+away!'
+
+He walked down the passage, and heard the door opened behind him.
+
+'Owen, come here, I will let you in,'
+
+'There's a good little sister.'
+
+'Don't palaver me, sir,' burst forth Netta, as soon as her door was
+closed. 'You are all unfeeling, unnatural, cruel, selfish, hard-hearted
+heathens! You don't care for me or Howel any more than as if we were
+strangers. Father don't mind what he drives me to, and mother cares more
+for that Irish beggar than for me--I know she does. I did think you
+would be our friend, and now you are as stiff and unfeeling as Rowland.
+Seure you are,'
+
+'Why, if I was a parson like Rowland, I'd marry you to-morrow.'
+
+'Then, why don't you try to bring father round. You know he thinks more
+of you than of anybody else.'
+
+'It's no use trying; nobody but mother has any influence with father,
+and she is not sure that 'tis right or good for you and Howel to marry.'
+
+'She is cruel and unkind,' sobbed Netta; 'I don't believe any one really
+loves me but Howel,'
+
+'Stick to that, Netta; 'I for one haven't a spark of affection for you.
+All father wants is to get rid of you, and that is why he is in such a
+hurry for you to make such a grand match!'
+
+'Oh! indeed! he and all the rest of you are as jealous of Howel's good
+fortune as you can be,--you know you are. And you wouldn't like to see
+me a grand lady, grander than Miss Rice or Miss Nugent even. Won't I let
+them know I'm somebody, and not to be looked down upon any more, that's
+all!'
+
+Hereupon Netta wiped her eyes, and walked up and down the room grandly,
+whilst Owen burst out laughing,
+
+'I beg you to go out of, my room, Owen!' said Netta, stamping her foot
+and getting into a passion. 'One can't expect manners or sympathy from
+seafaring porcupines like you. Go away directly. Why, John James, the
+carter, is genteeler than a great coarse sailor such as you. Go you
+away, I say.'
+
+'You ought to have said a seafaring dolphin or whale; they don't pay
+twopence a week to learn manners, like you land-lubbers. When you want
+me you may send for me.'
+
+Owen went off very much offended, leaving Netta to cogitate upon the
+cruelty of her relations.
+
+In the course of that afternoon, a very well-dressed woman, in the
+deepest of sables, was seen going down the road to the farm. She went
+round through the garden to the glass-door, disdaining the yard, knocked
+a great many times, to the great astonishment, of Shanno, and was at
+last admitted, as Mrs Griffith Jenkins. Shanno, all reverence at sight
+of the crape bonnet, crape veil, and widow's cap, ushered her into the
+parlour, feeling that a chasm now lay between her and the dame she had
+last seen in a high-crowned Welsh hat, striped flannel gown, and checked
+apron. Having duly dusted a chair with her skirts, Shanno glanced at Mrs
+Jenkins, and was about to leave the room, when Mrs Jenkins said,--
+
+'Tell you your missus that I am coming on particular business and wish
+to speak with her in private. Here, stop you, Shanno, where is Miss
+Netta? I 'ouldn't mind giving you a shilling to tell her I was wanting
+to see her before I am seeing her mother.'
+
+The shilling was offered, and received with much satisfaction and an
+intelligent grin, and in less than five minutes Netta was with Mrs
+Jenkins.
+
+'Deet to goodness, and you do look very poorly, Netta, fach!' said that
+worthy, 'Howel was telling me to see you, and to be giving you this
+note. Give you another to Shanno before I will be going away, and I will
+give it to my Howel. Annwyl! you shall be seeing my Howel, now; how he
+do look a horseback. Beauty seure! he do say you will have a horse, too.
+There, go you? tell Shanno to tell your mother that I do be glad to see
+her, let her tak' care how she do refuse you again.'
+
+Netta escaped with her note, and was soon succeeded by Mrs Prothero, who
+shook hands in a trembling, frightened way with Mrs Jenkins, who, on the
+contrary, strong in the consciousness of fortune and new apparel, was
+perfectly self-possessed. She began at once.
+
+'I am coming about my Howel and your Netta, Mrs Prothero Howel is in a
+fine temper, keeping noise enough, I can tell you; and I should like to
+be knowing why he isn't good enough for your doater, Mrs Prothero; him
+as is worth hundreds of thousands, and is as like to be coming a member,
+and to be riding in his own carriage, and to be dining with the Queen
+for that much! and seurely, he don't be good enough for Miss Prothero
+Glanyravon Farm! Ach a fi! some peoples do be setting themselves up! my
+Howel, too! So handsome, and genteel, so full of learning! Name o'
+goodness what would you have, Mrs Prothero, Glanyravon Farm?'
+
+Mrs Jenkins paused with a long emphasis on the farm.
+
+'I am very sorry, Mrs Jenkins,' began trembling Mrs Prothero rubbing one
+hand nervously over the other, 'but my husband is afraid that Howel is
+not quite steady enough for such a giddy young thing as Netta.'
+
+'Study! why, tak' your time and you'll be seeing how study and pretty he
+do behave. On my deet, and I 'ouldn't say that, if I wasn't as seure as
+I'm alive, he haven't took a drop too much, nor said a wicked word, nor
+keep no low company since his poor dear father was dying. Ah, Mrs
+Prothero! you was being very good to us when I was losing my poor
+Griffey. Who'd be thinking what a heap of money he'd be leaving, and
+Howel'll be building a good house for me? and seure, I must be dressing
+in my best, and having servants to wait on me? and, bless you, nothing
+as my son Howel's can be getting is too good for his poor old mother!'
+
+'I am very glad to hear he is so kind,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'Then what do you say about Netta, Mrs Prothero, fach?' sharply asked
+Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'To tell you the truth, I have very little power; my husband made up his
+mind and wrote the note without consulting me.'
+
+'Then maybe I could be seeing Mr Prothero?'
+
+'I am afraid it would only lead to something unpleasant between you.'
+
+'Oh, you needn't be taking the trouble to be afraid, ma'am! I am calling
+my Howel as good or better as your Netta. There was a time when you
+might been looking higher, but now I conceit it, it will be us as do
+condescend. There's Miss Rice Rice, and the Miss Jamms's, Plas Newydd,
+and Miss Lawis, Pontammon, and Miss Colonel Rees, and Miss Jones the
+'Torney, and Miss Captain Thomas, and I 'ouldn't say but Miss Gwynne,
+Glanyravon, do be all speaking, and talking, and walking, and dancing
+with my Howels! There's for you: and yet he do like his cousin Netta
+best he do say.'
+
+'If you wish to see David, Mrs Griffey, I will call him,' said timid Mrs
+Prothero, at her wits' end for anything to say or do.
+
+'Seurely I am wishing to see him,' said Mrs Jenkins majestically.
+
+David had not come in from his farm, so there was nothing for it but to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to take off her bonnet and have some tea, to which that
+lady graciously consented. When the crape shawl and black kid gloves
+were removed Mrs Prothero perceived a large mourning brooch, containing
+a gloomy picture of a tomb, set in pearls and diamonds, and surrounded
+by the age, death, etc., of the lamented deceased; and a handsome
+mourning ring, displaying a portion of iron-grey hair, also set in
+pearls and diamonds, and surrounded with an appropriate epithalamium.
+Mrs Prothero sat 'washing her hands in invisible soap,' whilst she saw
+these ensigns of grandeur in the once mean, ill-dressed Mrs Jenkins, and
+heard of all that 'her Howels' was about to effect.
+
+Owen came in, and with due gravity admired the mourning insignia, and
+examined the dates, age, etc., of the defunct Griffey. He went so far as
+to venture upon a distant allusion to the future.
+
+'I never thought those caps so becoming before, Aunt Jenkins,' he said,
+eyeing her from head to foot, and wondering that he had never previously
+been aware of what a good-looking woman his Welsh aunt was.
+
+A Welsh aunt, be it understood, is your father or mother's cousin, and
+Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero were first cousins.
+
+'Isn't Davies, Pennycoed, that you used to tell us was once a lover of
+yours, a widower?' continued Owen.
+
+'Well, Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, not displeased, 'you are always for
+jokes, but I do mean never to marry again.'
+
+'Don't make any rash vows; a young woman like you!'
+
+Here Netta having dried her eyes, joined the party, and shortly after
+Mr Prothero's voice was heard.
+
+'After tea!' whispered Mrs Prothero to Mrs Jenkins, as she went out to
+meet her husband. 'Here's Elizabeth Jenkins, David, come over to see us,
+and she is going to stay to tea. I think she wants to speak to you
+afterwards.'
+
+'Very glad to see her; but Howel sha'n't have Netta a bit the more for
+that.'
+
+Mr Prothero put on a smart coat, brushed his hair, and came into the
+parlour, as became one about to meet a grand lady.
+
+'How d'ye do, cousin 'Lizabeth? Glad to see you looking so well; welcome
+to Glanyravon.'
+
+They shook hands, and as Mrs Jenkins made rather a grand attempt at a
+curtsey, Owen looked at Netta, and showed his white teeth; but Netta was
+as grave as a judge.
+
+Mr Prothero was as much struck with the improvement in the widow's
+appearance as his son.
+
+'Why, I declare, cousin 'Lizabeth, you look ten years younger than you
+did when I saw you last. Do you mind when we two used to go nutting
+together? If 'twasn't for my good 'ooman there--'
+
+'I was just saying so, father,' interrupted Owen; 'don't you think
+Davies, Pennycoed--'
+
+'I am not having no intentions of marrying again,' simpered the widow;
+'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey.'
+
+'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all
+conscience.'
+
+The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven
+buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper
+honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.
+
+As Shanno was very busy and very dirty, Mrs Prothero, during her
+preparations in the kitchen, was at a loss to know who was to wait if
+anything was wanted. Gladys chanced to be there, and said modestly,--
+
+'If I could do, ma'am, I would soon make myself neat in Miss Prothero's
+gown; and if I might just take in the tray instead of you.'
+
+'Thank you, Gladys, I am sure you will do,' and Gladys was installed.
+
+'There is nothing that girl cannot do,' thought Mrs Prothero, as she
+arranged everything on the tea-table as neatly and properly as Mrs
+Prothero could have done herself.
+
+'What a tidy girl you have!' said Mrs Jenkins. 'Do she mean to be
+staying over Hollantide? I am wanting a servant.'
+
+All eyes were turned on Gladys as she came into the room again, but as
+hers were always fixed on what she was carrying, or on her mistress, she
+was not aware of the sudden attention she excited.
+
+'Irish beggars!' muttered Netta.
+
+'One of mother's godsends,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'What a beautiful piece of snow,' thought Owen.
+
+After tea Mr Prothero invited Mrs Jenkins to go and see his fine fat
+cattle. The pair went together, leaving an anxious trio behind them.
+
+Farmer Prothero was a man of few words when his mind was made up, and
+was not long in beginning the subject each had at heart.
+
+'I'm sorry, cousin 'Lizabeth, that I can't let Netta marry just now.
+She's too young, and Howel isn't the lad to study her.'
+
+'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his
+poor father's death.'
+
+'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted,
+then he may have Netta.'
+
+'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in
+the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero!'
+
+'Let him marry 'em all, I don't want him.'
+
+'Then you won't let Netta marry my Howels?'
+
+'If he's study in two years, and they are both in the same mind, they
+may marry, and be hanged to 'em! I never was so bothered in my life.
+But, between ourselves, I think it's just as likely your son Howel 'ould
+be study in two years as my son Owen.'
+
+'Oh, name o' goodness, we don't want Miss Netta! No 'casion to be
+waiting!'
+
+'Then don't wait, 'ooman! Who wants you to wait?'
+
+Mrs Jenkins hurried back into the house, and left Mr Prothero with his
+cattle.
+
+'I must be going now, Mrs Prothero--my son Howels too! Thousands and
+thousands of pounds. Netta, come you upstairs, my dear, whilst I am
+putting on my bonnet.'
+
+Mrs Prothero was not duenna enough to accompany them upstairs, and
+consequently Netta gave a note to Mrs Jenkins, cried a little, and
+helped her to abuse her parents.
+
+'Never you mind, Netta, fach,' were the last words, 'Howels don't be
+meaning to give you up.'
+
+'Good evening, ma'am; good evening, Mr Owen,' said Mrs Jenkins, as she
+made the attempt at a curtsey, that caused Owen to show his white teeth
+again.
+
+'Oh dear, dear! what will be the end of it?' said Mrs Prothero to Owen
+as Netta sulked upstairs. 'I wish Rowland was at home.'
+
+'Very complimentary to your eldest son!' said Owen, laughing.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE MILLIONAIRE.
+
+
+Nearly a twelvemonth passed, and an autumn morning again hovered over
+Glanyravon Farm. It would seem that all the inmates of the homestead
+were sleeping; but there was one already awake and moving furtively
+about. It was Netta, not usually such an early riser. The curtains of
+her trim little bed and window were drawn aside to admit all the light
+that a September twilight could cast upon the chamber in which she had
+slept since her childhood. A lovely bunch of monthly roses and some
+leaves of dark green ivy alone looked in upon her in the uncertain
+gloaming, as if imaging her present and future. She was dressing herself
+hastily, but with care, in her very best attire. She stood before the
+glass braiding and arranging her dark glossy hair, that luxuriant
+ornament of her bright, rosy face; then she put on the blossom white
+lace habit-shirt and striped pink and drab silk dress, her kind father's
+last gift, and the smart shawl and pink bonnet were duly arranged
+afterwards. Whatever the early visit Netta was about to make, it was
+evidently a premeditated one. When the attire was quite complete, and
+she had surveyed herself in the glass, she suddenly paused and looked
+around her. In a moment she was putting her room to rights, and pushing
+stray articles of dress into drawers, until all was quite neat; then she
+paused again, and glanced at a letter that was lying on her little
+dressing-table. Turning hastily away from this she opened the window and
+looked out. The sun had not yet arisen, though there was a streak of
+light, forerunner of his advent, on the horizon. Mountains, rivers,
+fields, and woods were all wrapped in a cold, grey mist, but still it
+was not dark. Netta tore the bunch of roses from the bough and put them
+in her bosom, then re-closed the window. She took up a large shawl that
+was lying on a chair, and a small package from underneath and
+dexterously arranged the shawl so as to fall over the parcel, as she
+held both in her hand and on her arm. Again she paused a moment and
+glanced around her. Her face was flushed, and there was moisture in her
+dark eye.
+
+Oh, pause a little longer and consider, poor Netta! But no. The sudden
+flash of sunlight into the room terrifies the thoughtless child, and she
+goes hastily into the passage. Quietly she closes her door; stealthily
+she creeps along. She makes no sound as she steals, like a thief,
+through the house where she was born some eighteen summers ago. Before
+one closed door she pauses again--listens. She can hear the breath of
+the sleepers within. She is on her knees, and represses with difficulty
+a rising sob, 'Mother! mother! forgive me! God bless you!' she whispers,
+as she once more rises and runs down the remainder of the
+passage--downstairs--through the hall--through the parlour, and out by
+the little glass door into the garden. In spite of her tears, haste,
+agitation she cannot pass that bed of carnations--her mother's
+treasure--without stopping to gather one fresh and dripping with the air
+and dews of night. Innocent flowers! they will see her mother that very
+day; but what of the stray, wandering rose of Glanyravon? Through the
+garden, and out by the little wicket into the lane; across a field
+sparkling with dewdrops; over a stile; down another lane; over another
+stile, and into another field! Here she pauses and glances round. A dark
+figure at the opposite side of the field seems to assure her that all is
+well. She runs quickly across the meadow, and within it, under shelter
+of the hedge, near a half-open gate, stands Mrs Griffith Jenkins.
+
+'Where is Howel?' asks Netta hastily.
+
+'He did write yesterday to say he 'ould bring the carriage from Swansea
+to meet us at Tynewydd, and he was sure to be there by six o'clock,'
+
+'Let us make haste then, Aunt 'Lisbeth. Why didn't he come here himself?
+I have a great mind to turn back.'
+
+'Come you, Netta, fach! we'll soon be there. See you the letter?'
+
+'Not now--not now,' cries Netta impatiently, walking along the high road
+as fast as she possibly can. Mrs Jenkins keeps up with her, but is soon
+out of breath.
+
+'There's Jack Trefortyn; he'll be sure to tell. Aunt 'Lisbeth, I will
+turn back. Father will be after me. It is too bad,' sobs Netta.
+
+'We are near by now, Netta, fach. Come you!'
+
+The little woman quickened her pace into a short run to keep up with
+Netta.
+
+'Here's the turnpike; we'll be at Tynewydd 'rectly.'
+
+'I see Tynewydd,' says Netta, straining her eyes to catch sight of some
+object far down the road; 'there is no carriage--I am sure there is
+none. Cousin Howel ought to be ashamed of himself.'
+
+Netta runs on very fast, leaving Mrs Jenkins far behind, until she
+reaches the turning to a lane that leads to a little farm called
+'Tynewydd.' She bursts out crying, and stamps her foot as she
+exclaims,--
+
+'Does he think he's going to do what he likes with me because he's rich?
+I'll tell him he shall wait for me, I will!'
+
+Hereupon she turns back and runs faster than before towards Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'Come you, Netta, fach! He'll be here by now. Read you the letter.'
+
+Netta pauses a moment to read a letter held out to her by Mrs Jenkins.
+It runs thus:--
+
+'I can't be with you to-day. Meet Netta at the appointed place, and walk
+to Tynewydd. I will be there with a carriage by six o'clock.--Yours,
+H.J.'
+
+'See you, Netta, it isn't six yet.' Mrs Jenkins pulls out a large gold
+watch, which, while Netta was running on, she has managed to put back
+half-an-hour. 'Five-and-twenty minutes to six, see you.'
+
+Netta turns again and hurries on.
+
+'There is Jones Tynewydd. If he should see me,' says Netta. 'Do make
+haste, Aunt 'Lisbeth.'
+
+They walk on for about a quarter of a mile, when carriage wheels are
+distinctly heard, and in a few moments a fly and pair is distinctly seen
+coming at great speed. The driver would have passed them, but Mrs
+Jenkins calls out,--
+
+'A gentleman for Tynewydd inside?' Upon which he pulls up. Howel is out
+of the fly, and Netta lifted in before she knows what she is about. Mrs
+Jenkins is put in almost as quickly, and the fly turned and off again in
+less time than it takes to write it.
+
+'Howel, how could you? I was going back, and I wish I had,' sobs Netta.
+
+Howel kisses her and tells her to be a good little cousin, and she shall
+see London in no time. She clings close to him, and hides her face on
+his shoulder and sobs on. He draws her to him, and lets her grief have
+way. Few words are spoken for a time, but at last Netta dries her tears
+and says,--
+
+'I was so frightened, cousin, and I didn't think it would be so hard to
+leave mother without saying good-bye. Mother was always kind.'
+
+'Hide you, Howel! hide you, Netta! there's Mr Jonathan Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jenkins, shrinking back into the corner of the fly.
+
+Howel peeps out and sees Netta's worthy uncle, bag on back, setting
+forth on some archaeological search.
+
+Howel and Netta lean back in the fly whilst he passes, little thinking
+whom the vehicle contains.
+
+'Uncle and aunt will be glad at least,' says Netta. 'Aunt says you are
+very clever and handsome, Howel, and wonders why father won't let us--'
+
+'Marry, Netta--say the word. I suppose Aunt Jonathan found out my
+talents and beauty after I acquired my fortune.'
+
+After driving about ten miles they stop to change horses, and in the
+course of three or four hours arrive at the Swansea railway station,
+newly erected within the last few months. The scene is equally new to
+Netta and Mrs Jenkins, and whilst Howel goes to take their tickets they
+stand wondering and admiring. Neither of them has ever travelled by
+rail, and both are equally nervous at the prospect. They are just in
+time for the express, and soon find themselves seated in a first-class
+carriage. As it is a carriage of two compartments, Howel fastens the
+door between the two, draws down the blind, puts some coats on the
+fourth seat, and says they will now have it to themselves all the way to
+London.
+
+Netta seizes his hand and screams when the steam whistle sounds, and his
+mother falls down upon him from the opposite seat He laughs aloud, and
+seems in such buoyant spirits that the women laugh too; and very soon
+Netta has quite forgotten her home, as with her hand clasped in Howel's
+he unfolds to her his future plans and arranges hers.
+
+'Deet, and this is like a sofa in a drawing-room. I shall be asleep if I
+don't take care,' says Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'The best thing you can do, mother. I will awake you when we get to
+Reading, where the biscuits are made you used to sell, faugh! and be
+sure to show you Windsor Castle.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins obeys her son's wish, and is soon sleeping soundly.
+
+Howel then gives Netta the following intelligence, which, as it
+interests her, we will hope may be interesting to her friends.
+
+'The old gown you gave my mother, Netta, I sent to a celebrated house in
+town, and calling there the next day ordered a proper _trousseau_ to be
+made for you.'
+
+'What's a _trousseau_, Howel?'
+
+'You little dunce. Why, what we call a _stafell_ without the household
+furniture. So you will find a wedding dress and all kinds of dresses and
+garments without number awaiting you, for I gave the milliner _carte
+blanche_.'
+
+'What's _carte blanche_, cousin? You are become so grand.'
+
+'Never mind--white paper with two meanings. And here is a present to
+begin with.'
+
+Howel takes a leather case from his pocket and puts it into Netta's
+hand. She opens it, and sees a beautiful little gold watch and chain.
+
+'Oh, you dear, kind cousin, Howel!' she cries; her eyes sparkling with
+delight. 'I have longed for one all my life.'
+
+'Will you go back again, Netta dear?' asks Howel archly.
+
+The watch and chain are duly put on, and then Howel continues,--
+
+'To-morrow you will have a hard day's work. You must purchase a great
+many things that will be necessary for travelling that I could not buy.
+The rest we can get in Paris. I have invited my friends, Sir John and
+Lady Simpson, and their son and daughter, to the wedding, which I have
+fixed for the day after to-morrow. One of the reasons for my not being
+able to come to you yesterday was that I must be a fortnight in the
+parish where we are to be married before we are married. I just ran down
+by the night train, took the fly, and met you; and shall make up my lost
+night by sleeping in town, for certainly I slept nowhere yesterday.
+Can't sleep in a train like mother; always feel too excited.'
+
+'I don't like those grand people,' interrupted Netta, pouting.
+
+'You will know them directly. But don't let out anything about the farm,
+or father and mother; papa and mamma now, little coz. Miss Simpson
+guesses it is an elopement, I think, but I haven't told her so. They are
+very great friends of mine; very grand people.'
+
+'Quite like Lady Nugent, I suppose,' suggests Netta.
+
+'Quite--grander indeed. Well, I have ordered the wedding-breakfast,
+carriages, everything. Never had such fun in my life. It was quite an
+excitement. You don't know half my talents yet.'
+
+'Suppose brother Rowland were to hear of it?' says Netta, frightened at
+the idea.
+
+Howel laughs aloud, and awakes his mother.
+
+'He is east, we are west, my dear cousin. He is amongst the plebeians,
+we the patricians; he is _canaille_, we are _noblesse_.'
+
+'What are they, Howel?'
+
+''Tis a pleasure to be hearing you talk, Howel,' says Mrs Jenkins,
+yawning and rubbing her eyes.
+
+'I was saying, mother, that we are to have a grand wedding, and you must
+take care not to let anything come out about the shop, faugh! or,
+indeed, not talk much to the friends I have asked--Lady Simpson, for
+instance,'
+
+'Oh, yes? you was telling me of her. Wasn't it when you was dining with
+Prince Albert wanst, and was wanting that money of my Griffey?'
+
+'Do hold your tongue, mother,' shouts Howel, shuddering; he always
+shivers when he hears his father's name.
+
+He sees a head trying to peep through the curtain, and thinks it best to
+hold his tongue for a time, then continues,--
+
+'I mean, mother, don't mention my dining with the prince, or any of
+these old stories, to the Simpsons. You must both be very careful of
+what you say. I shall show you as much as I can of London to-morrow,
+mother, as you will be obliged to return the day after.'
+
+'Deet now, I did be thinking I should stay a week in London, now I am
+going there for the first time in my life? I'll be staying after you,
+Howel, bach. I've plenty of money now.'
+
+'You shall come up again to meet us when we return; but you must be at
+home to see to the house, and let us know what is said of our doings.
+You see we shall go direct to Paris, stay some time abroad, and then
+come and settle at home. Won't we astonish the county! Mr and Mrs Howel
+Jenkins will be no longer the Howel and Netta of old days; we shall be
+the upon, not the fawners!'
+
+'I'd scorn to fawn on any one, Howel,' says Netta indignantly; 'I never
+did in my life. I always gave Miss Rice Rice as big a stare as she gave
+me.'
+
+'You will be able to give her a bigger now,' laughs Howel. As they
+journeyed on, Howel pointed out all the different objects that were
+likely to interest his mother and Netta. Every one, or nearly every one,
+knows what an exciting event is a first journey to London, it matters
+not whether performed at eighteen or sixty-five. And if the first
+journey to London be also the first journey by rail, the wonder and
+excitement are doubled.
+
+When Howel had finished all his instructions concerning the future, he
+thoroughly entered into the present, and enchanted his companions by his
+general knowledge of the passing scenes, and the amusing stories he had
+to tell. Netta was more in love with him than ever before they reached
+town, and wondered that such a grand and clever gentleman could have
+kept constant to a little country cousin like herself. She had seen
+nothing of Howel during the most stirring years of his life, and could
+not have supposed what a change the mere commerce with the world could
+effect. She considered him far more agreeable than her brother Rowland,
+handsomer and more polished than Sir Hugh Pryse, and much more
+fashionable than Mr Rice Rice.
+
+At Swindon he treated them liberally, and loaded Netta with sweets to
+take with her to the carriage after she had swallowed her cold chicken
+and wine. As to his mother, knowing her peculiar tastes, he gave her a
+glass of brandy and water, upon plea of illness, which she took with
+evident pleasure; but fearing to attract the attention of the smart
+people around her, sipped so daintly, that it was not half finished when
+the signal to return to the carriages sounded, and Howel hurried her
+off.
+
+'Just let me put this piece of chicken and ham into my bag, Howel, and
+finish this drop,' she whispered.
+
+'Quick, mother, not a minute,' was all the answer she received,
+accompanied by a pull of the sleeve so imperative, that she was obliged
+to leave her half filled glass behind her.
+
+At the Oxford Station, Netta began to wonder what Rowland would think of
+her conduct.
+
+'Think!' said Howel, with a scowling brow, 'the prig! what right has he
+to think? He will know that three or four thousand a-year are somewhat
+better than a London curacy--ha! ha! and wish himself in my place, I
+fancy,'
+
+As they neared London, Netta was haunted by visions of her brother, the
+only person she really feared.
+
+'Suppose he should meet them! should find her out! Suppose the clergyman
+who married them should guess, from her name, she was his sister, and go
+and tell him?'
+
+Howel laughed heartily at this, told her to look out of the window at
+London as they entered it, and see whether she thought one parson would
+be likely to be met by chance by another.
+
+'This London!' exclaims Netta, 'I see nothing but the roofs of a lot of
+ugly black houses!'
+
+'Carmarthen is as fine, and Swansea finer!' says Mrs Jenkins, her face
+expressive of great disappointment.
+
+'Draw down your veils, and stand there whilst I get a cab,' says Howel,
+after they have descended upon the platform.
+
+Netta trembles all over, and fancies every tall man in black must be
+Rowland.
+
+'Name o' goodness what are all the people about?' says Mrs Jenkins. 'My
+deet, there do be a lot of carriages! And look you, Netta, at all the
+gentlemen's servants in blue and silver! Here's a place! big enough to
+hold our town. Look you at the glass--like a large hot-house. Seure all
+London isn't covered up like this!'
+
+'Here you are! all right--come along quick!' says Howel, taking them to
+a cab, and putting them in.
+
+'Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,' and off they go, as fast as the poor
+cab-horse can take them.
+
+'Now, what do you think of it, Netta?' asks Howel, as they drive through
+the magnificent streets and squares of the West End of London, where
+every house looks a palace.
+
+Netta was so bewildered that she could not answer; but Mrs Jenkins
+talked for both.
+
+'Look you! well to be seure! that's grander than I ever see. There's a
+church! Trees too! Who'd be thinking of trees in London? Well, name o'
+goodness, where are all they people going? That church 'ont hold 'em
+all! There's beauty! Is that St Paul's, Howel, bach! or the Monument? My
+Griffey was talking of them! There's houses! Seure that's Prince
+Albert's coach! There again! Where was all those carriages going? Ach a
+fi! that man was just driving into our horse. Howel, name o' goodness
+tell the coachman to tak' care. He'll be upsetting us. Yes, indeet,
+Netta, there's shops! One after another. Did you be buying Netta's
+wedding clothes there, Howel! Is that a play-house? No! not a
+gentleman's house? I 'ould like to see a play for wanst, if nobody 'ould
+tell our minister.'
+
+'If you are not too tired, I'll take you to-night, mother,' here broke
+in Howel. 'We may go, perhaps, after you have had some tea. What do you
+say, Netta?'
+
+'Anywhere you like, Howel,' said Netta, 'I am no more ready than if I
+was just starting.'
+
+'Pic what, Howel, was you calling this?' asked Jenkins.
+
+'Piccadilly, mother. One of the best parts of London.'
+
+'Deet, and I should think so. 'Tis like a 'lumination lights. There's no
+night here. Daylight all the year round. Trees again, like Glanyravon
+Park, and lights along by. There pretty--what a many carriages! Was they
+all going to the play? Soldiers, too, I am thinking! And more o' them
+gentlemen's servants in blue and white. Do all the servants in London be
+wearing the same livery, Howel?'
+
+'Those are the police, mother,' said Howel, laughing.
+
+'The pleece! Well, I do be calling them handsome men. When will the
+noise stop, Howel? I can't hear myself speak, much less you and Netta.
+'Tis more noise than Hollantide fair! But maybe 'tis fairday here
+to-day, only I wasn't seeing no cattle. There for you! that man 'll
+upset us, seure he will.'
+
+'Here we are, mother,' interrupted Howel, as the cab stopped in Half
+Moon Street. 'Now, you must remember that the landlady is not to be in
+all our secrets.'
+
+'Seure, and this isn't half as grand as Pic--what's that long name,
+Howel?'
+
+'Will you walk upstairs, ma'am,' said a well-dressed woman who stood in
+the passage of the house at which they stopped.
+
+'Thank you, ma'am,' said Mrs Jenkins, making her very best curtsey to
+the landlady.
+
+'Is tea ready, Mrs Thompson?' asked Howel, hastening into the passage.
+
+'Yes, sir!' replied Mrs Thompson, trying to catch a glimpse of Netta's
+face.
+
+'This way, mother,' said Howel, striding upstairs. 'You can send the
+traps into the bedrooms, Mrs Thompson. William, take them up.'
+
+This to a smart tiger, emblazoned in green and gold, belonging to
+Howel's private menagerie.
+
+'What a lovely room! what a beautiful fire!' cried Netta, as she
+followed Howel into a handsome first-floor drawing-room.
+
+'Treue for you there!' said Mrs Jenkins, surveying herself in the glass.
+
+Tea was ready, and a substantial repast besides, of which they all soon
+began to partake, and to which they did justice.
+
+'I do wish I had that drop of brandy I left in those grand rooms, I am
+feeling a pain,' began Mrs Jenkins.
+
+Howel drew a flask from his pocket, and poured a little brandy into his
+mother's tea.
+
+'This must be the first and last time mother,' he said, as he did so.
+
+When they had finished tea, Howel told them that their room was within
+the folding-doors, and that Netta would find a dress there for the play,
+and must make haste, if she meant to go. His mother, being in her very
+best black, wanted nothing but the widow's cap to complete her attire as
+chaperon. Howel lighted his cigar, and finished the brandy in the flask
+whilst the women were dressing. They soon returned, Netta looking really
+beautiful, in a new and fashionable white dress, elaborately trimmed
+with ribbons and lace.
+
+Howel went up to her and kissed her with infinite satisfaction.
+
+'Won't we create a sensation at the Olympic,' he said. 'There will not
+be such bright eyes and lilies and roses to be seen there as yours,
+cousin Netta!'
+
+'Mother don't approve of plays, Howel!'
+
+'You must think of me, not mother now,' said Howel, ringing the bell and
+ordering a cab, which as soon as it arrived received our trio, and was
+driven to the Olympic, where they arrived in due time, and where we will
+leave them for the present.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE MILLIONAIRE'S WIFE.
+
+
+'Don't you be taking on so, Netta, fach! if you do be crying this way,
+your eyes 'll be as red as carrots, and Howel 'ont like it.'
+
+'Oh! Aunt 'Lisbeth, I can't help thinking of mother, and how she is
+vexing about me.'
+
+'Look you at yourself in the glass, Netta, fach! and you 'ont be vexing
+any more. I never was seeing such a glass as that before. Look you! you
+can see yourself from the beauty-flowers in the white bonnet--dear!
+there is a bonnet! and you was looking so well in it--down to them
+lovely white shoes on your foots, I never was thinking before you had
+such little foots.'
+
+This conversation takes place whilst Mrs Jenkins is engaged in dressing
+Netta for her wedding, and in endeavouring at the same time to soothe
+various ebullitions of grief that burst out ever and anon, between the
+different acts of the attiring. The girl cannot quite forget the friends
+she left behind her, when she so suddenly ran away from home. The appeal
+to her personal appearance is not, however, in vain. She looks in the
+cheval-glass which draws forth Mrs Jenkins' admiration, and thinks she
+has seldom seen anything so pretty as the reflection of her own person
+in her bridal dress. She hastily dries her eyes, and turns round and
+round several times to assure herself that all is right.
+
+'Ah! Howel is knowing everything!' says Mrs Jenkins. 'Silks and laces,
+and flowers, and worked-handkerchiefs, and all as white as a lily! And
+your cheeks a deal redder than any I do see here along! My deet! but you
+do be looking genteel.'
+
+'Do I look as if I had been crying, aunt?' asks Netta, wetting her eyes
+with lavender water. 'I'm afraid of Howel and those grand people. I wish
+he hadn't asked them.'
+
+'Oh, for sham! Netta. There they are, I shouldn't wonder! Yes indeet!
+says Mrs Jenkins, 'I hear them talking on the stairs.'
+
+A knock at the bedroom door is followed by the entrance of two ladies,
+apparently mother and daughter; the former a portly and roseate dame,
+clad in the richest of brocades and white lace shawls--the latter a thin
+and somewhat yellow damsel, a tired in white and pink bonnet and mantle
+to match, evidently in bridesmaid's gear.
+
+'Ah I how charming! how beautiful! what a country-flower in London
+leaves!' exclaim the ladies, rushing up to Netta and kissing her. 'Good
+morning, Mrs Jenkins, your son has chosen a bewitching young person
+indeed!'
+
+'Treue for your ladyship,' says Mrs Jenkins, making her very best
+curtsey, as the ladies alternately shake hands with her.
+
+'Your ladyship' is no less a person than Lady Simpson, the wife of Sir
+John Simpson, a gentleman who acquired that title on an occasion when
+William the Fourth, of blessed memory, was feted in the city. Sir John,
+having made a considerable fortune in trade, and being blessed with a
+helpmate of an aspiring mind, has removed from his old neighbourhood to
+that of Hyde Park, where he is spending the money he earned on the
+general advancement of his family. This family consists of a son and
+daughter, who have been highly educated according to the general
+acceptation of the term. With the son Howel is very intimate, and
+through him he has long been known to the rest of the family; but it is
+only since his vast accession of wealth that he has had the
+distinguished honour of claiming Sir John and Lady Simpson as his
+particular friends. To them he confided his intended marriage with a
+beautiful cousin, who, for family reasons, was coming to London, he
+said, under his mother's protection, to be united to him. They had
+called on Mrs Jenkins and Netta the previous day, and were invited to
+the wedding in the various capacities of father, bridesman, and
+bridesmaid. Previously to their making his mother's acquaintance, Howel
+informed them that being Welsh, she naturally spoke the language of her
+country, and was so patriotic that she disliked any other; and said that
+they must not be surprised at her peculiar English, which was simply a
+translation of the Welsh idioms into what, to her, was a foreign tongue.
+He also gave his mother an hour's lecture upon her dress and deportment;
+and Netta a few hints as to her general behaviour, which, whilst it
+enchanted the elder, frightened the younger lady. Thus 'forewarned,' if
+not 'fore-armed' the forces of Simpson and Jenkins were thrown together.
+
+Lady Simpson is an average specimen of a vulgar woman aping gentility;
+her daughter of a would-be fine lady.
+
+After they have sufficiently admired Netta's dress, and put the
+finishing touches to it, Miss Simpson informs Netta of her duty as bride
+elect.
+
+'Of course, my dear, papa will take you to the hymeneal altar, and our
+friend Captain Dancy will take me.'
+
+'Oh! I hope there is no other stranger,' gasps Netta.
+
+'Only a particular friend of my brother's and of Mr Jenkins'. Do not be
+alarmed, you shy little dove.'
+
+'Netta, fach!' whispers Mrs Jenkins, 'the ladies was knowing what is
+right'
+
+'Then my brother must take up Mrs Jenkins, and Mr Jenkins, mamma. I
+declare we shall be a charming party; and remember to take off your
+glove, dear, and give it to me.'
+
+'We had better go downstairs now,' said Lady Simpson. 'Bridegrooms are
+very impatient at these times.'
+
+Lady Simpson took the blushing, frightened Netta by the hand, and led
+her into the drawing-room. Truly the poor child did look like a lovely
+country rose, as Miss Simpson had not inaptly called her. Howel led her,
+proud of her beauty, to the portly Sir John, who patted her kindly on
+the cheeks, and reminded Netta so strongly of her father that the tears
+sprung into her eyes. Howel's frown soon checked them, and a thundering
+knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Mr Simpson, junior, and
+his friend, Captain Dancy, turned her attention from the father to the
+son. The look of decided admiration that the new comers cast upon her,
+quite revived her drooping spirits, and she smiled, curtseyed, and
+blushed as becomingly and naively as Howel could have wished.
+
+Mr Horatio Simpson was a young man very much adorned with chains, rings,
+studs, and black curls. He had, moreover, a very fine waistcoat, and was
+altogether well fitted by his tailor. His face was not unlike that of an
+otter. He used grand words when he spoke, but did not tire his
+companions by quite as voluble a tongue as did his mother. He was one of
+those fine gentlemen who would, or could neither plod nor dash at his
+studies, and who was quite willing to take all his knowledge second hand
+from any one who would kindly impart it.
+
+Captain Dancy was so entirely his devoted friend, that he gladly gave
+him the advantage of his superior parts, in return for various favours
+which Miss Simpson also aided in conferring.
+
+Captain Dancy is a tall, fashionable-looking man, with what Miss Simpson
+and her mamma consider a splendid figure. 'And such a lovely moustache!'
+Miss Simpson usually adds with a sigh. The moustache and hair are,
+however, inclined to red, and the face within them is not unlike that of
+a fox. Perhaps some of his friends might be surprised if they found him
+in the present company; but he would do anything to oblige Simpson and
+Jenkins, who are, in turn, always at his service, in more ways than one.
+
+After a little preliminary conversation, Mr Simpson offers Netta his
+arm; and followed by the rest of the bridal party, leads the way
+downstairs. A smart little liveried page is at the door, and two fine
+carriages are in the street, each with its horses and coachman
+ornamented with bridal favours.
+
+'We cannot make all our arrangements' as I could wish, whispers Howel
+to Miss Simpson, 'owing to circumstances; or I should have met you at
+the church from another house.'
+
+Netta, Mr Simpson, and the two ladies are in the first carriage, which
+soon arrives at St James's Church, followed by the other. How the
+bouquet in Netta's hand trembles, as she takes Mr Simpson's arm, and
+walks with him up the steps, and finally through the centre aisle to the
+altar! She has never been in a London church before, and the varied
+colours of that magnificent painted window strike her with wonder even
+now.
+
+Netta turns very pale as she stands by the altar, and waits until Howel
+comes up. Sir John whispers some kindly words, which so forcibly remind
+her of her father, that she can scarcely repress her tears. She glances
+at Howel, as he stands opposite, gazing at her, and sees that his
+handsome face is calm and determined. He smiles as she looks at him,
+which reassures her. A prettier bride could never stand before an altar;
+Howel feels this and is satisfied. And Netta has loved her cousin all
+her life, and thinks him perfect. She can truly say that she leaves
+father, mother, all for him.
+
+And these are the feelings with which they receive the first words of
+the earnest-spoken grey-haired priest, who tells them that they are
+assembled in the sight of God, to be joined indissolubly together.
+
+Netta once read through the marriage service years ago. She had
+forgotten it, and would have read it again, but she did not take away
+either her Bible or prayer book when she fled from her home, and did not
+like to ask Howel to buy her one. Now, as the clergyman continues his
+exhortation, the words sound to her as some solemn and wonderful address
+spoken for her alone. She listens in spite of a multitude of feelings
+that are struggling within her, and is struck with fear when she is
+adjured to confess, if there is any impediment to her being lawfully
+wedded. She knows that her father's anger and her mother's sorrow are
+broad impediments in her road to happiness.
+
+Her hand trembles, as he who holds the office that offended father ought
+to hold, takes it and places it in that of the clergyman It trembles
+still more as she hears the question put to her concerning her future
+conduct to him, so soon to be her husband, and to think she must audibly
+respond. Howel has already answered firmly and boldly, and she strives
+to say the final, 'I will,' firmly too, but her voice falters; she is
+too much absorbed in her own emotions to notice how carelessly and
+thoughtlessly Howel repeats his solemn promise to her after the
+clergyman, but she feels him press her hand and is reassured.
+Tremblingly, but in all earnestness of purpose, she makes her vow to
+'love, cherish, and obey' him whom she has resolutely chosen for her
+husband; and, as if touched by her manner, and by the searching glance
+of the clergyman, Howel becomes more serious as he places the ring on
+her finger and repeats the last words in those great and awful names,
+which it is sin to utter but with humility and prayer.
+
+Truly, as they kneel before the altar to receive the final blessing of
+the clergyman, they are a sight for much joy or much grief. Who shall
+say what the end will be? Two human beings joined in one to all
+eternity!
+
+As that prayer and blessing are being spoken, a bright flash of
+lightning darts through the church, followed by a heavy peal of thunder;
+suddenly a great gloom fills the sacred edifice, and a storm of hail and
+rain dashes against the windows.
+
+Poor Netta is superstitious and as easily frightened as a child; she
+starts and gives an involuntary little cry as the lightning flashes
+before her eyes, and the thunder seems to shake her as she kneels. She
+turns paler and paler as the storm continues, and can scarcely hear the
+concluding psalms, prayers, and exhortation, for her fear of the
+lightning which fitfully and at intervals slants through the painted
+windows.
+
+Stronger nerves than Netta's have been shaken by a thunderstorm on a
+wedding-day. Even Howel involuntarily quails at this evil omen, and Mrs
+Jenkins clasps her hands and mutters a Welsh proverb. She and Netta had
+been congratulating each other on the sunshine of the morning, and such
+a storm was bad indeed.
+
+However, the service proceeds, and then he who addresses the
+newly-married pair in God's name, makes himself heard in spite of the
+pattering hail. He seems the more impressive as he cannot but remark
+Howel's frowning brow and Netta's agitation.
+
+It is a relief to all the wedding-party when the last words are spoken
+and Howel leads his bride into the vestry. By this time tears are
+running fast down her pale cheeks, and Howel's efforts at encouragement,
+and the warm kiss he gives her, fail to dry them; Sir John Simpson's
+fatherly embrace rather serves to increase than diminish the emotion,
+and poor Netta is conscious that Howel must be very displeased.
+
+She mutters something about her great fear of lightning and thunder;
+signs her name even more stragglingly than usual, and is at last led by
+Howel through the church to the carriage.
+
+'I don't wonder she is frightened and nervous,' says Miss Simpson? 'I am
+sure I should have fainted if such a storm had come on at my marriage.
+It is--'
+
+'Nonsense!' exclaims Howel, somewhat rudely, as they drive quickly
+through Jermyn Street, up St James's Street, down Piccadilly, and into
+Half Moon Street, without much farther conversation, whilst the storm
+rolls on. Netta hurries upstairs and gives way to a burst of sobs and
+tears; Howel follows, and knowing the best way to console her, takes her
+in his arms, and having told her that she is his own little wife now,
+begs her to remember all the grand things they are going to do.
+
+'You are a great lady now, Netta. We must astonish the little people
+down in Wales. Think of Paris, and that Lady Nugent and Miss Rice Rice,
+and all your old rivals will hear of your being there, and soon see you
+return smarter and richer than any one,'
+
+'But the storm, cousin Howel! All those solemn words! I am frightened to
+death!'
+
+'Silly little Netta! what has the storm to do with you and me? All our
+prosperity and happiness are beginning.'
+
+'But they say, "Blessed is the bride the sun shines on," and that
+thunder and lightning are such a bad omen.'
+
+'Don't be'--a fool, Howel was going to say, but he modified it into
+'Don't be such a silly little puss, but dry your eyes, and come and make
+yourself agreeable to our first visitors. _Ours,_ Netta dear.'
+
+Netta did as she was bid, and in a short time was at the head of the
+table, on which a wedding-breakfast had been duly placed, according to
+the general rules laid down for such occasions. Howel had given _carte
+blanche_ to a fashionable confectioner, and everything was as it should
+be for the quiet and private marriage of a man of large fortune. The
+cake was splendidly ornamented, the champagne iced, and the other viands
+and wines in keeping with them; the hired waiters vied with Sir John's
+servants in propriety of demeanour, and Howel's page was as pompous as
+pages generally are.
+
+All Netta's pride and ambition returned when she saw herself mistress at
+a table more luxuriously spread than that of Mr Gwynne, and she soon
+began to enjoy her new dignity very much.
+
+'I am to have a French maid when I get to Paris,' she said to Miss
+Simpson. 'Howel does not like to take one with us, and we shall form our
+establishment when we return.'
+
+Howel laughed in his sleeve when he heard this: he managed to hear every
+word that Netta uttered, and gave her an approving glance; he also saw
+that his friends, Captain Dancy and Mr Horatio Simpson, greatly admired
+his beautiful young wife, and little cousin Netta rose in his,
+estimation.
+
+'We shall soon meet in Paris, I hope,' said Captain Dancy. 'Simpson and
+I are going to run over next week. I should like to assist in showing
+you some of the lions, Mrs Howel Jenkins,'
+
+'Lions! name o' goodness don't tak' her to see them!' exclaims Mrs
+Jenkins, now put off her guard by fear.
+
+'Ah! you have not that Welsh figure; it means--' began Miss Simpson, but
+she was interrupted by Mr Simpson proposing the health of the bride and
+bridegroom.
+
+The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too
+often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating
+beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on
+the subject of 'my son Howels,' when that gentleman gave her a look that
+silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at
+Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.
+
+The ladies went to their retiring-room, whilst the gentlemen drank more
+champagne, and arranged various Parisian amusements.
+
+It was understood that, as Howel had no friends to leave behind him for
+the final settlement of lodgings and the like, his guests were to depart
+before he and his bride left. They accordingly took their leave as soon
+as Netta reappeared in fashionable travelling costume. No sooner were
+they fairly gone than Howel set to work to pay and arrange; this done,
+he called Netta to look at their wedding cards. There were a great
+number directed to different friends, some to acquaintances in their old
+neighbourhood, and one to David Prothero, Esq., Glanyravon.
+
+Netta quailed but said nothing.
+
+'Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the _Welshman,_ and every
+one will see it:--"On the 16th instant, at St James's Church,
+Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to
+Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon. Sir John
+Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was
+attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends."'
+
+'Father will see that,' said Netta; 'he will be in such a passion.'
+
+'Serve him right,' replied Howel, and called the page and sent the
+letters to the post.
+
+The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in. Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of
+champagne, together with a few other confections' in a stray hamper.
+
+'Make haste, mother,' cried Howel.
+
+'Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute. We must be wishing you joy at home;
+and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand
+cake.'
+
+At last Mrs Jenkins and her hamper were ready, and the trio started for
+the Paddington Station.
+
+When they arrived there Howel took a second-class ticket for his mother
+as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-class from that place
+home. She was to sleep with some friends at Swansea.
+
+'We mustn't waste money, mother.'
+
+'Treue for you, Howel.'
+
+'Tell everybody at home of the grand wedding.'
+
+'Don't be afraid of that.'
+
+When Howel had seen his mother off, he and Netta drove to their station,
+and, per first-class carriage, with page in second, steamed off to
+Folkestone, which was to be the first stage of their life-journey.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE SERVANT.
+
+
+We must now leave Netta and her husband for a time, and return to the
+morning when Netta left her home to go forth in search of a new one.
+
+The breakfast-table was spread at the farm, and all were assembled
+except Netta.
+
+'Owen, go and call Netta,' said Mr Prothero, seating himself before some
+smoking rashers of bacon; 'she's always late, I'll say that for her.'
+
+Owen did his father's bidding, but returned exclaiming,--
+
+'She is up and out of her room. There must be something wonderful to
+make her go out before breakfast.'
+
+'Such a lovely morning,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I daresay she is in the
+garden.'
+
+'Well, let her find her way in,' said the farmer; 'she knows the hour,
+and we'll fall to. Say grace, mother, if you please.'
+
+Mrs Prothero said grace, and the trio sat down to breakfast.
+
+'I expect brother Jo and Mrs Jonathan to-day,' said Mr Prothero; 'they
+are going to a clerical meeting, and are coming here on their way back.'
+
+'Dear me!' said Mrs Prothero. 'What can we have for dinner?'
+
+'Eggs and bacon. What better?' said the farmer. 'But you needn't be
+afraid, they 'ont come till tea. Owen, I wish you'd just look out and
+see after that idle slut Netta.'
+
+Off started Owen with a piece of bread and butter in his hand.
+
+'Mother, why don't you make that girl more regular?' asked Mr Prothero.
+
+'Oh, David! you know she doesn't mind me.'
+
+'Then you should make her.'
+
+Mrs Prothero could have said, 'You should have helped me to make her all
+her life,' but she refrained.
+
+'Can't find her,' cried Owen, returning.
+
+'Perhaps she is ill upstairs,' suggested Mrs Prothero, rising, and
+running up to her room.
+
+The room was empty, as we know, and Mrs Prothero was about to leave it
+again, when she went to the open window to see if she could espy Netta
+from it. She passed the dressing-table as she did so, and perceiving a
+letter, glanced at the direction. She was surprised to find it addressed
+to herself, and on a nearer examination saw that it was in Netta's
+handwriting. It was with a trembling hand and foreboding heart that she
+took it up and broke the seal After she had done this, she was some time
+before she could summon courage to open it. When she did so, her brain
+swam as she read the following words, written with trembling fingers:--
+
+     'DEAR MOTHER,--I am going to marry cousin Howel. Father won't
+     consent, so we are going to London to be married. I hope you will
+     forgive me for not telling you, but I knew it was no good, as
+     father is so much against it. I am sure I shall be very happy, only
+     I should like to have been married properly at home; but it is not
+     my fault that father would not hear of it, and that Howel would not
+     wait. We are going to France and a great many other countries, and
+     it grieves me to think how long it will be before I shall see you
+     again. I hope you and father will forgive me? as Howel is a
+     gentleman with plenty of money, and we have loved one another all
+     our lives. I don't see why we were not allowed to marry like
+     anybody else, instead of being obliged to go so far away; I am sure
+     it would have been better if father had let us. Dear mother, you
+     were always very good to me, and I am sorry if I ever offended you;
+     but father called me bad names, and was very cross; he will be
+     vexed, perhaps, when he sees how grand and happy I am.
+
+     'Good-bye for a little time, my dear mother. Don't be very angry
+     with your dutiful, affectionate daughter, JANETTA.'
+
+The word 'dutiful' was scratched through and affectionate added.
+
+When Mrs Prothero had read this letter, she turned very pale, and stood
+like one in a dream; she could not realise the contents. That Netta was
+wilful and obstinate she knew, but she had never known her guilty of
+resolute disobedience; she felt very faint, and sat down on a chair
+opposite the open door--she tried to rise to go downstairs to her
+husband, but found that her head was too giddy, and she could not move;
+she put her hand before her eyes, and became unconscious.
+
+At this moment Gladys passed down the passage, and seeing Mrs Prothero
+in this strange attitude, went into the room and asked if anything was
+the matter. Receiving no answer, she put her hand tenderly on Mrs
+Prothero's, and removing it from before her face, saw that she was pale,
+and appeared to have fainted. She ran hastily downstairs, and finding
+Owen alone, told him that his mother was ill. He followed her upstairs,
+and soon perceived that Mrs Prothero was really in a kind of swoon.
+Whilst he supported her, Gladys brought water and such restoratives as
+she could procure; she begged him to go for his father, and whilst he
+was gone, succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero. At the sight of the open
+letter, however, she sank again into a fainting fit.
+
+Mr Prothero and Owen appeared.
+
+'Mother, what is the matter? Name o' goodness what is the matter?' said
+Mr Prothero in great alarm.
+
+Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his
+father took his wife into his arms.
+
+Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero
+to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a
+letter.
+
+'How can you read now, you unnatural son?' he said sternly.
+
+'Oh, father! father, Netta!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Never mind her; think of your mother, ten thousand times as precious.'
+
+At last Gladys succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero to consciousness and
+when she found herself in her husband's arms, with Owen bending over
+her, she burst into a flood of hysterical tears, which partially
+relieved her.
+
+'Oh, Netta! Netta!' was all she could say, when they asked her what was
+the matter.
+
+'Never mind her, mother, but get better,' said Mr Prothero, his usually
+rosy face almost as pale as his wife's.
+
+'If you please, sir, we will lay her on the bed,' said Gladys.
+
+'Not here--not here,' gasped Mrs Prothero.
+
+They took her to her own room, and Gladys said,--'Perhaps, sir, if you
+would leave her to me a little I could get her into bed, I am used to
+illness.'
+
+Mr Prothero looked at the girl, and saw her eyes full of tears, but her
+face was calm and pale, and seemed to indicate a self-possession that no
+one else present had.
+
+'I will come back again soon, mother,' he said as he left the room,
+followed by Owen.
+
+When they were gone, Mrs Prothero gave way to an uncontrollable grief,
+and threw herself upon the neck of the girl Gladys.
+
+'What will he say? what will he do when he knows it all?' she sobbed.
+
+'If you only hope and pray, ma'am, perhaps all will be right that
+troubles you now,' faltered Gladys.
+
+'My only girl! to be so wilful, so disobedient!'
+
+'May I ask what has happened to Miss Netta?'
+
+'She has run away with her cousin, and her father will never forgive
+her--never!'
+
+'Ah! that was what my poor mother did; but she was happy with my father;
+and Mr Jenkins is rich and kind. Take comfort, ma'am, it may not be so
+very bad.'
+
+Gladys managed to get Mrs Prothero into bed, who, happily, did not see
+the effect produced by Netta's letter on her husband. Whilst she was
+shedding quiet tears on her pillow, he was raging with furious passion
+to his son. Over and over again did he comment on every word of the
+letter, sometimes with keen irony, sometimes with a burst of rage, until
+Owen endeavoured to suggest pursuit.
+
+'Go after her! the ungrateful, disobedient, good-for-nothing hussey! No,
+not if she were stopping a mile off instead of whirling away in her
+grand coach and four nobody knows where. Let her go, the impertinent
+baggage! "Father 'ont consent! father was very cross! father had better
+let us marry! he will be sorry when he sees how grand and happy I am!
+father called me bad names!" I wish I had called her worse! she deserves
+every name that was ever written!'
+
+'But, perhaps,' suggests Owen, 'she will be happy, and Howel will be
+steady.'
+
+'Steady! hold your tongue and don't be a fool! Make a drunkard steady!
+make a bad son steady! make a gambler steady! make a horse-racer steady!
+make--make--make--hold your tongue, sir: don't say a word for the
+ungrateful girl--never mention her name to me again--I never wish to see
+her face more as long as I live--I--I--I--'
+
+Mr Prothero's passion choked his words. Could Netta have suddenly
+returned and seen her father shaking with suppressed grief, his face
+crimson with rage, and his hands and teeth clenched, and her mother
+pale and weeping on her bed, she would, I think, have paused longer
+before she caused them this great grief.
+
+Mr Prothero returned to his wife before his passion was calmed. He found
+her sitting up in bed wringing her hands, and crying as if her heart
+would break.
+
+'Now, mother, there's no good in this,' began the farmer. 'That girl
+don't deserve tears and lamentations, and I 'ont have 'em. We 'ont have
+the house turned upside down because a bad, obstinate, ungrateful
+daughter has run away with a miser's son, and a good-for-nothing
+spendthrift. Let 'em go, I say! I 'ouldn't stir a step to bring 'em
+back--'
+
+'Oh, David! dear, dear husband! if only you will find out that they are
+married; if only you would send some one to see that Howel marries her!
+This is all--all--all! I will never name her again! I will try to forget
+her--I will do all you wish! but for my sake, for yours, for all, for
+God's sake, see to this, or I shall die.'
+
+Mr Prothero was cowed at once by this passionate burst of grief. He had
+never seen his submissive, patient little wife excited in this way
+before, for never before had she felt so deep a pain. Her only daughter!
+
+'God help me! God help me!' she sobbed, when she had controlled her
+great emotion. 'I know I have indulged her--spoilt her perhaps. I know
+she is proud and wilful, and obstinate; but oh! to disobey us all--to go
+off, she doesn't know where--with Howel, too, who has no religion,
+nothing to keep him pure and honest--this is too much! too hard! No,
+David, bach! it is no good to be angry now--if you won't go after her I
+must.'
+
+'Stop you, mother, stop you! we'll see the slut married anyhow; that is
+to say, Howel shall marry her--who ever doubted that? but I'll never set
+eyes on her again as long as I live, I 'ont.'
+
+Whilst Mr Prothero was speaking, Gladys, who had been waiting upon Mrs
+Prothero until that moment, slipped out of the room, and ran in search
+of Owen. She found him amongst servants making inquiries.
+
+'Mr Owen, may I speak with you if you please.'
+
+Owen followed her into the hall.
+
+'Oh! sir, if you would go after Miss Netta, now that the master is
+willing, at once; may be you will save your mother's life. If she goes
+on this way, she will surely be very ill.'
+
+'What use would it be for me to go after her? The cow-boy saw her pass
+at about five this morning, and she is at Swansea by this time. My
+father ought to have let 'em marry, and get on together like other young
+couples.'
+
+'But, Mr Owen, the mistress is afraid--she wants to be sure--she would
+be happier, sir, if some one could see them married!'
+
+'Oh! that's the way the wind blows! You may tell mother that I'll try to
+track them--but it won't be of any use. At any rate it will calm her to
+think we are making the attempt. You write to my brother Rowland,
+Gladys, and tell him of this affair; but the truth is, we must make the
+best of it. They are off to London to be married, and 'tis no good to
+try to look for 'em there.'
+
+Here Shanno entered.
+
+'Mr Owen, Mr Jones, Tenewydd, did tell Mr Thomas, Trefortyn, who did
+tell John, blacksmith, who did tell Betto, that he saw Miss Netta and
+Mrs Jenkins, tallow-chandler, this morning about six o'clock, and they
+did get into a carriage by there.'
+
+'Go and tell mother that Aunt Jenkins was with Netta, Gladys, and I'll
+go and see whether Mr Jones really saw her or not.'
+
+Gladys returned to her mistress, who had become more quiet, and was
+trying to persuade Mr Prothero to go after the fugitives.
+
+'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'and Mr Jones, of Tynewydd, saw
+Miss Netta this morning with Mrs Griffith Jenkins, and they got into a
+carriage together.'
+
+'Thank God that 'Lizbeth was with her,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'The deceitful, pompous old vagabond,' thundered Mr Prothero. 'She to
+connive and contrive! fit mother for such a son. They 'ont come to no
+good end. No, mother, I can't, nor I 'ont go after 'em; Netta has made
+her own bed, and she must lie on it.'
+
+'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' whispered Gladys. 'Try to take comfort; there
+is One who can make all our rough ways straight, and will bring poor
+Miss Netta home again, if we pray for it.'
+
+'What's the girl preaching about?' said Mr Prothero, glancing sternly at
+Gladys, who was silenced at once. 'Now, mother, we mustn't let that
+undutiful girl upset us. I must go to the wheat-field--you must--' he
+looked at his wife, and changed what he was going to say to, 'lie in
+bed.'
+
+'No, Davy, I can't lie in bed, I must go and look for Netta.'
+
+'Now, wife, I 'ont have none of this nonsense. You must either lie in
+bed or go about your work. The whole house sha'n't be turned
+topsey-turvey for a baggage like that.'
+
+Mr Prothero left the room, and his wife insisted upon getting up.
+
+'If you could pray for her, ma'am, you would be happier, and perhaps
+poor Miss Netta might be helped in a way we cannot see.'
+
+'Pray for me, Gladys, I cannot think or pray for myself, I am so
+bewildered.'
+
+The two earnest-minded women knelt down by the bedside, and Gladys
+offered up a simple prayer in her clear, strong language, for the 'poor
+lamb who had strayed from the fold;' in which the mother joined in the
+midst of her sobs and tears. When they arose from their knees, Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys, and said she would go downstairs, and try to
+work, and seek to keep her heart in prayer.
+
+And the day wore through, until the evening brought Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero. For the first time, Mrs Jonathan comforted her sister-in-law.
+
+'Now, really, I do not see why you should be so very much distressed,'
+she said. 'Howel is a fine, clever young man, with plenty of money. He
+is sure to make his way into good society, and to place Netta in a
+superior position. Of course, it was very wrong of her to elope, very;
+but your husband is so obstinate that they knew he would never consent,
+and what else were they to do? I confess I should have done the very
+same thing. As to his not marrying her after all, that is absurd. He is
+devotedly attached to her, and he knows that with her beauty and spirit,
+she will soon be fit for good society.'
+
+Mr Jonathan was not so successful with his brother. After saying that he
+had seen a carriage and pair pass at about six that morning, he
+proceeded to offer consolation.
+
+'It is according to nature, brother. Since the creation, the man has
+cleaved to the woman and the woman to the man. You married according to
+your fancy, so did I; so have men and women ever since the world began.
+It may turn out better than you imagine.'
+
+'Brother Jo!' thundered the farmer, 'hold your tongue. I know Howel
+better than you do, or anybody else, except Rowland. I 'ont hear any
+more about 'em, and the less you say the better. She's no daughter o'
+mine any more.'
+
+With this Mr Prothero walked away, leaving his brother very much
+perplexed and distressed, but comforting himself with hoping that time
+would soften even his choleric relative.
+
+Owen returned about ten o'clock. He had ridden to the inn where Howel
+had changed horses, and learnt the name of the house whence the fly
+came; had left his own horse and taken another, and gone on to Swansea,
+where he found from the drivers that the trio had gone direct to London.
+Thinking it useless to try to track them farther, he returned, fully
+impressed with the wisdom of Howel in running off with what he couldn't
+get by fair means.
+
+'Such a row as father makes,' he soliloquised. 'Why, I should do the
+very same thing to-morrow. And Howel's a decent chap too; will be, at
+least, when he's sown a few more wild oats. But if Netta doesn't lead
+him a dance I'm mistaken. She's father all over. There's a difference
+between her and that Irish girl! My wig! if she isn't a quiet one. But I
+never saw such eyes as hers in all my life, or such a sweet temper. I
+wonder what father would say if I ran off with her, and took her a
+voyage or two to give her a little more colour. That's all she wants to
+make her a downright angel'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE COLONEL.
+
+
+The next day it was evident to every one that Mrs Prothero was very ill.
+She had never had any very extraordinary misfortunes or troubles, and
+the elopement of an only daughter was an event to her so dreadful and
+unexpected that it seemed as bad, or worse, than her death. As nothing
+more was to be gleaned concerning Netta, and further inquiries were
+literally useless--indeed, Mr Prothero would not hear of their being
+made--Mrs Prothero gave way to her grief, and her husband's most
+passionate demonstrations of displeasure failed to frighten her into her
+usual calm submission to him and his humours.
+
+Owen paid a visit to Mrs Jenkins' abode, and heard from the servant left
+in charge that she was not expected home for some time. Owen bribed the
+woman to let him know when her mistress returned, and comforted his
+mother by assuring her that he would find out all about Netta from Aunt
+'Lizbeth, whose tongue was too well oiled to stop going.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jonathan offered to remain at the farm, but as they rather
+irritated Mr Prothero by their evident inclination to take up the
+defence of the offenders, Owen told his aunt that she had better write
+to Lady Payne Perry about Netta, as there was always a chance of great
+people hearing the news. Owen was very well aware that his aunt could
+not possibly write to her aristocratic cousin with the pens, ink, and
+paper in general use at the farm, and that she would be obliged to go
+to her davenport at the vicarage, where he already saw her, in
+imagination, with the finest satin letter paper before her, mending her
+pen into the most delicate of points.
+
+Accordingly they took their leave, with a promise to return on Monday,
+and were soon succeeded by Miss Gwynne, who, having heard of the
+elopement, came to see Mrs Prothero.
+
+'If you could prevail on the mistress to go to bed, ma'am,' said Gladys
+when she opened the door to her, 'I would be for ever thankful to you;
+she is much too ill to be about, and she has done nothing but mope and
+fret all day.'
+
+Miss Gwynne went straight into the dairy, where Mrs Prothero was making
+butter.
+
+'So Netta has taken the law into her own hands, Mrs Prothero. So much
+the better; I shouldn't grieve about it if I were you. It is a grand
+thing for her.'
+
+'Not to disobey us and run away, Miss Gwynne? she would be better doing
+her father's bidding than marrying a lord, much less Howel.'
+
+'But you are not going to make yourself ill and miserable about it.
+Since it is done, you may as well make the best of it; but you must go
+to bed and keep quiet, to-day at least. You are not fit to see all the
+people who are already on their way to condole or congratulate. You will
+have half the parish here before night; I passed old Nancy, Cwmriddle,
+hobbling down the lane, and she will be here shortly.'
+
+'Oh, I couldn't see them, Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Then you must go to bed to avoid it. Do be advised, you look so ill.'
+
+'When Miss Gwynne so far forgot herself as to be persuasive instead of
+commanding, she was irresistible. She put her hand so gently on Mrs
+Prothero's shoulder, and looked so kindly into her tearful eyes, that
+the poor woman began to cry afresh. The sound of a stick knocking at the
+back door completed the victory, and Mrs Prothero went sobbing upstairs,
+whilst Gladys opened the door to admit Nancy, Cwmriddle, and another
+gossip who had overtaken her. Mr Prothero came into the yard at the same
+time.
+
+'Well, sir, to be sure; only to think of Miss Netta,' began the old
+woman in Welsh.
+
+'If you're come here to talk about her, I'll thank you to go away again,
+and tell everybody you meet that they may have their nine days' wonder
+about us anywhere but here,' roared Mr Prothero into Nancy's ear, who
+was very deaf.
+
+The old crones, knowing Mr. Prothero well, turned away quicker than
+they came, and soon began to do his bidding, perceiving that he was in
+an 'awful way.'
+
+'Mr Prothero, do you know I have sent Mrs Prothero to bed,' began Miss
+Gwynne, advancing towards him; 'she looks so very ill and unlike herself
+that I am sure you must be careful of her for a time.'
+
+'All that ungrateful, good-for-nothing daughter of ours, Miss Gwynne.
+What would she care if she were to kill her mother? I know you are a
+true lady and a kind friend, miss, and have more sense than all the rest
+of the country put together, so I don't mind telling you what I think.
+Those that disobey their parents'll be seure to come to a bad end.'
+
+'We will hope the best, Mr Prothero; and you must remember that you have
+your sons to comfort you.'
+
+'Fine comfort to be seure. There's Owen as wild as an untrained colt,
+and Rowland such a grand man up in London that he 'ont know his own
+father by-and-by. Dining with bishops and rectors, and as fine as my
+lord. I always told my wife that all Mrs Jonathan's eddication was too
+much for us, and so it is turning out. We shall be left in our old age
+to shift for ourselves; one son at sea, without a shirt to his back;
+another preaching upon a hundred a-year--gentleman Rowland I call him;
+and the third in a workhouse, maybe. And all this because brother Jo
+must needs bring a fine lady amongst us, and with her nothing but
+grammar-schools, boarding-schools, and colleges. My wife always spoilt
+that girl.'
+
+'Perhaps you helped a little bit, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Gwynne,
+smiling, to stop the farmer's flow of words. 'But one couldn't help
+spoiling poor--'
+
+'There, don't you go for to take her part, miss. Name o' goodness, let
+alone the girl. Beg pardon for being so rude.'
+
+Here Gladys appeared, who had followed her mistress upstairs.
+
+'Sir, the mistress is very ill. I think she would like to see you.
+Perhaps you had better have a doctor.'
+
+'Never had a doctor in my house since Netta was born, that's the trouble
+she brought with her; I'd as soon have an undertaker. Send you for a
+doctor, and everybody in the house is seure to be ill. He's infectious.
+Excuse me, Miss Gwynne, whilst I go and see what's the matter.'
+
+Miss Gwynne waited until she heard Mr Prothero come down from his wife's
+room, calling busily for Owen, who was in the wheat-field, and telling
+him to go and fetch Dr Richards. She then called Gladys, and said she
+should have whatever her mistress could fancy from the Park, and that
+she would come again in the afternoon and see how she was.
+
+This done, Miss Gwynne went her own erratic way, which led her over
+stiles, and through fields, and into various cottages, where she
+alternately scolded, lectured, and condoled, accordingly as she thought
+their inmates deserved the one or the other. She rarely left them,
+however, without giving some substantial proof of the interest she felt
+in their wants and trials, either by promises of food or clothing, or by
+money given then and there. She finally anchored in a pretty
+school-house that she had lately prevailed on her father to build, close
+by the Park, where she found Miss Hall patiently superintending the
+needlework of the girls. She gave two or three quick nods to the
+children, and they curtseyed and bowed on her entrance, and then told
+Miss Hall it was twelve o'clock, and she had had quite enough teaching
+for one morning.
+
+'I don't see what use it is having a school, if half the children are to
+stay away,' she said to the mistress.
+
+'It is the harvest, ma'am; they stay at home to take care of the younger
+children; that is why we have so few.'
+
+'Yes, and half go to the Dissenting schools; I see them creeping out.
+Now, children,' turning to the terrified urchins, who were just about to
+leave the room, if I see any of you going to any other school but this,
+or going away from church to the meeting-houses, you shall neither have
+new frocks, hats, nor shawls, nor shall you come to the tea-party I am
+going to give you soon; do you hear?'
+
+'Yes, ma'am--yes, ma'am,' muttered the children as they curtseyed and
+bowed and slipped away.
+
+As Freda and Miss Hall walked through the park to the house, the former
+grew very excited in her manner.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Nita,' she said, 'Lady Nugent is doing
+everything in her power to win papa, and as soon as Miss Nugent marries,
+or rather as soon as somebody marries her fortune, she will get papa to
+marry her, I am sure of it. She must propose for him herself, for he
+will never have the courage to do so; I see through her, and I am sure
+you must do the same. He is flattered by the constant attentions, and
+little notes, and insinuating manners of a very handsome, fashionable,
+agreeable woman; and she thinks Glanyravon Park and a man of fortune
+that she will be able to turn round her fingers, better than the
+jointure she will have to live upon when her daughter leaves her. I was
+actually disgusted with her yesterday; it was what I call a dead set; if
+he marries her I shall hang myself, for live with her I never will; I
+positively detest her.'
+
+'Oh! Freda; those are the old expressions of years gone by. But you are
+jumping at a conclusion.'
+
+'Not at all; papa always stands up for Lady Nugent and her insipid
+daughter. You know he is a thorough gentleman himself and does not
+understand such a maneuvering woman. I told him so the other day, and he
+was quite angry; and I am sure she sets him against me. Why will you not
+try to marry papa, if he must marry again? and you are the only person I
+could tolerate for a step-mother.'
+
+'My dear Freda,' said Miss Hall, laughing, 'your papa would as soon
+think of Miss Rice Rice as of me.'
+
+'You are quite mistaken, he has always admired you very much, only you
+are so dreadfully reserved with him. You won't see that he wants some
+one who can talk to and for him, to save him the trouble. This Lady
+Nugent does with the most contemptible tact; and does it so cleverly
+that nobody sees through her. If you will only try, and just propose at
+the right moment, I am convinced papa would have you. If he marries her,
+I say good-bye to Glanyravon for ever.'
+
+'You are so impetuous, Freda; I am sure your papa has never thought of
+it.'
+
+'Not exactly in a downright way, nor will he till Lady Nugent makes the
+proposal; then he will be rather frightened at first, and finally think
+that she will head his table more gracefully than I shall, and be less
+dictatorial--and I shall go into a convent.'
+
+'Better marry yourself, my dear.'
+
+'Marry who? The only person who would really care to have me, whether I
+had a fortune or not, is Sir Hugh Pryse, and I could no more marry him
+than--than--Mr Rice Rice, or Major Madox, who thinks only of the heiress
+of Glanyravon.'
+
+'But you have refused half-a-dozen more, and have not even taken the
+trouble to try to like any one of them!'
+
+'They were all in love with the Park, not with me; and I certainly never
+mean to try to like any one. It must be true love with me, or none at
+all. I shall die an old maid, and unless you will, just for my sake, try
+to cut out Lady Nugent, I daresay you and I will nurse the black cat
+together.'
+
+Freda's conversation was checked by the sound of horses' hoofs behind;
+she turned sound and saw a gentleman riding slowly up the drive. He soon
+overtook them, and raising his hat, said,--
+
+'Miss Gwynne! I am sure it must be Miss Gwynne; am I right?'
+
+Freda bowed.
+
+'You do not remember me! twelve years make a great difference! and you
+were a child when I left.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan! Oh! I am so glad to see you!' claimed Freda. 'And
+papa will be charmed; we heard you were in England, but did not know you
+were in this county.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan dismounted, and shook hands with Freda, evidently with
+all his heart, then glancing at Miss Hall, started, and said,--
+
+'Yes--no--I beg your pardon, surely not Miss Hall.'
+
+'Yes,' said Miss Hall, colouring slightly, and holding out her hand, I
+am very glad to welcome you home again, but can well imagine you did not
+expect to see me here.'
+
+By this time they were at the house, and Freda was planning introducing
+Colonel Vaughan to her father as a stranger, and seeing whether he would
+recognise him or not.
+
+She accordingly preceded him to the study, and said to Mr Gwynne, 'A
+gentleman wishes to see you, papa.'
+
+Mr Gwynne rose and made his bow, and motioned to a seat in his usually
+nervous manner.
+
+'How do you do, Mr Gwynne? Don't you know me?' said the colonel,
+standing up before him.
+
+'I beg your pardon--no--I do not think I have ever--impossible! It
+cannot be my godson, Gwynne Vaughan?'
+
+'The very same!' said the colonel. 'I only came down last night, and
+this is the first place I have visited.'
+
+'I am very glad to see you, my dear fellow,' said Mr Gwynne, absolutely
+rising from his chair.
+
+'And this was what the bells were ringing for last night?' said Freda,
+looking flushed and handsome.
+
+'In spite of my poverty they did me that honour,' said the colonel. 'I
+heard the old place was likely to be let again, and so ran down to have
+a look at it first, and beat up my old friends. It was years ago that I
+went, a youth of nineteen, into the army, and twelve since I have been
+here, and I have been all the world over since then; but I come back and
+find everything much as I left it.'
+
+'But surely you will not go away again?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'I am not rich enough to keep up the old place as it ought to be kept,
+and the debts are not half wiped off yet, so I don't mean to settle down
+at present.'
+
+'But a little economy and that sort of thing would soon clear the
+property. You had better settle down.'
+
+'I don't think I should like it; besides, I hear there are negotiations
+going on between my attorneys and some other persons for a fresh
+tenant.'
+
+The luncheon-bell rang, and the party went into the dining-room; and
+whilst they are eating and talking we will examine the new comer.
+
+He is decidedly a handsome man. The most fastidious judge of masculine
+beauty could scarcely deny this fact. Tall, well made, of commanding
+figure and aristocratic appearance, black hair, a high rather than a
+broad forehead, well marked eyebrows, and black lashes so long that they
+half conceal the grey eyes beneath; an aquiline nose, and a well-defined
+mouth, with an expression slightly sarcastic; a chin so deeply indented
+with a dimple that, if the old saw be true, he must be a flirt or a
+deceiver; and withal, a manner so perfectly easy and self-possessed that
+you say at once court, camp, or cottage must be equally accessible to
+that man.
+
+There is a certain power in him that even a reader of character would
+scarcely understand for some time. Is it intellect? There is decidedly
+intelligence in the face, yet it is not highly intellectual; there are
+no disfiguring lines and cross lines, the furrows of study or thought.
+Is it mere health and animal spirits? He is neither particularly rosy
+nor overpoweringly cheerful. Does he read your mind at a glance? His
+eyes are penetrating, but not uncomfortably so. It is, we are inclined
+to think, that general and instinctive knowledge of the characters and
+tendencies of those with whom he converses, which commerce with the
+world, and a keen observation of men and manners, alone can give. He is,
+in short, a man of the world.
+
+When he first entered the army his father and an elder brother were
+alive. They, dying about three years after, left him in possession of a
+large but greatly encumbered property. It was estimated that it would
+take twenty years at least to clear the estate, and that only by letting
+it and never drawing upon the proceeds.
+
+The young heir was wise enough to retain his post as officer in Her
+Majesty's service, though not to sequester all his income for the
+payment of his father's, grandfather's, and great-grandfather's debts or
+mortgages. He spent about a fourth of it annually, and consequently the
+property was still greatly encumbered and he knew that to reside on it
+and clear it he would be obliged to live in a very humdrum style, or
+else add to the burden of debt already incurred. He preferred, remaining
+in the army, and being a general favourite in society, and having no
+near relations in Wales, it never occurred to him to spend his furloughs
+in his native county. He had always some distant land to visit, and
+either with his regiment or on leave had travelled nearly all over the
+world.
+
+His return was therefore an event of considerable interest to the
+neighbourhood in which his place and property lay; and, doubtless, Mr
+Gwynne was not the only person who wished Colonel Vaughan to settle at
+Plas Abertewey.
+
+When he was last at Glanyravon Park Mrs Gwynne was alive, Freda was a
+child of eight, and Miss Hall a very elegant and pretty young woman. Mr
+Gwynne Vaughan was then one of her numerous admirers; but there was
+apparently no remnant of his early passion left, if you can judge of the
+heart of a man, or his character at least, by his face or manner. Miss
+Hall was much more confused when she suddenly met him than he was when
+he first recognised her.
+
+Freda had always had a pleasant recollection of him. He had been very
+kind to her when she was a child, and an occasional letter to her
+father, or the intelligence, through the papers, of his distinguishing
+himself in India, or his gradual rise in the army, had kept alive a
+certain amount of interest in her mind for this old friend.
+
+She showed it at once, and delighted Colonel Vaughan by the perfectly
+natural manner with which she welcomed him, and the frank heartiness of
+her expressed wish that he should remain in the country now he had
+returned to it.
+
+'We have never had any one we cared for at Abertewey,' she said.
+'Sometimes it was an English family who came to ruin themselves in
+mining speculations; sometimes a sporting man who came for the hunting,
+shooting, and fishing; and now, if you don't stay, I daresay it will be
+a Manchester mill owner or some such person.'
+
+'Much nearer home, I fancy; but I believe it is a kind of secret, only I
+am so much like a woman that I cannot keep a secret. To my utter
+astonishment I find it is to be a son of old Jenkins, the miser! I
+remember the father, but the son was some years my junior. You need not
+mention this, however, as it may fall to the ground. He wanted to buy
+the place, but I am too patriotic still to wish to sell.'
+
+'Howel Jenkins! little Netta! at Abertewey!' exclaimed the trio in
+concert.
+
+'True it is that mountains fall and mushrooms rise,' said the colonel
+laughing. 'But he has money, and as far as negotiations have gone, seems
+willing to pay, so I am content.'
+
+'And I am not,' said Freda. 'It will be odious, and I shall be so sorry
+for poor Mrs Prothero. You must settle there yourself, Colonel Vaughan.'
+
+'A poor lonely bachelor with no money!'
+
+'Hem--hem, you might find a wife, I should think,' suggested Mr Gwynne.
+'There is a beautiful girl in this neighbourhood with thirty thousand
+pounds at her disposal.'
+
+'Oh, papa!' said Freda frowning perceptibly, 'such an empty-headed,
+insipid idiot would be dear at a hundred thousand.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan looked at Freda to see whether she was jealous, but
+could not quite understand the frown.
+
+Soon after luncheon he took his leave, with promises to make Glanyravon
+his head-quarters if he remained any time in the country.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE NURSE.
+
+
+Mrs Prothero continued very ill, and the doctor said there was no chance
+of her amendment until her mind was more at ease. Four days had passed,
+and no intelligence of Netta. Each day found her worse than the
+preceding, and brain fever was apprehended. Gladys nursed her day and
+night. Mr Prothero stormed and lamented by turns. Owen did what he could
+to assist and comfort all, and Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall sent every kind
+of nourishing food from the Park.
+
+On the fifth morning, Owen rode into the town in the vague hope that he
+should hear something of his sister, either through Mrs Jenkins's
+servant or the post. Mrs Jenkins had not returned, but there was a neat,
+smooth letter for his father, directed by Howel, with which he rode off
+homewards at full gallop. He longed to open it, but he dared not. He was
+fearful that his father would put it into the fire unread, so he formed
+twenty plans for securing it, which he knew he could not carry out;
+however, when he returned home and sought his father in the harvest
+field, he said,--
+
+'Father, I have a letter directed by Howel. Will you let me open it for
+mother's sake?'
+
+'If it is yours, do what you will with it? if it is mine, burn it
+unread.'
+
+'But, father, surely you would do something to save mother's life. Any
+news of Netta--'
+
+'Don't name that girl to me, sir, or I'll horsewhip you!'
+
+'May I open the letter, father?'
+
+'Do as you will, but don't let me see it. The deceitful up-start! the
+pompous fool! the--the--'
+
+Owen waited for no more epithets but ran into the house, and stumbling
+upon Gladys in the passage, told her to come and see what the letter
+contained. When he opened the outer envelope and took out the beautiful
+little glossy note with its silver border and white seal, stamped with
+a small crest of an eagle, he burst out laughing.
+
+'Cards, by jingo!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen, just let me cut round the neat little seal. I am sure your
+mother would like to see it,' said Gladys, joining involuntarily in the
+laugh, and taking a pair of scissors out of her pocket.
+
+The seal was cut, and two cards were taken out, silver-lettered and
+silver-bordered, showing that Netta was now Mrs Howel Jenkins.
+
+Gladys ran off with them without asking any questions, followed by Owen.
+They found Mrs Prothero crying, as she usually was when left alone.
+
+'I hope we have good news, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'All right, mother. Cheer up! Netta is married at any rate,' cried Owen.
+
+'Thank God!' said Mrs Prothero, taking the cards and pressing them to
+her lips. 'But not a line--not a word from Netta!'
+
+'She would not dare to write, ma'am,' suggested Gladys.
+
+'I suppose not? but why did she go away? Why did she leave me never to
+see me again?'
+
+The following day brought the _Welshman_, Mr Prothero's weekly treat,
+which it generally took him the week thoroughly to read and enjoy.
+
+Owen chanced to open it first, and, as is usually the case, stumbled at
+once upon the marriage of his sister. When his father came in he was in
+uncontrollable fits of laughter.
+
+'Don't be angry, father, but I can't help it. Ha, ha, ha! D. Prothero,
+Esq. of Glanyravon! Oh, I shall die of it! Now, really, father, you
+ought to be proud.'
+
+'What are you making such a row about?' said Mr Prothero looking over
+Owen's shoulder.
+
+His eye caught the words, 'Howel Jenkins, Esq., and Miss Prothero,
+Glanyravon, and Sir John Simpson. This was quite enough. He seized the
+paper with an oath, crumpled it up, and thrust it into the fire, and
+gave Owen such a violent blow on the back with his fist, that the young
+man's first impulse was to start up and clench his in return; however,
+his flush of passion cooled in a moment, and he said,--
+
+'Come, father! remember it isn't I that ran away. Time enough to give me
+a licking when I do. I'm much obliged to you for letting me know what a
+strong father I've got.'
+
+'Once for all, Owen, take you care how you laugh upon that subject or
+name it to me. I can give and take a joke as well as most people, but
+not about that, sir, and from you. Name o' goodness, what d'ye think I'm
+made of!'
+
+The farmer walked out of the hall, and left Owen heartily sorry for
+having hurt his father's feelings, but chuckling over the fashionable
+marriage.
+
+The following morning he managed to procure another paper, and read his
+mother and Gladys the announcement, knowing full well that maternal
+pride must rejoice in the exaltation, whilst it wept over the
+disobedience of an only daughter.
+
+To the astonishment of every one, the following morning brought Mrs
+Griffith Jenkins to Glanyravon, attended by her maid-servant. Gladys
+answered the door to the thundering double-knock that resounded through
+the house, and was quite taken aback when she saw who the visitor was.
+
+'Is Mrs Prothero at home, young 'ooman?' asked Mrs Jenkins in a grand
+tone of voice.
+
+'My mistress is very ill, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'Ill! Since when?'
+
+'Ever since Miss Netta left, ma'am.'
+
+'Do Mr Prothero be in the house, or Mr Owen?'
+
+'They are out harvesting, ma'am.'
+
+'Tell you Mrs Prothero that I do bring message from Mrs Howel Jenkins
+for her, and that I was promising to give it myself.'
+
+Gladys did not know what to do. She felt sure that Mr Prothero would not
+admit Mrs Jenkins under his roof, and that her mistress would be afraid
+to do so; however, she ventured to ask her to come in and wait a little
+time whilst she sent for Mr Owen. Fortunately, Owen was not far from the
+house, and Mr Prothero was riding to some distant part of his farm, so
+Gladys left Mrs Jenkins to Owen, and went upstairs to tell Mrs Prothero
+that she was in the house. Mrs Prothero was greatly agitated, but
+declared that she would see her at all risks, and tell her husband that
+she had done so. She begged Gladys to remain in the room during the
+visit, and to prevent a meeting between Mrs Jenkins and Mr Prothero.
+
+Gladys went downstairs again, and found Owen telling Mrs Jenkins what he
+thought of Howel's and her own conduct.
+
+'My mistress would like to see you, ma'am,' said Gladys.
+
+'I'm thinking I 'ont go near her now, you, Owen, have been so reude.'
+
+'Oh, for that much, you may do as you please, Aunt 'Lizbeth. I shall
+have the pleasure of going with you to my mother. You've pretty nearly
+killed her amongst you, and I don't mean to let her be quite put an end
+to.'
+
+'Will you be showing the way, young 'ooman,' said Mrs Jenkins, rising
+majestically and smoothing down a very handsome silk dress, which she
+had carefully taken up before she sat down.
+
+Owen's wrath was turned to amusement
+
+'Did you think we hadn't a duster in the house, aunt? I can tell you
+you've pretty well dirtied that white petticoat.'
+
+Gladys led the way to Mrs Prothero's room, and Mrs Jenkins and Owen
+followed.
+
+'I'm sorry to see you so poorly, cousin,' said Mrs Jenkins, approaching
+the bed on which Mrs Prothero lay, looking flushed and excited.
+
+'What did you expect, 'Lizabeth Jenkins? when you have carried off my
+daughter--my child--my Netta! And caused misery in our house never to be
+mended.'
+
+'Well, seure! One 'ould think we'd murdered Netta, 'stead of making her
+as grand as a queen, with a lord and a lady to be giving her away, and a
+captain to be at the wedding, and a gentleman in a waistcoat and chains
+and rings that do be worth a hundred pounds at least, and a young lady
+for bridesmaid in a shoall of lace, handsomer than your Miss Gwynne of
+the Park, and a wedding-cake covered with sugar, and silver, and little
+angels, and all sorts of things which I was bringing with me for you;
+and a clergy like a bishop to marry her, and a coach and horses to be
+taking her back and fore, and she looking as beauty and happy as ever I
+was seeing! And my Howel's as rich and fine as anybody in London, Prince
+Albert nothing to him, and might be marrying Miss Simpson, my ladyship's
+doter, if he wasn't so fullish as to be marrying your Netta!'
+
+'Now, aunt, it is our turn, if you please,' said Owen, as soon as Mrs
+Jenkins gave him time to speak. 'Will you tell my mother Netta's
+message?'
+
+'I am taking it very unkind that you should all turn upon me. David
+Prothero I 'spected 'ould be in a passion, but, stim odds! Netta said,
+cousin, that I wos to tell you she was sorry to be leaving you in a
+hurry, but that she had everything she could be wishing, gowns, and
+white shoes, and lace veils--seure you never wos seeing such a
+beauty--and a _stafell_--_trosy_ they do call it in London--good enough
+for my Lady Nugent, and a goold watch and chains, and rings and
+bracelets, ach un wry! there's grand!'
+
+'But what did Netta say to me, cousin 'Lizbeth? I don't care if she was
+all gold from head to foot. I would rather have her here in rags,' said
+Mrs Prothero, bursting afresh into tears.
+
+'She's more likely to be here in satins and velvets, cousin,' said Mrs
+Jenkins, rising from her seat, and walking up and down, apparently in
+great wrath. 'What you think of my Howels and your Netta at Abertewey:
+And you to be all toalking as if we wos ail dirt. And they in France,
+over the sea, where I 'ould be going with them only I am so 'fraid of
+the water.'
+
+'There's a loss it would be, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if anything had happened to
+you! Suppose a shark had swallowed you up! gold watch, mourning ring,
+silk gown, brooch, and all? Those creatures aren't particular. But we
+haven't had all Netta's message yet.'
+
+'She was sending her kind love and duty to you, cousin, and was saying
+she was sorry to be leaving you, but my Howels was so kind as you, and
+she was as happy as could be.'
+
+'Did she cry, cousin? did she shed one tear?' asked Mrs Prothero,
+sitting up in bed, and looking at Mrs Jenkins with a quick, wild eye,
+quite unlike her usual quiet glance.
+
+'You needn't be looking at me so fierce, cousin, I didn't be killing
+Netta. Is seure--she did cry enough, if that's a pleasure to you. She
+was crying when she was meeting my Howels; she was crying when she was
+putting on her wedding gown; she was crying when the parson was
+preaching that sermon, and when the thunder and lightning did frighten
+her, seure, and no wonder--'
+
+'Did it thunder and lighten when they were married? 'asked Mrs Prothero,
+through her sobs.
+
+'Yes, indeet! I thoate I should be struck myself; but she was soon
+forgetting it at breakfast; they do call it breakfast, you see, but I
+never was seeing a grander dinner. Chickens, and tongue, and ham, and
+meats, and cakes, and jellies, and fruit, and wines, all froathing up
+like new milk, some sort of _pain_ they was calling it; but I never did
+be seeing such good _pain_ or tasting it before, he! he!'
+
+'I don't care about the dress or the dinner, or the grand people,
+cousin,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I pray God to forgive Howel for making our
+only girl run away from us like a thief in the night; and I would rather
+hear she cried for us whom she treated so badly, than that she was
+dressed in velvet and jewels. All those fine people and fine things
+won't make her happy, and her father will never forgive her, never. Oh
+dear! oh dear!'
+
+'What will I tell her, Mrs Prothero, when I do write to my son Howels?'
+
+'Tell her--tell her that my heart is breaking; but I forgive her. Beg
+her not to forget her parents, and, above all, not to forget her God.
+Poor child! poor silly, thoughtless child, she will never be happy
+again.'
+
+'Indeet to goodness, this is fullish! I shall go, Mrs Prothero. Good
+morning.'
+
+Just as Mrs Jenkins was making a kind of curtsey by the bedside Gladys
+said that she saw Mr Prothero riding up to the house.
+
+'Perhaps you had better make haste, Aunt 'Lizbeth,' said Owen, 'it would
+not very well do for you and my father to meet.'
+
+'I 'ont be running away from any man's house, Mr Owen. I do hope I'm as
+good as your father any day.'
+
+'Oh, pray make haste,' said Mrs Prothero, very much frightened.
+'Good-bye, cousin. Forgive me if I have been rude? I beg your pardon.'
+
+'This way, ma'am, if you please,' said Gladys, opening the door; but Mrs
+Jenkins was smoothing down her silk dress, and arranging her bonnet in
+the looking glass.
+
+'Quite ready for another husband, aunt; but you had better make haste,
+you don't know what you may come in for if you meet my father.'
+
+'I am not caring neither,' said the little woman, sweeping across the
+room and out at the door. At the top of the stair she met Mr Prothero,
+face to face. The effect of her appearance upon that worthy man is not
+to be described. She made a kind of curtsey and began to speak, but no
+sooner did she see his face than she held her tongue. Neither did words
+appear to come at the farmer's bidding, but very decided deeds did. He
+took the alarmed Mrs Jenkins by the two shoulders, literally lifted her
+from the ground, carried her downstairs a great deal faster than she
+came up, helped her along the passage much in the same way, and with
+something very nearly approaching a kick and an oath, turned her out of
+doors, and shut the door behind her with so violent a bang that it
+echoed through the house.
+
+Owen ran down stairs to receive the first brunt of his passion, and to
+prevent his going up to his mother. He allowed the words that came at
+last to have way, and then took all the fault on himself; said that he
+had admitted Mrs Jenkins to try to soothe his mother, and that she had
+done so, he thought.
+
+'Take you care, sir, how you let that 'ooman darken my doors again, or
+any one belonging to her. It'll be worse for you than for them,' said Mr
+Prothero, with a brow like a thunder cloud.
+
+His wrath was interrupted by the sound of wheels, and to Owen's great
+relief, he saw the head of his uncle's well known grey mare through the
+window. He ran out to admit him and his aunt.
+
+'We have just seen Mrs Jenkins, Owen,' began his aunt.
+
+'Not a word to father, aunt.'
+
+'Very well. But she stopped us and began telling us that she had been
+turned out of these doors, and would have the law on your father. She
+was furious; talked of Netta and Howel, and your mother, and Paris, and
+the wedding, all in the same breath, and would not let us go on until we
+had heard all. Neither of us spoke to her, but she stood at the horse's
+head and frightened me to death.'
+
+When they all went into the hall, they found that Mr Prothero was not
+there. Gladys came in and said he was with her mistress, but had not
+mentioned Mrs Jenkins.
+
+'I am afraid she has made my mistress worse, sir,' she said to Owen.
+'She has been very faint ever since she left,'
+
+In truth she had made her worse, and when Dr Richards came to see her
+that afternoon, she was quite delirious. He shook his head, and declared
+that she had brain fever, and that the utmost quiet and freedom from all
+excitement were necessary for her. Poor Mr Prothero was beside himself,
+and the whole household was in great consternation. Serious illness had
+never visited either the farm or the vicarage before, and none of the
+Prothero family knew what it was. Not so Gladys, however. She did not
+wait to be directed or ordered, but took her post as nurse by her dear
+mistress's bedside. To her the doctor gave his directions, to her Mr
+Prothero turned for information, to her Owen came for comfort; and even
+Mrs Jonathan, who had scarcely ever spoken to her before, looked to her
+as the only hope in this time of uncertainty.
+
+'I have seen all kind of fevers,' she would say to one and another as
+they questioned her, 'worse than this, and with God's grace the dear
+mistress will recover. I am not afraid to sit up alone with her, oh, no!
+It is better not to have too many in the room at once. Do not be uneasy,
+master, the delirium is not very bad. Yes, Mr Owen, you can do better
+than any one else, because you are calmer. No, ma'am, it is not an
+infectious fever--you need not be afraid,' and so from one to another at
+intervals she went, giving hope and comfort.
+
+During all that night and several successive ones, Gladys sat up with
+her beloved mistress. It was she who listened to her disturbed,
+delirious talk about Netta, and tried to console her; she who read the
+Bible to her, and prayed with and for her during the intervals of
+reason, and she who gave her all her medicines and nourishment.
+
+Poor Mr Prothero could do nothing but wander from the fields to the
+house, and the house back again to the fields, followed by his brother
+like his shadow, who strove to comfort him in vain. Mrs Jonathan made
+jellies, and did her best. Owen was gentle and tender as a girl, and
+helped to nurse his mother with a love and care that Gladys could
+scarcely understand in the lighthearted, wild sailor.
+
+Before the end of the week, they wrote to summon Rowland, for Mrs
+Prothero's life was despaired of, and great was the anxiety and terror
+of all, lest he should come too late.
+
+'Pray for her, Mr Owen, pray for her. There is nothing else of any avail
+at such a time as this,' would Gladys say in answer to the young man's
+entreating glance.
+
+'If I were as good as you I could, Gladys. Oh, God! spare my beloved
+mother!' he would reply.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE CURATE.
+
+
+Although it was a bright autumn morning, the stillness of death hovered
+over Glanyravon Farm. There was scarcely a sound to be heard within or
+without. The men in the yard moved about like spectres, and work was
+suspended in the harvest fields; whispers circulated from bedroom to
+kitchen, and from kitchen to outhouse, that the good and kind mistress
+whom every body loved, was on her deathbed; and how should they labour?
+All the talk of the farm-servants was upon subjects ominous of death.
+One said that he had heard Lion, the big watch-dog, howl long and loud
+before daylight; another that he had seen a corpse candle as he went
+homewards the previous evening; a third that she had seen her mistress
+all in white at her bedside, looking beautiful; a fourth that she had
+heard a raven croak; in short, if sighs and wonders could kill poor Mrs
+Prothero, there was little chance for her life. Where every one was
+usually so busy, so full of energy and spirit, there was more than a
+Sabbath calm. They were expecting some one, too, for Tom and Bill were
+looking down the road about every five minutes, whilst Shanno appeared
+now and again at the back door, and whispered 'Is he coming?' to which a
+shake of the head was a constant reply.
+
+The doctor had just gone into the house, and knots of men and women
+stood about with sorrowful faces; kind neighbours who came one after
+another to hear the last report as soon as he should again reappear. Mrs
+Prothero was greatly beloved, and no one could afford to lose her.
+
+'She was so bad last night that she was not expected to see the
+morning,' whispered one.
+
+'Couldn't take a drop of anything,' said another.
+
+'Is talking of Miss Netta for ever,' said a third.
+
+'There'll be a loss to every one. Mr Jonathan prayed for her in church
+last Sunday; if prayers'll save her she 'ont die, no seure.'
+
+'She gave me a jug of milk only Friday week.'
+
+'And was coming to see my John in the measles Wednesday before Miss
+Netta ran away.'
+
+'She's the death of her mother I always say.'
+
+'Poor master is nearly mad.'
+
+'And Mr Owen crying like a baby.'
+
+'And they do say that the Irish girl is better than a daughter to 'em
+all.'
+
+'Hush! I do hear wheels. Oh! if he do come, perhaps he may rouse her up
+a bit.'
+
+The gates were open, and before the last whisper was over Mr Gwynne's
+carriage was driving down to the farm. The bystanders drew back as it
+rolled through a part of the yard and stopped at the door. Rowland got
+out, and was in the house almost before any one could see him. He went
+into the hall, and there he saw Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, and Dr Richards.
+Miss Gwynne held out her hand, and said at once,--'Your mother is still
+alive.'
+
+'Thank God I!' exclaimed Rowland, giving a sort of convulsive gasp, and
+wringing the hand that pressed his.
+
+'Is there any hope?' he asked of Dr Richards.
+
+'The crisis is at hand, and she is insensible; it is impossible to
+say--if we could rouse her?'
+
+'I may go upstairs?'
+
+'Yes, but you had better let your father know you are come; he is in the
+outer room.'
+
+Rowland went at once to what had been his own bedroom in former times;
+he opened the door gently, and there alone on his knees by the bedside,
+groaning audibly, was his poor stricken father. He went up softly to him
+and whispered, 'Father, it is I, Rowland!' and Mr Prothero rose, and in
+a few seconds went with him into the room where the beloved wife and
+mother lay.
+
+Rowland went up to the bedside, and took the place which Gladys silently
+vacated for him. He gazed upon what appeared to him to be death, but was
+really the prostration and insensibility that followed the delirium and
+fever of the past week. He bent down and kissed the cold forehead of his
+mother, then turned away, covered his face with his hands, and wept
+silently. Gladys whispered to him that there was still hope, and resumed
+her occupation of bathing the temples with vinegar, wetting the lips
+with wine, and administering tea spoonfuls of wine, which still
+continued to find a passage down the throat. Mrs Jonathan Prothero
+crept softly up to Rowland, and put her hand in his--Owen came to
+him--his uncle--all were there.
+
+But as soon as he had recovered from his temporary emotion, he went to
+his father's side, who had seated himself on a chair behind the curtain
+of the bed, and tried to comfort him. The presence of his second son was
+in itself a consolation to poor Mr Prothero; but he could not listen to
+his words.
+
+'Pray for your mother, Rowland,' was all he could say.
+
+Rowland knelt down with all those present, except Gladys, who joined in
+spirit and prayed. Never before had he known what it was to use the
+prayers of his church for one so dear to him; never before had he felt
+the great difficulty of reading them when his emotion nearly choked his
+utterance. But as priest and son he prayed fervently for his mother.
+
+Mr Prothero seemed calmer after he rose from his knees, and ventured to
+lean over his wife to assure himself that she still breathed. There was
+an occasional slight pulsation scarcely to be called breath.
+
+The doctor came in and felt her pulse. It was not quite gone, and whilst
+there was life there was hope.
+
+They stood round her bed watching the calm, pale face with a love and
+anxiety so intense that they could neither speak nor breathe. Gladys
+looked almost as pale as her mistress, and as the light fell upon her
+when she was leaning over her, she might have been the angel of death
+herself.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero drew Rowland from the room and insisted upon his
+taking some refreshment. He had travelled all night, and Mr Gwynne, at
+his daughter's request, had sent his carriage to meet him.
+
+Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall were still waiting downstairs. They asked Mrs
+Jonathan if they could be of any use in taking Gladys's place whilst the
+poor girl got some rest; Mrs Jonathan said it was useless to urge her to
+leave her mistress for a moment.
+
+Rowland thanked Miss Gwynne for her kindness, and she said she would do
+anything in the world for Mrs Prothero.
+
+She and Miss Hall went away in the carriage that brought Rowland,
+promising to return again in the afternoon.
+
+When Rowland had swallowed some coffee, he went back to his mother's
+room. As he walked from the door to the foot of the bed, she opened her
+eyes, and seemed for a moment to look at him; a thrill of hope shot
+through him. He went round and took her hand, and whispered, 'Mother!'
+Did she smile? He thought she did.
+
+Shortly afterwards her lips moved, and Gladys heard the name ever on
+them, 'Netta.' This was better, far better, than that death-like trance.
+
+'Mother, dear mother,' again whispered Rowland, and once more her eyes
+opened and fixed on him, with something like consciousness.
+
+At last an opiate which the doctor had given took effect, and she slept;
+her pulse was so weak, and her breathing so faint, that at first the
+watchers thought she was passing away into that sleep from which there
+is no awakening; but it was not so. It was a weak troubled sleep; still
+it was a sleep.
+
+By degrees all left the room but Rowland and Gladys. Mrs Prothero's hand
+seemed to be clasping that of her son, as if it would not let go; and
+Gladys never moved from the bedside.
+
+She saw that there must be hope if real sleep came. As she sat down in a
+kind of easy chair that Owen had placed for her by the bedside, she
+thanked God for this amount of hope,
+
+'Sleep, Gladys, I will watch,' whispered Rowland.
+
+And truly the poor girl had need of rest. Scarce had she closed her eyes
+during that anxious week, and she knew well how necessary rest was to
+her. But she felt as if she could not sleep whilst this uncertainty
+lasted. All the anxious faces of the household flitted before her when
+she tried to compose herself. Her poor master, his brother, Mrs
+Jonathan, Rowland, but mostly Owen. He who had said the least, had shown
+the greatest self-command and done the most. His large kind eyes seemed
+to be looking at his mother or at her, and trying to anticipate their
+wants. His hands so brown and sinewy, yet so very gentle, seemed to be
+touching hers, as they had done when moving his mother or otherwise
+helping in the sick-room. His cheery voice seemed to be telling her not
+to weary herself so much, or to be thanking her for the care she
+bestowed upon his dear parent. In vain she tried to put aside this kind
+of haunting vision. Her mistress and Owen were painted on the
+over-strained retina, and she could not efface the picture. She prayed
+for them, for all. Then, as the afternoon sunlight faded away, and a
+twilight hue crept over the room, with just a flickering streak of light
+playing on the wall opposite to her, the death-beds of her father,
+mother, sister, and brothers rose up before her with a vivid reality
+that made her tremble, and forced tears from her weary eyes. The tears
+seemed a relief, and as they flowed quietly down her cheeks, and the
+coming shadows dispersed the visions of the living, dying, and dead
+faded away, a mist fell on her eyes and she slept.
+
+Rowland, meanwhile, watched his mother. During the twelve months that he
+had been a curate in a parish in one of the worst parts of London, he
+had seen much of the sick and the dying. He had seen poverty,
+wretchedness, and sin in their most dreadful aspects, and the peace and
+comfort of his mother's present condition were a great contrast to the
+riot and squalor of many a death room into which he had sought to carry
+the gospel message of mercy. Truly he felt thankful in his inmost soul
+that she, over whom he was watching with filial love, was ready at any
+moment to appear before the great Tribunal, because she 'believed and
+knew in whom she believed.' It was for Netta, his beloved and wayward
+sister, the cause of this first great family trouble, that he grieved
+the most, because he feared that she had entered upon that downward path
+that would lead her far astray from the one in which her mother had so
+long and happily trod. But he, too, knew where to apply in all his times
+of doubt and misgiving, and thither he went for comfort as the shadows
+fell around and night crept on.
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a
+shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the
+watchers downstairs. Her step, light as it was, awoke Gladys. She
+started up, and looking on her mistress, clasped her hands, and
+fervently thanked God.
+
+'She is sleeping as calmly as a child,' she said. 'I am sure the worst
+is past.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan went out to tell the good news, and to beg the brothers to
+go to bed, which they did, after some demur. Gladys and Rowland watched
+on for about an hour longer, when Mrs Prothero opened her eyes and fixed
+them upon Rowland. She smiled as if she knew him, and when he bent over
+her and kissed her, murmured some faint words which he could not
+understand.
+
+Gladys gave her some jelly which she swallowed, and soon afterwards she
+slept again.
+
+'The crisis is over, she will recover, I hope, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys.
+'You can go to bed, sir--you had better. The mistress will want you
+to-morrow, and you can be of no use to-night.'
+
+Rowland felt the force of this, and again kissing his mother's forehead,
+and shaking Gladys by the hand, he went downstairs to Owen, who he found
+asleep on the sofa in the parlour. Supper was awaiting him, and Owen and
+he were soon seated over the fire, discussing their mother's illness and
+Netta's conduct.
+
+They had not met for three or four years, and there was much to say. Few
+brothers loved one another more tenderly than they did, despite the
+dissimilarity of habits, tastes, and occupations, and when they were
+together, all the secrets of their hearts were usually unfolded.
+Although Owen's wild roving nature had caused Rowland much anxiety,
+still he had perfect confidence in his honest, open character. Owing to
+early education Owen was not deficient in general acquirements. He knew
+a little Latin and Greek, and could read, write, and cypher well. Added
+to this, his knowledge of foreign lands was great, and of men and
+manners greater. Under a careless exterior, he had a considerable
+portion of talent and information, and Rowland was delighted to find in
+his sea-faring, roystering brother, a much more cultivated and sensible
+mind than he had expected. Rowland was beginning to be conscious of
+wishing to see all his family superior to what they were. Placed by his
+own profession amongst gentle-folks, and feeling in himself all the
+refinement of the class so called, he was often annoyed and pained to be
+differently situated from those who were nearest and dearest to him. He
+knew that in London he was received as an equal by men and women of rank
+and position, as well as by those of talent and learning; whereas, in
+the country, even Miss Gwynne, at whose house he visited, considered it
+a condescension to speak to him, whilst she looked upon those who
+belonged to him as people of another sphere. In spite of all his prayers
+for humility, and his striving after pure Christianity, Rowland was, and
+knew that he was a proud man, and all the prouder because his original
+station was beneath his present one. He felt that he must be humbled
+before he could be the pastor and disciple of One whose whole life was a
+lesson of humility. But the world knew nothing of this. He walked before
+it, and through it as a bright example of a young clergyman devoted to
+his work. Neither was he less devoted to his mother, dutiful to his
+father, or loving to his brother, because they were good, honest, plain
+farmers, and he a clergyman; or which was, perhaps, more to the point,
+because Miss Gwynne could not, or would not separate him from his
+family.
+
+When he and his brother and sister were children, they were constantly
+at the vicarage with their uncle and aunt, and Miss Gwynne was their
+playmate there, and had not known their inferiority. Now that he really
+was a man of education and a gentleman, in spite of all her kindness to
+his mother, she knew it full well. Why did he never consider what any
+one else in his own neighbourhood thought of him or his family? It was
+only Miss Gwynne--always Miss Gwynne.
+
+Early the following morning that young lady came to inquire for Mrs
+Prothero, accompanied by Miss Hall. It was Rowland who gave them the
+joyful intelligence that his mother had had a good night, and was much
+more quiet. The real pleasure that shone from Miss Gwynne's intelligent
+and intelligible eyes, showed Rowland how fond she was of his mother.
+
+'And now,' she said, 'Miss Hall and I are come, resolutely bent on
+remaining with your mother, whilst your aunt and Gladys go to bed. We
+are quite determined, and you know I always have my way.'
+
+Rowland bowed, smiled, and called his aunt, who, after some hesitation
+consented, and went upstairs to request Gladys to do the same, but
+Gladys was inexorable until Mr Prothero came in, and in his most decided
+manner insisted on her taking some rest. Mrs Prothero also murmured a
+'Go, Gladys fach!' and she kissed the dear cheek and went at once.
+
+Mr Prothero took her place. He was alone with his wife, and the rough,
+loud man became gentle as one of his own lambs, as he bent over her and
+thanked God that she was better. A big tear fell from his eyes on her
+face, and he made an inward vow, that if her life were spared, he would
+never again say a cross word to her as long as he lived.
+
+She felt the tear, heard the kind words, and seemed to understand the
+vow, for she looked at him tenderly, and said in her low, weak voice,
+'God bless you, David!'
+
+From that moment he went out to his work with a lightened heart; the
+labourers read the good news that their mistress was better in his face,
+and heard it in his voice. Even Netta's disobedience was forgotten, if
+not forgiven, in the joy of feeling that the partner of more than half
+his life was likely to recover. And by degrees she did recover. That is
+to say, before Rowland was obliged again to leave her, she was able to
+go down into the parlour and sit at her work, 'quite like a lady,' as
+she expressed it. And even out of the evil of such an illness good had
+sprung. It had aroused all the sympathy and kind feeling of relatives,
+friends, and neighbours; but especially had it been beneficial in
+bringing out the womanly kindness that lay hid under the stiffness of
+pride in Mrs Jonathan Prothero, and in opening the hearts of the
+sisters-in-law towards each other. Mrs Jonathan forgot her cousin, Sir
+Philip Payne Perry, and helped to nurse, and learned to love her humbler
+connection, whilst the ever-ready tenderness of the simple farmer's
+wife, sprung up to respond to it like a stream leaping in the sunlight.
+Gladys, too, reaped the reward of her devotion, in the increased
+kindness of Mr Prothero, who began to forget the Irish beggar in the
+gentle girl whose care, under God, had saved his wife's life; and so, as
+is usually the case, affliction had not come from the ground, but had
+fallen like a softening dew upon the irritated feelings of the
+afflicted, and bound heart still nearer to heart.
+
+Perhaps in the younger and more impetuous natures it had done almost too
+much. Thoughtless of consequences, they had all worked to save a life,
+valuable to so many. Rowland, Owen, Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Gladys, had
+been thrown together at a time when the formalities of the world and the
+distinctions of rank are forgotten, and the tear of sympathy, the word
+of friendly comfort, or the pressure of the hand of kindly feeling are
+given and taken, without a thought of giver or receiver. But they are
+remembered, and dwelt upon in after years as passages in life's history
+never to be obliterated--never to be forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE HEIRESS.
+
+
+Glanyravon Park lay, as we have said, in the parish of which Mr Jonathan
+Prothero was vicar, but as the parish and park were large, the house was
+three or four miles from the church; and it was on account of this
+distance of Glanyravon and its dependencies from church and school, that
+Miss Gwynne had induced her father to build the school-house, of which
+mention has been already made, since there was a large school in the
+village for such children as were within its reach. She would have had
+him build a small church also, and endow it, to remove all excuse, as
+she said, from the chapel-goers; but this was an undertaking too mighty
+for him. However, the school flourished wonderfully, both on week days
+and Sundays, and Miss Gwynne always filled every corner of an omnibus in
+which the servants went to church with such of the children as could not
+walk so far. Miss Hall was an admirable assistant to the school-mistress
+during the week; and Gladys, with Mrs Prothero's permission, undertook
+the Sunday duty for the mistress, in order that she might have a holiday
+on that day. Miss Gwynne also attended, but she was too impatient and
+imperious to be a good teacher, much as she wished to be one.
+
+Miss Gwynne had great ideas of doing good; grand schemes that she tried
+to carry out, but in which she often failed. Nevertheless, she did a
+great deal of good in her own peculiar way.
+
+She had been reading of the 'harvest homes' that they were endeavouring
+to revive in England, and had induced her father to have one in the
+park. Happily, the day fixed for this general rejoicing was during Mrs
+Prothero's convalescence, and before Rowland's return to London, so that
+most of the members of the Prothero family could be present. They also
+yielded to Miss Gwynne's ready assistance in such preparations as she
+made, and were the instruments in surprising her and her father by some
+tasteful decorations in their honour, unknown to them. Owen and Gladys
+worked very hard at floral and evergreen mottoes for the tent, whilst
+Rowland gave his advice as he sat with his mother, and tried to amuse
+her during the tedium of her recovery.
+
+A few hours before the general gathering, a messenger arrived at the
+Park in great haste, bearing a note to Miss Gwynne, containing the
+information that the vicar had sprained his ankle just as he was going
+to set out for Glanyravon, and was unable to move. There was another
+note for Rowland, which was to be carried on to the farm, requesting him
+to supply his uncle's place.
+
+Miss Gwynne was greatly annoyed; wished that the vicar would not go
+wandering about after old stones, as she was sure he had done; knew that
+Rowland would never be able to manage and was very sorry she had
+attempted the treat at all.
+
+Whilst she was still grumbling, and Miss Hall laughing and consoling,
+Rowland arrived. This was his first visit to the Park since he had been
+in the country, and Mr Gwynne was delighted to see him. He perceived at
+once that Miss Gwynne's equanimity was disturbed; and said that he was
+very sorry to come as a substitute for his uncle, but that he would do
+his best. His manner was so quiet and composed, and he seemed so little
+alarmed by the honours thrust upon him, that Miss Gwynne gradually
+became reassured.
+
+In less than half-an-hour she told Miss Hall that he was worth a hundred
+of the vicar, and that after all the sprained ankle was rather a
+fortunate accident.
+
+At about two o'clock the guests began to assemble at the school-house,
+over the door of which was the motto in dahlias on a ground of
+evergreens, 'Welcome for all,' which had been arranged by Miss Hall. The
+school-room was very tastefully decorated by the mistress, Gladys, and
+the children; and the motto, 'Long Live Miss Gwynne,' was very apparent
+in scarlet letters amongst a crown of laurels.
+
+All the children and their teachers were assembled here, and a great
+many of their relations, also most of the farmers and their families. In
+addition, there were Mr and Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Lady Mary and Miss
+Nugent, Colonel Vaughan, who was staying at the Park, Sir Hugh Pryse,
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero, who left her husband at his particular request,
+and Rowland. No one out of the precincts of the Park had been invited,
+and as it was, there was a goodly number.
+
+As there was no church near enough for them to go to, Rowland read the
+evening service in the school-room; after this he gave out one of the
+hymns for harvest, and led the youthful band in singing it. His fine
+clear voice seemed to give the children courage, especially when a
+beautiful full treble joined, to which they were evidently accustomed.
+It was impossible not to try to discover from whom those sweet notes
+proceeded, and one by one everybody looked at Gladys, who had a
+magnificent voice; she, however, was unconscious of observation, for her
+eyes were fixed on her hymn-book that she was sharing with a small
+child.
+
+It must be acknowledged that she not unfrequently distracted the
+attention of many a young man from his hymn-book on Sunday, when at
+church; and on the present occasion, what with the face and the voice,
+more than one pair of eyes were fixed on her. Owen, I am sorry to say,
+looked more attentively at her than at his book; and, as to Colonel
+Vaughan, he never took his eyes off her face, and was heard to whisper
+the question of 'Who is that girl?' to Lady Mary Nugent.
+
+When the hymn was sung, Rowland stood behind the high desk of the
+mistress, and gave a short lecture on the words, 'Thou crownest the year
+with thy goodness.' Rowland was not ungifted with the talent for
+extempore preaching, common to so many of his countrymen, and therewith
+possessed, in general, much self-possession; on the present occasion, it
+must be confessed that he felt unusually nervous, still he commanded
+himself and his feelings, and by degrees, forgetting them and his
+hearers, in his subject, warmed into a natural flow of eloquence that
+somewhat astonished his congregation, and entirely gained their
+attention.
+
+Beneath a quiet exterior Rowland hid a romantic and poetic mind, which
+few, if any of his friends knew anything about; for he had never shown
+his poetry to them, and never attempted to publish it. But it sometimes
+appeared, in spite of his efforts to repress it, in his sermons; and now
+it made a desperate effort to burst forth, and conquered.
+
+There was so much to excite the enthusiasm of a young preacher in that
+harvest-home gathering--in the mows of golden corn heaped up against the
+future--in the splendid autumn weather they were then enjoying--in the
+bright sunshine and many-hued leaves of the changing trees--and the
+goodness of God crowning the whole!
+
+I am not going through his sermon, for I should only mar what his
+feelings made powerful. Suffice it to say that some of his friends had
+tears in their eyes as he preached; others, according to the custom of
+their country, uttered occasional exclamations of approval as he went
+on, and some were glad to own him as their near and dear relation.
+
+Perhaps the proudest moment of the farmer's life was when Mr Gwynne went
+up to him after that short discourse, and shook him by the hand, with
+the words--emphatic words for him--
+
+'Well, Prothero, I congratulate you upon your son. You have reason to be
+proud of him. He managed his sermon well at a short notice, clear,
+poetical, etc., and all that sort of thing.'
+
+The abrupt termination to the speech was occasioned by the approach of
+Lady Mary Nugent, who also congratulated Mr Prothero.
+
+'Thank you, sir; thank your ladyship; glad you approve,' was all the
+proud father could say, with the tears in his eyes all the while.
+
+As to Rowland, he was undergoing an ovation of hand-shakings and praises
+from everybody present, which he was fain to put an end to, by beginning
+to organise the procession to the tent. One simple sentence, however,
+rang in his ears for the remainder of that day.
+
+'Thank you, Mr Rowland, for your sermon. I hope you have done us all
+good,' said Miss Gwynne.
+
+She began to think more highly of him than she had ever thought before,
+and owned to Miss Hall that he had words at command, and that at a short
+notice.
+
+The procession was very pretty. The school-children walked two and two,
+and looked like so many large scarlet poppies, as they wended their way
+through the avenue. Miss Gwynne gave them all their outer garments, and
+it was her picturesque and pleasing fancy to keep to the national
+costume; so they had high-crowned black beaver hats, scarlet cloaks with
+hoods, striped linsey frocks, and woollen aprons. They carried a due
+amount of little flags with appropriate mottoes, and some few of the
+Glanyravon musicians formed a band for the occasion, and played
+cheerily, 'The March of the Men of Harlech.'
+
+Mr Prothero and his son Owen headed the tenantry, and carried between
+them a magnificent banner, fashioned at the farm, bearing as motto,
+'Prosperity to Glanyravon.' Others followed with appropriate Welsh
+mottoes. And one was conspicuous as containing the sentiment, 'Long live
+our Vicar and his Lady.'
+
+A large tent was erected in front of the house, ornamented with flowers,
+wreaths of evergreens, devices, and mottoes. The most conspicuous of
+these was in Welsh, and above Mr Gwynne's seat at the head of the long
+table. It was composed of wheat-ears and oak-leaves, and contained the
+words, 'May God bless Gwynne of Glanyravon and his daughter.' Mr Gwynne
+felt almost uncomfortable in seating himself beneath such a sentence,
+but having consented for the first time in his life, and, he earnestly
+hoped, for the last, to become a hero, he knew he must go through with
+it. Accordingly, with Colonel Vaughan on his left, and Lady Mary Nugent
+on his right hand he prepared to do the honours of a most substantial
+feast to his tenantry, their wives and children. When every one was
+seated Rowland said grace, and they began the feast _con amore_. They
+were as merry and happy a party as could be assembled on a fine autumn
+day. Every one was in good humour, and thoroughly enjoyed the treat. As
+soon as they had feasted enough, they proceeded to give toasts, which
+were enthusiastically drunk in good Welsh ale.
+
+Mr Gwynne proposed the health of the Queen and royal family. Sir Hugh
+proposed Mr Gwynne and his daughter, the kind and liberal donors of the
+feast, in a hearty speech, which all understood. Mr Gwynne did his best
+to return thanks, but found that he could not get much beyond,--'I feel
+most grateful for the honour you have done me, but--my
+feelings--been--and--and--all that sort of thing,' at which point the
+cheers grew so deafening that he sat down quite overwhelmed, and wished
+himself in his library.
+
+'So very exciting, so complimentary, so touching,' whispered Lady Mary
+Nugent to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Rowland was again called upon to exert his eloquence in responding for
+the Church, which he did in a short, apt speech, duly applauded.
+
+He, in return, proposed the army, coupled with Colonel Vaughan,
+who--and, he said, he knew he was expressing the thoughts of all
+present--was heartily welcomed home, and earnestly entreated to remain
+in his native country.
+
+Colonel Vaughan delighted every one by a most eloquent response. 'Such a
+grand gentleman, but so humble,' was the general opinion of him. As for
+the ladies, they were all in love with him. Lady Mary Nugent, Freda,
+Miss Nugent--they had never seen so charming a man. And he was so
+universally gallant that he might have been in love with them all in
+return. He gave the 'Welsh Yeomanry,' for whom Mr Prothero returned
+thanks, and right well he did it; giving the colonel to understand in
+something more than a hint, that if he wished the farmers and farming to
+improve, he, and other absent landlords, must come and live on their
+property as Mr Gwynne did, and then there would be more wealth and
+prosperity, and more 'harvest homes.'
+
+And so, with various other toasts, including the vicar and his lady, for
+whom Owen had to return thanks, the afternoon wore on. The children were
+playing at games in the Park, and by degrees the elders joined them.
+
+Here Gladys was foremost. It was wonderful to see how she had gained the
+affections of the young. One and all were round her, and when the
+gentlemen and ladies came to look on, and join in the revels, the first
+thing that attracted them was the flushed face and graceful figure of
+this really beautiful girl, as she led the boisterous youngsters in a
+game of 'French and English.'
+
+In a moment Colonel Vaughan was in the ring heading the boys; but Gladys
+immediately retired, abashed, as he stood opposite to her, as captain on
+the French side. But Owen came to the rescue, and the gallant officer
+and equally gallant sailor headed the ranks, as commanders of the bands
+of French and English. They had a hard fight on both sides, but at last
+the English conquered, and Owen and his party won the day amidst great
+cheering.
+
+Sir Hugh and Rowland joined in the succeeding games; and sixpences,
+sweetmeats, apples, and every available prize was given to the boys and
+girls for racing, jumping, singing, and the like, until the shades of
+evening fell over the scene.
+
+Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter were the first to wish good-night; as
+they were to walk home, Colonel Vaughan proposed accompanying them.
+
+'You will return at once?' asked Freda, rather peremptorily, for she
+disliked that the Nugents should carry off the all-fascinating colonel.
+
+He bowed and said 'yes,' and Rowland, who was near, saw Freda's cheek
+flush as he looked at her.
+
+It chanced that Rowland and Miss Gwynne were left together at a distance
+from the revel. They stood awhile, looking on, and talking over the day.
+Rowland said it had been most successful. Indeed he felt that all had
+been pleased; none more than himself, for had not everyone congratulated
+him, and above all, had not Miss Gwynne been even kinder and more
+friendly, than when by his mother's bed side she had seemed to him as a
+sister?
+
+'If it has been successful, Mr Rowland, it is in a great measure due to
+you,' said Miss Gwynne, looking up into his face with a smile of real
+satisfaction. 'I should never have managed the children so well, and I
+must say, much as I like your uncle, I don't think he would have managed
+the services so well as you have done.'
+
+Reader! were you ever praised by a very handsome woman, whom you have
+loved all your life, when standing with her alone under a wide-spreading
+oak, in a noble park, with mountains bathed in the red and yellow of the
+sunset before you, and a broad harvest-moon rising above your heads? If
+so, you will not wonder at the end of this chapter.
+
+Rowland suddenly fixed his fine, dark eyes upon Freda's face, and looked
+into it, as if he would read her soul. For a moment she was abashed at
+the gaze, and coloured deeply, whilst her eye-lids drooped over the eyes
+he sought. Was there ever a woman who was not flattered and excited by
+such a look?
+
+'Miss Gwynne,' at last said Rowland tremulously, 'if in any way I can
+have served and pleased you I am happy. For this, in part, I have
+laboured, and still would labour. You do not, you cannot know how I have
+loved you all my life.'
+
+Poor Rowland almost whispered these few words, and as he did so, wished
+he could recall them, but now the deed was done, and she knew the secret
+of his childhood, boyhood, and manhood. He said no more, but stood
+looking down upon her with his heart beating as it had never beaten
+before.
+
+Higher and higher rose the colour on her cheek. What were the feelings
+that deepened it so? Alas! poor Rowland! Pride, only pride. For a moment
+she stood as if hesitating what to say, then, suddenly drawing herself
+up to her full height, she looked haughtily at him, and said words that
+he never forgot to his dying day.
+
+'Mr Rowland Prothero, have you quite forgotten who I am, and who you
+are?'
+
+With these words she made a stately bow, and turned towards the house.
+Proudly and hastily she walked up the avenue; once she had turned round,
+and seeing Rowland standing exactly where she had left him, hurried on
+until she found herself in her own room, indulging in a very decided
+flood of indignant tears.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE BROTHERS.
+
+
+During this short conversation between Rowland and Miss Gwynne, Gladys
+was still playing with the children at no great distance from them. With
+all a woman's penetration, she had guessed Rowland's secret during his
+mother's illness, and had perceived no symptoms of attachment on the
+part of Miss Gwynne; and now, with all a woman's pity, she was watching
+him from afar. She had seen them standing together, had marked the hasty
+bow and retreat of the lady, and the immoveable attitude of the
+gentleman; she saw that he continued to stand where Miss Gwynne had left
+him, as if he were a statue; she guessed something must have passed
+between them.
+
+As twilight was fairly come on, she told the schoolmistress that she
+must go home, and begged her to see that the children dispersed when she
+thought best. Owen, who was in the midst of a game of cricket with the
+boys, was as well aware of all Gladys's movements as if he had been by
+her side. He saw that she was shaking hands with the mistress, and that
+the children were imploring her to stay a little longer. He went to her
+and asked her to remain until he had finished his game, in order that he
+might see her home.
+
+She thanked him, but said, rather abruptly for her, that she must go at
+once, and, heedless of what he or others might think, went hastily
+across the park to Rowland.
+
+'That's the way the wind blows, is it?' said Owen to himself, whilst a
+frown gathered on his open forehead.
+
+Rowland was unconscious of the approach of Gladys, and was startled from
+his trance by the words,--
+
+'Mr Rowland, sir, I think the mistress will be expecting you home.'
+
+He looked at her half unconsciously for a moment, and then rousing
+himself, said,--
+
+'Oh! Gladys, is it you? Yes, I will go directly. Where? Home? Of course
+it is time. I will walk with you.'
+
+These were the only words spoken between the pair. Rapidly he strode
+down the avenue, inwardly resolving never to enter it again; as rapidly
+along the road that led to the farm, until he reached the house, with
+Gladys breathless by his side.
+
+'I am afraid I have walked too quickly, Gladys, I am very sorry. I was
+anxious to get home, I do not feel very well.'
+
+With these words he hurried through the passage, and was going to his
+room, when his father met him and called him into the parlour. He felt
+so bewildered that he scarcely knew what his mother said, when she told
+him how proud and happy he had made her by his conduct that day.
+
+'All, my dear son, church-people and dissenters were pleased with your
+sermon, and the way you managed everything. Your aunt repeated it word
+for word to me, and it was just what I like. This is the first comfort I
+have felt since--'
+
+Mrs Prothero pressed her son's hand, and her eyes filled with tears.
+
+'Thank you, mother, I am glad,' was all Rowland could say.
+
+'Mind you, Row, my boy, you must write a good sermon for Sunday. You've
+got a character to lose now,' said Mr Prothero, giving him a slap on the
+back.
+
+'Yes, father. I will go and write it.'
+
+'Not to-night, Rowland,' said Mrs Prothero, anxiously; 'you look pale
+and tired. What is the matter?'
+
+'Nothing, mother; but I must think of this sermon, I have only one clear
+day. We will talk to-morrow. Good-night, dear mother.'
+
+Rowland stooped to kiss his mother, and she felt that his face was very
+cold, and that his hand trembled.
+
+'You are ill, Rowland?'
+
+'No, only tired. I will come and see you again by-and-by.'
+
+Rowland went to his room and bolted himself in. He threw himself on a
+chair, covered his face with his hands, and wept like a child. He was
+seated by a little writing-table near the window, through which the moon
+looked down pitifully upon him in his great anguish. Yes, great. Perhaps
+the greatest anguish of a life. His arms on the table, his head on his
+arms, he thought, in the misery of that moment, that he must die, and he
+wished to die. The illusion of a life was destroyed, and how? So rudely,
+so cruelly, so heartlessly broken! He could have borne it if there had
+been one kind word, only a look of interest or pity; but that pride and
+haughtiness were like the stabs of a dagger in his heart.
+
+'Womanly weakness! unmanly folly!' you say, some one who has never felt
+keenly and suddenly the pangs of such a passion unrequited. Perhaps so.
+But out of our great weakness sometimes grows our strength; out of our
+bitterest disappointments our sternest resolution. By-and-by such
+weakness will strengthen; such folly will breed wisdom.
+
+Thus Rowland remained for some time, with unkind and unholy thoughts and
+feelings rushing through his mind, like the howling winds through the
+air in a great storm. Afterwards, he prayed humbly to be forgiven those
+devilish feelings of anger, pride, hatred of life and mistrust of God's
+goodness that assailed him in that hour of misery. But for the time,
+they were darting to and fro, and casting out every good thought, and
+hopeful purpose from his soul, like demons as they were.
+
+But strength came at last, and like one arising out of a horrid dream,
+Rowland got up from his anguish, and looked out into the night. The moon
+was too tender and beautiful for his mood at that time; he roughly drew
+down the blind, took a box of matches from the table, and lighted a
+candle. Then he paced up and down the room, and suddenly thought of
+Howel and Netta. He knew not how the transition took place, but he
+immediately accused himself of having been hard to them. Does any one
+ever fully sympathise with another, until he has felt as he does? No, we
+should not judge our weak fellow mortals so harshly, if we knew all
+their temptations and trials.
+
+Then, again, Miss Gwynne returned to him, with her pride and coldness.
+How could he love such a woman? he, whose beau ideal of feminine
+perfection was a creature of gentleness, love, and pity? but he would
+think of her no more. She, at least, should discover that he was as
+proud as herself.
+
+Yes, he was proud, he knew it, and now, he would glory in his pride
+instead of trample it down, as he had been of late trying to do, as an
+arch tempter; he should be justified in showing pride for her pride.
+
+Again a gentler and better mood came. Was he not vain, ambitious,
+ridiculous in her eyes, for venturing to speak to her as he had done?
+Doubtless he had been wrong, but she needed not to spurn him as she had
+done; she might have told him so as a friend. Friend! she thought him
+beneath her friendship.
+
+But we will not pursue these musings further; every kind and degree of
+feeling alternated for nearly two hours, when, as if by some sudden
+impulse or resolution, Rowland sat down and determined to write his
+sermon. It should be upon pride, and should touch her as well as
+himself. He found pleasure in thinking of all the texts in which the
+word occurs, in looking for them, and considering which was the most
+biting.
+
+A hasty knock at his door interrupted this study. It was Owen, who
+insisted upon coming in, and would take no excuse.
+
+Owen, too, had been ruminating upon the nature of woman, and was not in
+a very good humour; he, however, had been cheerfully talking to his
+mother of the events of the day, and duly lauding their own particular
+hero, Rowland.
+
+When he entered, he looked surprised at seeing Rowland with his Bible in
+his hand; he took a chair, and, turning his seat towards him, sat down
+astride upon it, leaning his chin upon the back and facing Rowland.
+
+'Now, Rowland, I'm going to ask you a very plain question. There ought
+to be no secrets between brothers: I've told you all mine, nearly? you
+must tell me yours. Are you in love?'
+
+Poor Rowland coloured to the temples, but did not answer.
+
+'You won't tell me? There was a time, Rowland, when you and I knew one
+another's hearts as well as if they were two open books, in which we
+could read when we like, but I suppose London and fine people--'
+
+'Stop, Owen, do not disgrace yourself or me by going on. Why do you wish
+to probe me in a wounded place, where every stab is death?'
+
+Owen looked at his brother, and saw the conflict that was going on in
+his mind in the working of his features.
+
+'Rowland, I only want your confidence; by Jove you shall have mine, even
+though you are my successful rival; and I love you so well that I would
+give her up to you, if it cost me--let me see--a voyage to the North
+Pole.'
+
+'Owen, this is no jesting matter. I have been a fool, I am ashamed of
+myself, I am trying to conquer my feelings; leave me until I have
+succeeded, and then--'
+
+'But, Rowland, if she loves you, I don't see why you should try to
+overcome your feelings. It would not be quite the right match,
+certainly; but she would make a better parson's wife than a sailor's
+wife after all; and my father might consent in time, and--'
+
+'Owen, is it kind of you to make a jest of me?' asked Rowland, rising
+from his chair, and resuming his walk up and down his room. 'If you had
+ever really loved either of the many girls you have fancied you adored,
+you would understand me better; but I deserve it all for my
+presumption--my folly.'
+
+'For that much, Rowland, perhaps I love her a trifle better than you do
+at this very moment; still I am not selfish enough to come between you,
+and would rather try absence and the northern latitudes; only just be
+honest. I'm not quite such a piece of blubber as not to be capable of
+constancy, though I may have been a rover until now; but when I see a
+girl walk right away from me, and refuse to wait for me to go home with
+her, and go straight off to another man, never mind if he was my father,
+instead of my brother, I don't mean to break my heart about her.
+Besides, I'm disappointed in her, and that's the truth. I thought she
+was as modest as the moon; but I never saw the moon walk out of her
+straight path to go after another planet, and no girl that I have
+anything to say to, shall go after another man. So you're welcome to
+her, though I'll say this, that I never saw the woman yet I loved so
+well, and believe she's as good as gold, as pure as that same moon, but
+as cold as ice itself; at least, so I've found her, perhaps you've a
+warmer experience.'
+
+As soon as Owen paused in his rapid speech, Rowland paused in his walk,
+and putting his hand on Owen's shoulder, said,--
+
+'This is a misapprehension, my dear Owen; you and I are thinking of a
+different person.'
+
+'I am thinking of Gladys,' said Owen bluntly, 'and repeat that I love
+you both too well to come between you and happiness.'
+
+'I am sure of that, Owen, you have no selfishness about you; but I do
+not love Gladys. I never thought of her except as a beautiful and
+superior girl, thrown by Providence amongst us, and to be treated with
+kindness and consideration. I only hope my manner to her has never
+indicated anything else.'
+
+'Do you mean what you say?' said Owen, jumping up from his chair, and
+cutting a caper, 'then shake hands, and tell me you forgive me for being
+so hasty.'
+
+They shook hands heartily, and Rowland said,--
+
+'Thank you, Owen, you have done me good; now go away, and I will write
+my sermon.'
+
+'Not before I know what is the matter with you, and why Gladys went
+across on purpose to walk home with you.'
+
+After much hesitation, and some pressing on the part of Owen, Rowland
+told his brother what had passed between him and Miss Gwynne. When he
+had made a clean breast of it, he felt as if relieved of half his
+load--especially when Owen assured him that women were all alike, and
+that when you asked them the first time, they were as proud as Lucifer.
+
+'It is first and last with me, Owen. I have forgotten my position, my
+profession, my own dignity in giving way to a passion that I had no
+right to suppose could be returned. I will crush it, and nobody but you
+shall ever know of its existence. This struggle over, and I shall hope
+henceforth to have but one Master and to serve Him.'
+
+'Well, I never should have thought you would have fancied Miss Gwynne;
+not but that she is handsome and clever and very agreeable and kind,
+too, when she pleases; but so proud, so domineering, and then--'
+
+'Neither should I have supposed Gladys to be your choice, Owen; and I am
+sorry it should be so. What would my father say? so soon upon Netta,
+too; and you must confess that her uncertain history, her present
+condition, the way she came to us, would be utter barriers to anything
+serious.'
+
+'Bravo, Rowland; now I must put the application to your lecture. I
+suppose everything is by comparison in this world--the squire and the
+squire's daughter look down upon the farmer and the farmer's son, and
+beg to decline the honour of an alliance. The farmer and the farmer's
+son look down upon the corporal and corporal's daughter, and beg to do
+the same, especially as she is their servant. Tom, the carpenter, thinks
+his daughter too good for Joseph the labourer, and Matthew the shoeblack
+wouldn't let his son marry Sal the crossing-sweeper for all the world.
+Oh, Rowland!, is this what you have learnt from your profession, and
+the book before you? Why, I've found a better philosophy on board ship,
+with no teachers but the moon and stars.'
+
+'Owen, I am ashamed of myself. My pride deserves to be thus pulled
+down.'
+
+'I don't want to seem unkind, Rowland, but my notion is, that an honest
+gentleman, such as you, educated, and a clergyman is good enough for any
+lady; and that a good, religious girl, who has saved my mother's life,
+is a great deal too good for a ne'er-do-well fellow like me. But I won't
+fall before I'm pushed, since I'm pretty sure she thinks so too. So,
+now, cheer up, old boy! and show the heiress what a sermon you can
+preach; and let her see you don't care a fig for her; and then, by
+jingo, she'll be over head and ears in love with you, and propose
+herself next leap-year.'
+
+Rowland laughed, in spite of himself, at this notion.
+
+'I will go and wish my mother good night,' he said, 'and then set to
+work.'
+
+The brothers went together to their mother, who was in bed, and together
+received her 'God bless you, my children!' Then they separated for the
+night, and Rowland returned to his room a wiser, if still a sadder, man,
+than when Owen visited it. Owen's plain common sense had often got the
+better of Rowland's romance; and although he could not approve his
+roving and seemingly useless life, he always acknowledged that he
+gathered some wisdom by his experience.
+
+Again Rowland sat down, but this time he drew up the blind, and let the
+moonlight in upon his chamber like a silver flood. He took himself to
+task for his pride, ambition, and conceit, in a way that did him good,
+doubtless, but was not palatable; still he made many excuses for
+himself, and none for Miss Gwynne. He was not to recover the effects of
+that disappointment in a few hours! Days and even years were necessary
+for that. But he asked for strength where it is never asked in vain, and
+then resolutely wrote a sermon on the words, 'Blessed are the poor in
+spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'
+
+He wrote as he felt, and under the influence of those strong,
+half-curbed feelings, wrote so easily, that he was astonished to find
+how quickly he composed, and how soon a sufficient number of sheets were
+written, to occupy his customary half-hour when preached. He did not
+read them over, but promised to do so on the morrow, which was Saturday.
+He was already far into the small hours, and knew that he ought to be in
+bed.
+
+When he was there he could not sleep. That love of his was too
+deeply-rooted to be torn up by a few proud words that haunted him all
+the night, and to which he was constantly adding 'Yes, you are the
+heiress of Glanyravon, and I am only a farmer's son and a poor curate.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE GOVERNESS.
+
+
+'Only a curate!' exclaimed Miss Gwynne, as she and Miss Hall were
+discussing Rowland's presumption the following morning.
+
+'Still, a gentleman,' replied Miss Hall quietly.
+
+'The son of one of my father's tenants; a farmer's son!'
+
+'Still, a gentleman!'
+
+'The ninety-ninth attempt on Glanyravon, and, happily, an unsuccessful
+one.'
+
+'Perhaps the first sincere attempt to gain the heiress's heart, without
+any thought of her park and its broad acres.'
+
+'I declare, Serena, _vous m'impatientez_. I verily believe you are in
+his interest and confidence, and trying to plead his cause.'
+
+This was said with great excitement; the answer, however, was calm.
+
+'Scarcely possible, if probable, because I was never alone with him in
+my life, and have rarely seen him except in your presence.'
+
+'Then, why do you take up his defence? You would not have me marry him,
+would you?'
+
+'Certainly not, for many reasons. In the first place, you do not love
+him; in the second, your father would not approve of such a match; in
+the third, you are not suited to him.'
+
+'I understand. Not good enough. But why do you defend him? Do you think
+it was right of him to say what he did to me?'
+
+'Well, perhaps not. But I think he has been nursing these feelings for
+you so long, that he began to forget whether they were right or wrong,
+sensible or foolish; and last night, carried away by the excitement of
+the day and his own success, and finding himself alone with you--you,
+probably, more friendly than usual--he forgot his customary prudence,
+and overstepped the bounds of conventionality.'
+
+'Very well said, Nita. Then it was wrong of me to be friendly, and right
+of him to make a dunce of himself.'
+
+'Perhaps if you had ever felt as he does, Freda, you might make some
+excuse for him.'
+
+'I am sure you must have been in love a hundred times, you are so
+sentimental, and would like to see him run away with me.'
+
+'Quite wrong again.'
+
+'Then what would you like, for I am sure you don't approve of my
+conduct?'
+
+'Simply, that you should have treated a clergyman and a gentleman as
+such, and at least felt grateful that a good and honest heart was
+offered to you, even though you would not accept it.'
+
+'But I don't believe in the heart, you see, Serena. There is not a more
+mercenary race under the sun than the clergy. They all marry for money.
+I can mention quite a dozen; his own uncle at the head of them. Now, you
+cannot suppose that he married Mrs Jonathan Prothero for anything but
+her fortune and her family.'
+
+'I think he is too simple-minded a man to have considered either the one
+or the other.'
+
+'Then why didn't he marry some simple-minded girl, his equal? No, you
+are quite out of your depth now, Serena. Depend upon it, that Rowland
+Prothero will soon find some English lady just as rich as _I am to
+be_--always provided that Lady Mary Nugent doesn't carry off papa, and
+get him to leave her the property. These men don't seem to know that it
+is not entailed; and that, after all, I may be cut off with a shilling.
+I think I may venture to affirm that were such the case, there is not
+one of my ninety-nine adorers who would have me, except, perhaps poor
+Sir Hugh.'
+
+'Perhaps, Freda, I may have been imprudent, situated as I am here, in
+even saying what I have in favour of Rowland Prothero. The fact is, that
+not only do I particularly like what I know of him, but there is a
+little passage in my early history that makes me have a great pity for
+young men who venture to fall in love with young ladies who consider
+themselves their superiors.'
+
+'If you will tell me your story, Nita, I will forgive you all the rest,
+and finish this sketch of Abertewey for Colonel Vaughan, meanwhile.'
+
+Freda drew well in water-colours, and had before her, as she sat in the
+embrasure of one of the windows of that charming morning-room, a
+half-finished sketch of Colonel Vaughan's place, which he had begged her
+to take for him. Hitherto it had been untouched; now she began to work
+at it with pretended vigour, whilst Miss Hall took up the little frock
+she was making for a poor child, which had been laid down during the
+discussion, and also made believe to stitch and sew industriously.
+
+But there was a flush on her cheek, and a tremor in her voice, as she
+began to tell Freda the little passage in her life to which she had
+alluded. Freda was conscious of this, and accordingly devoted herself
+more energetically to her drawing.
+
+'It was when I was just eighteen, Freda, and during my _beaux jours_,
+before my father had lost his fortune, or been obliged to retire from
+the army on half-pay on account of that dreadful paralytic
+stroke--before my sister's imprudent marriage, and consequent emigration
+to Australia--before my dear mother's death. We were a happy and gay
+family, and I had then more pride and higher spirits than you would
+probably give me credit for now.
+
+'I was visiting a friend who had married the head-master of one of our
+principal grammar schools. Amongst his tutors there was a young man of
+whom he was very fond, and who used to be a good deal with his family
+after the duties of the day were over. It is just possible that he was a
+countryman of yours, for his name was Jones.'
+
+'Oh, Serena! you don't mean to say that you fell in love with a Jones in
+England, and then came into Wales to be in the midst of that very
+ancient and numerous family.'
+
+'I have not come to the love part yet, Freda. He was a very quiet and
+unobtrusive person, but, my friends said, very amiable and sufficiently
+clever. I know that I used to take an unkind delight in teasing him, and
+that he was rather clever in repartee, and never spared me in return. I
+liked him as an amusing companion, and had no objection to his getting
+me books or flowers, or whatever lay within his reach that might be
+agreeable to me. Moreover, I pitied him, because I was told that both
+his parents were dead, and that he was working hard to pay for his own
+course at college, whither he intended to go as soon as he could get the
+means.
+
+'As my father was with his regiment abroad at this time, and my mother
+and sister were making a round of visits amongst our Scotch friends, I
+stayed a long time with the Merryweathers. They were very pleasant
+people, and had an agreeable circle of acquaintance.
+
+'But that has nothing to do with my story. The evening before I left
+them to return home, my friend, Mr Jones, managed to be alone with me;
+how, I never found out, for he ought to have been with the boys--and
+committed a similar misdemeanour to that of poor Rowland Prothero. He
+had unfortunately lost his heart to me--so he said, and was constrained
+to tell me so. Would I think of him, if, in the course of time, he could
+enter the church and marry me?
+
+'Now I had the world before me, a happy home, a prospect of a certain
+independence, and, I suppose, a sufficient share of personal
+attractions. I had never considered whether I could like this young man
+or not; but I had well considered that when I married, I must have
+talent, position, personal beauty, and a hundred other visionary
+attributes in my husband. I was of a most imaginative, and at the same
+time, ambitious temperament; and on the one hand, thought a great poet
+or warrior would fall to my lot, and on the other, that a prince of the
+blood royal was not too good for me.
+
+'Your pride, my dear Freda, is too matter-of-fact, as is your general
+character, thoroughly to understand me. At that time I was touched and
+flattered by the devotion of this young man, and felt, that had he been
+differently placed, and had he more of the attributes either of station
+or romance about him, I might have taken him under my august
+consideration; but as I had never even looked upon him in the light of a
+lover, or supposed it possible that he could be one, I at once, and
+decidedly refused him.
+
+'I shall never forget the pained and melancholy expression of his
+features when I did so, or the few words he uttered. He said that he had
+not ventured to hope for a different answer, though he had dared to
+speak, and that his one slight prospect of happiness had vanished. He
+had now nothing but a life of labour before him, without a gleam of hope
+to cheer his way, but that he should think of me always, and of the
+happy hours we had passed together. I felt so sorry for him that I could
+really say nothing, either to cheer or discourage him. He simply asked
+me to allow him to remain my friend, and to forgive his presumption; and
+so we shook hands and parted. He did not join the family that evening,
+and the next day I left the Merryweathers.
+
+'I do not know how it was, but when I returned home, I thought more of
+this young man than of any one else. Although my sister and myself were
+surrounded by men of a very different, and I may say, superior class,
+still he haunted me very much, for a time at least.
+
+'Then came my sister's marriage, which proved, as you know, unfortunate
+in a pecuniary point of view, and her and her husband's emigration to
+Australia in search of fortune. Then followed our own ruin, and my
+father's paralytic seizure. To help my parents and support myself, I
+came to you as governess. You know, dearest Freda, how happy your dear
+mother made me as long as she lived, and how ardently I desired to
+fulfil her dying wish that I should finish your education. Most thankful
+I am that I was permitted to do so.
+
+'I need not tell you, over and over again, the sad story of my mother's
+death, and my return home to live with my father, and become a daily
+instead of a resident governess. All the happiness I have known--at
+least the greatest--since our troubles, has been in this house.
+
+'But this has nothing to do with Mr Jones. I heard, casually from my
+friend, Mrs Merryweather, that he had left them and gone to college;
+what college, she did not say. For some years I had quite enough of
+painful duty to perform to make me forget the weeks passed in his
+society, and their termination; or to think of a person of whom I had
+quite lost sight. About six or seven years ago, however, I heard of him,
+strange to say, through my sister. I had, of course, told her of his
+proposal and my refusal.
+
+'She and her husband were among the early settlers at Melbourne, and in
+the course of time became tolerably prosperous. He, you know, was
+obliged to leave his regiment for drunkenness, and contrary to the usual
+course of things, became steadier, though not steady, in Australia. My
+sister lost two children in one week from fever, and during her great
+sorrow, was constantly visited by the clergyman of her parish, who
+turned out to be my early friend, Mr Jones. I do not think he knew she
+was my sister for some time; but she described his untiring kindness and
+gentleness as her greatest comfort during her troubles. He was also of
+great benefit to her husband, by taking advantage of the opportunity
+offered by the loss of his children, to press upon him the necessity of
+a reformation in his own course of life, which, I am thankful to say,
+has been gradually effected. They became very intimate, and, I suppose
+by mutually comparing notes concerning Old England, found one another
+out, so to say. But he seldom spoke of me. If my sister tried to draw
+him into the subject of his acquaintance with me, he changed it as soon
+as possible, as if it were disagreeable to him. And no wonder.
+
+'However, my sister looks upon this man as her greatest benefactor--him,
+whom I, in my pride and ignorance, considered beneath me in every
+respect; and when he left Melbourne a year or two ago, she said they had
+lost their best and dearest earthly friend, and that the children cried
+when he wished them good-bye, as if they were parting from a father.'
+
+Whilst Miss Hall was telling this simple narrative, Freda was very
+attentive. As it drew to a close, she rose from her drawing, and
+kneeling, as she sometimes would do, by Miss Hall's side, put her arm
+affectionately round her. There was something in the action at that
+moment which drew tears from Miss Hall's eyes.
+
+'But he is not married, Serena, I know he is not married,' she
+exclaimed. 'Who knows!'
+
+'My dear child,' said Miss Hall, smiling, and stroking Freda's shining
+hair, 'I have long given up all thoughts of matrimony. But the
+recollection of old times always affects me, and your love affects me
+still more. I have not told you this because I regret not being married
+to Mr Jones--it was mercifully ordained that I should not marry any one.
+What would my dear father have done if I had? but simply to show you how
+the very people we think the least of frequently become our best
+friends; the "weak things of the earth confounding those that are
+mighty," in scripture phrase.'
+
+'Oh, Serena! do you hear?' interrupted Freda, 'there is Miss Nugent in
+the hall. Of all the bores! we never can be free from those people. Yes
+it is; I hear her _lithp_;' and Miss Nugent was announced.
+
+She had walked over, she said, to ask how they all were after the
+delightful Harvest Home, and to bring an invitation from her mamma to
+dinner the following Tuesday.
+
+'I do hope you will come, Freda, and you, Mith Hall, and bring that
+charming Colonel Vaughan with you. He ith tho nithe. Don't you think
+tho.'
+
+'Very,' said Freda, drily.
+
+'But, do you know, I don't admire him half ath much ath Mr Rowland
+Prothero. Mamma thaith he ith tho gentlemanlike and that the meanth to
+athk him Tuethday.'
+
+'Really!' again said Freda, not daring to look at Miss Hall.
+
+'We are going to Llanfach to-morrow to hear him preach. Hith thermon
+wath beautiful in the school-room. Don't you think he ith like the
+picture at the beginning of "Evangeline." Dear me, who wath he, Freda?'
+
+'Longfellow, you mean, I suppose.'
+
+'Of courth. And hith language ith tho poetical. Mamma thaith the
+thouldn't wonder if he turned out a great author by-and-by. Thould you,
+Mith Hall?'
+
+'It takes so much to make a great author, dear; but it is just
+possible.'
+
+'But not probable,' whispered Freda.
+
+'Oh, Freda! don't you like him? I am thure you ought; he managed
+everything tho nithely for you yethterday. Mamma thaith--Ah! there is
+Colonel Vaughan coming up the drive.'
+
+Miss Hall looked across at Freda, and remarked that she began to draw
+most industriously, and did not glance out of the window as Miss Nugent
+did.
+
+'Mamma thaith,' began that young lady, 'that the colonel ith the motht
+accomplithed and agreeable man in Waleth.'
+
+'How can she tell that?' asked Freda, with feigned surprise. 'There are
+so many clever men in Wales. I assure you we are a talented race.'
+
+'I am thure of that, Freda; but I think the Englith are more thinthere;
+mamma thaith tho.'
+
+'Ah, she must be a good judge,' said Freda, somewhat ironically.
+
+'Yeth; mamma ath theen a great deal of the world,' replied the
+unsuspecting Miss Nugent.
+
+Here Colonel Vaughan made his appearance, and that young lady gave him
+her mamma's invitation, which he said he should be delighted to accept,
+if his friends did; so Freda said her papa was out, but she would send
+Lady Mary Nugent an answer when he came in.
+
+'Ah! this _is_ a sketch, Freda,' said Colonel Vaughan, who had somehow
+returned to the old familiarity of earlier days. 'How can I thank you
+sufficiently? who could think that the child I left twelve years ago
+would be such a good artist when I returned? But that was the cleverest
+bit of life-like drawing I ever saw, that sketch of your old pony. By
+the way, do you know who this is?'
+
+The colonel opened a sketch-book that he had in his hand, and put it
+into Freda's.
+
+'Why, this is Gladys, Mrs Prothero's Gladys. How could you prevail on
+her to stand for her picture? Look, Serena, how well Colonel Vaughan has
+hit off her expression and general effect in those few touches!'
+
+'I went to see Prothero, who used to be a good friend of mine in old
+times, and whilst I was waiting for him and looking out of the window, I
+saw this Gladys in the garden, and made the attempt you are pleased to
+praise. Certainly she is about the loveliest specimen of country beauty
+I ever saw in my life.'
+
+'Do you admire her, Colonel Vaughan? I think the ith tho very pale and
+thupid.'
+
+'I never contradict a young lady, and suppose you must be right; but in
+the present company, one cannot think of other belles. It would be a
+case of looking for stars in the presence of the sun.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan glanced from one to the other of the ladies. Freda bent
+more closely over her sketch, but coloured perceptibly. Miss Nugent
+simpered and looked very handsome withal.
+
+Miss Hall was struck with her beauty as she then appeared; a perfect
+profile, perfect complexion, perfect features, beneath a most becoming
+straw hat and feathers. Such a colour and complexion, but no expression,
+not even the sarcastic turn of the lip of the mother.
+
+'Perfectly child-like, amiable, and silly,' thought Miss Hall, 'and yet
+Colonel Vaughan admires that statue more than the noble face and grand
+expression of my Freda.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE PREACHER.
+
+
+As Mr Jonathan Prothero's sprain proved to be a very bad one, Rowland
+was obliged to undertake his weekly as well as his Sunday duty, and
+being summoned to the vicarage early on Saturday morning for a wedding,
+and finding other clerical duty in the afternoon, he had no time to
+revise his sermon until the morning on which he was to preach it. His
+mind was still in a state of so much excitement, that he found, on
+reading it over, that he had no power to amend what he had written
+hastily, but feeling that it was what he earnestly desired to act up to
+himself, and to bring his own mind down to, he hoped the words would not
+be without effect on his hearers. If Miss Gwynne took them as intended
+personally to touch her, why, he could not help it, and besides, she
+probably would be at Llanfawr church, to avoid seeing him.
+
+But this was not the case. Gwynnes, Nugents, Protheros, and many others
+of Rowland's neighbours, helped to fill the little church that Sunday,
+all anxious to hear him preach; this made him feel nervous in spite of
+himself. In vain he reasoned with himself, prayed to forget himself, and
+those present--he could not get rid of those haunting words of Miss
+Gwynne's, or of the consciousness that she was listening to him.
+However, he read the service clearly and impressively, in the manly
+tone, and simply religious manner of one who knows that he is leading
+the prayers and praises of a congregation who cannot express their wants
+too humbly and naturally, to One who knows what they desire, even before
+they ask. No one in that church prayed more earnestly to be delivered
+from 'all blindness of heart, from pride, vain-glory and hypocrisy; from
+envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness,' than he did. And
+as he proceeded with the litany, his mind grew calmer, and he gradually
+received strength to overcome the great inward struggle that he was
+suffering from.
+
+Before reading the thanksgiving, he gave out in a tremulous voice, that
+a 'member of that congregation was desirous of returning thanks to
+Almighty God for her recovery from dangerous, illness.' When he thanked
+God for all His mercies to all men, 'particularly to her who desires now
+to offer up her praises and thanksgivings for late mercies vouchsafed
+unto her,' every one felt that he was returning thanks for his own
+mother's recovery, and joined him in so doing. His father was seen to
+put his handkerchief to his eyes, as he lifted up his heart in praise.
+
+His earnest manner evidently impressed his congregation, who were
+usually accustomed to the somewhat monotonous reading of his uncle, and
+to his rather learned discourses.
+
+It is generally the case, that words spoken from the overflowings of the
+speaker's own heart and feelings, make the greatest impression on the
+hearts and feelings of his hearers; so it was now. When Rowland, in
+simple and forcible language, told his listeners that the first words of
+our Lord's Sermon on the Mount were to bless the poor in spirit, and to
+promise them the kingdom of heaven; and went on to contrast such poverty
+of spirit with the pride and vain glory inherent in man, and to call up
+the various scriptural examples and texts that bore upon the subject of
+humility; he gained the attention of all. Then he enlarged more
+particularly on the necessity of curbing and bridling and keeping down
+the spirit, until it attained that lowliness to which Our Saviour
+alludes in the very first of the beatitudes; and finally went through
+that Saviour's life, as the great example for all men, of meekness,
+gentleness, and humility--the interest in his words increased.
+
+Rowland preached from the heart to the heart, and so his sermon that day
+was not in vain, albeit not perhaps written in the very best of moods.
+There was no poetry, no overheated enthusiasm no display of eloquence,
+but the plain, straightforward announcement to rich and poor alike, that
+to enter God's kingdom the spirit must become even as that of a little
+child.
+
+Perhaps this is the least understood, and least palatable of all
+subjects, and when brought before a congregation, and well discussed for
+half-an-hour, must make many of its members pause to consider whether,
+on such terms, 'theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was one of those who paused so to consider, and acknowledged
+to herself that she had never looked upon our Lord's Sermon on the
+Mount, as so practically and so particularly addressed to herself
+before. She did not for a moment believe that the sermon was intended
+for her, more than for the rest of the congregation, but she felt, for
+the first time, that she had been proud and overbearing in her conduct
+to the preacher, as well as to many others whom she chose to think her
+inferiors.
+
+She left the church, resolved to make such amends as were in her power,
+for the hasty and haughty way of her rejection of Rowland, and to strive
+to be less proud for the future.
+
+When she was without, her father said to her, that he must go into the
+vicarage to congratulate the vicar on his nephew's preaching, and to ask
+Rowland to dinner. Miss Gwynne endeavoured to dissuade him from doing
+so, but Lady Mary Nugent expressed her intention of performing similar
+civilities; consequently the whole party, Colonel Vaughan and Miss Hall
+inclusive, walked across the churchyard to the vicarage, which lay just
+the other side of it.
+
+The vicarage was a snug little cottage, with a rustic porch, adorned
+with the Virginian creeper, which, together with the massive ivy, also
+nearly covered the house. Red and cheerful looked the tiny dwelling
+beneath the autumn sun; and very pretty was the garden which surrounded
+it, still bright with dahlias, fuchsias, red geraniums, and monthly
+roses. It was here, years ago, that Rowland, Miss Gwynne, and Netta had
+often played together; and it was here that Rowland had passed the
+principal part of his holidays when at home from Rugby or college. It
+was here that Mrs Jonathan had done her utmost to make a gentleman of
+him, and had succeeded to her heart's content. Rowland had been very
+happy with his uncle and aunt, and loved them almost as well as his
+parents.
+
+In the pretty garden were innumerable wonderful stones heaped into all
+sorts of masses, which he had helped his uncle to bring from various
+parts in the neighbourhood, and all of which were curiosities in their
+way; and there, also, was a fernery which he himself had made, and which
+contained all the remarkable ferns of a country rich in those beautiful
+productions of nature. The vicarage and its garden were neatness itself.
+Mrs Jonathan prided herself on them, and took great pains to prove that
+there could be, in a Welsh country village, a clergyman's abode
+something akin to the far-famed dwellings of the English ecclesiastic.
+
+The party from the church quite filled the little drawing-room. Mr
+Jonathan Prothero was in an easy-chair, with his foot on a cushion, and
+looking very much like a caged stork.
+
+Every one began by congratulating him on the success of his nephew in
+the pulpit.
+
+'He must become a popular preacher,' said Lady Mary Nugent.
+
+'I must say I have seldom heard more simple yet forcible language,'
+said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'He touched us all upon our besetting sin of pride,' said Colonel
+Vaughan, glancing at Miss Gwynne, who said nothing.
+
+'And thuch a beautiful voice!' remarked Miss Nugent.
+
+Mrs Jonathan looked delighted.
+
+'But where is he all this time, my dear?' asked the vicar.
+
+We must answer the question by informing the reader that, having watched
+his congregation leave the church, he went into the vestry and sat down
+there, in order to avoid meeting any of the Gwynne party; when a
+messenger from his aunt came to inform him that he was wanted at once.
+He inquired by whom, and on hearing, tried to arm himself for an
+unavoidable encounter with Miss Gwynne.
+
+When he entered the room she was talking to his uncle, and had her back
+turned to the door. He was at once greeted by Mr Gwynne and Lady Mary
+Nugent, so that he did not find it necessary to shake hands with every
+one, and made a kind of general bow, which he addressed to Miss Hall
+particularly, and was therefore unconscious of the half-attempt of Freda
+to rise from her seat as he entered. Miss Hall, alone, saw the flush on
+her cheek, as she relapsed into her position by Mr Jonathan Prothero and
+professed to be listening to the cause of his accident. His adventurous
+search after trinobites in a celebrated quarry, the slipping of a stone,
+and consequent spraining of his right ankle, sounded into one of her
+ears, whilst the following conversation, entered the other:--
+
+'I hope you will give us the pleasure of your company on Tuesday,' said
+Lady Mary Nugent. 'We shall not be a large party.'
+
+'And will come to us on Wednesday,' said Mr Gwynne. 'We must have some
+more chess. I have never met with a fair opponent since--hem--I beg your
+pardon, Lady Mary--Ah--yes--or, on Thursday. You see we did not like to
+ask you whilst your mother was so ill; my daughter thought it would be
+useless.'
+
+Rowland coloured at the allusion to Freda, but did not even glance at
+her.
+
+'Thank you, Lady Mary; thank you, Mr Gwynne, very much indeed, but I
+intend being in London on Tuesday. I have already outstayed my
+prescribed fortnight.'
+
+'My dear Rowland!' exclaimed his aunt, 'you do not mean this?'
+
+'Yes, aunt; my fellow curate has been fortunate enough to get a living
+given to him, and is to read himself in next Sunday, and I have promised
+to take double duty.'
+
+'But one day more or less,' suggested Lady Nugent, who did not imagine
+it possible that Rowland Prothero _could_ refuse an invitation from her,
+which was, in her opinion, quite a royal command. She, so exclusive!
+
+'I am very much obliged to your ladyship, but I have promised to be in
+London on Tuesday; and as my mother is really better, there is no longer
+any necessity for my staying in the country.'
+
+'Your uncleth foot?' suggested Miss Nugent.
+
+'Two good dinners, and more agreeable company than you will meet with in
+your East End parish!' said Colonel Vaughan.
+
+'My uncle will easily find help,' said Rowland, turning to Miss Nugent,
+'although I am sorry not to be able to give him more; and,' to Colonel
+Vaughan, with a smile, 'had you ever tried the far East, you would know
+that there is very good company there, as well as in the West. I should
+be very glad to introduce you to some, if you would come and see me in
+town.'
+
+'That I certainly will,' said the colonel, heartily; 'and I shall be
+able to tell you all about your sister, as I heard yesterday that her
+husband has finally taken my place, and will be down here as soon as it
+is put in first-rate order, furnished, etc.'
+
+'You are not likely to leave us yet I hope, Colonel Vaughan?' said Lady
+Mary Nugent.
+
+'For a time, I must; but having found how pleasant you all are down
+here, I shall hope to come again frequently, if Miss Gwynne will second
+her papa's invitation.'
+
+Freda just turned round, bowed, and smiled, and then resolutely resumed
+her conversation with, or rather act of listening to, the vicar.
+
+'How interested you appear to be,' whispered the colonel, sitting down
+behind her.
+
+Rowland saw this little bit of by-play, and wished himself in London;
+whilst Colonel Vaughan joined in the vicar's archaeological description
+of the quarry in which he had met with his accident. Freda heard all
+that Rowland said more distinctly than what passed close at her side.
+
+She heard her father and Lady Mary's repeated entreaties that he would
+remain until the end of the week, and the decided, but polite refusal of
+Rowland. She heard her father prophecy that he would soon have a good
+living, and Rowland's reply, 'that without interest or any particular
+talent for what is called "popular preaching," there was little chance
+of church preferment. 'But,' he added, 'I am well content to be only a
+curate. There is enough to do in my parish to keep one from morning to
+night employed, and that in real, active, heart-stirring work, that will
+not let one flag if one would wish it.'
+
+'I thould like to thee the Eatht End, mamma,' said Miss Nugent. 'People
+in the Wetht theem to think all the inhabitanths barbarians.'
+
+'It is a pity they don't come and try to civilise us, then,' said
+Rowland. 'We should be very glad of their help.'
+
+
+'I will go if mamma will let me,' said Miss Nugent.
+
+Lady Mary smiled somewhat superciliously, and observed that she did not
+think she would be of much use.
+
+'All who have a desire to do good will make a path of usefulness, Lady
+Mary, I think,' said Rowland. 'In these days the enlightened must not
+hide their light under a bushel. We live in stirring, striving times,
+when good and evil seem at terrible issue.'
+
+'And which will conquer?' broke in Colonel Vaughan suddenly. 'I don't
+see that all the meetings and tracts have done much, as yet, towards
+their part in the fight.'
+
+'Good must conquer eventually,' said Rowland, 'and is conquering daily
+and hourly.'
+
+'In your East End parish?'
+
+'We hope so. If our progress is slow we are not without encouragement
+even there, in the very thick of the battle, and where the armies of
+evil are ten to one against good.'
+
+'I know something of fighting, Mr Rowland, and I fear the odds are too
+great. You may as well give up the conflict.'
+
+'Remember, Colonel Vaughan, that in all the great battles of antiquity,
+and not a few of modern times--the Swiss for example--those who fought
+for freedom and right have always found their arms nerved to resist
+multitudes--hundreds have conquered tens of thousands. So is it with our
+warfare. We have strength given us that makes the single champion of the
+cross, powerful against the legion of his adversaries.'
+
+'Very well said, nephew,' broke in the vicar, 'Marathon, Thermopylae,
+Platea--'
+
+'I am afraid we are keeping you from your dinner, Mrs Prothero,'
+interrupted Mr Gwynne, who had a nervous dread of the vicar's
+antiquities, whether in war or peace. 'Freda, I think we must go.'
+
+Freda rose from her seat, and shook hands very warmly with Mr and Mrs
+Prothero. She had made up her mind to do the same with Rowland; but just
+as she approached the door near which he had been standing, he said he
+would go out and see whether the carriages were ready, and did so
+accordingly. They followed him as soon as the leave-takings were over,
+and found him waiting at the gate. He immediately assisted Lady Mary and
+Miss Nugent into their carriage, leaving Colonel Vaughan to perform the
+same office for Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall. Mr Gwynne stayed to shake
+hands with him, and tell him that he should always be glad to see him;
+and Colonel Vaughan promised to pay him a visit as soon as he went to
+town. The former got into the carriage, the latter upon the box to
+drive. Rowland stood by the door a moment irresolute.
+
+'Good-bye, Mr Rowland,' said Miss Hall, 'I shall hope often to see your
+mother.'
+
+'Thank you, Miss Hall,' said Rowland, pressing the hand she held out to
+him with an iron pressure.
+
+Freda was just going to put out her hand across Miss Hall, when Colonel
+Vaughan touched the horses, and the carriage drove off. Rowland raised
+his hat, and as he glanced at Freda saw that she was looking at him not
+altogether unkindly. After those words of hers, he never could have
+shaken hands with her, unless she made the advance; and so they parted,
+he believing her too proud to acknowledge him after what he had said to
+her; she admiring what she considered his pride and resentment a great
+deal more than she had ever done his humility.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE LOVER.
+
+
+Spring came round again, and Owen and Gladys were still at the farm. The
+following conversation will show how they went on together.
+
+'Let me carry that bucket for you, Gladys,' said Owen, one evening when
+she was proceeding across the farm-yard, to carry a warm mesh to a sick
+cow.
+
+'It is not heavy, sir,' said Gladys, gently.
+
+'It is too heavy for you, _ma'am_, said Owen, emphasising the 'ma'am.'
+
+He took the bucket from her, and carried it to the shed, where Gladys
+dosed and fed her sick cow so very tenderly, that Owen was impelled to
+say,--
+
+'I wish I were that cow.'
+
+'Oh, sir! she is but a poor, sick, witless animal.'
+
+'But she has you to nurse and be kind to her; so I wish I were that
+cow.'
+
+'Sure, sir, I would be glad to nurse you if you were sick,'
+
+'Would you, Gladys? Then I will be sick to-morrow.'
+
+'I hope not, Mr Owen. Come, poor Mally. Drink it up.'
+
+'Never mind, Mally, but attend to me. Will you not be so cold and stiff,
+and respectful to me? I hate a girl who "sir's" me as if I were a lord,
+and makes me curtseys, and never looks at me, and seems as if she hated
+me--'
+
+'Oh, no, indeed no, sir--'
+
+'And lives all day long in the same house, and scarcely speaks to me.
+You will drive me off to sea again, _ma'am_, if you don't take care.
+Look into my face, and say why you hate me so!'
+
+'I hate no one in the world, sir; much less any one of your name.'
+
+Here the girl looked up from the poor cow who was licking her hand, and
+round whose neck her arm was flung, into the face of the young man. Owen
+put his hand on the arm that rested on the cow, and said earnestly,--
+
+'Then treat me as your brother.'
+
+'I have lost my brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and kith
+and kin. I have seen them all die--all that ever loved me. Oh! Mr Owen!
+you are too kind--too kind; but do not talk to me so, or it will break
+my heart.'
+
+Here was even more of Irish feeling than Owen either expected or
+desired. But he took Gladys's hand in his, and, looking kindly from his
+large honest dark eyes into hers, said,--
+
+'Forgive me, Gladys, for making you think of your sorrows. But you know
+my dear sister Netta is as good as lost to me, and I want some one who
+will be like her, or at least, who will not be quite as cold as clay.'
+
+'Gladys withdrew her eyes and her hand. There was even more than
+brotherly warmth in that kind glance and winning manner.
+
+'Thank you, sir, I will try; indeed I will,' said Gladys, as she took up
+the bucket, and turned to leave the shed.
+
+'Thank you, ma'am, you are very obliging, but you are not going to carry
+my bucket.'
+
+'Oh,' sir! if you please do not speak so to a poor servant girl like me.
+I would rather not hear it.'
+
+'You will not see, or hear, or believe what I do, and say and think all
+day long; so now, here, where nobody else can listen, you must hear me.
+You must learn to be happy with us, you must love us, you must--'
+
+'Oh! I do, sir, I do. Let me go, sir, if you please.'
+
+'Not until you hear that you must love me, even me whom you cannot
+bear.'
+
+'Oh! I do, sir--I do. I thank you, I pray for you, I love you all,
+always; indeed, indeed, I do.'
+
+'But better than all the others, as I love you, so as to be my wife
+when--when--'
+
+'Let me go, Mr Owen, if you please. You must not talk to me so, sir; me,
+just now a beggar at your gate.'
+
+'But I must, I will, and you must listen. In spite of myself, and of
+your cold manners and pale face, and all the trouble you take to avoid
+me, I love you, Gladys, and will marry you if you will have me. I will
+give up the sea, and become a steady fellow, and live at home, and make
+you and my parents happy, and--'
+
+'Oh! Mr Owen, if your parents were to hear you talking like this to me,
+what would they say to you? what would they think of me? You should not
+make a joke of my poverty and friendless state, sir. Anything else, but
+not this! oh! not this! and from you.'
+
+'I was never more in earnest in all my life, and ask for only one word
+of encouragement from you to go and tell my and mother directly,'
+
+'Oh! if you please, Mr Owen, do not do this. If are in earnest, sir, and
+I hope you are not, you must forget that you ever said this to me.'
+
+'I do not mean to forget it, Gladys, or to let you forget it. Will you
+say the word? only give me hope and all will be right. Will you marry
+me, and be the daughter of your adopted mother?'
+
+'I can never marry any one, sir; I have nothing to live for in this
+world, but to try to do my duty to you and yours, and to think of those
+I have lost.'
+
+'Gladys, your cold manner maddens me. Say you hate me, and would rather
+marry some one else; say anything that has some heart in it. We sailors
+are made of warmer stuff than such icebergs as you.'
+
+'I cannot say that, sir, because I do not hate you; and I never mean to
+marry, and I would sooner die than cause trouble in your family.'
+
+'Then you won't have me, Gladys? and you mean to send me back to sea
+again, and to make me return to my wild ways, and to make my mother
+miserable?'
+
+'Och hone! what will I do? Why do you say such things to me, Mr Owen,
+who have never done you any harm? I cannot marry--I cannot do what would
+be wicked and ungrateful--I will go away again back to old Ireland, and
+not cause trouble to those who have been so good to me.'
+
+'No, you will not do anything of the kind, unless you wish me to go
+after you. I shall tell my father that I will be off to sea again, and
+then I need not trouble you any more.'
+
+'I will not stay, Mr Owen, to make mischief; so if you will only please
+to stop at home with your parents I will go away.'
+
+'I shall not please to do anything of the kind, for I only stayed so
+long on your account, and this is the reward I get.'
+
+Owen was in a passion, and vainly striving to keep it down. His face was
+flushed, he looked angrily and moodily upon the drooping head of Gladys
+as it bent lower and lower over the poor cow upon which she was leaning.
+He suddenly seized her hand, and exclaimed,--
+
+'I am not used to be refused in this cool sort of way, and I don't
+believe there ever was a woman in the world who doesn't wish to get
+married to some one or other. Now whether you mean to have me or not is
+not the question I am going to ask; but whether you have any other
+lover, or ever had one that you prefer to me?--Tell me this, and I shall
+be satisfied.'
+
+Gladys tried to draw away her hand from the impetuous young man, but he
+held it fast.
+
+'You needn't be afraid; I would not hurt a hair of your head. And if you
+knew what I am feeling now at this moment you will tell me the truth.
+Will you answer me a few questions?'
+
+'Yes, Mr Owen, if I can without doing or saying what is wrong.'
+
+Owen looked Gladys again in the face, as she slightly raised her head to
+answer his question. Why that burning blush? Why those bright,
+expressive eyes, if she did not care for him? For a moment he had hope,
+and pressed the hand he held. Again she bent over the cow that divided
+them, and tried to withdraw her hand.
+
+At any other time Owen would have laughed at the notion of making an
+offer, divided from his beloved by a fine Alderney cow, but now he was
+too much in earnest for laughing.
+
+'Gladys, do you love my brother Rowland?' he asked.
+
+Gladys now looked at him in unfeigned astonishment as she answered,--
+
+'No, Mr Owen; surely I have never given you reason to suppose so. A
+grand gentleman like him!'
+
+'But there is a still grander of whom I am jealous,' continued Owen.
+'Colonel Vaughan, I have often seen him here upon every excuse--and
+always to look at you. I have seen him, and know it well. Do you care
+for this great gentleman?'
+
+'Oh! no sir,' said Gladys, sadly. 'How can you suspect me of such a
+thing? Are my manners so forward, or am I so foolish as to let any one
+suppose I could think of people so far above me? This is not kind, Mr
+Owen.'
+
+'One more, Gladys. Those beneath you, then. You cannot, I feel you
+cannot, think of that gardener or footman at the Park, or of young
+Gwillim, the Half Moon, or--there are so many who admire you, Gladys.'
+
+'Oh! no, sir, I do not think so; no one says so to me, and I care for
+none of them. Now, I had better go, if you please, Mr Owen--my mistress
+will be wanting me.'
+
+'I should think she 'ould, seure enough,' said a stentorian voice, as Mr
+Prothero entered the cow-house, having just heard the last words, and
+seen the clasped hands.
+
+Gladys looked entreatingly at Owen, who at once said, 'It was my fault
+that she stayed here, I kept her against her will.'
+
+Gladys glanced gratefully at Owen, and left him with his father; but
+before she was out of hearing, the farmer's loud voice was audible,
+informing Owen that he 'didn't want another 'lopement from his house;
+and that that Irish beggar should leave the place.'
+
+'It was all chance, father, and my fault,' said Owen.
+
+'It's always chance and your fault then. Where Gladys is, you're seure
+to be pretty near. She's a good sort of young 'ooman enough, but you
+have no call to be for ever hunting after her.'
+
+'I don't see why I shouldn't if I like. It doesn't hurt anybody, and is
+only kind to her.'
+
+'But I don't cheuse her to be thinking you're going to make love to her,
+and by-and-by, perhaps, expecting to--there's no knowing what young
+'oomen may expect.'
+
+'She isn't one to expect very much, and I am sure she doesn't take any
+liberties with any one, or go beyond her place.'
+
+'Treue for you there; but that's no fault of yours. You don't take
+notice of any other female that I see, and seure you eused to make love
+to them all in turns.'
+
+'I don't see any girl half as good as Gladys, or worthy to light a
+candle to her, that's why I have given them all up.'
+
+'Name o' goodness what for? If you are going to make a fool of yourself
+about her, I'll soon send her away, and stop that anyhow.'
+
+'You may save yourself the trouble, father, for I am going away myself.
+I can't be a land-lubber any longer, and I won't, so I shall look out
+for a ship, pretty soon.'
+
+'All because that girl came here to bother us. Deet to goodness, them
+Irishers have been the plagues of my life ever since I married.'
+
+'But she's Welsh, father, and you said so yourself.'
+
+'She's a mongrel, and no good ever came out of them.'
+
+'She saved mother's life, anyhow.'
+
+This reflection posed the worthy farmer. He softened somewhat in his
+reply.
+
+'Treue for you again there. But that's no reason for your going to sea,
+just when you're getting euseful here.'
+
+'Well, father, thank you for saying for once in my life that I'm useful.
+You never said that before.'
+
+'And it don't seem out of any great favour to us that you are euseful
+now; but only to please an Irish beggar.'
+
+'I tell you what, father, if you were anybody else, you shouldn't call
+her an Irish beggar.'
+
+As Gladys went on her way, she heard the voices, ever louder and louder;
+she hurried into the house, and then to her own little bedroom, where
+she still seemed to hear the words, 'Irish beggar,' and a little spark
+of the pride of poor human nature kindled in her heart.
+
+'They shall not quarrel about me--they shall not throw my misery after
+me--they shall not think I want to marry him--I will go away,' were her
+muttered expressions. 'Why have I lived--why have I been kindly treated?
+if I am to be the sport and the by-word of my friends? A poor
+outcast--an Irish beggar--a lone girl, friendless, homeless,
+heartless, wretched, miserable! Och hone! what will I do? what will I
+do?'
+
+She threw herself on her bed and sobbed.
+
+'And I only want to do my duty--to show my gratitude--to die for the
+mistress, if needs be, and they will think me forward and vain. Why was
+I born to cause trouble and to bear such misery? Oh! mother, mother, if
+you were here to comfort your poor child! If I could but go after you!
+if I could but go away to my mother and all the lost ones!'
+
+This thought of her mother and the lost ones seemed to overpower her for
+a few seconds, and then to calm her. She rose from her bed, and fell
+upon her knees and prayed.
+
+'I can go to them, if they cannot come to me. I can fill my place of
+sorrow, as is best for me. I need not bring trouble on this blessed
+home! I will not. I need not send away that kind Mr Owen from his
+family. I will not. Why does he think of a poor, wretched being like me?
+Why has he been so good to me; so tender to me--as if he were my
+brother? If I go away, he will think of some one else, and make them all
+happy here, and live with them, and be good and steady. And I shall be
+only one sufferer instead of many. May God bless them all! I will go
+away, but never to see him more!--never, never!' Thus thought Gladys.
+For half-an-hour, whilst she was striving to calm herself, such thoughts
+and thousands of others flitted through her mind; but she did not murmur
+again at the sad lot which had been assigned to her by Providence; she
+had gathered strength in that prayer which she had offered up out of her
+trouble of heart. Still she felt aggrieved by her master's hard words,
+knowing as she did that she did not deserve them; but she struggled hard
+to conquer that pride which she knew ill became one in her dependent and
+friendless state.
+
+When she had sufficiently recovered herself, she went down to prepare
+the supper, according to her custom. She found the hall empty, and
+wondered what had become of her master and mistress. She glanced into
+the garden, and saw them walking up and down engaged in earnest
+conversation, although the hour was late and it was getting dark and
+chill. She felt that they were talking about her. She would not listen,
+and returned to spread the table for their evening meal; whilst doing
+so, Owen made his appearance.
+
+'Gladys,' he said, 'shake hands with me, and forgive me for causing you
+pain. I hope it will be the first and last time.'
+
+Gladys held out her hand, saying 'Oh, Mr Owen, I have nothing to
+forgive, I am only very sorry''
+
+As Owen held her hand, in stalked Mr Prothero, followed by his wife. He
+was not looking very well pleased when he entered, but finding them
+together, his dark frowning brow became still darker.
+
+'Good-night, mother,' said Owen, 'I don't want any supper. Good-night,
+father,' he added with a strong effort, but receiving no response, he
+left the room.
+
+Gladys longed to follow his example, but feared it would not be right.
+
+'Gladys, I fear you are not well,' said Mrs Prothero gravely, but
+kindly, 'perhaps you would like to go to bed.'
+
+'Thank you, ma'am,' said Gladys, glancing furtively at her mistress,
+whose gentle face looked perplexed and anxious.
+
+'Good-night, then,' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+Gladys could not speak, for there was something constrained in the
+manners of her dear mistress, that she could not bear to see. She did
+not venture to speak to Mr Prothero, but dropping him a silent curtsey,
+as she left the room, went to bed, but not to sleep.
+
+That night, Mrs Prothero went to her son, Owen's room, and heard the
+history of the evening. He told her that he loved Gladys, but that she
+did not care for him; and that his father would not believe him when he
+said so. Mrs Prothero gave him a maternal lecture on his conduct, and
+the impossibility of his marrying Gladys, particularly whilst his father
+was so irritated against his sister. She rallied him, in a quiet way, on
+his various previous loves, and said that she had no doubt he would
+forget his present one in the same manner.
+
+She was struck with the unusually grave tone of his reply, as he simply
+said, that if Gladys were like his other loves, he might forget her in
+the same way; but as she was quite different from any one he had ever
+liked before, so he should remember her as he had never before
+remembered any one. She was also struck with his manner of wishing her
+good night, and of recommending Gladys to her care, entreating her not
+to be less kind to her than she had always been, because he had the
+misfortune to love her.
+
+Mrs Prothero promised all he desired, scarcely believing, as she did so,
+in the depth of his affection.
+
+'And, mother, fach,' he said, 'you must not be vexed if I run away again
+to cure myself. There is nothing like sea air for my disease; and if I
+do, I promise to write regularly, and to come home at the end of my
+voyage. Only be kind to Gladys, and don't let her go away.'
+
+Owen had a presentiment, that if he did not leave Glanyravon, Gladys
+would.
+
+'And you must try to bring father round by degrees. I don't want to
+annoy him; and I know you are as fond of Gladys as if she were your own
+daughter, and father likes her, too. Will you try, mother?'
+
+'Anything to keep you at home, and steady, my son,' said Mrs Prothero
+with tears in her eyes, 'but you must not go away again, we cannot do
+without you.'
+
+'Only this once, for change of air; I assure you it is best'
+
+'Well, we will talk of this again, Owen; good night, and God bless you.'
+
+'Just tell father not to be angry with me or Gladys, and that I can't
+run away with her, because she won't have me. Good night, mother dear.'
+
+Again Owen kissed his mother, more lovingly than usual, and so they
+parted for the night.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE FUGITIVE.
+
+
+Gladys did not go to bed all that night. If her mistress could have
+watched her occupations, seen her tears, and listened to her prayers,
+she would, at least, have known that she was grateful. The first thing
+she did was to finish a cap that she had been making for her, the next
+to complete a large piece of ornamental netting, that had been long in
+secret progress, and had been intended as a present for that dear
+mistress's birthday on the morrow. The third, last and most difficult,
+was to write a letter. Gladys usually wrote easily and well. She had
+been accustomed to assist her father at an early age, and had been
+carefully taught by her mother, but on the present occasion she
+considered every sentence with a too painful thoughtfulness, and
+literally blotted her writing with her tears.
+
+Morning was beginning to dawn before she had finished these tasks, and
+then she washed her face and hands, took off the pretty cotton gown she
+had on, and put on the one Netta gave her when first she came to
+Glanyravon. An old straw hat that she had been in the habit of wearing
+in the fields, and a tidy, but plain shawl, completed her attire. She
+had a few shillings which Mr Prothero had given her, and these she put
+into her pocket, together with a pincushion, and a curious foreign
+shell, gifts of Owen.
+
+She thought of Netta, and of her very different flight from the same
+house; she fancied that if she had been in her place, no lover, however
+dear, could have prevailed upon her to leave so good a mother; but she
+was different. An orphan and a beggar, she had no right to remain to
+cause dissension between father and son.
+
+And so she fell upon her knees, and prayed for blessings on every member
+of that family; she forgot no one, not even poor Owen, whose suit she
+had rejected. Most especially she prayed that he might be a comfort to
+his parents, and turn from his wild, wandering ways, to those of rest
+and sobriety; she particularly used that latter word, which would have
+sounded formal in less earnest lips.
+
+With tearful eyes, and throbbing heart, but with a resigned spirit, she
+rose from her knees, took her little bundle in her hand, and went
+quickly out into the passage. She did not trust herself to pass the
+doors of her slumbering friends, but went by the back-staircase into the
+kitchen, and thence into the yard. There was a thick mist over the face
+of nature, falling like a heavy veil on the rising sun, and making the
+early day but a lengthened night; not a sound was heard, not an animal
+had yet been aroused from sleep, save Lion, the large watch-dog, whose
+duty it was to wake when others slept, and he bounded towards Gladys,
+and her suppressed, 'Down, Lion, down,' failed to quiet him. As she
+hurried up the road, he ran after her, and it was not until she reached
+the gate, that she had courage to command him with heightened voice, and
+threatening manner, to go home. The dog crouched, and then licked the
+hand, upraised to send him back. Poor Gladys fell upon his neck, and
+burst into tears. He licked off the tears with a wistful, canine
+earnestness and love, and again prepared to follow her.
+
+'Back, good dog! Home, Lion!' said Gladys.
+
+The dog turned away with his tail between his legs, and walked half-way
+down the road. Gladys hurried through the gate, and along the public
+road, shutting the gate behind her upon Lion. No sooner was she out of
+sight than the tail was again in motion, the head turned, and Lion was
+peering over the hedge after her. As she swiftly pursued her way,
+turning neither to the right nor to the left, she did not perceive the
+faithful friend that was literally dogging her steps; but still Lion
+followed; and thoughtless of master and mistress at home, kept in view
+the poor beggar-girl who had managed to win his love, together with that
+of all the animal kind around and about Glanyravon.
+
+Thus pursuing her unknown way, and thus pursued by Lion, we must leave
+Gladys and return to the farm.
+
+At the usual hour, Mrs Prothero came down to breakfast; no Gladys was
+visible, and no neat table was laid for the early meal. Mrs Prothero
+asked the servants if they had seen Gladys, and they said she had not
+yet come down; not altogether ill-pleased to find the favourite, for
+once, in fault. Mrs Prothero thought that the events of the past night
+had probably made her ill; and relenting from her somewhat severe
+feelings towards her, she went upstairs to see what was the matter.
+Receiving no answer to her tap at the door, and call of 'Gladys,' she
+went into her little room. She saw all neat as usual, and the bed
+unruffled. Her heart misgave her, and she painfully remembered the
+morning of Netta's flight. As if by instinct she went to the small
+dressing-table, and at once had her fears confirmed. Very sadly she took
+up the pretty cap that was left there, and looked at the large piece of
+netting to which was appended a paper. She unpinned the paper, and read
+the following words:--'For my dear mistress, with respectful wishes, and
+best prayers for many happy returns of the day.'
+
+Mrs Prothero unfolded the work slowly, and saw two handsome, long,
+netted window curtains, with a fancy border, that must have taken hours
+from the donor's sleep to accomplish. As she unfolded them, a letter
+fell upon the floor.
+
+Poor, nervous Mrs Prothero, rubbed her hands over one another several
+times before she had the courage to pick it up, and then she scarcely
+dared to open it. As she made the attempt, however, a cry of 'Mother!
+mother! why isn't my breakfast ready?' was heard from the foot of the
+stairs, proceeding from Mr Prothero's lusty voice, who was too proud and
+too angry to call for Gladys.
+
+Mrs Prothero ran downstairs with the letter in her hand.
+
+'My dear David, I am afraid Gladys is gone,' she said tremblingly.
+
+'Well, let her go,' said the farmer. 'A good riddance. But what do you
+mean?'
+
+Mrs Prothero told of the empty room, unused bed, cap, curtains, and
+letter.
+
+'This house is bewitched!' said Mr Prothero. 'What's in the letter?'
+
+'Indeed, I don't know, Davy bach!' said the wife, giving him the
+document.
+
+Mr Prothero took out his glasses, wiped them deliberately, and put them
+on, whilst his wife stood before him rubbing her poor little hands as
+usual.
+
+'What a good hand the girl writes,' said Mr Prothero, as he carefully
+unfolded the letter, and then began to read aloud as follows:--
+
+
+     'DEAR AND HONOURED MISTRESS,--Before leaving for ever your blessed
+     home, I beg you will allow me to write you a few lines, and I hope
+     you will not think me too bold in so doing. I am going away,
+     because I would not cause trouble to you, or my good, kind master.
+     May it please God to bless you both for ever and ever! As long as I
+     live I shall pray for you and love you! If I am too bold, forgive
+     me, but my heart is full. I can only thank you for all you have
+     done for me, by my prayers! Farewell! my dear, kind, honoured
+     mistress and master. You will be rewarded in this world for your
+     care of the poor orphan, who prays to meet you in the
+     next.--GLADYS.'
+
+
+It was evident that the writer had been obliged to conclude hastily,
+because her paper was so wet with tears that she could write no more.
+
+When Mr Prothero finished reading, he hemmed two or three times and
+cleared his throat, and took off his spectacles and wiped them; then
+perceiving that his wife was crying like a child, he said,--
+
+'Don't be so fullish!' Suddenly recollecting himself, he exclaimed,
+'Where's Owen? Go you, mother, and see if we haven't had another
+'lopement,'
+
+'No fear of that,' said Mrs Prothero, leaving the room to do her
+husband's bidding.
+
+She stayed so long that Mr Prothero, out of patience, bustled after her.
+He found her standing before an open, half-empty chest of drawers. The
+room was very untidy, and here, also, the bed had not been slept in the
+past night.
+
+Mrs Prothero was rubbing her hands and crying pitifully; more from fear
+of her husband's wrath than from sorrow for Owen, because she had
+anticipated a sudden flight.
+
+Mr Prothero began to stamp with rage. It was a long time before he could
+speak, and his wife had a certain fear that he would choke. At last
+words found vent.
+
+'The impudent, lying, hypocritical, young baggage! The ungrateful,
+disobedient, good-for-nothing brute! Ach a fi! upon 'em both. That's
+what you get by harbouring Irish beggars!--that's the return they make!
+A pale-faced, deceitful hussy!'
+
+'Davy, bach! they are not gone together,' said Mrs Prothero,
+half-believing at the same time that they were.
+
+'Shall I lay breakfast, ma'am?' interrupted Shanno, putting her head in
+at the door and grinning suspiciously.
+
+'Go your way, and mind your own business,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+Shanno disappeared.
+
+'I'll go out and see whether either of the horses is gone. Go you and
+make breakfast--the good-for-nothing--'
+
+'Just let me tell you first what Owen said to me last night,' said Mrs
+Prothero. 'I don't think he ever deceived us, Davy; and if he did wrong,
+he was never the one to hide it.'
+
+'Treue for you! Well, what did the young scamp say? I don't blame him
+half as much as that meek, pale-faced, still-water thing, who's as deep
+as the north star, I'll be bound.'
+
+'But Owen told me, seriously, that she refused to have anything to say
+to him, and begged me to be kind to her when he was gone away, for his
+sake.'
+
+'Nothing but a trap to take you in--the deceitful young
+puppies--the--the--'
+
+'Go and look about the horses and I'll make breakfast.'
+
+He went accordingly. All the horses were safe. Nothing was missing
+anywhere but Lion.
+
+'I 'ouldn't take twenty pounds for that dog,' said Mr Prothero when he
+returned to the house, and sat down to breakfast.
+
+'Hadn't we better send to look for them?' asked Mrs Prothero timidly.
+
+'I'll see 'em hanged first. What! go and make another hullabaloo all
+through the country, as if one wasn't enough in one house. No, not I.
+Let 'em go to sea, or where they will; but don't tell anybody anything
+about 'em. Let people think what they will; I only wish I was at the
+world's end. But it's all your fault. Do you remember that morning when
+you bothered me into letting the girl stay? Fine things have come of it,
+seure enough.'
+
+'But we don't know that they're together.'
+
+'But we do, I say, Mrs Prothero; or why should they go off together?
+Fine things, indeed, for the gossips! Two 'lopements from one house. The
+young hussy.'
+
+Mrs Prothero could not help crying. To lose them both at once--a son and
+one who had been better than a daughter to her--it was too sad--and to
+feel so uncertain as to what would become of them!
+
+Mr Prothero was resolved to take no notice of her tears, but hastily
+swallowed his breakfast and went out. The servants did not need to be
+asked about the fugitives. They were all sure that they had run away
+together. Gladys, good and quiet as she seemed, was deep enough; and
+they had managed so well that nobody had seen them! Not like Miss Netta,
+who was so open! Many had seen her when she ran away!
+
+Mrs Prothero sent one of the men off in a search for Lion, feeling sure
+that if he were found, Gladys would be discovered.
+
+At about eleven o'clock, to Mrs Prothero's great delight, Miss Gwynne
+and Miss Hall called to see if the report about Owen and Gladys were
+true, and to hear what Mrs Prothero thought of it. Miss Gwynne was
+highly indignant.
+
+'You cannot believe it, Mrs Prothero. That girl Gladys would no more run
+away with any man living than I would. If Mr Prothero won't send after
+her I will. Where is he?'
+
+'Shall I send and tell him you want to speak to him?'
+
+'By all means--directly.'
+
+Mr Prothero was soon in the house again, at Miss Gwynne's bidding. He
+looked more than usually red and excited.
+
+'Mr Prothero, I would stake my life upon it, that girl has not gone off
+with your son. I don't like the Irish, or their beggars more than you
+do; but I am very fond of Gladys, and she shall not lose her character,
+or die of starvation whilst I have a horse to send after her, or a
+shilling to help her.'
+
+'That's very well for you, Miss Gwynne, but Owen is no relation of
+yours; and I don't cheuse him to marry an Irish beggar. This house is
+bewitched, and my children are bewitched, all except Rowland.'
+
+Miss Gwynne wondered what Mr Prothero would think of _him_ if he knew
+all.
+
+'Well, Mr Prothero, will you send after Gladys, or shall I? You needn't
+have her back here. There is a situation of schoolmistress or lady's
+maid for her at once. I will take her in either capacity.'
+
+'Indeed, Mr Prothero,' said Miss Hall, 'I think you may trust Gladys;
+that letter is sincere if ever anything was.'
+
+'Who is to search, for there is no time to lose?' asked Miss Gwynne.
+
+She was the only person in Wales who would have moved Mr Prothero, but
+he never could refuse her anything.
+
+'What you say, Miss, is seure to have sense in it. I never knew you take
+to any one yet who wasn't worth something, so I'll just ride myself and
+look after 'em both. I shouldn't like people to fancy we were in a fuss
+and fright. But remember, Miss Gwynne, it is to oblige you; and if I
+find that she has run away with my son--'
+
+'You may do what you like, Mr Prothero, for then I will have nothing to
+say to her. But go at once, and thank you very much.'
+
+'I'll go Swansea way, for I am sure they'll take to the sea. Ach a fi!
+what's gone to the young people.'
+
+In less than a quarter of a hour Mr Prothero had mounted his best mare,
+and muttering a great many Welsh oaths, was soon riding in search of the
+fugitives. When he got out of his own immediate neighbourhood, he began
+to ask whether 'a tall, dark, young man, and a tall, pale, young 'ooman'
+had been seen.
+
+'Is it a couple of gipsies, Mr Prothero?' asked a farmer, who lived
+about seven miles from Glanyravon. 'I did see a dark man, and a sallow
+'ooman go up the lane by now.'
+
+'Was the man like my son Owen?'
+
+'Well, I didn't be seeing his face, but I shouldn't wonder.'
+
+Up the lane Mr Prothero went for a good half mile, and at last reached a
+gipsy encampment, where there were plenty of dark men, and sallow women,
+but not Owen and Gladys.
+
+A shrewd old gipsy, seeing him evidently on the search for some one,
+assured him before he had asked any questions, that she had seen those
+whom he was looking for.
+
+'Where?' asked the farmer.
+
+'Cross my hand with a silver coin, and I'll tell ye,' she said.
+
+He gave her a shilling.
+
+'Young couple, my lord?' asked the woman.
+
+Mr Prothero nodded assent.
+
+'Dark and fair, yer honour?'
+
+Another nod.
+
+'I never tell secrets under a half-a-crown, but I have seen them, sir.
+Young man something like you, and handsome.'
+
+'Make haste and tell, you cheat and vagabond,' said Mr Prothero,
+throwing her eighteenpence.
+
+'Up the first turning to the right, off the road, over the hill,' said
+the woman.
+
+'When?'
+
+'An hour ago.'
+
+Mr Prothero rode quickly down the lane, along the turnpike, up the first
+turning to the right, and then up a long and tedious hill.
+
+It will be unnecessary to describe how Mr Prothero wandered over this
+hill for hours, without finding those he sought. As the said hill was a
+short cut to the road to Swansea, whither he was persuaded they were
+gone, it is not much to be wondered at that he was taken in, and that he
+went on as fast as his good horse would go for many a long mile; but he
+found neither Owen nor Gladys, and all his inquiries after them were
+fruitless.
+
+Towards evening he returned home, tired and very cross, and found his
+good wife looking anxious and unhappy, and ready to say at any moment,
+'Dear, dear, how I do miss Gladys.'
+
+A messenger from the Park was awaiting him, with a note from Miss
+Gwynne, inquiring whether he had found the poor girl or not. He was
+obliged to write a few respectful lines in reply, to inform her of the
+failure of his search.
+
+'I wish we had never set eyes on the girl,' he muttered, as he was
+writing the note with much pains and some difficulty. 'To take off Owen,
+too, just as he was getting euseful, and he such a good writer and
+accountant.'
+
+Still more heartily did he repeat that wish several times during the
+night. Mrs Prothero could not sleep, and what with her anxiety about
+Gladys, sorrow for the departure of Owen, and longing to see her own
+daughter, her mind was excited beyond its wont. As is often the case
+under such circumstances, she fancied she heard all kinds of noises in
+the house; once she was sure some one was coming upstairs, and another
+time that there was a tapping at the front door. She crept softly out of
+bed, and half fancying she should find Gladys without, went downstairs,
+and opened it. Nothing was visible but the flickering moonbeams amongst
+the trees, or audible save the tinkling of the brook through the
+farm-yard.
+
+'Name o' goodness, what's the matter now?' ejaculated the farmer, as
+the creaking of the bedroom door awoke him.
+
+'Don't be angry, Davy, bach, but I can't sleep for thinking of that poor
+girl; maybe she's without a roof to cover her.'
+
+'Owen'll see to that. 'Tis a hard case a man mayn't sleep in his bed
+because of a good-for-nothing wench like her.'
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, when Mrs Prothero was urging him once
+more to look for Gladys, and he was vehemently refusing, Miss Gwynne and
+Miss Hall again made their appearance.
+
+Mr Prothero had to swallow a very broad expression of disgust, as well
+as to listen politely to that young lady, who persisted in saying she
+would continue the search for Gladys if he would not.
+
+'I am sorry to annoy you, Mr Prothero,' she said, 'but it is due to
+Gladys to clear her character; there are plenty of jealous people about
+us, quite ready to take it away. I do not wish you to have any more
+trouble in this matter, but I cannot let it rest until I find the poor
+girl. She shall come to me direct, and need not be an eyesore to you. I
+will send off in every direction until I find her.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne. If she is to be found, I must do it. I
+'ont have a talk made about our turning her out of doors, and such like.
+As she isn't gone Glamorganshire way, I suppose she must be gone towards
+Ireland, and I had best follow that scent. I'll give her one more turn,
+and then have done with her. Mother, if I don't come home to-night,
+don't be frightened, as she may have gone a good step.'
+
+Mr Prothero was leaving the room, when Miss Hall stopped him, saying,--
+
+'I thought, Mr Prothero, that you might not have seen this notice of a
+meeting in your son's parish, and as he is mentioned, I brought over the
+paper for you.'
+
+Mr Prothero thanked Miss Hall, and took out his spectacles. Whilst he
+was wiping them, however, Miss Hall read from the _Times_ the report of
+a meeting for forming a ragged school in Rowland's parish, in which was
+the following paragraph:--'The Reverend Rowland Prothero, curate of the
+parish, made a very clear and able speech upon the subject, and brought
+forward a well-digested plan for the school, which will probably be
+adopted. The thanks of the meeting were offered to him.'
+
+'There is always a pleasure with every pain,' said Mrs Prothero, wiping
+her eyes. 'Thank you, Miss Hall.'
+
+'And the Bishop of London was in the chair. So, mother, if he isn't a
+bishop himself, you see he's been very near one,' said Mr Prothero,
+looking very much gratified. 'Well, I'll go now, Miss Gwynne, and look
+after that confounded--I beg your pardon, Miss--after that Irish jade,'
+and he went accordingly, leaving the ladies to talk it over with his
+wife.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE FRIEND.
+
+
+Mr Prothero started as soon as his horse was ready, and, it must be
+confessed, in a very bad temper. As soon as he got out of the precincts
+of Glanyravon, he began to make inquiries of every one he met, and at
+every cottage he passed, concerning Gladys. It was evident, from the
+replies that he received, that if she had gone that road, it was so
+early in the morning that no one had seen her.
+
+At last he fell in with a farmer's wife whom he knew, who was jogging
+along on horseback, with a little boy behind her. After the usual
+greetings, he said,--
+
+'You never come to Glanyravon now, Mrs Davies. I daresay you haven't
+seen any of our folk for a year?'
+
+'Well, not exactly. But I almost fancied I saw that pretty young 'ooman
+that lives with you yesterday morning. She was too shabby, or I should
+have been seure of the face. Only when she saw me she turned away and
+went on.'
+
+'Which way?'
+
+'Oh, down the Carmarthen road, seure.'
+
+'You'll excuse my hurrying on, Mrs Davies; I want to call at Lewis,
+Dryslwyn.'
+
+'To be seure. Good morning, Mr Prothero.'
+
+The worthy farmer rode off at a gallop, till he was more than out of
+sight of Mrs Davies. He stopped at a tidy cottage to speak to an old
+woman who was washing at the door.
+
+'Did you chance to see a strange young 'ooman go by here yesterday,
+early?' he asked.
+
+'What young 'ooman?' was the rejoinder.
+
+'Rather shabbily dressed, with blue eyes, and a very pale face?'
+
+'Had she a big black dog along, sir?' asked a boy who came from within
+the house.
+
+'I think she had.'
+
+'Then granny gave her a cup of tea when she asked for some water, and I
+gave the dog a piece of my bread and cheese,' said the boy.
+
+'There's sixpence for you, my lad,' said Mr Prothero. 'Was there a
+young man with the girl?'
+
+'Nobody was along, sir.'
+
+'Which way did she go?'
+
+'By there, to Dryslwyn, sir.'
+
+Mr Prothero rode on to the picturesque village bearing this name. The
+old ruined castle looked down upon him from its curiously formed,
+tumulus-looking elevation, as he stopped before a neat farm-house.
+
+'Good morning, Mrs Lewis.'
+
+'Walk in, Mr Prothero. We were talking of you by now. There was a young
+'ooman by here yesterday, and John Lewis said he was seure she had your
+dog with her. She went away so fast, that I hadn't time to ask about the
+dog.'
+
+'Which way did she go?'
+
+'Down the Carmarthen road.'
+
+'Good morning, Mrs Lewis, thank you. I must look after my dog.'
+
+Mr Prothero found it easiest to ask for the girl with a large black dog,
+and traced them to within a mile of Carmarthen.
+
+He stopped at a small roadside inn to have a glass of _cwrw
+da_.[Footnote: Good ale] Here he asked the landlady of Gladys.
+
+'See her and the dog! Is seure. They come here in the evening, and she
+asked for a slice of bread and a drink of water, and took out sixpence
+to pay for it. She gave all the bread to the dog, and my master, who is
+fond of dogs, told me to give 'em both a good supper. Poor dear! she
+couldn't help crying; and my master, who is tender-hearted when he sees
+a girl do be crying, tell me to give her and the dog a good supper and a
+bed in the barn, which I did, is seure.'
+
+Mr Prothero paid handsomely for his ale, and having learnt that Gladys
+and Lion went straight to Carmarthen, went thither also. He made some
+few inquiries at the small inns that he passed, but gained no
+information. He accordingly rode through the town, and took the direct
+route to Hob's Point, whence, he knew, she would probably sail for
+Ireland.
+
+The afternoon was far advanced, still he rode on. He began to feel as
+anxious as he was angry and annoyed, and declared to himself that he
+wouldn't turn back until he had found her. He soon began to track her
+again. All the little boys on the way had noticed the big dog, and could
+point out the route he and Gladys had pursued.
+
+He stopped at one cottage where the mistress told him that she had made
+the girl sit down in the porch, because she looked so tired; and at
+another where she had asked how far it was to Pembrokeshire.
+
+He had ridden about thirty miles, and twilight was creeping on. He began
+to think of the necessity of finding a night's lodging, and once more
+consigned Gladys and the Irish generally to any distant region where he
+should never see them again.
+
+'If she hadn't nursed mother so tenderly,' he muttered to himself, 'I'd
+turn back now; but as she does seem to be running away from Owen, and
+not with him, it 'ould be creuel.'
+
+The moon, the young May moon, arose in the heavens, and the farmer
+quickened his pace, for he knew the road, and that he was a good way
+from an inn, or, indeed, from any habitation where he could ask a
+night's lodging. Lights peeped out, one by one, from the cottages as he
+passed, and when he glanced into them, and saw the cheerful little
+fires, he thought more compassionately of Gladys, and wondered whether
+she had found food and lodging for the night.
+
+He was within a mile of a small village that he knew very well, when it
+was about ten o'clock. The wind blew rather keenly, and he buttoned up
+his great-coat, and began to whistle, by way of keeping himself warm.
+
+'Come, old girl! we shall soon have something to eat! come along,' he
+said to his mare, as he gave her a slight touch with his whip.
+
+He was passing by a very lonely quarry in a field by the road-side,
+about which he had heard some ugly stories of robbers and ghosts years
+ago. Although he was a courageous, he was a superstitious man, and gave
+his mare another stroke as he encouraged her to proceed. She started,
+however, suddenly, and made a kind of halt. The moon was shining so
+brightly that Mr Prothero could see into the quarry across the hedge,
+and he fancied he perceived somebody moving about. He urged his horse on
+by whip and voice, but as he did so, some one jumped over the gate that
+led into the quarry, and made towards him. He was so much alarmed that
+he spurred the mare vigorously. He was sure it was a robber. He turned
+his whip, and held the heavy handle ready for a blow, which fell, in
+effect on the robber or ghost, or whatever it was, that leapt upon his
+leg, and seemed, to his imagination, to lay hold of it.
+
+A loud howl, and then a sharp, joyous bark, however, soon told him who
+the intruder was, and gave him courage to encounter the jumpings and
+gambols of his own good dog, Lion.
+
+The mare kicked, and Mr Prothero exclaimed, 'Lion! Lion! down, good
+dog, down! Don't upset me, Lion, bach. Let me get off, Lion! Name o'
+goodness, be quiet, dog! There; now you may jump as you will. Where is
+she? Where's Gladys?'
+
+Mr Prothero was off his horse, and Lion was over the hedge in a moment.
+The former climbed the gate somewhat less speedily--and both were, in a
+few seconds, in the quarry, where, either dead or asleep, lay Gladys,
+beneath and upon the hard stones.
+
+As the rays of the moon fell upon her pale face, Mr Prothero almost
+thought it was death and not sleep; but when Lion began to bark
+joyously, and to lick the cold hands and cheek, and when Mr Prothero
+ventured to stoop down and whisper, 'Gladys! Gladys!' and to take one of
+the damp, clammy hands in his, the white eyelids unclosed, and with a
+little scream of terror, the poor girl started up.
+
+There, beneath the moonlight, she recognised her master, and falling
+down on her knees before him, clasped her hands, but uttered no word.
+
+Where was Mr Prothero's ready-prepared lecture on ingratitude? Where
+were the questions about Owen? Where was the passion of the previous
+day? He could not tell. He only knew that he raised the poor kneeling
+girl kindly, almost tenderly. She threw her arms round him, and for the
+first time kissed him as if he were her father. Then, suddenly,
+recollecting herself, she exclaimed,--'Oh! Master! Oh, sir! forgive me.'
+
+Her master did not speak, but lifted her in his strong arms, and carried
+her to the gate; lifted her over, lifted her on his horse, and, amidst
+the joyous caperings of Lion, mounted himself.
+
+'Put you your arms round me, and hold fast,' he said to Gladys.
+
+'Come you, Lion, good dog! we'll have a supper by now!' And so they all
+went, as fast as they could, to the neighbouring village.
+
+Mr Prothero, with no small noise and bluster, knocked up the inmates of
+the little inn of that little place, and succeeded in getting Gladys
+ensconced by a cheerful fire in the kitchen. The poor girl was benumbed
+with cold and overpowered with fatigue. The landlady rubbed her feet and
+hands, administered hot brandy and water, and finally got her to bed.
+
+Mr Prothero kept out of her way lest he should say something that he
+might afterwards repent of in the warmth of his delight at finding her
+again. After she was in bed, and he had heard from the landlady that she
+seemed better and more comfortable, he and Lion had a good supper--a
+meal the dog appeared thoroughly to enjoy, and which he ate with a
+ravenous appetite.
+
+Mr Prothero told the landlady to leave Gladys in bed the next morning
+until nine o'clock, by which hour he supposed she would be sufficiently
+refreshed, and then retired himself, feeling thankful to Miss Gwynne for
+having made him do a good action, but still believing that Owen must
+have been in the secret of Gladys' sudden flight.
+
+Gladys slept soundly until the landlady took her a good breakfast at
+nine o'clock. She then awoke, refreshed but frightened, and uncertain as
+to her present state or future proceedings. She was told that Mr
+Prothero wished to see her as soon as she was dressed, and accordingly
+when she had eaten her breakfast, she got up. She felt very stiff and
+weak, and her hands trembled so much that she could scarcely dress
+herself.
+
+Lion found her out, however, and gained admittance into her bedroom. He
+was in such very boisterous spirits that he quite cheered her, as pale
+and frightened she tried to gain courage to meet her master. Before she
+left the bedroom, she sought for guidance where she was always in the
+habit of going for help and comfort, and found strength 'according to
+her day.'
+
+Mr Prothero was waiting for her in the little parlour of the inn. During
+the morning, having nothing to do, he had employed himself by getting up
+his temper, and persuading himself that he ought to be very angry with
+Gladys. He had quite slept off his softer feelings, and whilst at his
+lonely breakfast had gone through an imaginary quarrel with Owen, and a
+dispute with his wife, which had so raised his choler, that when Gladys
+entered he was as red as he usually was when in a passion at home.
+
+Gladys saw that he was angry and trembled very much; but she knew that
+she had done no wrong, and tried to reassure herself.
+
+Mr Prothero began at once. It must be remarked, however, that he had
+previously learnt from the landlady that Gladys was pretty well, and had
+eaten a good breakfast.
+
+'Name o' goodness, young 'ooman, what did you run away from our house
+for in such a sly, underhand way, and give us all this trouble and
+bother? Don't suppose I 'ould a run after you, if it wasn't for Miss
+Gwynne and your mistress.'
+
+'Oh, sir, I am very thankful to ye and to them. I know I don't deserve
+such kindness.'
+
+'Treue for you there. I should have thought you'd have known that one
+'lopement was quite enough from one house. Pray, what have you done with
+my son Owen?'
+
+'I, sir? Nothing, sir!' said Gladys, trembling at this abrupt question.
+
+Lion licked her hand as if to reassure her.
+
+'You needn't tell no lies about it, because I shall be seure to find
+out. Where is he gone?'
+
+'Indeed--indeed, I don't know, sir. I thought he was at home at
+Glanyravon.'
+
+'But he isn't at home. He went off with you.'
+
+'Oh, not with me, sir--not with me, I assure you. I went away that he
+might stay, and that I might not cause anger between you. I am speaking
+the truth, sir, indeed I am.'
+
+Mr Prothero looked at the agitated girl, and felt inclined to believe
+her.
+
+'Tell me why you went away at all, then?'
+
+'Because Mr Owen said to me words that I knew he would be sorry for, and
+because I saw that you, sir, were displeased at what he said about me.'
+
+'What did he say to you? Tell me the truth.'
+
+'He said, sir--oh! I cannot tell. Perhaps you would be more angry with
+him if you knew.'
+
+Gladys' head drooped low, and a burning blush overspread her pale face.
+
+'I can't be much more angry with him than I am, but tell you the treuth.
+Did he want to marry you?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'And you--what did you say?'
+
+'That I couldn't marry any one in this world, sir.'
+
+'What do you mean to wait for, then?'
+
+'Nothing, sir, nobody.'
+
+'And what did Owen say to that?'
+
+'I don't think anything more particular passed between us. He was very
+kind, sir.'
+
+'I daresay. But what made him go away?'
+
+'I think it must have been because he thought you would send me away.'
+
+'And you don't want to marry my son Owen?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+Gladys' voice wavered slightly as she said this.
+
+'Ha, ha! He's a fine young man, however.'
+
+'Yes, sir, and very kind.'
+
+'I daresay. Will you promise never to marry him?'
+
+As Mr Prothero asked this question, he looked Gladys full in the face.
+
+She blushed again, but returned his gaze with a quiet, grave look that
+seemed to wonder at the question. She did not reply at once, and Mr
+Prothero repeated it, louder than before, with the additional one of 'Do
+you hear, girl?'
+
+'Sir, I don't like to make promises,' said Gladys; 'suppose the
+temptation to break it ever came, and proved too strong for me. I might
+perjure myself.'
+
+'Then you mean to marry my son Owen?'
+
+'No, sir, I don't think I shall ever marry him. As far as I can see now,
+I am sure I never shall.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, what does the girl mean? You don't mean to marry him,
+and yet you 'ont promise--what do you mean?'
+
+'I scarcely know myself, sir. But I cannot tell what God may appoint for
+me in the future, and so I cannot make a solemn promise.'
+
+'Then I 'spose you're going to run off like Netta?'
+
+'No, sir, never.'
+
+'Why, "no, sir," if you 'ont promise?'
+
+'Because I could never do what you and my mistress would dislike.'
+
+'Then you can promise, perhaps, never to marry my son Owen without my
+consent.'
+
+'Yes, sir, I can--do--that--'
+
+Gladys said these words very slowly, and turned very pale as she said
+them. She clasped her hands firmly together with a visible effort.
+
+'Well, you're an odd girl; you 'ont promise one thing, and yet you as
+good as promise it in another way. What's the difference?'
+
+Again the colour came and went.
+
+'It would be wrong, sir, in me to make a son disobey a father, and I
+wouldn't like to do it; so I can promise that; and maybe you may
+change.'
+
+'Then you love the boy? Tell me the treuth.'
+
+Gladys began to cry, and was a few moments before she could say,
+somewhat more resolutely than usual,--
+
+'Sir, my feelings are my own. Mr Owen has been like a brother to me, and
+the mistress like a mother--and you--oh, sir! should I not love his
+mother's son?'
+
+Mr Prothero was touched; he could ask no more questions.
+
+'There, there--go you and get ready directly. I promised Miss Gwynne to
+bring you back to Glanyravon, where she means to make you schoolmistress
+and lady's maid, and all the rest. I suppose you don't want to go to
+Ireland?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'Have you any relations there?'
+
+'No, sir.'
+
+'You don't want to leave Glanyravon parish?'
+
+'No, sir. I would rather live and die there than anywhere else in the
+world.'
+
+'Then go you and get ready; and, mind you, have some ale before you
+start. I must keep my promise to Miss Gwynne; mind you yours to me. You
+'ont encourage my son Owen without my consent'
+
+'No, sir--never. And I do not wish or mean ever to marry any one, if you
+will only believe me.'
+
+'I don't believe any young 'ooman who says that. You may as well go into
+a nunnery. But I believe the rest till I find you out to the contrary.
+Now, go you and get ready.'
+
+'Thank you, sir--thank you.'
+
+Soon after this conversation the farmer had mounted his good mare, who
+was as much refreshed as her master by a night's rest, and with Gladys,
+_en croupe_, and Lion running by his side, he jogged back to his home.
+
+'We shall have a fine long journey, and a tiresome one enough,' he
+muttered. 'Thirty mile and carrying double is too much for my
+mare.--take the 'oomen! they'll be the death 'o me, one way and another.
+There's mother, and Netta, and Miss Gwynne, and now this Gladys! This is
+the last time I'll put myself out for any of 'em, or my name isn't David
+Prothero.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE MISSIONARY.
+
+
+It was about half-past ten o'clock when Mr Prothero and Gladys started
+on their homeward journey. When they had gone about half way, they
+stopped for an hour to bait the mare, which brought them to nearly two
+o'clock, and reduced Mr Prothero to a state of great ill humour. Poor
+Gladys had to bear many reproachful speeches, which reached her between
+a very animated conversation which he kept up with the mare and Lion
+alternately. He did not talk much to her, but contented himself with
+making her eat and drink a great deal more than was pleasant for her,
+because, as he phrased it, 'People shouldn't think she was starved at
+Glanyravon.'
+
+In truth, there was a great contrast between the farmer's rosy, broad,
+good-humoured countenance, which not even his present angry feelings
+could make morose, and Gladys' pale, wearied face, rendered more palid
+than usual by her late fatigue and anxiety. It was with some difficulty
+that she could keep her seat behind Mr. Prothero, as the mare trotted on
+at an equal but somewhat rough pace, and made her long for rest.
+
+However, all things come to an end, and within about five miles of
+Glanyravon, Mr Prothero muttered,--'Confound the 'ooman! Shall we ever
+get home; 'tis enough to kill the mare. Come along, old girl! Good dog!
+Lion, old boy!'--which sentences were interrupted by the address of a
+stranger on horseback, who asked if he were right for Glanyravon Park.
+
+'Quite right, sir,' said Mr Prothero, pleased at any break in a ride
+that had been peculiarly devoid of adventure. 'I am going half a mile
+beyond the Park myself, and shall be proud to show you the way if you
+aren't in a hurry.'
+
+'By no means. I am too tired to ride very fast myself, for I have been a
+great traveller of late. I came down from London to Glamorganshire two
+days ago, and have come across country in coaches and dogcarts to the
+"Coach and Horses." I daresay you know the inn?'
+
+'Oh yes, sir. That's the "Coach and Horses" mare you're upon now?'
+
+'Yes; I borrowed her to come to Glanyravon, and have promised to ride
+her back to-night, but I am sure I shall not be able. How far are we
+from Glanyravon?'
+
+'About four mile and a half.'
+
+'You live in the village?'
+
+'There is no village, sir. I live at Glanyravon Farm.'
+
+'Is there any inn nearer than the "Coach and Horses" where I might get a
+night's lodging, and a man to ride the mare back?'
+
+'No, sir; but I shall be glad to offer a bed to any friend of Mr
+Gwynne's, though I am sure you'll find one at the Park.'
+
+'Thank you kindly. I am not known to Mr Gwynne; but I am going to see
+Miss Hall, who, I believe, resides with him.'
+
+'To be seure she does; and a better lady never lived. If you're a friend
+of Miss Hall's, you're as welcome to our house as if you were born and
+bred at Glanyravon.'
+
+'You are very kind. It does one good to meet with true Welsh hospitality
+once more.'
+
+'You're not Welsh, sir, I should say?'
+
+'I was Welsh originally; but it would be difficult to make out my
+parish, as I have been wandering about for many years.'
+
+'A clergyman, sir?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+The gentleman smiled, and thought the question savoured of American
+curiosity.
+
+'I have a son a clergyman. Perhaps you may have fallen in with him. They
+tell me he's a very promising young man.'
+
+'What is his name?'
+
+'Prothero, sir--Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'I do not know him personally, but I know him by reputation; he is
+curate of an old friend of mine, Mr Stephenson.'
+
+'To be seure--Rowly's rector! Allow me to shake hands with you, sir.
+You'll sleep at Glanyravon.'
+
+'Certainly, if I shall not inconvenience you and your family. Your
+daughter looks very ill and tired; perhaps it may--'
+
+'Not a bit, sir. She's not my daughter; she always looks as pale as
+moonlight, 'scept when she blushes up; she'll see to a bed for a strange
+gentleman, and so'll my missus. To think of your knowing Mr Stephenson!'
+
+'Yes, I saw him during my short stay in town, and he told me he had a
+capital curate, a countryman of mine. A regular hard-working, useful
+parish priest, he called him; a good preacher besides!'
+
+'Well, mother will be pleased, won't she, Gladys?'
+
+This was said in the old good-humoured way, and Gladys brightened up as
+she answered,--
+
+'Yes, sir, very.'
+
+'Are you ill?' said the stranger, looking at Gladys with sudden
+interest.
+
+'No, sir, thank you; I am only rather tired,' was the reply.
+
+'Tired! I should think so! Why, she's walked more than thirty miles, and
+ridden thirty in the last two days,' said the farmer gruffly.
+
+The stranger glanced again compassionately at Gladys, but merely said,--
+
+'She looks so pale that I fancied she was suddenly faint. How long has
+Miss Hall been at Glanyravon?'
+
+'Somewhere about two or three years now, I should say; but when she was
+teaching Miss Gwynne she was there a great many years.'
+
+'Is she in good health? How does she look? Is she happy?'
+
+'If she was ill, sir, I don't think any one 'ould know it, she's so
+quiet and patient; but I think she's pretty well, and she can't help
+being happy, for she's just the same as if she was at home with her
+father and sister. Now she is a nice lady! If all 'oomen were like her
+there 'ouldn't be half the plague with 'em there is. She's quite content
+without having a lot of lovers after her, and running away, and making
+everybody in a fever. Deet to goodness, my opinion is that the world
+'ould go on a sight better without 'em. What do you think, sir? You must
+have plenty of experience as a clergyman, for all the ladies are pretty
+sharp after the cloth.'
+
+The stranger laughed, and said he thought the world would be very
+disagreeable without the fair sex, and that he had no doubt Mr Prothero
+would find it so if they became suddenly extinct.
+
+The farmer was so pleased with his new acquaintance that when they
+reached the Park gate, he said very heartily,--
+
+'Now, mind you, sir, there's a warm welcome, and a well-aired bed, and
+fine, white, home-spun linen at the farm. The squire may give you a
+better dinner, may be, but not a hotter, I'll answer for it; Gladys'll
+see to that; she's capital for that. And mother 'ould be so glad to hear
+what the rector said about our Rowly.'
+
+'You may depend upon my coming,' said the stranger. 'What time does Mr
+Gwynne dine? I suppose I shall escape his dinner hour? It is now about
+five o'clock.'
+
+'Oh! they don't dine till Christian folks are going to bed--seven or
+eight o'clock, or some such heathen hour. You'll be able to see them all
+before dinner; but I don't believe Mr Gwynne'll let you come away.'
+
+'I shall not see him probably. Good day for the present.'
+
+The stranger rode slowly up the drive from the lodge to the house, and
+Mr Prothero quickened his pace homeward. The mare, nothing loath,
+trotted off hard and fast, and Gladys looked paler than ever.
+
+When they reached the farm gate they were greeted by a loud shout from
+the 'boys,' Tom and Bill, who were right glad to see pretty Gladys back
+again. They both ran as fast as they could to the house, to tell their
+mistress the good news, and Lion after them. Mrs Prothero was at the
+door to receive the travellers, and as Gladys slipped off the mare, took
+her round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss.
+
+'My dear David, I am so thankful! so much obliged!' she said, as her
+more portly husband dismounted. 'Come in quick; Miss Gwynne and Miss
+Hall are here. They were just going, but they will be relieved of all
+their anxiety when they see Gladys. Come in, Gladys, fach! don't be
+afraid; they must see you.'
+
+Poor Gladys was crying with all her heart--good, comfortable, refreshing
+tears of joy at her mistress's kind welcome.
+
+Miss Gwynne appeared at the parlour door.
+
+'Well, Gladys! you have had your long walk for nothing. What a foolish
+girl you were to go away. Mr Prothero, how do you do? I am so glad you
+have brought us back Gladys. We couldn't do without her in these parts.'
+
+'Do you still stand to your text, Miss Gwynne?' said Mr Prothero. 'We
+may as well settle the matter at once. It will be a great thing for the
+girl.'
+
+'Oh, certainly; only she looks too tired to settle anything. Gladys, I
+will give you a day or two to consider whether you will come and live
+with me, as my maid, or be Miss Hall's pattern school-mistress.'
+
+Gladys looked from Miss Gwynne to Miss Hall, and then from her master to
+her mistress, through the tears that were gathering faster and faster.
+She answered in a voice half choked by them,--
+
+'Thank you, ma'am, thank you over and over and over again. If I must go
+away--if I must--whichever--you--like--I--' Here she finally gave way,
+and, sitting down on a chair, sobbed aloud. Mrs Prothero went to her,
+and put her arm round her neck. Miss Gwynne looked on compassionately,
+and Miss Hall turned to Mr Prothero.
+
+'She does not like to leave you, Mr Prothero,' she said gently.
+
+'I don't want to turn the girl out of the house. But if Miss Gwynne
+wants her, I think it is better for all parties for her to go.'
+
+'If you please--certainly,' said Gladys, recovering herself with an
+effort. 'I would much rather go to Miss Gwynne in any capacity, and if I
+can be of use--it is best, my dear mistress.'
+
+'Then go you, Gladys, and stop crying,' said Mr Prothero. 'Why, your
+eyes'll be as red as ferrets when the gentleman comes, and he'll think
+we've been giving you an appetite by making you cry. I was near
+forgetting, Miss Hall, that we left a strange gentleman at the Park
+gate, who said he was going to call on you; he's going to take a bed
+here, because there's no inn nearer than the "Coach and Horses."'
+
+'Who can that be?' said Miss Hall.
+
+'We had better make haste home, or we shall miss him,' said Freda.
+
+'Good-bye, Mrs Prothero; I will come again and settle about Gladys.'
+
+It was nearly dusk when the ladies left the farm, and they walked very
+fast. They had not gone far when they saw some one on horseback coming
+towards them.
+
+'I daresay this is your friend, and that stupid Morgan hasn't let him
+in,' said Freda.
+
+'It cannot be; I do not know this gentleman at all,' said Miss Hall, as
+the stranger advanced.
+
+He looked at them, and they looked at him; but as there was no symptom
+of recognition on either side, they passed without speaking.
+
+'I hope we shall have a good night's rest, now that Gladys is found,'
+said Miss Gwynne. 'What is there in the girl that interests one so much?
+Even Mr Prothero, in spite of his son, was glad to find her, and to
+have her at the farm again. Colonel Vaughan admires her very much.'
+
+'I hope not too much,' said Miss Hall quietly.
+
+'What an absurd idea!' said Miss Gwynne, colouring from beneath her
+broad hat. 'He is a man that admires beauty and talent, wherever it is
+to be found. I do like that sort of person; free from vulgar prejudice.'
+
+'Not quite, I think, my dearest Freda. He is not so easily read,
+perhaps, as you in your straightforward nature fancy.'
+
+'If he isn't prejudiced, you are, at any rate,' said Freda.
+
+When they reached the house, Freda went into the drawing-room first, and
+Miss Hall heard her exclaiming, as she rushed out of it with a card in
+her hand,--
+
+'Serena! Nita! only think! Mr Jones, Melbourne, South Australia! Hurrah!
+I never thought I should be so glad to see a card bearing that name.
+Morgan! why didn't you ask the gentleman who called on Miss Hall to come
+in and wait?'
+
+'I did not know, ma'am,' said the man who was at the door. 'My master
+does not always like strangers, and I did not know the gentleman.'
+
+Miss Hall had vanished upstairs during this little interlude with
+Morgan, so Freda did not see the agitation of her manner when she took
+the card and read the name. Freda went straight into the library, where
+she found her father half asleep over a letter.
+
+'Papa! papa! Do you know an old friend of Miss Hall's has called, that
+she has not seen for twenty years, and Morgan let him go away?'
+
+'Wasn't she glad, my dear? It is so exciting to see people whose very
+faces you have forgotten.'
+
+'Glad, papa? Of course not. He must just have come from Australia, where
+her sister is living, and I daresay has brought letters. By the way,
+there was a packet near the card.'
+
+'I don't understand people going so far away from their own country.'
+
+'But, papa, Mr Jones--this gentleman--has gone to sleep at Mr
+Prothero's, and I daresay they are not prepared for him.'
+
+'Really--well, my dear?'
+
+'Don't you think you had better write and ask him here to dinner, and I
+will order a bed to be prepared?'
+
+'Me! My dear!--a perfect stranger!--a bore! Some one full of tiresome
+adventures and travellers' stories, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'He is a clergyman, papa, and a Welshman, I believe. It would only be
+hospitable. We must not belie our country. Do write, papa. Think how
+anxious Miss Hall must be to hear of her sister.'
+
+'But you say she has a packet of letters.'
+
+'There is nothing like seeing a friend who has seen one's sister, I
+should think. Just one line of invitation! We will amuse him. He is very
+quiet, Miss Hall says. Here is the paper and a new pen. There's a good
+pappy, and--yes, "Presents his compliments"--yes--don't forget the bed.
+That's right! Now, just add, "that if he prefers not coming to-night,
+you hope he will make a point of spending the day here to-morrow."'
+
+'But I don't hope it, my dear.'
+
+'We will amuse him. Drive him out--anything. And perhaps he won't come.'
+
+'Very well. Remember that I am not expected to--to--'
+
+'Nothing, but just to drive with him. Thanks! you are a capital _pater_,
+and I will send this off immediately. Just direct it, "---- Jones, Esq.,
+Glanyravon Farm." I wonder whether his name is David? I hope not. I
+don't like David.'
+
+'Freda carried the note to the butler herself, and told him to get it
+sent immediately, and to tell the messenger to wait for an answer; then
+she went with the parcel of letters to Miss Hall.
+
+The note found Mr Jones, Mr Prothero, and Gladys comfortably established
+near a snug fire in the hall, at a well-spread tea-table. Mr Jones asked
+for tea in preference to _cwrw da_, and he and Gladys were enjoying it,
+whilst Mr Prothero chose the good home-brewed. Eggs and bacon, cold
+meat, and most tempting butter were upon the table, and Mrs Prothero was
+acting waitress and hostess at the same time.
+
+Shanno appeared with the note, delicately held by the corner between her
+finger and thumb.
+
+'From the Park, missus, for the gentleman.'
+
+'Promise you me, before you open it, not to go there to-night,' said Mr
+Prothero, taking the note.
+
+'That I can safely do,' said Mr Jones.
+
+When he had read the note he looked pleased, and his manner was rather
+flurried, as he said,--
+
+'Perhaps I can manage to stay over to-morrow, but I will not go
+to-night. Will you oblige me with a pen and ink?'
+
+Gladys was off in a moment, and returned with writing materials.
+
+Mr Jones wrote a polite note, declining the invitation for that evening
+upon plea of the lateness of the hour and fatigue, but promising to call
+on the morrow early, and to remain the day, if he possibly could.
+
+After he had despatched his note he seemed more thoughtful than he was
+before, and, for a short time, absent when spoken to; but rousing
+himself he made good return for the kindness and hospitality of his host
+and hostess by his agreeable and instructive conversation.
+
+He told them that he had been a missionary ever since his ordination,
+and had travelled over the principal parts of the continent of
+Australia. Gladys forgot her fatigue in her great interest in his
+subject; and when he saw her deep attention, he frequently addressed her
+and drew forth questions from her which surprised Mr Prothero quite as
+much, or more than it did Mr Jones. Mrs Prothero knew the girl's turn of
+mind too well to be astonished at the amount of missionary and
+geographical knowledge that she possessed. Gladys was naturally very
+timid and modest, but when subjects of interest were introduced she
+forgot her timidity in a desire for information.
+
+Owen had discovered her bent, and in their frequent meetings, accidental
+or designed, had often chained her to him by descriptions of the
+countries he had visited and the wonders he had seen. He, too, had found
+out that there was a deep vein of romance running beneath the stratum of
+reserve that, at first, had formed the outward feature of her character,
+but which was wearing away as she became accustomed to her new friends,
+and had been treated as a friend by them.
+
+It was evident that Mr Jones was greatly interested in Gladys. He
+addressed her, looked at her, called her 'my dear,' somewhat to the
+scandal of Mr Prothero, who thought him too young a man for such a
+familiar address. But Gladys only turned on him two beautiful eyes
+beaming with a kind of wondering gratitude, and thought the white and
+grey hairs that were mingled with the brown, and the deep lines in his
+forehead, quite passport enough for the two kind words.
+
+In addition to a great deal of missionary adventure, Mr Jones told his
+new friends that he had come home partly in search of health and rest,
+and partly to stir up friends at home in the cause of religion abroad.
+He said that he might or might not return himself to Australia,--it
+would depend on circumstances; but that he could not be idle in England,
+and was likely to become either a fellow-curate of Rowland's, or a
+neighbouring one. He liked a city curacy, because, having taught the
+heathen in another land for many years, he thought he might do some good
+amongst them at home. He told them, also, that it was during a year's
+residence in Melbourne that he had known Miss Hall's sister. He had been
+obliged to undertake clerical duty there, because his health was failing
+in his attempts to convert the aborigines.
+
+Mr Jones was a man of grave and quiet manner, one who seemed to think
+much and deeply. He habitually led the conversation, without pedantry,
+to religious or instructive subjects, and when lighter matter was
+introduced, was given rather to withdraw his mind from it to his own
+thoughts.
+
+He had been little in society for many years, during which his time had
+been passed in the highest, weightiest, gravest, grandest of all
+labours,--that of studying to turn the human soul from darkness to
+light. Now that he found himself in his own country again, he felt far
+behind most men in worldly conversation though very far beyond them, not
+only in religious, but in practical, useful, and general knowledge; such
+knowledge, I mean, as would be suited to the improvement, not merely of
+savages, but of the wild, lawless bushmen, gold diggers, and convicts of
+the Australian world. His manners were gentlemanlike but slightly
+old-fashioned, and, doubtless, many a young Englander would have found
+matter for ridicule in some of his doings and sayings. Not so, however,
+the good and cultivated Englishman of the nineteenth century. He would
+have found abundance to love and respect in the man who left the luxury,
+science, learning and refinement of England, in that most wonderful of
+all ages, to labour amongst the refuse of her people in the largest of
+her colonies. For Mr Jones had seen but little, during his twenty years
+of Australian life, of the better portion of Australian settlers, or the
+grandeur of her cities. He had devoted himself to those who had no means
+of gaining religious teaching elsewhere and he thanked God that the
+years of his ministry had not been without abundance of those fruits in
+which the heart of the laborious worker in Christ's vineyard rejoices.
+
+When Mr Jones left the farm the following morning, it was with a promise
+to pay it another visit at no very distant period. He took away with him
+a letter to Rowland, which was to introduce the brother, clergymen to
+each other. As he shook Mr Prothero by the hand, he thanked him warmly
+for his hospitality, and then abruptly added, 'Take care of that young
+girl Gladys. She will surely prove a blessing to you, and repay you for
+any kindness you may bestow upon her,'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE LADY'S MAID.
+
+
+Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has
+before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had
+ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began
+to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in
+remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected
+appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she
+had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also
+that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was
+smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she
+forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting
+between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circumstances
+so many years ago.
+
+When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.
+
+'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'
+
+Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.
+
+'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as
+she looked at him.
+
+Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda
+thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her,
+and Mr Jones bowed.
+
+'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down
+into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.
+
+'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.
+
+Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of
+children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's
+unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by
+saying that he would be at home at luncheon.
+
+By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss
+Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very
+like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'
+
+'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.
+
+'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than
+she gave him credit for.
+
+'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.
+
+'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I passed her in the
+twilight, uncertain who she was.'
+
+A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the
+luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make
+another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without
+him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.
+
+Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss
+Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say
+was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to
+various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a
+real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a
+rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the
+magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and
+boundary of distant mountains.
+
+Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,--
+
+'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with
+her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that
+matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will
+join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of
+an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'
+
+'Certainly,' was the reply.
+
+'But had we not better all go?' asked Miss Hall, casting an entreating
+glance upon Freda, who, however, would not see it.
+
+'I think not. Mrs Prothero is so nervous that we should frighten her to
+death. It will take me five minutes to run down the hill, five minutes
+to say my say, and five to get to the waterfall. But you need not hurry
+away, as I can wait for you; or, if you are not there, I will find you.
+Come, Frisk, come with me.'
+
+Frisk was a fine, little Scotch terrier, his mistress's especial
+favourite, and he bounded after her with great satisfaction. The pair
+were soon half-way down the hill, near the bottom of which Glanyravon
+Farm lay.
+
+'I think I managed that capitally,' said Freda to Frisk? 'didn't I,
+Frisk? Now, if he doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, he is very
+foolish. Don't you think so, Frisk?'
+
+Frisk jumped, and barked, and twirled about in a very affirmative way.
+
+'I should like to make up a match, it would be such fun. And I think he
+is a very worthy, gentlemanly sort of man, though I shouldn't like him
+for myself, and he is not quite the sort of person that I could have
+supposed would have made such an impression on Serena. But she would be
+such a capital clergyman's wife, and he would be so fond of her! But
+what should I do without her? Get married myself? The only man that I
+ever saw that I could marry won't marry; and then he doesn't care for
+me. Heigho! this is an odd world. All of us at cross-purposes. But I
+don't mean to break my heart,--do I, Frisk?'
+
+The 'do I, Frisk?' brought Freda and her dog to the gate that led into
+the road, and the road soon led them to the farm, where Frisk began at
+once to run after all the poultry, to the no small annoyance of Shanno.
+But Freda succeeded in catching him, and carrying him off with her into
+the parlour, whither she went, and whither Mrs Prothero followed her.
+
+'I have just come to ask what you have settled about Gladys,' said Miss
+Gwynne. 'I cannot stay long, and am anxious to know.'
+
+'My husband thinks it better that she should go to you, as you kindly
+wish to take her,' replied Mrs Prothero, with tears in her eyes. 'He
+says that he has no ill-will to the poor girl; on the contrary, he is
+very fond of her; but he don't think her a good match for our eldest
+son, Owen, who might marry very well. For my own part, I think he would
+never meet with such another as Gladys; but that is in the hands of
+Providence, and if it is to be it will be. He says that he is sure Owen
+will never come home as long as she is with us, for fear of sending her
+away; but that when he knows that she is so well off with you, he will
+perhaps come back again. And, indeed, we want him sadly, Miss Gwynne. It
+is a great trial to us, to have three children, and neither of them at
+home to help us. My husband is much altered since Netta married, though
+he don't show it; and Netta won't write, or do anything to prove she's
+sorry, and though he don't say so, I think this makes him more angry.'
+
+'Then you really wish Gladys to come to me?'
+
+'I do indeed, Miss Gwynne. I am quite sure it will be for her good; and
+you cannot help liking her. But she will not make any choice between the
+two situations you offer, but says you must do with her whatever you
+think best.'
+
+'Is she very unhappy at the idea of coming to us?'
+
+'Not at all. She is very sad to leave us, but she says she would rather
+do so, and would rather serve you than any other lady in the world.'
+
+'Well, perhaps it may be best for all parties. I think she is too young
+and too pretty to live alone at the school-house, and besides, I don't
+particularly want to change mistresses: so I mean to have her as my
+maid, and then I can take care of her myself. You know I have not had a
+regular maid since that disagreeable affair of Evans; one of the
+housemaids has waited on me, and I don't like maids, they are so in
+one's way. But I shall like Gladys. And she can help Miss Hall in the
+school, and go and see you every evening if she likes, when we are at
+dinner. In short, I am sure it is a capital plan for us all, and will
+make matters easy for you.'
+
+'You are so very kind, Miss Gwynne, I do not know what we should have
+done without you. Gladys would have begged her way back to Ireland, and
+died there.'
+
+'I mustn't stay any longer; I have outstayed my five minutes over and
+over again. You can send Gladys when you like. I have heaps of dresses,
+and clothes, of all kinds for her, so don't you think of giving her
+anything new. I will give her the same wages that I gave Evans, so she
+will feel quite independent; and I will put her under the particular
+charge of the housekeeper, until she gets into the ways of the house.
+Now I must go; what will Miss Hall say?'
+
+Well might Freda ask, 'What will Miss Hall say?' She walked as quickly
+as possible to the waterfall, she was not there; up the hill again, not
+there; home through the wood, not there; into the house, not there. She
+waited a little while with her hat on, but as no Mr Jones or Miss Hall
+arrived, she took off her walking things, and went about her usual
+avocations, saying to herself, with a smile on her lips the while,--
+
+'I never thought I was a manoeuvrer before. It is evident they don't
+want me, or they would have waited for me, and I have no doubt they are
+much happier without me. I must go and look, after my father.'
+
+Freda found Mr Gwynne in his library.
+
+'Where is your guest, Freda? What is he like? Is he a bore?' were his
+queries.
+
+'He is walking with Miss Hall, and my impression is they are very good
+company. He is very quiet, very grave, has no wonderful travellers'
+stories, and none of the ologies, and can play chess, for I asked him. I
+don't think him a bore, and I am sure Miss Hall doesn't.'
+
+'Very well, then I will go into the drawing-room against he comes in.'
+
+'Thanks; and I will whisper a little secret into your ear; he is an old
+lover of Serena's, and I cannot help hoping he is come to propose for
+her.'
+
+Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the
+alert people are when they hear of a love affair.
+
+'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him,
+for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is
+he like Rowland Prothero?'
+
+Freda coloured at this sudden question.
+
+'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'
+
+'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be--I don't know--nearly forty
+I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging
+and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'
+
+'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it
+any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now,
+papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'
+
+Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of
+Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap
+at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.
+
+'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began
+maliciously.
+
+For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked
+up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and
+something very like tears in her eyes.
+
+Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,--
+
+'I know, Nita dear! It is all signed, sealed, and settled _n'est-ce
+pas_?'
+
+And so it proved; during that long walk the old love had become new, and
+two people as deserving of happiness as most of the poor sinful mortals
+who are for ever seeking her, were made perfectly happy for that day at
+least.
+
+Freda's reflections, whilst she sat alone, listlessly brushing her hair
+and dressing herself, were as follows:--
+
+'How happy she seems; she looks twenty years younger; and he, an
+elderly, iron-grey clergyman; it would be ridiculous, only it is all so
+true and good. I suppose, after all, there is something grand, as the
+poet says, in constancy, and love, and the like; and I ought to pity
+Rowland Prothero, if he really cares for me. And yet I don't; on the
+contrary, I could be over head and ears in love with another man
+to-morrow if he would only ask me; and he is gone away without telling
+me that he cares for me, if he does, as I cannot help hoping. But
+nothing shall induce me to give my heart to any one, unless I am asked
+for it, of that I am resolved; no, not if I were to die in the struggle
+to keep it.'
+
+With this prudent and womanly resolution, Freda got up from her seat,
+hastily put on her dress, and went to Miss Hall, to insist on dressing
+her on that particular day.
+
+'You must put on the pink and white muslin that you look so well in. I
+insist on it, and will have my way to-night,' she said, and had her way
+accordingly, and the satisfaction of hearing her father remark
+afterwards, that he had 'not seen Miss Hall look so well for years. She
+really was a very pretty ladylike person, and Mr Jones ought to think
+himself very fortunate, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+To judge from Mr Jones' manner and countenance, he did think himself
+very happy and fortunate; and his happiness and good fortune had the
+effect of making him so very agreeable, that Mr Gwynne was quite pleased
+with him, and strongly urged his remaining some days at Glanyravon. But
+this could not be, as he was engaged to be present at a meeting of the
+Society for the Propagation of the Gospel the next day but one. To
+Freda's indignation, her father engaged him in a game of chess, which
+lasted the greater part of the evening; but as he seemed quite patient
+under the infliction, and Miss Hall glad that he should be agreeable to
+her kind friend, Mr Gwynne, Freda was obliged to give up her plan of
+leaving them alone for the remainder of the evening, and to be content
+with resolving that they should at least have the following morning to
+themselves. This she effected, and was rewarded by a lusty squeeze of
+the hand from the gentleman, when he took his leave, which she
+afterwards declared to Miss Hall, would have made an Australian native
+scream. Mr Gwynne sent Mr Jones to meet the train in his carriage, and
+invited him to return as soon as he possibly could.
+
+It may, perhaps, be as well to anticipate some of the events of this
+story, and to say that in the course of three or four months, Mr Jones
+and Miss Hall were married.
+
+Soon after his return to London, Mr Jones was appointed brother curate
+to Rowland Prothero, recommended by his friend, the rector. He undertook
+this as temporary duty, because he was in expectation either of
+obtaining a living or of returning to Australia; Miss Hall was quite
+ready for either kind of work, feeling that, whether as the wife of a
+clergyman at home or abroad, she would be most thankful to be permitted
+to devote herself to her woman's part of missionary labour. Mr Jones had
+a small income as secretary to one of the London and Colonial religious
+societies, and was also engaged in work for the S.P.G., which, together
+with his curacy, and the small savings of twenty years abroad, enabled
+him to take and furnish a home for his wife, and gave them the prospect
+of comfort, if not of ease and riches. Their desires were very moderate,
+and their hopes fixed on objects beyond the general scope of vision; so
+that they were content to 'live by the day,' and trust for the rest. The
+world called them romantic and foolish for people of their ages; they
+'knew in whom they believed,' and, 'having food and raiment, were
+therewith content.'
+
+Gladys had been installed in her offices of parcel lady's-maid, parcel
+school-mistress at the Park, nearly three months, when the wedding took
+place. She had largely contributed towards making Miss Hall's simple
+wardrobe and wedding gear, and was rewarded by being allowed to marshal
+the school children on the happy-day, as they lined the drive at the
+Park gates, on the going forth and return of the bridal party. She was,
+moreover, the one selected by the children to present Miss Hall with a
+handsome Bible in Welsh and English, in token of their gratitude and
+love for her. Mr Jones had been too much engaged in London to allow of
+his visiting Wales until two or three days before his marriage, during
+which time he had occasionally met, and spoken kindly to Gladys, and
+given her a book on Missionary subjects, which he had brought purposely
+for her, expecting to find her at the farm. He had also carried pleasant
+news of Rowland to Mrs Prothero, and frequently spoken of him to Mr
+Gwynne and Freda--of his earnestness in his profession, and of the love
+and esteem in which he was held by his rector and his flock.
+
+Freda felt very lonely when her dear Serena was gone. She had no one
+amongst her immediate neighbours for whom she cared much. The general
+round of country dinner-parties she had always found very dull, and the
+annual hunt week and assize balls she had never liked; so she found
+herself again thrown quite upon her own resources. As long as Colonel
+Vaughan had been in the country, she had taken an interest in
+everything; when he left, her ordinary pursuits--her riding, painting,
+music, garden--in all of which he had aided her, suddenly lost their
+charm. Her friend's marriage came about just when she wanted an object
+of interest, and when that was over she was thrown back upon herself.
+
+By degrees, however, a healthier tone returned to her mind, and she
+forgot the fascinating Colonel Vaughan, and recovered her interest in
+her house, school, dogs, birds, garden, and the thousand and one small
+objects that serve to make time pass cheerfully and happily in a country
+home. Above all, she became more and more interested in Gladys, and
+anxious to shelter her from the many dangers and temptations which she
+saw her peculiar beauty and position subjected her to. She soon found
+out that all the men-servants paid their devotions to her shrine, and
+that even the ancient and portly butler was not indifferent to her
+charms; but the simplicity and modesty of Gladys kept them all at a
+respectful distance, and the housekeeper told Miss Gwynne, that 'Reelly,
+she was quite a pattern in the servants' 'all, and it was a treat to see
+a young 'oman who knew how to keep the men off--not but the girls were
+as jealous of her as could be; but that wasn't to be wondered at, for
+none of 'em was made anything of when Gladys was near.' Even Mr Gwynne
+roused himself to make inquiries concerning Freda's pretty maid, which
+was quite the crowning feather in Gladys' cap.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+Plas Abertewey was a fine old country seat, that had been in Colonel
+Vaughan's family for generations. Miss Gwynne was not the only scion of
+the good old county gentry who was disgusted at seeing it in the
+possession of a son of old Griffey Jenkins, the miser. But so it was to
+be. Howel took the place, nominally for a term, but with the avowed
+intention of purchasing it, or the first place of any note that should
+be for sale in the county.
+
+He made liberal proposals to Colonel Vaughan's agents as regarded
+improvements and repairs, the house having been much neglected for some
+years; and in the course of a few months after his marriage with Netta,
+workmen of all kinds were employed in adorning Plas Abertewey for his
+expected arrival with his bride.
+
+This did not take place, however, until the following spring, by which
+time the house and grounds were in as fine order as money could make
+them. Howel sent down a person from London to superintend the work, and
+remained with Netta in Paris until it was nearly completed; then he
+brought her over to England, left her in London with his friends the
+Simpsons, and ran down into Wales, accompanied by Captain Dancy, who had
+been his companion during a great portion of his Paris trip.
+
+They remained only a few days, and then returned to town to superintend
+the purchase of furniture, plate, and the various appurtenances of a
+country establishment, which were duly despatched to the _charge
+d'affaires_ in the country, and vigilantly guarded by Mrs Griffith
+Jenkins, who took up her abode at Abertewey for the time being.
+
+As bell-ringers do not pause to consider the cause and effect of the
+events they are ordered to commemorate, but rather think of the amount
+of money and liquid they are likely to receive for their labour, the
+chime of Llanfawr rang a merry peal when the future master and mistress
+of Plas Abertewey drove through the town. There was, moreover, a small
+show of fireworks on the occasion. Blue balls, crackers, rockets and the
+like blazed and hissed about to the no small danger of the thatched
+roofs of some of the houses. Mrs Griffith Jenkins undrew her purse
+strings on that day, and the cheering and shouting were great as the
+bride and bridegroom appeared. Howel bowed and smiled as all great men
+do on such occasions, and Netta laughed, and was proud. One of the blue
+balls made the fine pair of horses that drew Howel's new carriage take
+fright, but the London coachman showed the superiority of his driving by
+pulling them in' and the crowd shouted amain.
+
+Captain Dancy and Miss Simpson, who accompanied the pair, were duly
+impressed with the loyalty of Howel's subjects, and were not
+particularly shown the little shop to which he owed their sudden
+devotion. 'Jenkins, the miser,' was quite swallowed up in 'Howel
+Jenkins, Esq.,' and 'Netta Prothero, Glanyravon,' was engulphed in his
+wife. So goes the world. Shout on, little boys, for so will it be when
+you are in your turn big men, and 'adore the rising, rather than the
+setting sun,' as the French proverb hath it.
+
+Fortunately, Abertewey was in the parish of Llanfawr, and some seven or
+eight miles from Glanyravon, therefore Mr and Mrs Prothero knew nothing
+of the demonstrations in honour of their children.
+
+Mrs Griffith Jenkins received them, dressed in a new _moire antique_,
+quite in baronial style, under the portico of their dwelling, and the
+proper complement of retainers was in the background. More shouts were
+heard from some of the immediate neighbours, who had gathered round the
+door to see the arrival; and as Netta alighted from her carriage,
+attired like a Paris doll, she felt that she was now a grand lady, and
+could conscientiously look down on Miss Rice Rice, and be on an equality
+with Miss Nugent.
+
+Howel gave some orders in a very commanding tone to the various
+lords-in-waiting, and then the door closed upon their majesties, and the
+admiring crowds saw them no more.
+
+It is no wonder that the world without Plas Abertewey was much engaged
+in talking of, and speculating on, the world within. Howel's horses,
+Netta's dress, Miss Simpson's father's baronetcy, Captain Dancy's
+regiment, Plas Abertewey's appointments, the footmen's liveries, the
+reputed wealth of the miser, even Mrs Griffith Jenkins' _moire antique_,
+mourning ornaments and gold watch were variously remarked upon, and
+doubtless with great good nature and deserving approbation. We all know
+how we rejoice when our neighbours rise to wealth or eminence. There was
+not one breakfast-table within twenty miles of Abertewey, from that of
+my lord and my lady to Jim Davies and his wife, shoemakers, over which
+the arrival of Howel Jenkins, the miser, as he was called, according to
+his father before him, was not pulled to pieces, from the first sound of
+the bells to the last shout at his hall door.
+
+'Shall we call?' were the words on the lips of all heads of families,
+generally settled by the said 'heads' driving in their very best
+equipages and gayest clothes, to pay the wedding visit to the reputed
+millionnaire and his pretty, elegantly attired wife.
+
+Money, as I have somewhat commonplacedly remarked elsewhere, is the
+master-key to most hearts, and Howel found that nearly all the hearts in
+his native county were opened by his wealth. The exceptions were
+principally those of his wife's family, and even in some of these he
+managed to turn the key.
+
+It was shortly after the arrival at Plas Abertewey that Owen and Gladys
+simultaneously left the farm, and we find the former on that same
+morning, standing at a little distance from this residence of his sister
+and Howel, surveying it, and ruminating on the family fortunes.
+
+'Well done, Howel,' he said to himself; 'if money hasn't done something
+for you, I don't know for whom it has done anything. I declare I will
+try and make some myself, and come back and marry Gladys in spite of the
+world.'
+
+Then he began to ask himself, whether it was kind and brotherly to pass
+by his only sister's door without saying good-bye to her, and whether
+his father had any right to expect all her relations to give her up,
+because he chose to do so? His reflections were suddenly cut short by
+the appearance of Howel and another gentleman, bound, apparently, on a
+fishing expedition.
+
+'Owen, come at last!' cried Howel, hastening up to him with great good
+will. 'Better late than never. I am very glad to see you, so will be
+Netta. Travelled early to hide your carpet bag, or whatever it is?'
+
+'Knapsack,' said Owen, shaking his cousin's offered hand; 'I'm off to
+sea again.'
+
+'A queer road to take; but you come to see us on your way, of course.
+Let me introduce you to Mr Simpson, Sir John Simpson's son. My cousin,
+Mr Simpson, my wife's brother.
+
+Owen nodded, and Mr Simpson bowed.
+
+'We're going out fishing, but you'll find Netta--in bed, I'm afraid, but
+she'll be glad to see you anywhere. Go up the avenue, and let Netta know
+you've come. We shall be home to dinner at seven. Good-bye for the
+present.'
+
+Owen did not stay to consider, but walked past the handsome lodge, and
+up the drive, according to Howel's direction.
+
+'Mighty condescending and very patronising, cousin Howel!' he
+soliloquised; 'but I will go and see how Netta gets on, and how your
+highness treats her.'
+
+He reached the house, and rang stoutly at the bell. A servant answered
+it, who was adjusting his coat just put on, he not having expected such
+early visitors.
+
+'The back entrance is round the corner there, young man,' were his words
+on perceiving Owen, whose pride was greatly roused thereby.
+
+'Tell Mrs Howel Jenkins that her brother, Mr Owen Prothero, is here,'
+said Owen, intending to electrify the man.
+
+But he did not succeed. The servants knew very well that their
+mistress's family was not of 'county rank,' and that its members were
+not upon terms with the Aberteweys, therefore had no very high opinion
+of them. He turned on his heel, and told a female servant to tell
+Lucette, the French maid, to tell her mistress that Mr Owen Prothero was
+at the door.
+
+In a few minutes the man reappeared, and, with a great increase of
+civility, asked Mr Prothero to walk into the breakfast-room, and said
+his mistress would be down as soon as possible. Whilst he was admiring
+the room and its costly furniture, and considering the tea service, a
+smart little French-woman came to him and asked him in French, whether
+he would stay to breakfast; as he knew something of the language he
+replied in the affirmative. Then appeared an equally smart and
+fascinating French valet, who begged to be allowed the honour of
+conducting Monsieur to a bedroom, to arrange his toilet.
+
+Owen laughed heartily and followed the man, who took up his knapsack
+daintily, and led him to a very handsome bedroom, where Owen brushed his
+hair as becomingly as he could, arranged his beard, and made himself as
+smart as his wardrobe would allow of his doing. He was, as we have
+before said, a very handsome young man, and sufficiently well mannered
+to pass muster anywhere.
+
+'What is the next act, I wonder?' said he, as he found his way into the
+breakfast-room. He was quite taken aback as he entered, when he saw a
+pale young lady sitting in one of the windows, reading. He made his bow,
+she curtseyed, and said,--
+
+'Mrs Howel Jenkins' brother, I believe? My name is Simpson.'
+
+Owen bowed again, and not being of a shy turn, and having seen ladies of
+various degrees during his travels, began to make himself agreeable.
+
+In a few minutes, a little French fairy flitted into the room, with her
+hair off her face to display such eyes and complexion as are rare in all
+times; and muslins, laces, and ribbons so blended, as to set off a
+petite figure to the very best advantage. Owen was going to bow again,
+when a little affected laugh, and a 'Ma foi! he doesn't know me, Miss
+Simpson,' proclaimed the fairy to be his sister Netta.
+
+'Owen, you naughty boy, not to know me,' the little thing continued,
+more naturally, running up to her brother, who took her, despite
+muslins, laces, and ribbons, almost up in his big arms, and kissed her.
+
+'How you have rumpled me, Owen? did you ever see such a thing, Miss
+Simpson?' she cried, half laughing, half in tears, as she smoothed down
+the point-lace sleeves and collar.
+
+Just then a tall man entered, and Netta disengaging herself from Owen,
+who was on the point of kissing her again, and asking her what she had
+done to herself, simpered out an introduction between 'Captain Dancy and
+my brother, Captain Prothero.'
+
+'Not quite that yet,' began Owen, anxious to disclaim the captaincy,
+when he was interrupted by the entrance of one or two other men, who
+were, in their turn, named to him as Sir Samuel Spendall and Mr Deep.
+Owen did not like their appearance and looked towards his really lovely
+little sister, to see how she received them. Her manners had a mixture
+of affectation and simplicity that was rather taking than otherwise. And
+Owen wondered how Howel could leave one so young and pretty amongst
+three men of the world, which he soon discovered his new acquaintances
+to be. True, Miss Simpson was with her, and in the middle of breakfast,
+to which, in due time, they sat down, another lady came upon the scene,
+by name Madame Duvet, who turned out to be the English widow of a
+Frenchman. She was young, handsome, but over-bold for the taste of a man
+who was in love with Gladys.
+
+She was at once taken with Owen's handsome face, and talked to him
+incessantly, whilst Captain Dancy seated himself near Netta, and devoted
+himself to her much more closely than Owen liked. However, he was very
+hungry, and managed to make a good breakfast.
+
+He heard Netta telling Captain Dancy that her brother had been at sea
+all his life, and knew nothing of the fashionable world; at which he
+thought the ham he was eating would have choked him, in his effort to
+repress a laugh. He longed very much to knock down one of the
+'Jeames's,' who would stand gazing at him, and did so far betray his
+indignation, as to ask him, when he came behind his chair, whether he
+saw anything remarkable in his appearance, which so amused Madame Duvet,
+that she exclaimed '_Charmant! brava!_ you make me _crever de rire_.'
+
+Owen was astonished at everything, but at nothing so much as at his
+sister. Netta had always aped the fine lady, and made the most of her
+few accomplishments; but now it was all like a fairy-tale, and the
+heroine was Netta, transformed by some fairy into a princess. By turns
+coquettish, affected, simple, languishing, accordingly as she feared she
+was too like her natural self--the Netta of the Farm was no more, and
+her representative was, to Owen at least, an anomaly. How she could have
+acquired such an amount of small talk, and such a mincing speech in nine
+months, was an enigma to him. London, Paris, the opera, the fashions,
+even the picture galleries, were alternately in her mouth; and she
+poured out tea and coffee, and laughed a silly laugh, much to her own
+satisfaction, and Owen's disgust, whilst all the men were looking at
+her; for assuredly she was very pretty.
+
+'Owen,' she said, during a sudden pause in rather a noisy conversation,
+'I hear Rowland is quite a fashionable preacher. Howel means to ask him
+down here, I believe. Miss Simpson went to hear him--didn't you, Miss
+Simpson?'
+
+This was drawled out, and Owen felt very much disposed to get up and
+shake his sister, as he had often done when she came from school with
+any new airs and graces. But he contented himself with saying,----
+
+'Rowly's a capital fellow, Netta, fach, and doing his best. Whether he's
+a fashionable preacher or not I don't know, but he kept us all awake at
+Llanfach one Sunday for half-an-hour, which is something.'
+
+'Your brother is so amusing! so _naif_! I die of him!' said Madame
+Duvet.
+
+'Very original!' remarked Miss Simpson; 'I do like originality--'
+
+'Then you must like Netta,' said Owen; 'for there was never any one of
+our family the least like her.'
+
+'Oh yes! you are, about the eyes. _Malin!_' said Madame Duvet.
+
+After breakfast, Owen tried to get Netta a little to himself, but there
+were distant calls to make, and drives and rides to be arranged, which
+caused him to be unsuccessful in his efforts. So he fell to the lot of
+Mr Deep, who took him to see Howel's hunters and dogs, and all the other
+wonders of Abertewey.
+
+'Deep by name, and deep by nature,' was Owen's reflection, after his
+morning with his new acquaintance. 'He has managed to get all my secrets
+out of me, one excepted; but he has not confided any to me in return.
+One thing I suspect, however, that he has a turn for horse-racing and
+betting.'
+
+Howel and Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party,
+with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, assembled at dinner. Howel had
+ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed;
+and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie
+belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave
+him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.
+
+He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening
+costume.
+
+'What do you think of her, Owen?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally
+gazing at her before dinner.
+
+'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta
+Prothero of the Farm.'
+
+'I should imagine not!' said Howel. 'Pray don't let us talk of farms
+here, Owen. I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.'
+
+'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops?' asked
+Owen, maliciously.
+
+Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite
+as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen
+wondered on.
+
+Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child
+in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of
+cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly
+have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago. 'Her own
+mother would not know her!' thought Howel. 'Poor mother, she would
+scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a
+little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and
+see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta.'
+
+The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's
+bewildered imagination. Madame Duvet made such very decided attempts to
+talk to him, however, that he was obliged to cease wondering, and to
+bring his usually versatile genius into play, in the light of all the
+grandeur. He got on so well with the lady, that Howel wondered in his
+turn, and after dinner told Owen that he verily believed if he played
+his cards well, he might make an impression on the pretty widow.
+
+'One can do that, I should say, without any cards at all,' said Owen,
+showing his white teeth from amidst his big black beard.
+
+When the ladies had left the dinner-table, Owen began to gain some
+insight into the characters and pursuits of Howel's guests. He had not
+spent thirteen or fourteen years amongst men of all ranks and all
+nations, without having acquired a shrewd judgment, and a tolerable
+knowledge of mankind.
+
+The conversation turned at once upon hunting, racing, steeple-chasing,
+billiards, bets, and the like. It was evident that Howel, too, was well
+initiated into such matters. Mr Rice Rice asked him when the question of
+the hounds was to be decided, and Howel said that kennels were in
+preparation, and that he hoped to have a first-rate pack by the winter.
+There arose a dispute about a celebrated racer that Howel appeared to
+possess in London, and that was expected daily at Abertewey. Howel
+declared his intention of letting her run at the Carmarthen races.
+Captain Dancy, having heavy stakes on the mare, vowed it might disable
+her for the Derby, and words ran high; but Mr Deep interposed, and
+changed the subject to that of _rouge et noir_.
+
+They sat over the dinner-table till nearly eleven o'clock, by which time
+they were all more or less exhilarated. Howel's wines were good, his
+cellar was well stocked, and he was lavish of everything that might give
+him a reputation amongst the Welsh squires that surrounded him, many of
+whom still worshipped at the shrine of Bacchus.
+
+When they joined the ladies, Owen thought the conversation was rather
+too loud and boisterous. Captain Dancy alone was quite himself, and made
+Netta sing some little French songs to Owen's great amusement. After tea
+and coffee had been carried round, a card table appeared, and
+_vingt-et-un_ was proposed. The stakes were so high that Owen trembled
+for his small stock of wealth? but to his astonishment again, he found
+himself, at the end of the evening, a gainer of nearly five pounds,
+although he had been most moderate in his own stakes. He was struck with
+the eagerness of Madame Duvet and Netta, who entered into the game with
+all the avidity of accomplished gamblers.
+
+It was very late when they finished the game, and nominally retired for
+the night, but not late enough to prevent Howel, Captain Dancy, Mr Deep,
+and Sir Samuel Spendall from sitting down again to whist. Owen left them
+at it, not altogether satisfied with himself or his companions.
+
+The following day, Owen again tried to get some private conversation
+with Howel or Netta, but in vain. The breakfast was even later than the
+previous morning, as Howel did not go out fishing, and afterwards there
+were more distant calls to make, and Netta was engaged in preparing her
+dress with her maid for a dinner-party at Mr Rice Rice's, at which she
+desired to appear particularly grand. The gentlemen were playing
+billiards part of the day, and riding the rest, in neither of which
+amusement Owen joined. Madame Duvet did her best to amuse him, and
+succeeded very well, for Owen was far from insensible to the charms of
+beauty, and, in spite of Gladys, could not resist flirting a little, in
+his own matter-of-fact way, with a pretty woman.
+
+The three ladies, Captain Dancy and Howel, were the dinner guests at Mr
+Rice Rice's, the other gentlemen were invited for the dance in the
+evening. Young Rice Rice had given Owen a lame invitation the previous
+day, which he had declined; never having been in the habit of visiting
+him when at home, he did not choose to do so under Howel's countenance.
+
+Owen's astonishment was brought to a climax that evening when his sister
+appeared dressed for this, her first public appearance on the small
+stage of a country-neighbourhood, or, to speak more respectfully, county
+visiting. It was Howel's pleasure that she should make it in point lace
+and diamonds. Not even to Owen was it whispered that the lace was a
+wonderfully good imitation, or that the diamonds, instead of being of
+the first water, were first-rate paste; and no one suspected the
+deception. The great millionnaire, Howel Jenkins, could well afford to
+give his pretty wife the real jewels and lace, and had the credit of so
+doing; and as no one, save himself and the jeweller, knew that they were
+false, he thought himself a very clever fellow for gaining the
+reputation of unbounded liberality upon very small means. Be it said,
+however, that his own studs, pin and ring, were real.
+
+The French maid had eclipsed herself in Netta's toilet, and Owen felt
+that if she were not his sister, he must have fallen in love with her
+himself. The black roguish eyes sparkled like the brilliants she wore,
+and the complexion was scarcely rivalled by the roses she had in her
+bouquet.
+
+Howel looked really proud of her, and it is not surprising that he felt
+greatly elevated as he took the reins from the coachman and drove off in
+his fine new carriage, drawn by capital horses, and attended by liveried
+servants.
+
+His last whisper to Netta, before they entered Mr Rice Rice's
+drawing-room was, 'Keep up your consequence, and don't say, "Yes,
+indeed!" every minute.'
+
+He was determined to keep up his own consequence, and began at once by
+patronising everybody present. There were some of the county gentry who
+had demurred as to calling on the old miser's son, and who were
+astonished at the kind of tone he assumed. They, who had been gravely
+considering whether they could possibly shake hands with him, found
+themselves on a level with, if not beneath him, at once, by mere
+effrontery. There is some truth in the saying that, 'Accordingly as you
+think of yourself, others will think of you;' and impudence and riches
+combined, together with a certain amount of talent and personal
+appearance, can overcome vast worldly obstacles. Besides did he not
+bring an unmarried baronet with him--one of the very ancient family of
+Spendalls--and the son and daughter of a man of title, and a captain of
+the dragoon guards? to say nothing of that fashionable widow, reputed a
+fortune. And were there not plenty of young ladies, poor if proud, in
+the county, wanting partners, either for dancing or life, or both?
+
+After that evening, people sneered at home perhaps, but they called and
+invited and made much of the master and mistress of Plas Abertewey,
+forgetting or ignoring their origin.
+
+Netta, too, obeyed Howel's last injunction to the best of her ability.
+Her youth and beauty were greatly in her favour, and her affectation
+covered the shyness and awkwardness that she felt in being suddenly
+thrown amongst people upon whom she had formerly looked with awe. The
+Nugents were there, but the Gwynnes were absent, and she had the
+pleasure of feeling that she had as many, if not more, partners than the
+heiress, Miss Nugent, and was much more grandly dressed. As for Miss
+Rice Rice, she fell quite into the shade before her.
+
+Her old friend, Sir Hugh Pryse, was particularly attentive, and talked
+to her of Miss Gwynne; and Captain Dancy was as much devoted to her
+abroad as at home. Her head was quite turned, and nothing but the
+consciousness that Howel was present kept it on her shoulders at all;
+but the fear of a lecture for some mistake in manners kept her so much
+on her guard, that she got through the evening wonderfully, and achieved
+what Mme. Duvet called _un grand succes_.
+
+And Howel danced, and talked, and introduced his friends, and patronised
+everybody, much as if he had been a feudal monarch amongst his barons.
+Here and there might have been seen a suppressed smile, as one of the
+company whispered to another, 'Where is Mrs Griffey Jenkins to-night?
+What would old Griff, the miser, say to those diamonds? I wonder his
+very ghost doesn't appear?' but still money won its usual way. And when
+Howel's chariot came to the door, there were more surprised and admiring
+eyes fixed upon it from the bystanders without, than on that of any
+other of the assembled party. As Mrs Griffey Jenkins said when she heard
+of the evening gaieties,--
+
+'Deet to goodness, and my Howel's was grander than any one. I do answer
+for that. Now his is a beauty carriage and horses, and servants as grand
+as Queen Victoria's or Prince Albert's, for I did be seeing them in
+London myself.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THE PATRON.
+
+
+Tuesday and Wednesday had passed quickly away, and Thursday brought to
+Owen amusements similar to those of the previous days; but no private
+intercourse with his relations. In the evening of his third day at
+Abertewey, there was a concert at the neighbouring town, huge bills of
+which had been posted up on the walls and houses of the said town,
+purporting that the entertainment was under the immediate patronage of
+Howel Jenkins, Esq. of Plas Abertewey, and his friends. Elegant little
+pink and blue programmes were scattered over that patriotic gentleman's
+tables, and he had used his eloquent language, and made great efforts to
+get together a large party for the occasion.
+
+It was principally a Welsh concert, he urged, and he considered it right
+to patronise native talent. There was the celebrated _Eos_, and the last
+representative of the ancient bards, and the best specimen of a Welsh
+harper, besides several respectable English singers, and he, for one,
+should muster as many supporters as he possibly could.
+
+He did so, accordingly, and with that spirit of liberality which
+characterised him when any popularity was to be acquired thereby
+purchased a great number of tickets, and distributed them amongst his
+servants and neighbours with majestic grace. He had managed to enlist a
+large party at Mr Rice Rice's the previous evening, some of whom were to
+dine at Abertewey, and to go thence to the concert; others to meet him
+and his friends there.
+
+Owen felt lost in the grandeur of that evening, and would have been
+quite forgotten but for Mme. Duvet, who was constant in her admiration
+of him. But it was amusement and wonder enough for him to watch Howel
+and Netta, quite _en prince et princesse_, receiving their guests, who,
+if not as yet of the aristocracy of the county, were of high
+respectability and good position in it. If the host and hostess were
+rather desirous of showing how grand they were, their dinner and wines
+were so good as to cover their efforts.
+
+What if their guests remarked, as guests will, gentle reader, when our
+backs are turned, that Howel was insufferably purse-proud and conceited,
+and his wife as affected and provincial as possible; they did not hear
+the friendly notices, and were well content to fill the concert room
+with their party, all in full dress, to the admiration of the townsfolk,
+and of Mrs Griffey Jenkins in particular.
+
+Howel had quite forgotten his mother in his general invitation and did
+not even see her for some time, seated in a prominent position, and
+making one of his own party, to all appearance. She had saved his
+character for filial duty by going where he would little have thought of
+placing her, and awaiting his arrival, as her pride impelled her to do.
+Owen spied her at once, and took Mme. Duvet to the seat next her, on her
+left; whilst on her right sat Mr Deep, and nigh to him, of all people in
+the world, Mrs Rice Rice, that staunch supporter of family dignity.
+
+Owen shook hands with Aunt 'Lizbeth, and introduced her to Madame Duvet
+and Mr Deep, after having asked them first of all whether they had seen
+her previously.
+
+'I never had that honour,' said Madame Duvet, curtseying.
+
+'I didn't be going to Abertewey since you was coming there, ma'am,' said
+Mrs Griffey, rising and curtseying, to the unspeakable diversion of Mrs
+Rice Rice and Mr Deep.
+
+The reader may remember that Mrs Jenkins was at Abertewey when Howel
+made his triumphant entry there, but the following morning he gave her
+to understand, as delicately as he could, that the idiomatic
+translations of the Welsh language which had been so refreshing in
+London, would be better in her native town than at Abertewey, and she
+departed accordingly.
+
+His ire may be imagined, when he suddenly heard the well-known idioms
+lavished upon Madame Duvet and Mr Deep, who were enjoying them a great
+deal more than the concert, which, being principally in the vernacular,
+was not so intelligible and far less amusing. Mrs Jenkins was in her
+glory. Never had Mrs Rice Rice been so condescending before. She and Mr
+Deep made themselves more agreeable than she had supposed it possible
+for such grand people to be, and she frequently glanced at Owen, as much
+as to say, 'And I am the person that your father turned out of doors!'
+
+Owen, on his side, was sorry that he had exposed her to the sarcasm that
+she so little understood, and talked to Madame Duvet to withdraw
+attention from her.
+
+As to Howel, his rising sun was obscured--his blushing honours were
+dimmed--his majesty, patronage, grandeur were lowered by the propinquity
+of his nearest of kin. In the midst of his county friends himself, he
+still felt that his mother was making herself ridiculous near at hand;
+whilst complimented and thanked for his patriotic support of native
+_cos_,[Footnote: Nightingales.] the native idioms rang in his ears, and
+he longed to annihilate them altogether. This on his right hand. On his
+left, Netta, looking literally like 'a rose in June,' and receiving the
+very marked attentions of Captain Dancy, on one side, and of Mr Rice
+Rice, junior, on the other. He scarcely knew which was most irritating,
+'the idioms,' or her affected giggle. Trite but true is the proverb,
+'There is no rose without its thorn;' and Howel was pricked severely by
+the thorns surrounding the rose of his first step into popularity.
+
+Between the acts, and between the songs, Mrs Griffey went on something
+in this sort,--
+
+'Indeet yes, sir! treue for you there. The Welsh is a splendit language.
+My son Howels--there he is to be proving it--do always say so. Ah!
+that's "The rising of the lark," I was singing that myself years ago.
+London! to be seure! Now there was singing I was hearing at the play. My
+son Howels did tak us to the play. I never was hearing or seeing the
+like in my life. Seure, the Queen Victoria or Prince Albert don't be
+dressing half as fine as the gentlemen and ladies I was seeing act. The
+Queen! Oh, Mrs Rice Rice, fach! Ma'am, I was disappointed! Just a bonnet
+no better than my doater-in-law's. What, sir! a crown? Not 'sactly a
+crown; but I was 'specting to see a queen different from other people.
+Hush! I do hear my son Howels cry, "Silence!" and they do be playing "Ap
+Shenkin." Not so bad that for Wales, Mrs Rice Rice. My son Howels do
+sing beautiful himself, and do play--Hush! look you at him. He don't
+like tolking in the music. He, he, he, sir! you do make me laugh. To be
+seure I don't mean to be marrying again, though men are so much for
+money. I am thinking you gentlemen 'ould be marrying your grandmothers
+for the beauty money! Not my son Howels, indeet! He don't be wanting
+money. He marry his cousin for love. Hush you! There's Pengoch beginning
+a Penyll! You don't be hearing anything like that in England. Ach a fi!
+my 'deet, I am sorry. "God save the Queen!" and it don't seem an hour
+since they began!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins stood up with the rest, and beat time emphatically Scarcely
+was the last verse of 'God save the Queen' finished, when Howel came up
+to his mother, and biting his tongue to keep in his ire, said--
+
+'Mother, I will see you safe first!' and without allowing her time to do
+more than make a curtsey to her companions, offered her his arm, and led
+her quickly down the room. He did not venture to speak to her, but
+nodding to one and another as he passed, said, 'I shall be back
+directly. I am just going to send my mother home first,' reached the
+door, and called for his carriage. It was close at hand, the hour for
+ordering the carriages being past; and he speedily put his mother into
+it. 'Drive Mrs Jenkins home, and return immediately,' he exclaimed.
+
+'Which way, ma'am?' asked the servant.
+
+'Go you down the street, then turn to the right, and the first house
+with a railing and steps, and a brass knocker,' said Mrs Jenkins,
+exulting as they drove off in her new dignity and importance. Howel, on
+the contrary, returned to the concert-room, cursing his folly for having
+settled in his native county, and wishing his mother anywhere else.
+
+Nevertheless, he received the thanks of the conductor of the concert
+with bland humility, and expressed his intention of using all his best
+efforts in behalf of his country and countrymen. Finally he assisted in
+cloaking and shawling the ladies, seeing them to their carriages, and
+bidding them condescending good nights.
+
+For himself, however, he had not a good night, being haunted with the
+demons of jealousy and discontent. As soon as Netta and he were alone,
+he addressed her in very different tones from those which he had called
+forth for the ladies of the concert-room.
+
+'Netta, why do you let Dancy pay you such attentions?' he began, with a
+scowling brow and flashing eye.
+
+'Why does Mme. Duvet let you pay her such attention?' was Netta's
+instant reply.
+
+Now Netta was too well pleased with herself, and the effect of her
+beauty on others, to endure being snubbed, and was very angry that Howel
+was not pleased also.
+
+'Don't be a fool, Netta. You know Madame Duvet is doing all she can to
+catch Owen.'
+
+'Oh! jealous are you? Well, there were plenty of other ladies who let
+you pay them attention; why was that I wonder?'
+
+'I tell you what it is, Netta, I won't allow Dancy to devote himself to
+you as he does.'
+
+'Then you had better tell him so, I ain't going to do it; he's your
+friend, and if he admires me, I think you ought to be proud of it.'
+
+'You did nothing but flirt and giggle with him all the evening. What
+with you on one side and my mother on the other, I thought I must have
+left the room.'
+
+'Giggle, indeed; I don't know what you mean, sir; you never eused to say
+I giggled.'
+
+'Can't you say _used_, and not _eused_, you will never cease to be
+provincial,'
+
+'Other folks are provincial, I think, besides me. If you said your own
+mother was provincial, it 'ould be true enough.'
+
+'There again! if you are your own natural self, you leave out all your
+_w's_ directly; I wish you would be careful, Netta.'
+
+'Well, so do the French. I declare I won't speak again to-night, that I
+won't, you cross, unnatural, unfeeling fellow; and all because you're
+jealous of Owen. Madame Duvet says he's the handsomest man she ever saw,
+and that his beard is enough to win any woman's heart.'
+
+'You had better hold your tongue, I think,' said Howel, stifling a laugh
+at the idea of Owen's irresistible beard; 'you never say a word of
+sense.'
+
+'And you never say a kind word,' said Netta, breaking down at that last
+attack, and beginning to cry.
+
+'Now don't blubber, and let all the house hear you.'
+
+'I wonder whether leaving out a _w_ is half as vulgar as to tell one's
+wife not to blubber. But I won't speak to you again. I wish I hadn't
+married you, I do.'
+
+'I wish to heaven you hadn't.'
+
+At this Netta began to sob very much, and Howel softened somewhat, but
+not sufficiently to make any excuse for his conduct; and Netta went to
+bed, proud, indignant, and unhappy, and wishing herself back again at
+Glanyravon.
+
+The next morning, Owen remarked that Netta did not speak to Howel at
+all, and that she was very reserved and strange in her manner to Captain
+Dancy. The captain, however, took no notice of the change, but whilst he
+seemed to converse more than usual with Miss Simpson, anticipated all
+Netta's wants and wishes with most insinuating tact. Netta, with her
+changing colour, and half-pettish, half-shy manner, was still more
+attractive than Netta affected and silly. Owen thought that Howel felt
+this, for he went behind her chair, and put his hand on her shoulder,
+whilst he asked for some more sugar in his tea. Netta's lips pouted, but
+her eyes brightened as she said in a half whisper, 'You're sweeter than
+you were, Howel.'
+
+Howel excused the common-place allusion to the sugar, in consideration
+of the bright face that looked up at him, and so the storm lulled for
+the present.
+
+This was Owen's fourth day at Abertewey, and it was a facsimile of the
+second, with the exception that Mr and Miss Simpson and Mr Deep did not
+go to the dinner-party to which the rest went, at a neighbouring country
+house, so Owen had company at dinner, and was ordered by Netta to do the
+honours.
+
+Miss Simpson refused to play whist, and Owen declined billiards, so
+whilst Mr Deep got as much money as he could out of Mr Simpson, Owen
+devoted himself and his captivating beard to Miss Simpson.
+
+In the course of conversation that young lady informed him that she and
+her brother intended leaving Abertewey the following week, and that she
+supposed the rest of the party would soon follow for the Ascot Races,
+and she hoped Owen would join them; she was sure her papa and mamma
+would be very glad to see him. She also let out that her brother,
+Captain Dancy, and Howel had heavy bets on the different horses that
+were to run, and that she expected there would be great excitement. As
+to Mr Deep, nobody quite knew what he did, he was so very reserved and
+quiet.
+
+Owen stayed on at Abertewey day after day, he scarcely knew why. In the
+first place, he was very well amused, and liked his quarters. In the
+second, his new friends all liked him; the women for his good looks and
+open-hearted civility, the men, because he took his own course and did
+not interfere with them, and was a very amusing fellow besides. In the
+third place, he stayed on because he felt anxious about Howel and Netta
+and their way of beginning life. He had been a man careless of money
+himself all his days, but he had been, as the saying goes, no one's
+enemy but his own--he feared that Howel might turn out, not only his own
+foe but the foe of others, since he perceived that the propensities of
+his unmonied youth were strengthening and maturing in his monied
+manhood. He had no opinion of any man who would fleece another, and he
+saw that Howel and Mr Deep were preying upon the simple, conceited Mr
+Simpson, and the careless, lavish Sir Samuel Spendall. As to Mr Deep, he
+watched his opportunity of outwitting either of the four as it offered.
+
+Saturday came and passed, as usual, in visiting and gambling. A good
+many of the sporting men of the country called to see Howel's famous
+race-horse, Campaigner, in training for the St Leger, and to indulge in
+a little of the sporting gossip of the day, whilst their womankind
+indulged in more general, and equally intellectual, country gossip. Some
+of the young men stayed to dinner, and when Miss Simpson had duly played
+her waltzes, and Netta had gone through her French songs, _vingt-et-un_
+was proposed.
+
+Owen took his customary place by Madame Duvet, and played his usual
+game. But he had not the luck of the previous evening, and soon lost the
+five pounds he then won, and very nearly the little he possessed
+besides. When he knew that he was within a few shillings of bankruptcy
+he said,--
+
+'I am very sorry to leave such agreeable society, but if I play any more
+I shall never get to sea. Look at my purse!' holding it up and shaking
+it, 'it is very nearly empty.'
+
+'Luck will change,' said Madame Duvet. 'You shall go partners with me,'
+pointing to a large heap of money and counters.
+
+'I should be only too happy if I could bring anything to the bank, said
+Owen; 'but I am too proud to be a penniless partner.'
+
+'You need only bring yourself,' said Madame Duvet, lowering her voice,
+and giving such a glance from a pair of fine black eyes as few men could
+have withstood.
+
+Perhaps Owen would have yielded to it, for he was by no means a hero,
+had not a sudden vision of Gladys passed before his mind, followed by
+one of his mother, just as he had seen her when she bade him that last
+solemn good-night only the Tuesday in that very week. How the vision
+came he knew not, nor did he pause to ask; but it gave him strength to
+resist the temptation to begin regular gambling, a vice he had hitherto
+steadily avoided.
+
+'No,' he said, with a merry laugh; 'I cannot afford to run into debt.'
+
+'Mortgage those entailed farms of yours,' said Howel. 'I wouldn't mind
+lending you a trifle on them.'
+
+'And I will lend you five pounds without a mortgage,' said Netta.
+
+'Can't afford to borrow or mortgage,' laughed Owen. 'Besides it is
+nearly Sunday morning, and we must all break up directly,' so he slipped
+away from his seat, looked on for a few minutes, and when the party were
+again absorbed in their game, went to bed.
+
+'Well,' he thought; 'I am not as particular as I ought to be, I know,
+myself; but to play cards into Sunday morning! I could not do this. What
+would my poor mother say of Netta if she knew it? I will have a serious
+conversation with her to-morrow, when I suppose she will have an hour to
+spare, and be off on Monday. I almost wish I had never come. That Madame
+Duvet, too! One cannot help paying her attention, and she is very
+handsome and agreeable; but even if there were no Gladys, she wouldn't
+suit me; and here am I almost making her believe--Pashaw! She don't care
+for me. What a vain fellow I am! But, I suppose, as Netta says, they
+admire my beard. All but Gladys, who won't even look at it, or me. I
+wonder what she would think of me in the midst of all these fine people,
+dressed up in Howel's London attire! At any rate I shouldn't be half as
+worthy of her good opinion as when I carried that unfortunate mash to
+the Alderney, which caused the rumpus with my father. How beautiful the
+girl looked, leaning upon that fortunate animal; and what a fool I made
+of myself on the other side of her! Well, I was never so happy at home
+before; and I know it isn't right to leave my father and mother; and I
+have never done any good all my life; and I, the eldest son, and very
+nearly thirty years of age! Poor uncle and aunt gave me an education, to
+very little purpose I fear; and I shall have to answer for the use I
+have made of it, just as those Sabbath-breakers downstairs will have to
+answer for profaning this holy day. Half of it is the force of example.
+Here is Howel leading Netta to destruction, just as Gladys might lead me
+to--heaven, I verily believe. Rowland used to argue with me about
+individual responsibility, and I suppose he was in the right of it.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THE PATRON'S WIFE.
+
+
+The following morning, Netta was not well, and did not appear at the
+breakfast-table. Howel said she had a bad headache, and did not intend
+going to church.
+
+Breakfast was hurried over to prepare for a six miles' drive to church,
+and the carriage conveyed the two ladies and three of the gentlemen
+thither, resplendent with fashion and emblazoned prayer-books. Mr Deep
+did not go, and Owen determined to remain at home, in order to secure
+the desired conversation with Netta.
+
+Mr Deep, however, seized upon him first of all.
+
+It had not escaped that keen observer, that Howel had hinted the
+previous evening that Owen possessed property in reversion; which,
+indeed, he did, inasmuch as his father was a small landed proprietor,
+and had several farms of his own, descended to him from his father, and
+entailed upon Owen.
+
+Mr Deep was reading some racing calendar, and called Owen's attention to
+his brother-in-law's name in connection with the names of men of note on
+the turf. Also to his horse, Campaigner as being one of those entered
+for the Ascot races.
+
+Then he went very cautiously to work to see whether he could not induce
+Owen to bet; but he, holding up again his nearly empty purse, laughed
+his merry laugh, and said,--
+
+'I am not to be caught, Mr Deep. I hate horse-racing, and never laid a
+wager of any kind in my life. That is the only redeeming point in my
+character. Wild enough I have been, and roving all my life, but I never
+gambled. Excuse me now, as I must go and see my sister.'
+
+He went accordingly to Netta's room, and after knocking at the door,
+and hearing that she was still in bed, entered unceremoniously. He was
+at once struck with the difference between the Netta of the farm, in her
+little muslin night-cap, that he had often fairly pulled off, to get her
+to promise to leave the pretty white-curtained bed, and the lady of
+Abertewey, in lace and fine linen, reclining beneath satin drapery, in a
+room furnished most luxuriously.
+
+'Well, Netta, I have you alone at last; and now, if your head is not
+very bad, we will have a regular old-fashioned gossip,' said Owen,
+stooping to kiss the pretty flushed face of the little sister he dearly
+loved, despite her follies.
+
+'Did you stop at home for me, Owen? How very kind! I don't think any one
+else would,' said Netta.
+
+'Oh, yes, many others would if it were necessary; but I wanted to have
+you all to myself. Now I know you have been longing to ask me a hundred
+questions, but have never got beyond "How are they all at home?" yet.'
+
+Netta blushed, and stammered out, as an apology, that she had never been
+at leisure one minute all the week.
+
+By degrees she began to talk of home and her parents, and Owen was glad
+to find that as she did so she returned to her old, natural self. He
+told her everything that had happened at Glanyravon since she left it,
+save and except what related to Gladys. He never even mentioned her
+name.
+
+Netta had various ebullitions of temper during their conversation and
+declared herself greatly aggrieved by her father's conduct.
+
+'But it is just as well,' she said, 'for our positions are so different
+that we should never have got on comfortably. Howel is determined never
+to make up with father.'
+
+'I am afraid he is not likely to have the option,' said Owen, gravely.
+'But you should write and beg his pardon, Netta; you know you acted
+directly contrary to his wishes.'
+
+'I think I would write, Owen, but Howel won't hear of it; he gets
+furious if I even name Glanyravon, and can't bear any of 'em except
+you.'
+
+'Netta, I think you must use your influence to keep Howel from so much
+horse-racing and betting and card-playing.'
+
+'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a passion when I advise him.'
+
+'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think
+what my mother--'
+
+'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't
+take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'
+
+Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.
+
+'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in
+order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and
+come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'
+
+'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you?
+and they say she has a large fortune in France.'
+
+'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards
+Sundays.'
+
+'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was
+only Saturday night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see
+to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical
+Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'
+
+'She saved your mother's life when there was no one else to nurse her,
+and is an angel, if ever there was one!'
+
+Netta opened her large black eyes very wide, and burst out laughing.
+
+'_Ma foi_! is that the last? Well, indeed! I never should have suspected
+her of making an impression. But she's deep enough for anything. How
+would father like that? Irish beggar against Abertewey! Come, Howel's
+better than that any day.
+
+'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Owen, getting very red. 'And
+Gladys has done well ever since she's been at Glanyravon by every one
+belonging to us, not excepting yourself.'
+
+'Very much obliged to her, I am sure,' said Netta, suddenly sitting up
+in bed, and forgetting her headache. 'She needn't trouble herself about
+me. I fancy we are never likely to cross one another again, unless she
+chances to come a-begging to Abertewey, and then perhaps--'
+
+'And then perhaps you would give her a penny and send her on to starve.
+Oh! Netta, Netta, how were you ever my mother's daughter? But once for
+all, Netta, I will never hear one word spoken against Gladys. _I_ at
+least am thankful that I still have a mother, and I owe it to her.'
+
+'Dear me! you needn't be in such a huff directly, Owen. How was I to
+suppose you were in love with an Irish--I beg your pardon, with Miss
+Gladys O'Grady, County Kilkenny, Ireland? A very pretty name, to be
+sure! But if you don't go away I shall never be dressed by the time they
+come from church. There, go like a good boy. I 'ont offend you any
+more.'
+
+'I will go as soon as you have told me what you and Howel did in Paris.
+I seem to know nothing of your proceedings for ages past.'
+
+'It was dreadfully dull there at first, and I thought I should have
+died of it. I quite longed to be at home again. Howel was a great deal
+out, and I was alone; but then he gave me a singing master, and a French
+and dancing mistress, and made me work as hard as if I was at school
+again. In about a month Captain Dancy and Mr Simpson came over, and it
+was much more pleasant. We used to go to the opera and the play nearly
+every night, and Captain Dancy introduced me to Madame Duvet, and she
+introduced me to a great many other ladies, English and French, and we
+had a good deal of fun. I went to balls and parties, and picture
+galleries, and the Champs Elysees, and all the fashionable places.'
+
+'But where did Howel meet with Mr Deep?' interrupted Owen.
+
+'Oh! he used to be with him from the first. They are very old friends,
+Howel says, and have known one another for years; he is a very
+fashionable man, an attorney by profession. Simpson says that the races
+couldn't go on without him.'
+
+'I should think not,' said Owen, smiling; 'at all events, Mr Simpson's
+races would be at a stand still without him. Did you, did Howel play
+much abroad?'
+
+'Yes, I learned from Madame Duvet? and I think Howel and Mr Deep and the
+other gentlemen used to play all day. You know they have nothing else to
+do in Paris. It would be very dull there without cards.'
+
+'Poor Netta! is that what you learned with your little bit of French?'
+
+'I assure you, Owen, Monsieur Letellier and a dozen other Frenchmen said
+I had a beautiful accent, and that they would have thought I was born in
+Paris.'
+
+Owen laughed heartily, and Netta was offended, and told him to go away.
+Just as he was in the act of obeying, Howel appeared.
+
+'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you.
+Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand!
+How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the
+charmer is!'
+
+'Let me see the direction,' said Netta, trying to get the letter from
+her brother.
+
+'No, no,' said Owen. 'I must keep my secret for the present when it is
+all settled you shall know.'
+
+'It makes you blush, however,' laughed Howel.
+
+'Is it Mary Jones, or Anne Jenkins, or Amelia Lewis, or Miss Richards,
+doctor, or Jemima Thomas--or--or--perhaps it is Gladys. Ha, ha! do you
+know, Howel, Owen's last is mother's Irish girl, Gladys?'
+
+'Really?' sneered Howel. 'My mother tells me that she ran away from
+Glanyravon, and report says with somebody we know of. But report was
+false as usual; and she turns up again as Miss Gwynne's lady's maid.
+Miss Gwynne is about as eccentric as the rest of the clique, and I wish
+her joy of her bargain. The girl is a beauty, certainly, but--'
+
+'Hush, Howel!' cried Netta; 'Owen was nearly boxing my ears about her
+just now.'
+
+'Not exactly, Netta,' said Owen, smothering rising anger, and looking
+very red; 'but I won't hear a word said against her either by man or
+woman. I am going to read my letter now, and you are going to get up, so
+I won't stop here any longer,' and Owen left the room.
+
+He went at once to his own bedroom, where he hastily broke open the
+letter Howel had given him, and read as follows:--
+
+     'GLANYRAVON PARK, _May_----.
+
+     'SIR,--I hope you will excuse my boldness in writing to you; but
+     having heard that you are at Abertewey, I take the liberty of doing
+     so, to tell you that your leaving home has made us all very
+     unhappy. Oh! Mr Owen, if you would only go back and see your dear
+     mother and honoured father, and learn how lonely they are without
+     you, I think you would give up the sea, or at least remain with
+     them for some time. If you would write to the master, or say a few
+     gentle words to him, he would overlook your going to see your
+     sister, I am almost sure; and, indeed, it breaks my heart to know
+     that I was the cause of your going away so suddenly, after you had
+     been so long at home, and so good to your parents.
+
+     'Then, dear Mr Owen, you, who have been always so kind to me, a
+     poor orphan wanderer, and beggar at your father's gate, do, I pray
+     you, add this one favour more to the many you have done me, and
+     return to your parents, to take leave of them at least before you
+     go away. Hoping you will forgive my writing to you on this subject,
+     believe me to remain, Mr Owen, your obedient and grateful servant,
+     GLADYS O'GRADY.'
+
+When Owen had read this letter twice, he devoutly kissed it, and
+exclaimed,--
+
+'This favour, Gladys! ay, and a thousand more, if you will only write to
+me, and let one little "_dear_" slip in unawares every time you ask one.
+I suppose I had better write to father to-day, and follow my letter
+to-morrow.'
+
+Owen sat down at once, and wrote the following brief epistle:--
+
+     'MY DEAR FATHER,--If I have offended you in any way, I am very
+     sorry. I didn't mean to do so, and shall return to-morrow to ask
+     pardon in person; but, remember, I am just as much in love with
+     Gladys as ever, and don't mean to curry favour about her. With best
+     love to mother, I am, your affectionate son, OWEN.'
+
+That day at luncheon Owen announced his intention of leaving Abertewey
+the following morning.
+
+'To see the fair lady who wrote that neat note?' said Howel.
+
+'Probably so,' replied Owen.
+
+'Where are you going? We shall miss you dreadfully,' said Madame Duvet,
+with an entreating glance.
+
+'I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,' said Miss Simpson:
+'at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet. I
+have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension
+of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.'
+
+'We may as well all go together, then,' said Captain Dancy, 'as I must
+be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday. When are you coming,
+Jenkins?'
+
+'Only in time for Ascot. I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and
+shall probably only remain the race week. Mrs Jenkins is not going up,
+and I shall not like to leave her long alone. Owen, you must come over
+and see her when I am away.'
+
+'I think you had better stay at home, Howel. You will run less risk in
+taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.'
+
+'Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence. But although I am going
+home, I don't know how long I may stay there. Perhaps shall be off to
+sea in a few days.'
+
+'I will use your own words,' said Madame Duvet, 'and say better stay at
+home, and take care of--let me see--yourself, I suppose. You will run
+less risk than at sea.'
+
+Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel's words, as he was
+not sure that he knew his own business best. But he did not add that he
+should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.
+
+Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen's
+opinion of its inmates. French novels and betting-books were their
+sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from
+the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after
+luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any
+amount of frivolity. Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how
+soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel assured her he
+should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in
+June, it cleared again.
+
+Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning. Netta whispered
+'Give my love to mother,' and had a very large tear in her black eye, as
+he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after
+days. Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied
+him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.
+
+When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him
+with joyful love. His father came in soon after his return, and greeted
+him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore
+patiently, and to which he replied as follows:--
+
+'Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I
+don't think I deserve it. As I am of age, and a few years past that
+period, you must let me have a will of my own.'
+
+'I think you have always had one,' roared the farmer.
+
+'Yes, but not at home, father. I was obliged to run away to get it. But
+now I mean to stay at home if you will let me. Gladys is gone away, so I
+don't stay on her account.'
+
+'I'm not seure of that. You never stayed on ours.'
+
+'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough
+of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at
+present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I
+suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got
+them you won't object, I suppose?'
+
+'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements
+made here.'
+
+'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and
+the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I
+do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I
+really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought
+to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past
+as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the
+humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot,
+and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You
+know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If
+you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.'
+
+Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech,
+in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The
+honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh
+passion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down.
+
+'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were;
+but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so--now, don't be a
+fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises
+to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your
+tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He
+'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.'
+
+'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll
+be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.'
+
+Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future
+chapters will show whether Owen kept his word.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE MAN OF THE WORLD.
+
+
+Two or three months passed, and no particular event happened either at
+the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now
+established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had
+seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had
+scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable
+meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his
+endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless.
+
+Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant
+spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,--Miss Nugent in
+particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations
+were making to celebrate the event.
+
+On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent
+is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go
+away, but is too polite to do so.
+
+'You know, Freda,' she says, 'I have been longing to be of age for
+yearth. Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never
+dared to thpeak to a gentleman. Now I can do ath I like.'
+
+'And what will you have to say?' asked Freda, bluntly. 'I never hear you
+venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.'
+
+'Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.'
+
+'Just tell me one or two.'
+
+'Let me thee. Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London,
+and--and--muthic--'
+
+'Is that all?'
+
+'You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but
+one cannot think of them all at onthe. Every one ithent tho clever ath
+you. Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.
+Gentlemen didn't like ladieth who talked too much.'
+
+'Indeed! Where was your mamma when he said that?'
+
+'Oh! the didn't hear him. Do you know I think the liketh Colonel
+Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me. He thaid he would come down when I came
+of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.'
+
+'To your mamma, or you?'
+
+'To me quite alone. But you needn't look tho croth and fierthe, Freda. I
+couldn't help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.'
+
+'What compliments?'
+
+'Oh! I can't tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure
+he made me bluth.'
+
+'Did you believe him?'
+
+'Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.'
+
+'Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and
+yourself?'
+
+'Well, yeth, of courth.'
+
+'Then why don't you sometimes talk of some one else? Do you like Colonel
+Vaughan, for instance?'
+
+'Oh! I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland
+Prothero. He ith younger. Mamma thaith--'
+
+'There again, Wilhelmina!'
+
+'I forgot--you are tho quick, Freda. Don't you like Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+'Pretty well sometimes.'
+
+'What a colour you have, Freda. You thouldn't draw tho much. I with I
+had a tathte for drawing. Colonel Vaughan drawth tho well!'
+
+'What can his drawing well have to do with your drawing?'
+
+'He would look over my drawing then ath he doth yourth, Freda. He thaith
+you are very clever. But you mutht be nearly five-and-twenty, Freda; and
+he thaith no woman ought ever to be more than twenty-one,'
+
+'When did he favour you with that remark? I think I once heard him say
+twenty-five was the most charming age of all.'
+
+At this part of the conversation the subject of it entered the room, and
+whilst Freda's colour rose higher and higher, and she stooped more
+closely over her drawing, Miss Nugent got up and greeted him with great
+delight. Freda made up her mind not to speak, that she might listen to
+the conversation that ensued.
+
+'Are all the preparations progressing, Miss Nugent? What are we to do to
+celebrate the great event?' asked the colonel.
+
+'There ith to be an oxth roathed for the poor people, and tea on the
+lawn, and a ball in the evening, you know, colonel.'
+
+'Oh, yes, I am looking forwards to that, and to the first dance.
+Remember you promised me.'
+
+'Oh, yeth, I am thure of plenty of partnerth.'
+
+'I should imagine so. We men must have very bad taste if we let you sit
+down. Did you walk here this morning?'
+
+'No, I rode. The hortheth are taken round. I have been here a long time
+with Freda. It ith thuch a nice morning, ithn't it, Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+'Delightful! What do you mean to do when you are your own mistress? I
+quite fancy how grand you will feel when you have struck the magic
+hour.'
+
+'I darethay I thall be jutht the thame, unleth I get married.'
+
+Freda glances up, and perceives a smile of amusement on Colonel
+Vaughan's lips, and the usual calm inanity on Miss Nugent's handsome
+features.
+
+'That will depend on yourself, I am sure,' said the colonel.
+
+Freda looks again, and sees the colonel's magnificent eyes fixed on the
+young lady, who returns his glance, and simpers out,--
+
+'I darethay it will.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan turns suddenly, and encounters Freda's glance.
+
+'How does the drawing get on Freda? Capitally! What a sky! quite
+artistic.'
+
+This is said whilst looking over Freda's shoulder, but she does not
+respond to the remark.
+
+'I wath jutht thaying I with I could draw. It mutht be thuth a nithe
+amuthement.'
+
+'Very. How is Lady Mary, to-day? I am ashamed to say I forgot to ask for
+her.'
+
+'Very well, thank you. The thaid you promithed to come over and help to
+arrange the decorationth. I hope you will.'
+
+'Thank you, yes. Perhaps Miss Gwynne will ride over with me to-morrow;
+will you, Freda?'
+
+'I am engaged to-morrow,' said Freda shortly.
+
+'You will come at any rate, if Freda won't?' said Miss Nugent; 'the
+alwayth thayth the ith engaged when we athk her. Now, don't be engaged
+on Thurthday. I muth go now; will you be tho kind ath to ring for the
+hortheth, Colonel Vaughan?'
+
+The horses were ordered, and the colonel assisted the young heiress to
+mount. She looked remarkably well on horseback, and even Freda was
+obliged to allow that she and her grey mare would have made a fine
+equestrian statue. She saw Colonel Vaughan look at her, and even watch
+her down the drive. When he returned to the drawing-room, he said,--
+
+'What is the matter, Miss Freda? Have the domestic deities been adverse
+this morning? I am afraid you are very--cross,'
+
+'Thank you, Colonel Vaughan. I am not at all--cross.'
+
+'Have I had the misfortune to offend you?'
+
+'You? by no means. But I do not wish to assist in any of the Nugent
+decorations. I am not so fond of the family as you may imagine; Lady
+Mary and Miss Nugent are less than indifferent to me. Lady Mary is a
+mere manoeuvrer, that no straightforward person could like; and Miss
+Nugent is a mere handsome wax figure, with such clever machinery inside,
+that she can literally say the words, "mamma thaith." I have heard of a
+doll who could say "mamma," but she is still cleverer.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan bit his lips, knit his forehead, but smiled. 'You are
+severe upon your neighbours, Freda.'
+
+'Do you admire them, then? do you think Miss Nugent altogether charming?
+or will she be perfect in your eyes the day after to-morrow?'
+
+'If perfection consists in being a beauty and an heiress, I need not go
+away from Glanyravon to seek one, Freda.'
+
+'Do you stereotype your compliments? I hear that you pay them wherever
+you go, and I hate compliments, particularly from people whose good
+opinion I value. Besides, I am neither a beauty nor an heiress, and to
+be complimented in almost the same words as Miss Nugent is too
+contemptible.'
+
+'You do not suppose that I class you together, Freda?'
+
+'I am thankful to say that you cannot do that, Colonel Vaughan, at least
+if I know myself at all; but, after all, I may be infinitely her
+inferior.'
+
+Freda got up from her drawing with a very flushed face. She knew that
+she had said more than she meant to say, and that Colonel Vaughan was
+scrutinising her with his calm, collected mind and penetrating eyes.
+
+'I am going out now, and you promised to ride with papa, I think,' she
+said abruptly.
+
+'But you must not go until you have told me how I have displeased you,'
+said Colonel Vaughan, rising and detaining her. He had such a power over
+her that he always wormed her thoughts out of her.
+
+'I did not like to hear you saying what you did not mean, to Miss
+Nugent,' said Freda, as if she were obliged to make a confession; 'and I
+think it beneath a man like you to pay frivolous compliments to a girl
+you must despise.'
+
+'Oh, is that all! I make a point of complimenting handsome girls, _pour
+passer le temps_; it is the only way of getting on with half of them.
+You must forgive me this once.'
+
+Freda looked at him, and even he, clever as he was, could not tell
+whether her glance expressed pity, contempt, or love. She turned away,
+and left the room without speaking; he made another movement to detain
+her, but she was gone; his thoughts were as follows:--
+
+'Charming girl! yes, she is charming: of a truthful, noble, trusting
+nature; still too _prononcee_ for a woman. I scarcely think I love, much
+as I must admire that sort of girl; and as a wife, I should be afraid of
+her. Yet she provokes me, interests me. She is jealous of those Nugents,
+and if she doesn't take care, they will cut her out, mother and
+daughter, with their manoeuvres and wax; and she will be heiress of
+Glanyravon no longer. Better the waxen heiress, Miss Nugent, with thirty
+thousand pounds in possession in some thirty-six hours, than the iron
+heiress, Miss Gwynne, with Glanyravon _in futuro_.
+
+'Moreover, the one may be moulded into any shape one pleases--the other
+must have her own opinion, and her own way, unless a man beat her into
+subjection. Certainly, few people were ever more fortunately, or
+perplexingly placed, than I am just now.
+
+'Between two young women, handsome, rich, of good family; if I mistake
+not, in love with me, and to be had for the asking. But if I married
+Freda, Mr Gwynne would marry Lady Nugent directly; and then one could
+tell what would become of the property. If, on the other hand, I were to
+marry Miss Nugent, I should incur the utmost contempt of which Miss
+Gwynne is capable, and should not wholly esteem myself. But why am I
+thinking of marrying at all? Because I am forty years old, and found a
+grey hair in my whiskers yesterday; because I am tired of an unsettled
+life, and should like to clear off the old place, and end my days there;
+and because, after all, a married man has a better position than a
+single one. If that girl Gladys were in the place of either heiress, I
+would not hesitate a moment. I declare she would grace a coronet; no
+wonder all the young men round are in love with her. And yet, meet her
+when I will, I can scarcely get more than 'yes,' and 'no,' out of her.
+
+'It is utterly impossible she can be what she seems, or is supposed to
+be. I never saw more thoroughly aristocratic beauty in our most
+aristocratic circles. Miss Nugent is as handsome as a woman can well be,
+in form and feature; but her eyes are like two frozen pools, whereas
+this Gladys, are literally two deep blue lakes with stars shining into
+them, or out of them, or something or other that a poet would describe
+better than I do. Well, what a fool I am! "A dream of fair women," in my
+fortieth year, just as I dreamt of them in my sixteenth. The Fates must
+decide for me, only I wish they would clear up the mystery that hangs
+over that girl, and give her Miss Nugent's thirty thousand pounds.'
+
+Such were the thoughts that rushed through Colonel Vaughan's mind, as he
+sat, apparently looking at Freda's drawing in the place that she had
+vacated. We have unveiled a portion of his mind, because he is too good
+a tactician to unveil it himself. It is needless to say that this
+fascinating man, who has that nameless power which some men possess of
+making all women love him, has himself no heart to bestow on any one.
+Beyond the gratification of the moment, he is totally indifferent to all
+the consequences of his powers. He is not a bad man, he would not do
+anything that the world--his world, at least--would consider
+dishonourable; but as to reflecting upon the cruelty of inflicting
+wounds, never to be healed, upon the hearts of young ladies--why, he
+would as soon reflect upon the wounds he gave an enemy in the
+battle-field. He considers Cupid as fair game as Mars, and thinks that
+if women will be weak, and if he is irresistible, it is no fault of his,
+but rather their and his misfortune.
+
+Young ladies! the vulgar saying that a woman should never give her heart
+to a man until she is asked for it, is, like many vulgar sayings, a good
+one. Colonel Vaughan is the type of a class amongst which all are liable
+to be thrown; and although men of his talent, knowledge of the world,
+and apparent sincerity are rare, you may each of you meet with one such.
+If you do, beware of falling in love with him until he plainly tells you
+that he is in love with you, and asks if you are willing to marry him.
+
+Colonel Vaughan leaves the drawing-room in search of Mr Gwynne, humming
+a little Scotch air, the _refrain_ of which is 'and troth I'll wed ye
+a,' a thing he has often wished he could actually do.
+
+He finds Mr Gwynne in his library, and reminds him of the promised ride.
+The horses are ordered, and they are soon trotting down the drive. As if
+by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary
+Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully
+situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and
+river.
+
+The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals
+with great glee. As Lady Mary is not at all certain that Colonel
+Vaughan's attentions are not exclusively meant for her, she divides her
+civilities with a charming tact between the two gentlemen, and looks so
+captivating whilst she does so, that the colonel wishes that her
+statue-like daughter had a little of her animation.
+
+Everything that art and taste can devise is collected to adorn the
+ladies and their abode, and if nature is lacking within doors, she is
+profuse in her gifts without.
+
+There is nothing worth recording in the conversation; if Colonel Vaughan
+had thought it over afterwards, he would probably have laughed at the
+platitudes he had uttered, and wondered why people paid morning visits.
+The coming of age was a grand topic, and the colonel promised to go
+again the following day, and 'help in the decorations.'
+
+When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr Gwynne proposed a ride through
+his plantations, which he was improving and enlarging. They went
+accordingly. On their way they stopped at a small farm to inquire for
+one of Mr Gwynne's tenants, who was dangerously ill. Mr Gwynne
+dismounted, and as he entered the house, Gladys came out; she curtseyed
+as she passed Colonel Vaughan, who said,--
+
+'How is the invalid, Gladys? I take it for granted you have been to see
+him.'
+
+'Yes, sir, Miss Gwynne sent me with some jelly. He is better, I hope?'
+
+'And are you going home now?'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'Stay one moment; will you give the poor man this half-crown when you
+see him again?'
+
+Gladys approached, and took the half-crown, but with it there was
+half-a-sovereign.
+
+'The rest is for yourself, to do what you like with,' added the colonel,
+in a low voice.
+
+'Thank you, sir, but I never take money,' said Gladys, leaving the gold
+in his hand, 'I do not need it.'
+
+'Give it to the poor, then,' said the colonel, letting it drop, and
+looking annoyed.
+
+'Certainly, sir, if you wish it; I will tell Miss Gwynne, and she will
+know to whom to give it.'
+
+'By no means--I mean it for you.'
+
+'Sir, you will excuse me, I would rather not,' said Gladys, curtseying
+again, and hastening on.
+
+Colonel Vaughan called to a boy who was near, and told him to pick up
+the money and give it to him.
+
+'How often does that young lady come here?' he asked.
+
+'Almost every day, sir,' was the reply.
+
+'At what time?'
+
+'In the afternoon, sir, from three to five, or thereabouts.'
+
+'Goes back in time to help Miss Gwynne dress for dinner,' thought the
+colonel; 'what a lovely face it is! And what grace of movement.'
+
+He watched Gladys cross the farm-yard, and disappear in the plantations,
+through which there was a private path to the house.
+
+Mr Gwynne and he passed her again as they rode on, and she curtseyed
+once more, Mr Gwynne nodding to her kindly as she looked at him.
+
+'Who _is_ that girl, Mr Gwynne?'
+
+'Oh! my daughter's maid, I believe. A very pretty, modest young woman,
+and all that sort of thing. Freda is very fond of her.'
+
+They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys
+that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in
+the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and
+particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre. He
+punished her by playing chess with her father nearly all the evening,
+and leaving her to a variety of reflections that were anything but
+satisfactory to her.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE TEMPTER.
+
+
+'I particularly wish you to go, Gladys, and there will be plenty of
+time. He was worse when I saw him yesterday, and I promised to send you
+to-day to read to him, and take him some wine. I shall not want you till
+five, and my dress is quite ready. They dine at half-past six, and the
+evening party are invited for nine, I believe.'
+
+This was said by Miss Gwynne to Gladys, at about half-past two o'clock,
+on the day of Miss Nugent's festivities.
+
+'Very well, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'I will make as much haste as
+possible.'
+
+'Do you know where Colonel Vaughan is, Gladys?' asked Miss Gwynne.
+
+'I heard some one say, ma'am, that he and Mr Gwynne had walked to
+Pentre, to see the dinner on the lawn.'
+
+'Oh! By the way, would you have liked to have gone to see these said
+diversions? If so, I can send some one else with the wine.'
+
+'Oh no, thank you, ma'am. I would much rather walk to see poor Lloyd.'
+
+'Then you had better make haste.'
+
+Gladys was soon on her way, through the wood, to the farm mentioned in
+the last chapter. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk on that lovely July
+day, and thought she had never heard the birds sing so sweetly before.
+
+In truth, Gladys had not been so happy since her sorrows as she was now.
+She felt independent, and placed in a position where she knew her exact
+duties. She devoted herself and her time wholly to Miss Gwynne, and was
+repaid, not only by regular wages, but by kindness, and even affection
+from her mistress.
+
+There was increased colour on her cheek, brightness in her eyes, mirth
+in her smile, elasticity in her step, and life in her whole being as she
+entered the cottage whither she was sent.
+
+She found her patient better, and having given him some wine, read to
+him, and helped his wife to make his bed. She was preparing to leave the
+farm, when Owen made his appearance. He came, ostensibly to see the sick
+man, but prefaced his visit to him by shaking hands with Gladys, and
+talking to her.
+
+When she left the house, he followed her into the yard.
+
+'I have caught you at last, Gladys. You always run away from me as if I
+were a monster.'
+
+'No, Mr Owen, you are mistaken.'
+
+'Then why don't you come and see us oftener?'
+
+'Because I have a great deal to do, sir; and I do not think Mr Prothero
+wishes to see me.'
+
+'You thrive upon your absence, Gladys. I never saw any one look so much
+better.'
+
+'How is the dear mistress, Mr Owen? and your father? and Lion? and the
+cows? and--and--'
+
+'Not so fast, Gladys. Come and see. They are all quite well. And the
+Alderney is my particular charge.'
+
+Gladys blushed and smiled.
+
+'You see I came home because you told me, and am as steady as old Time.
+Don't I look so? I am going to shave off my beard--do you approve?'
+
+'No,' said Gladys, laughing. She scarcely knew why she felt more at ease
+with Owen in her present than in her past position.
+
+'Then I won't do it. Did you hear that I was going to be married to Miss
+Richards, Dr Richards' daughter?'
+
+'Yes, sir. I was told so.'
+
+Why did Gladys blush so very much more than before, and say the 'sir' so
+stiffly?
+
+'Then you may deny it, for it is not true. I have not changed, Gladys,
+since--do you remember the Alderney?'
+
+Gladys' smile said that she did.
+
+'But I am on parole, both to you and my father. I am quite ready to
+break it with your leave.'
+
+'I must go, Mr Owen--Miss Gwynne will be waiting for me. Will you give
+my duty to the dear mistress?'
+
+'I will take your love to her, Gladys, and keep half of it. May I walk
+with you?'
+
+'If you please not, Mr Owen. I would rather not.'
+
+'Are you happy? just tell me this.'
+
+'Very--very. Miss Gwynne is so good. I can only be happy. Good-bye, Mr
+Owen.'
+
+'Good-bye, dear Gladys,' said Owen, pressing her trembling hand that she
+held out to him, and opening the farm-yard gate for her to go out.
+
+As Gladys hurried on with a light heart and light step, she little
+thought that those kind eyes which had looked so lovingly at her were
+clouded with the mists of jealousy in less than five minutes after she
+had left the farm. She could not guess that the boy who had picked up
+the half sovereign for Colonel Vaughan would give Owen the history of
+the same, and would tell him that Gladys had dropped it, but that he was
+pretty sure she had more money in her hand.
+
+Unconscious of anything but sunshine above and within, she hastened on,
+thinking of Owen, in spite of her resolution not to think of him--a
+resolution she was making and breaking from morning till night. Her
+thoughts were turned into another channel, however, by the appearance of
+Colonel Vaughan, who suddenly came upon her from one of the many
+cross-paths in the wood.
+
+She curtseyed slightly, and was about to pass him, but he turned and
+walked with her.
+
+'Gladys,' he began, 'I wish to know why you refused the money I offered
+you yesterday.'
+
+'Because, sir, I did not think it right to take it,' answered Gladys,
+promptly.
+
+'Why! what harm could there have been?'
+
+Gladys quickened her steps, but did not answer.
+
+'Not so fast, Gladys. I have you at last, in spite of yourself. You have
+avoided me hitherto, both when you were at Prothero's and here, and
+purposely misunderstood me--now you must walk through the wood with me,
+and at my pace, for I must speak to you.'
+
+'Sir, Miss Gwynne expects me early,' said Gladys, with wonderful dignity
+of manner, which was not lost upon the colonel--'_she_ is my mistress,
+and I must obey her. I shall be obliged by your letting me go on.'
+
+'We will both go on, but leisurely and together. I have much to say to
+you, and I may not have another opportunity.'
+
+Gladys tried to pass on, but finding that Colonel Vaughan's hand was on
+her arm, and that he was resolved to detain her, she endeavoured to
+summon up all her resolution and sense, and to answer his questions,
+whatever they might be, according to what she might think right.
+
+'You will be so good as to account to my mistress for this delay, sir,'
+she said. 'I am no longer a free agent.'
+
+'I shall do no such thing; neither will you, I hope?'
+
+'I most certainly shall, if necessary.'
+
+'Never mind; I must know, at all risks, who and what you are.'
+
+'I am Irish on my father's side, and Welsh on my mother's; my name is
+O'Grady.'
+
+'But you were not born in the position you now occupy?'
+
+'My father was a corporal in the Welsh Fusiliers; I was brought up to
+work for my bread.'
+
+'And your mother?'
+
+'Was the daughter, I believe, of a clergyman.'
+
+'I was sure of that--and she educated you?'
+
+'She taught me what she herself knew.'
+
+'What brought you into Wales?'
+
+'Starvation.'
+
+'How did you get to Mr Prothero's?'
+
+'I was a beggar and they took me in out of charity.'
+
+'Why did you leave them and come here?'
+
+'Because they wished it.'
+
+'Say because Owen Prothero was in love with you.'
+
+No answer.
+
+'Do you love that rough sailor?'
+
+No answer.
+
+'I must know all, Gladys. I must and will.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan, I shall only answer such questions as you, as a
+gentleman, may _think_ you have a right to ask a friendless girl, whom
+you forcibly detain. You _know_ you have no right to ask this.'
+
+Colonel Vaughan looked at the usually shy girl, and saw a spirit and
+resolution in her bearing that he had not believed were in her.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Gladys, I was wrong. Can you endure the state of
+dependence you are now in?'
+
+'I consider myself independent I work for my bread, and am paid for it.'
+
+'But you might be independent without working.'
+
+'Impossible, unless beggary is independence.'
+
+'Quite possible; I am sure you must feel your dependence on such an
+imperious mistress as you now have.'
+
+'My present mistress, sir, Miss Gwynne, is far too noble to let any one
+feel dependent, even those who are, like myself, wholly her servants.'
+
+'You like Miss Gwynne?'
+
+'I respect and love her. Perhaps you will now let me go to her.'
+
+'Not yet. This independence. I could make you independent.'
+
+'You! How? Impossible!'
+
+'I love you, Gladys.'
+
+'Me! This to me! Is it to insult me that you have detained me? Let me
+go, sir--I insist--and my mistress! You, Colonel Vaughan, who have been
+paying her such attentions as no man has a right to pay a lady unless he
+loves her, to dare to say this to me, and I a servant in her house. You,
+sharing her father's hospitality, to deceive her, and insult me. What
+have I done to encourage you to speak thus to me?'
+
+Gladys stood still amidst the lights and shadows of the sun-crowned
+trees, and looked the colonel steadily in the face. That look, voice,
+manner, completed the conquest that had been maturing for weeks and
+months. The flushed cheek, the sparkling eyes, the tall, slight, erect
+figure, the voice, deportment--all were those of a lady in mind as well
+as person.
+
+'Gladys, hear me calmly. I do not wish to insult you; I have never meant
+anything by my attentions to Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Then you are a--'
+
+Gladys checked herself.
+
+'A villain, you would say. Not at all. I merely pay Miss Gwynne the
+civilities due to her. I am not obliged to fall in love with every young
+lady in whose father's house I am visiting. But I admired you the first
+moment I saw you; and now, at this moment, I vow that I love you as I
+never loved in my life before.'
+
+They stood face to face, looking at each other. Gladys' eyes drooped
+before the gaze of the colonel.
+
+'This to me!' she exclaimed, 'and yet you say you do not insult me! Let
+me go, sir, I insist!'
+
+She tried to hasten on, but the strong hand was again on her arm.
+
+'I do not insult you, Gladys, I honour and respect you. If you will
+only say you love me, I will--yes, I will--I think, at least--I will
+marry you privately, and take you abroad at once. I vow this is more
+than I ever said to any woman in my life before.'
+
+'And you will repent having said it to me before the night is out,
+Colonel Vaughan, and you do not mean it. Think of who I am; think of
+Miss Gwynne; think of yourself. Oh! this is cruel, cruel jesting to
+all!'
+
+'I was never more serious in my life.'
+
+As Colonel Vaughan said this, he saw nothing, thought of nothing, but
+the peculiar beauty of the creature who stood, flushed and agitated, at
+his side. He forgot himself and his purposes, in his temporary blind
+admiration.
+
+'Now, Gladys, I await your answer,' he said, not doubting what that
+answer would be.
+
+'I have no answer to give, sir, because I know that, even if you now
+think yourself in earnest, you will be no longer so to-night.'
+
+'Before we leave this wood, girl, I will and must have an answer, and
+beware how you irritate me.'
+
+He seized her hand as he spoke, and held it tight.
+
+'You will release me before I answer you, sir; I have gone through too
+many dangers and temptations to be frightened into speech.'
+
+He released her hand, but kept his eyes fixed on her face. She did not
+quail, though she felt her heart beat violently.
+
+'If you are serious, sir, I ought, I suppose, to be grateful for so
+strange an honour; but I do not believe you are so, and my answer is,
+that a servant such as I, can have nothing to say to a gentleman such as
+you.'
+
+'A servant! You will be no longer a servant. You are not one at this
+moment.'
+
+Again he seized her hand. She was frightened, but did not loose her
+self-command.
+
+'Sir, you had now better let me return home. Miss Gwynne will wonder
+what has become of me. It is time that she should be ready--that you,
+sir, should be ready. What will she think and say?'
+
+'I care not; nothing shall turn me from my purpose. You shall not leave
+this wood until you promise.'
+
+'Then I shall never leave it, sir; and if you persist in detaining me, I
+will make known to every one, how a gentleman can demean himself to a
+poor, unprotected girl, who has no friend near her but her God. To Him I
+appeal for help in this hour, when you, sir, a gentleman and a
+Christian, so far forget yourself as to insult and persecute me.'
+
+As Gladys spoke, she lifted her eyes solemnly to heaven--both her hands
+were held by Colonel Vaughan.
+
+As he gazed at her, he suddenly relaxed his hold, saying, 'You are a
+wonderful girl! I do not persecute you, but I will not give you up.'
+
+No sooner did Gladys feel the grasp loosen, than she made a sudden
+bound, almost a leap, onwards, and ran with incredible swiftness through
+the path.
+
+Colonel Vaughan pursued her, but soon found that she ran more swiftly
+than he did. However, he would not give up the chase, and in spite of
+the hot sun, ran on, in somewhat undignified haste and anger.
+
+Every one knows that winding paths in plantations are not always
+perfectly smooth. So found our gallant colonel to his cost.
+
+With his eyes fixed on the quickly vanishing form of Gladys, how was he
+to see the gnarled root of an oak, that sprung up through the ground,
+directly in his path? His foot caught in it, and he fell with
+considerable violence upon his face. He got up again as quickly as he
+could, cursing his carelessness and folly.
+
+He felt that he had knocked his somewhat prominent nose rather severely,
+and to his great dismay, found that it was bleeding copiously.
+
+All further pursuit was out of the question. He must staunch the blood
+of the much-offending member, and being rather giddy for the moment, sat
+down to do so.
+
+It is said that any sudden and violent blow sobers a drunkard; so did
+this unforeseen fall sober the mental intoxication of the colonel. As
+his nose bled, so did his intellect clear. Bleeding, on the old system,
+was never more successful.
+
+This was truly a descent, if not from the sublime, at least from the
+heroic, to the ridiculous. Panting with heat, bleeding, apostrophising,
+the lover came to his senses.
+
+Partly aloud, at intervals, partly muttered between his teeth, he gave
+forth the following sentences; and when he became calm he thought the
+subsequent thoughts, which, although he did not rail them forth against
+the rooks and smaller birds, we will venture to repeat, for the further
+elucidating the mystery of his mind.
+
+'Fool to let go her arm! No; fool to take it at all! What a girl! I
+never saw such--pho! How it bleeds! Will it never stop! They'll think
+there's been a murder here. What could possess me to run after her? A
+rustic coquette! Rustic! No; a most courtly one. She had me fairly in
+her power. But she has too much sense to tell. 'Pon my word, I never
+loved any one so much before. Disgusting! All over my cravat. If I were
+to meet any one? If Freda were to see me, what would she think or say?
+And I actually talked of marriage. Let me see; what did I say? But
+nobody could believe her. Pshaw! what a fool I have been. Suppose she
+had taken me at my word, and accepted me, I wonder how I could have got
+out of it! There is such a power in her eyes, that as long as I am
+looking at them she could make me do anything. I wish she was the
+heiress, and not Miss Nugent. Yes; and I shall be too late for dinner.
+What will they think? I vow, I am so giddy I can scarcely walk; and this
+horrible bleeding won't stop. I must stuff this bunch of keys down my
+back, and see what that will do. Well! if that isn't enough to cool any
+one's courage, together with this disgusting--I must go on, and get into
+my room as quickly as possible. I vow, it is just six o'clock. If she
+tells Freda! But she won't do that--no woman ever does. She'll think it
+over, and manage to let me see her again--and then--and then--I shall
+not be able to resist her eyes, and she shall not be able to resist
+mine. The witch! A mere servant to do what no woman ever has done, or
+ever would do--positively refuse me. But she knows her power, I daresay.
+There it is bleeding again, and I thought I had stopped it. I am just at
+home though, and if I go round by the stables no one can make any
+remarks. Confound this--here's the coachman in full hue and cry after
+me. Yes, I will dress directly. Thomas! tell your master not to wait.
+The heat has made my nose bleed, and detained me. If he and Miss Gwynne
+will go on, you can drive back for me, and I shall be in time for the
+ball. Beg them to make my excuses to Lady Mary Nugent, and explain how
+it is. You are quite right. It has bled tremendously; but I shall stop
+it as soon as I get to my room.'
+
+It need not be said that the concluding portion of Colonel Vaughan's
+speech was addressed to a servant, who came in search of him with the
+intelligence that the carriage was waiting, and his master ready. He
+managed to get to his room, however, unperceived, where we will leave
+him to dress and recover himself at his leisure.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE RIVALS.
+
+
+We will now return to Miss Gwynne, who pursued her usual avocations
+until about five o'clock, and then began to wonder what detained
+Gladys. However, as she was quite independent of maids in her toilette,
+she went to her room and began to dress herself at the usual hour. She
+found all her attire already spread upon the bed, as if Gladys
+anticipated being late; nothing was wanting, and she had nothing to do
+but to dress.
+
+As it happened, however, she was particularly anxious to look her best
+that evening; why, she would not even ask herself; but she, who was
+usually careless of what she wore, provided she were properly attired,
+began to fidget over wreaths and ornaments as if she were going to her
+first ball.
+
+'Miss Nugent will be all jewels,' she said, taking up a set of pearls
+that was on the dressing-table. 'At any rate, I will not be like her.
+And, of course, she will wear white, so I shall change my mind and won't
+wear white. Where is Gladys? The only evening I ever really wanted her,
+she is out of the way.'
+
+Miss Gwynne rang her bell violently, and the housemaid answered it.
+
+'Send Gladys. Surely she is come back.'
+
+'No, ma'am. I can't think where she is. I went a little way to look for
+her, but she is not in sight. Can I do anything, ma'am?'
+
+'No, thank you; but send Gladys as soon as she comes. Provoking,'
+continued Miss Gwynne, turning out two or three shelves of a large
+wardrobe. 'Where are the trimmings of that blue dress? He said I looked
+best in blue, and so, I think, I do. That wreath of blue forget-me-nots
+and lilies of the valley, where in the world is it? But forget-me-nots
+are so ridiculously sentimental; and the turquoise ornaments? I suppose
+I must wear the bracelets and locket. Oh! here they are; and here are
+the flowers and trimmings in a box, in the neatest possible order.'
+
+Miss Gwynne began to arrange her hair.
+
+'I declare I have forgotten how to do anything since Gladys has been
+with me. I cannot put up this braid neatly. I must wait, and it is
+nearly six o'clock, and dinner at half-past. What does it matter how I
+look? I daresay Miss Nugent will look twenty times as well, and her
+mother will dress her up to perfection. But he _cannot_ care for such a
+girl as that. It is impossible; and he always looks at me with such
+interest, and has such a kind manner, and says things that convey so
+much. But if he really cares for me, why does he not say so? He knows
+papa would consent, and--but he does not know that; I never--Ah! here
+she is at last! Come in! Where have you been, Gladys? It really is too
+provoking that you should have stayed so long, when you knew that I
+particularly wanted you to-day.' Gladys enters the room pale and
+breathless, just as Miss Gwynne is endeavouring to fasten in the wreath
+of forget-me-nots and lilies. She does not turn round, and is at the
+moment too much engrossed with her own appearance to think of Gladys.
+
+'Come quickly and finish my hair, and put in this wreath. We ought to be
+starting now.'
+
+Gladys obeys without speaking, and steadying her nerves and fingers as
+best she may, begins to arrange a most elegant and becoming wreath round
+her young mistress's head. Whilst she does this, and afterwards dresses
+her and fastens on the turquoise ornaments, she endeavours to collect
+her thoughts, and to summon courage for what she has resolved to do and
+say.
+
+Gladys has long known Miss Gwynne's secret; as she discovered that she
+did not care for Rowland, so she has found out that she cares over much
+for Colonel Vaughan. She now knows that he is not worthy of her, and
+that if he should ever ask her to marry him, it would be that he might
+gain possession of Clanyravon, and not of the warm, sincere heart of its
+mistress. Gladys feels sure that a man who could say such words as
+Colonel Vaughan said to her, whether meant seriously or not, could not
+be worthy of Miss Gwynne; and she determines to open that young lady's
+eyes to the real state of his mind, even if she loses her favour for
+ever by so doing.
+
+'I shall save her,' thinks Gladys, 'if I ruin my own happiness.'
+
+When the dressing is completed, Freda stands before a cheval glass to
+see that all is right. Gladys has never before seen her examine every
+portion of her attire so minutely, or look so satisfied with the survey.
+In truth she never before saw her look so handsome, or so perfectly well
+dressed. The full, light, many-skirted blue dress, with its bouquets of
+forget-me-nots and lilies, its fringes and ribbons, suits so well the
+fine complexion of the very distinguished-looking girl who wears
+it--whilst the wreath slightly crowns the well-shaped head, and falls
+gracefully down the neck and back in becoming simplicity and elegance.
+
+Poor Freda! She has more colour than usual, more animation in her eyes,
+and more anxiety at her heart. Were she to analyse her feelings, she
+would thoroughly despise herself for the envy, vanity, and distrust she
+would find in them, and think herself unworthy of the name of woman for
+allowing herself to study to gain the attentions of any man who might
+feel disposed to give them to another. But her pride is for a time
+swamped in her weakness; and the hitherto haughty and unsuspectible Miss
+Gwynne is no better than the most sentimental of school girls.
+
+Whilst Gladys is putting the last pin into the dress, and Freda is still
+watching her own shadow, there is a knock at the door.
+
+'Make haste, Gladys. The carriage, I suppose. Come in,' says Freda.
+
+'Mr Gwynne wishes to know, ma'am, whether you have seen Colonel Vaughan,
+or whether he intends dressing at Pentre?' asks the servant who opens
+the door.
+
+'I have not seen him since the morning, and do not know what he means to
+do,' is the reply. 'Did you see anything of him when you were out,
+Gladys?' continues Miss Gwynne, after the servant has left the room.
+
+As she makes the inquiry, she, for the first time catches the reflection
+of Gladys' face in the glass, and is struck with its unusual pallor. She
+turns quickly and looks at the girl.
+
+'What is the matter, Gladys? Something must have happened? It must have
+something to do with Colonel Vaughan. Did you see him? Speak.'
+
+'Yes, ma'am, I saw him in the wood.'
+
+'And is that the reason you are looking so frightened? What has happened
+to him? Speak, I say, or I must ring the bell and send some one in
+search of him.'
+
+With her usual impetuosity, Freda's hand was on the bell. Gladys
+exclaimed quickly,--
+
+'Do not ring, Miss Gwynne. I can tell you all I know. Nothing has
+happened to injure Colonel Vaughan, bodily at least'
+
+'What do you mean, girl?' said Miss Gwynne, turning round again and
+facing Gladys.
+
+Gladys stood before her mistress with clasped hands, heaving breast,
+quivering lips, and downcast eyes. She tried to summon courage and
+words, but neither would come. How could she crush the love and hopes of
+one so dear to her? her benefactress, her all? But it must be done.
+
+With one great effort she began, and in as few words as possible,
+without comment or gloss, related what had passed between her and
+Colonel Vaughan. She told all, as nearly as she could remember, in his
+own words, merely omitting what he said about Miss Gwynne.
+
+As she spoke, she felt like a culprit before a judge, who, though
+conscious of his innocence, has not courage to meet the glance of him on
+whom his fate depends. But not on her own account had she that throbbing
+fear at her heart; she felt for her mistress alone.
+
+That mistress stood erect, towering above the drooping girl, like a
+queen above a slave or suppliant. Red and pale by turns, with compressed
+lips and flashing eyes, she listened to the tale.
+
+When it was finished, she, too, strove for words, but none came; so she
+laughed a short, sarcastic laugh, and moved back a few paces. At last,--
+
+'Why do you tell me this ridiculous tale? Have you no better confidante
+for such absurd imaginations? You have dreamt it, Gladys. I do not
+believe you. Go!'
+
+Gladys gave one penetrating, truthful look at her mistress, before which
+the defiant glance fell: but the rigid features alarmed her, and she
+would fain have remained, had not another. 'Go! I do not want you any
+longer!' sent her at once from the room.
+
+When Gladys was gone, Miss Gwynne sat down upon the nearest chair, and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+Another knock at the door.
+
+'Come in! What do you want?' she exclaimed in a suppressed voice.
+
+'My master says the carriage is ready, and he thinks you had better go,
+ma'am. Colonel Vaughan has just come in. The heat has made his nose
+bleed so violently that he cannot be ready for dinner, but will be at
+Pentre for the ball, ma'am, my master says.'
+
+'Very well; I shall be ready in a few moments.'
+
+Freda rose from her chair, and went to her dressing-table. There was a
+bottle of eau-de-cologne on it. She poured out nearly half a
+wine-glassful, added water, and drank the dose. Then she dashed a
+quantity over her forehead; wetted her handkerchief with more, and
+having nearly exhausted the bottle, prepared to leave the room. Suddenly
+she stopped, exclaiming,--
+
+'I cannot go! I feel as if I must faint; yet I must see the farce played
+out.'
+
+A bitter smile, almost ghastly, passed over her face, as she muttered
+these words. She took up a splendid bouquet of greenhouse flowers that
+had been prepared for her, and were placed on the table, almost
+mechanically, and looking like one in a dream, left the room.
+
+'It is half-past six, Freda,' said Mr Gwynne in the loudest tone of
+which his voice was capable, as he descended the stairs.
+
+The servants remarked to one another how very ill Miss Gwynne was
+looking, but her father did not perceive it. He was talking of Colonel
+Vaughan.
+
+'So provoking of Vaughan, to go and tire himself in the heat, and make
+his nose bleed, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+Freda did not answer. Her thoughts were running wild--here, there, and
+everywhere. One moment, she believed that Gladys had been romancing for
+some purpose of her own; the next, that all she said was true. Then she
+felt sure that Colonel Vaughan must really love Gladys, and must mean
+all that he said; and a cold shudder crept over her, as she became aware
+how much she loved him. Again, she knew that a man of his position could
+only be trifling with a girl in her's, and was ready to hate and despise
+one who could be so vile. As she thought and thought, she grew paler and
+paler--colder and colder; and when she entered Lady Mary Nugent's
+drawing-room, that lady said,--
+
+'My dear Freda, what is the matter? You look so ill, and feel so cold.'
+
+'Nothing but the heat. It always has this enervating effect on me,' was
+the answer.
+
+The absence of Colonel Vaughan set the shrewd Lady Mary guessing as to
+the real cause of the sudden indisposition; she felt sure that something
+must have passed between him and Freda more exciting than usual to
+occasion such paleness.
+
+At dinner, Freda was fortunate in being placed next Sir Hugh Pryse, who
+knew her too well, and was far too fond of her, to make any personal
+remarks.
+
+Miss Nugent's uncle, Lord Nugent, was the master of the ceremonies for
+the evening. He had come, as Miss Nugent's guardian, to resign his
+office, and to be present at her attaining her majority. Freda had once
+met him before, and liked him. He was now particularly friendly in his
+manner to her, but when he spoke to her across one intermediate person,
+she could only answer him in monosyllables. Every one silently remarked
+her absence of mind and unusual frigidity.
+
+When the dinner was over, of which Freda only remembered that she had
+had certain viands placed before her, and when the ladies were leaving
+the dining-room, Colonel Vaughan's voice was heard in the hall. Lady
+Mary told a servant to show him into the dining-room; and as Freda was
+crossing the hall, she saw him at the opposite end of it. She hurried
+into the drawing-room, but was keenly alive to what passed in the hall
+after she had done so. She heard him, with his usual courtly manner,
+apologise to Lady Mary Nugent for his non-appearance at the
+dinner-table, and attribute his accident to his having stood so long on
+her lawn, in the heat, watching the poor people at their dinner. He
+added that he was glad to have arrived in time to drink Miss Nugent's
+health, and proceeded to the dining-room.
+
+Freda did her best to talk to the few, and very select, ladies, who had
+been honoured by an invitation to dinner; and felt intense relief when,
+one after another, all the evening-party arrived.
+
+Dancing soon began, and Freda saw Colonel Vaughan and Miss Nugent
+together in a quadrille. Sir Hugh had asked her to dance with him, but
+she begged him to let her sit down that first dance, and promised him
+the next.
+
+Of course she watched the pair in whom she was most interested. She was
+obliged to confess that Miss Nugent was the handsomest, most elegant,
+and best dressed girl in the room; as she talked to Colonel Vaughan, she
+looked almost animated; and he, on his part, seemed as gay and perfectly
+at his ease, as if there had never been a Gladys in the world. They
+were, unquestionably a fine, aristocratic couple; danced well, walked
+well, and to all appearance were well pleased with one another. Lady
+Mary Nugent watched them quite as narrowly as Freda.
+
+Sick at heart, Freda danced the next dance with Sir Hugh, and managed to
+avoid coming in contact with Colonel Vaughan, who had secured Lady Mary
+as his partner. Once or twice, however, Freda caught his keen, searching
+glance fixed upon her, and knew that he was trying to read her mind, as
+he had often done before.
+
+It was useless for her to try to avoid him, as he came direct to her to
+ask her for the next dance. She longed to say that she would never dance
+with him again, but even she had tact enough to know that it would not
+do to refuse, for the sake of the effect such a refusal might have both
+on him and the world. All she could do, however, was to bow her consent,
+take his arm, and walk, pale, silent, and stately, to the top of a
+quadrille. They had met Sir Hugh and Miss Nugent, and Colonel Vaughan
+had secured them as _vis-a-vis_; for once his tact had failed him, he
+could not have managed worse.
+
+Freda tried to answer his questions, but in vain; she could not be
+hypocrite enough to treat him as she was accustomed to do. In him there
+was no perceptible change; she once fancied she perceived an uneasy
+expression in his face, as he looked at her, but his manner was
+friendly, lively, fascinating as ever; he even asked her what was the
+matter, and said she looked ill. Her answer was contained in the few
+sarcastic words,--
+
+'The heat. I hear you have suffered from it also.'
+
+Although Freda could not, herself, enter into the conversation she could
+observe the by-play between the colonel and Miss Nugent; the bashful,
+simpering smiles of the young lady, the flattering glances of the
+gentleman. She would not have believed, when she awoke that morning,
+that it was possible to endure so much real suffering as she was
+enduring, in the short space of one quadrille.
+
+It was over at last, and Colonel Vaughan led her to a seat amongst some
+ladies. She said she would go to her father, when she saw that he was
+going to sit down by her side. He offered her his arm again, and took
+her to the drawing-room; here she found her father, somewhat apart from
+the rest of the company, talking to Lady Mary, or more properly being
+talked to by her. She sat down on a sofa near her father, and bowing
+statelily to Colonel Vaughan, said,--
+
+'I will not detain you. I shall remain here for the present.'
+
+He made some passing observation to Mr Gwynne, and returned to the
+drawing-room, followed shortly after by Lady Mary.
+
+Sir Hugh came up and began talking to Freda; he was so kind and so
+natural even in his loudness, that Freda felt as if she would rather
+trust him with every secret of her heart, than the polished worldling
+who had just left her.
+
+'And yet, perhaps,' she thought, 'Gladys has really deceived me, and he
+is innocent; still, better Gladys than that statue-like Miss Nugent.'
+
+Freda thought the night would never end; she exerted herself to talk and
+dance, because every one came to ask what was the matter with her, and
+by the time they went to supper, she was as flushed as she had
+previously been pale. Lord Nugent was particularly attentive to her, and
+evidently admired her very much; bitterly she thought that she could
+gain, unsought, the civilities of one man, whilst she was but too
+conscious that the one she cared the most for in the world, was devoting
+himself almost exclusively to the Nugents. But he was unworthy of the
+heart of any right-minded woman, so she would tear him from hers, and
+again make her father her first care.
+
+But those despicable Nugents had got possession of him also. He was
+seated next to Lady Mary at supper, her profile and diamonds were
+directed at him, and she looked almost as young, and quite as handsome
+as her daughter. Alas! and again alas! poor Freda!
+
+However, all things come to an end, and an heiress's twenty-first
+birthday amongst them. Miss Nugent's did not finish till three o'clock
+in the morning, at which hour, Mr and Miss Gwynne and Colonel Vaughan
+were driving home from the festivities at Pentre. The gentlemen were
+keeping up a rather lively conversation on the events of the evening,
+and the lady was sustaining a very strong conflict with her own pride.
+
+As the carriage rolled past a certain large oak tree in the Park, Freda
+suddenly remembered Rowland Prothero. About a twelvemonth ago she had
+left him beneath that oak, humbled and deeply pained, doubtless, by her
+haughty words. Now she was similarly pained and humbled, and she was,
+for the first time, aware of the shock her proud refusal of his love
+must have been to him. Had she not been weak enough to yield her heart
+unasked, and was it not almost thrown back into her own bosom? She, who
+had believed herself above the silly romance of her sex, to have sunk
+below even Miss Nugent. But she would rouse herself from such a mania,
+and show Colonel Vaughan how thoroughly she despised him.
+
+She did rouse herself, and the first words she heard were,--
+
+'Yes, certainly, very handsome, mother and daughter,' from Colonel
+Vaughan's lips.
+
+'And which is to be the happy object of your notice, Colonel Vaughan?'
+she asked, suddenly joining in the conversation. 'I heard grand
+discussions on the subject on all sides.'
+
+'Really,' replied the colonel, somewhat surprised by the sudden
+question, 'I did not know I was of so much importance.'
+
+'What! you, about whom every one is speculating.'
+
+'Freda, my dear, I am so glad you are able to speak. I thought you
+so--ill, dull, unlike yourself, and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'Thanks, papa, I was thoroughly overpowered by the heat; but this
+delightful breeze has refreshed me. I hope, Colonel Vaughan, you also
+have got over your weakness. I wonder you ever returned alive from
+India, if such a day as this was sufficient to upset you.'
+
+Further sarcasm was cut short by their reaching the house, for which
+Freda was very thankful, at a later period, feeling that she lowered her
+dignity by allowing herself to allude, however covertly, to Gladys or
+Miss Nugent. But she was scarcely herself when she did so.
+
+Colonel Vaughan was going to help her out of the carriage, but she
+passed quickly up the steps without touching his arm.
+
+He had felt her lash, and now fully understood that she knew of his
+meeting with Gladys, and guessed that he had designs upon Miss Nugent or
+her fortune. For once in his life he felt somewhat abashed as he met the
+eye of the pale, haughty girl, whom he really admired twenty times as
+much as Miss Nugent, or any other young lady of his then devotees. And
+he admired her still more, as she kissed her father's cheek, nodded a
+haughty 'good-night' to himself, and went upstairs to her room in the
+haste of strong excitement.
+
+As soon as she was gone, Colonel Vaughan told Mr Gwynne that he had
+promised Sir Hugh Pryse to go and spend a week with him, and that he
+should leave Glanyravon for that purpose on the morrow.
+
+'You will come back again, of course?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'Oh yes, certainly! but I have only ten days more leave, and then I must
+bid you all good-bye again.'
+
+'I am so sorry, and so will be Freda when she hears it. What could have
+been the matter with Freda to-night, I never saw her so odd? But I
+suppose it was the heat, and all that sort of thing; good-night. I am
+tired to death, though it was a charming party, certainly a charming
+party.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE LADY IN HER OWN RIGHT.
+
+
+When Freda reached her room, Gladys was awaiting her there.
+
+'Why did you not go to bed, Gladys? you know I dislike your sitting up
+so late.'
+
+'I could not go to bed, ma'am, feeling that I have offended you, without
+begging your pardon for having done so.'
+
+'Then all you said was an invention.'
+
+'I said nothing but the truth, ma'am, but perhaps offended you in saying
+it to you, merely to excuse myself. I am very sorry.'
+
+There were traces of tears on Gladys' face and she looked pale and
+agitated.
+
+'Gladys, you can go to bed, I have nothing to forgive. If you tell me
+the truth, I am very sorry for it, and that such words should have been
+said to you. Of course you did not believe them?'
+
+'No, ma'am, I certainly did not.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was fidgeting with her dress, and Gladys went to assist her,
+uncalled for. When it was unfastened, Miss Gwynne again said, 'Thank
+you, that will do; I wish you to go to bed; good-night,' and Gladys
+again obeyed in sorrow.
+
+Miss Gwynne had little sleep that night, and the next morning she felt
+very ill. Much as she longed to lie in bed, however, and to avoid
+meeting Colonel Vaughan again, she got up when Gladys called her, and
+was, as usual, first downstairs. Much to her satisfaction, her father
+appeared next, and the colonel soon afterwards. She exerted herself to
+talk and laugh as usual, and the only difference in her manner to
+Colonel Vaughan was, that instead of shaking hands with him, as was her
+custom every morning, she busied herself with the cups and saucers when
+he approached, and simply said good morning. Her father remarked that
+she was looking ill, and she said she had one of her old headaches.
+
+When breakfast was over, she expressed her intention of visiting the
+school, and said that, as Colonel Vaughan was going to Sir Hugh's, she
+probably should not see him again before he left. She wished him good
+morning and a pleasant visit, stiffly, but courteously; felt compelled
+to shake hands with him, and went her way with a proud but aching heart.
+He also went his, wondering in his very selfish heart whether Freda
+really cared for him after all, and scheming to see Gladys, whose utter
+carelessness of him had roused his vanity.
+
+When he had left Glanyravon, with a promise to Mr Gwynne of returning,
+Freda no longer strove to appear what she was not, and went to bed
+really ill. She was subject to occasional severe nervous headaches, and
+was obliged to be very quiet when so attacked, in order to prevent
+congestion of the brain, which the doctors had once threatened her with.
+Her father, therefore, insisted on her keeping her room until she was
+quite well, which she was only too thankful to do, and so great were her
+actual sufferings from her head, that they distracted her mind from
+brooding over her real or imaginary miseries.
+
+Gladys waited on her quietly and patiently for about a week, at the end
+of which time she began to feel better. Her gratitude to Gladys for the
+perfectly unobtrusive nature of her attention was so great that she felt
+as if she could never do enough for her, and she frequently assured her
+that she knew she had been unjust towards her in accusing her of
+falsehood. She never, however, again mentioned Colonel Vaughan's name to
+her.
+
+Mr Gwynne paid daily visits to his daughter's sick-room. In spite of her
+head, she could not help noticing something peculiar in his manner. He
+did not talk, because conversation was forbidden during these attacks,
+but there was an increased briskness in his eyes and step as he
+approached her, and, she fancied, more of anxious care in his tone when
+he spoke. She was sure he had something to communicate.
+
+'Gladys, what makes you so calm and patient?' she suddenly asked, when
+she was getting better, and trying to reason herself out of her fancy
+for Colonel Vaughan.
+
+'Perhaps, ma'am, trouble has made me calm, and I pray to be made
+patient; but I have a rebellious heart,' was the reply.
+
+'Have you? I am very glad to hear it. Then there is hope for me. Now I
+am going to get up.'
+
+Freda had made some good resolutions during the intervals of her pain,
+the principal of which were, entirely to forget Colonel Vaughan, or to
+feel only intense contempt for him; to be more gentle with her father,
+and more considerate of his nerves and peculiarities; more patient with
+the servants, school children, and poor people generally; to do more
+good, and to be more useful to others; but she had not made these
+resolutions in Gladys' spirit. They were not made with prayer for help,
+but in her own strength.
+
+In the same way, she threw off the remains of her headache, and went
+downstairs again with a prouder step and a prouder heart than when she
+went up last.
+
+In the library she found her father writing a letter and looking quite
+animated. He was so sprucely dressed that she asked him if he were going
+out.
+
+'Not at present,' he said. 'I am so glad you are come down again. There
+is so much to tell you; I have scarcely been able to keep myself from
+letting you hear the news. Do you know it is all settled, and Gwynne
+Vaughan is actually engaged to Miss Nugent! Isn't he a lucky fellow?'
+
+Freda felt suddenly very sick; she sat down in an arm-chair near her
+father, but did not speak. He looked at her, and said,--
+
+'My dear, you are very pale still. Coming downstairs has been too much,
+and dressing, and--and--all that sort of thing. Let me ring for Gladys.'
+
+'No, I shall be better directly. Only the exertion--yes, you were
+telling me--'
+
+Strange that Mr Gwynne never supposed that Freda could be in love with
+any one. She had refused so many, and was so different from other girls,
+that the thought never entered his mind, and he had left her alone with
+Colonel Vaughan, and would have done so with Cupid himself, quite
+thoughtless of results. Moreover, his own natural inactivity and love of
+ease, led him to allow her to take her own course, as long as she left
+him alone to take his.
+
+'Yes; I was saying that it is now quite settled. I believe he proposed
+the very ball-night to Miss Nugent, at least, and the next day went in
+form, and after certain preliminaries, was duly accepted by all parties.
+Of course, he is quite unexceptionable, and she can do as she likes now
+she is of age. Lady Mary expected a title, and I don't think she is
+quite satisfied. She told me--at least--they say--at least--of course,
+there are always objections, and--and--all that sort of thing, you
+know.'
+
+Freda was too hard at work, trying to overcome a very strong desire to
+burst into tears, to observe that her father had not once used his
+favourite phrase, or lost the thread of his words, until he came to
+'Lady Mary told me,' so when he stopped, she simply said, 'Really! Yes!'
+and he went on again.
+
+'I must confess, Freda, I am rather disappointed. I thought Gwynne liked
+you, and, indeed, I think so still. But--ah! my dear--you are so proud,
+or cold, or--or--that you refuse every one. It has been suggested to me
+by--ah! I have remarked, I mean, that you must have a secret liking for
+some one, not quite what one considers--ah!--eligible--and that--but, I
+am sure, Freda, I would make any sacrifice for your happiness, and
+should wish to see you married.'
+
+'What do you mean, papa?' said Freda, effectually roused.
+
+'Well, my dear, it is thought--I mean, I have fancied--I mean
+Lady--I--I--the fact is, are you attached to Rowland Prothero? Now, I am
+not angry, Freda; he is one of the nicest young men, and the best--but I
+should have preferred Gwynne, or Sir Hugh, or--or--in fact, many others,
+in a worldly point of view. A tenant's son, and only a curate!--and all
+that sort of thing. But then as Lady--as--as I--as your father, my dear,
+I should like to make you happy. You see, that day at the vicarage,
+we--that is to say, I--thought there was something peculiar in his
+manner and yours; and to be sure, he may be a bishop, he is so good and
+clever. A great favourite of mine. And if he lives in London, it doesn't
+so much matter; and--and--in short--Freda--'
+
+'Papa, I understand,' said Freda, rising from her seat with majestic
+pride, 'Lady Mary has been kind enough to suggest, doubtless for her own
+ends, what never could have entered your mind. I am very much obliged to
+you for forgetting, on my account, what I cannot forget on my own, that
+I am a Gwynne of Glanyravon! and I daresay you meant it kindly. But you
+may make my compliments to Lady Mary Nugent, and tell her, that if there
+was anything peculiar in Rowland Prothero's manner on that particular
+Sunday, it was because he had been bold enough to propose for me, and I
+had rejected him. You may tell her also that if he had asked her
+daughter instead, she would have given him herself and her fortune quite
+as willingly, and, I believe, more willingly, than to Colonel Vaughan.
+With her it is a case of "first come first served."'
+
+When Freda had given her message to Lady Mary Nugent, she walked out of
+the room. But scarcely had she crossed the hall when she turned again
+and re-entered it.
+
+'Papa, I must beg you _not_ to tell Lady Mary Nugent that Rowland
+Prothero proposed for me. He is at least a gentleman, and a man of
+honour, and deserves to be treated as such with all due courtesy. The
+more I see of men, the more I begin to think him one of the few true
+gentlemen one meets with. I should not even have told you this had it
+not escaped me in reply to what you said, because I thought it would
+annoy you, and perhaps make you feel unkindly towards the Prothero
+family. But you may tell her, if you like, that were Rowland Prothero
+not the gentleman I begin to perceive he is, Miss Nugent and her money
+might be his.'
+
+'But, Freda--after all--if you do like him. You see, his uncle married a
+Perry, one of the oldest families in Herefordshire, niece of the
+baronet, daughter of the dean, cousin of the present baronet.'
+
+'My dear father! I know all the Perrys by heart. Mrs Jonathan is not
+likely to have left me ignorant of their antiquity. But, pray, do you
+want to get rid of me, that you force me upon poor Rowland, or him upon
+me, whichever it may be?'
+
+'Of course not, my dear. Only I am naturally anxious to see you settled.
+And if you really like him--'
+
+'But I am settled, and I do not like him; that is to say, I like him
+well enough, fifty times better than I used to like him, but I have not
+the most remote intention of marrying him. And now, I should like to
+know what particular reason Lady Mary Nugent had for putting this absurd
+notion into your head. There must be something, my dear papa, under all
+this sudden anxiety to get me married. You used rather to rejoice when I
+declined settling Glanyravon on a suitor.'
+
+'Yes, my dear--but--you see--it is not quite certain that Glanyravon--I
+mean that you--I mean that I--in short--the fact is--you are so
+impetuous, Freda.'
+
+'What can my impetuosity have to do with it?'
+
+Freda saw that her father was more than usually nervous and fidgety, and
+became alarmed lest there should be some sudden money difficulty, as any
+threat, however slight, of debt or involvement always made him ill. She
+sat down beside him, and putting her hand in his, as it rested on a
+table nervously fidgeting with a pen, she said gently,--
+
+'Now, pappy, I hope we are not all going to jail?'
+
+'By no means; the tenants are most prosperous. I could raise any sum if
+necessary, and give you a marriage portion suitable in every way.'
+
+What was there in this marriage scheme? Freda grew impatient and
+indignant again.
+
+'Now, really, papa, this is too absurd; If you have anything on your
+mind, will you say it?'
+
+'Well--the fact is, Freda, that you--I mean that I, have made up my
+mind--you see you may marry, and leave me alone, and I should want a
+companion, and--and all that sort of thing, you know--so I have
+considered--for your--for our--for my, perhaps--happiness, that it might
+be well for me to--to--to--in short, my dear--to marry again; in fact,
+Freda, I have resolved to do so.'
+
+'Lady Mary Nugent!' screamed Freda; 'not her! not her! not settled! oh
+papa!'
+
+Mr Gwynne had called Freda impetuous, but he was not prepared for the
+sudden burst of uncontrollable grief that followed his announcement.
+Often as Freda had jested over the proposal Lady Mary was to make her
+father, she had never believed that he would marry her. It came upon her
+like the news of an unexpected death, or great family misfortune. She
+covered her face with her hands, and sobbed till her father thought she
+must burst some blood vessel then and there before him. He got up, sat
+down; went to the bell, touched the rope, let it go; opened the window,
+put his hand on Freda's bowed head, called her by name, and, in return,
+was greeted by--
+
+'Not Lady Mary! think of my mother! think of me! oh father! father!
+cruel! this is too much! Say it is not true; only a jest. What have I
+done? I will be better, kinder, gentler--I will nurse you, tend
+you--never marry. I would rather not--I never shall. Nobody loves you as
+well as I. Your only child. My mother's only child. Say it is not
+true--oh, say it is not true?'
+
+This was impossible, for Mr Gwynne knew full well that he was pledged
+beyond recall. But now, as he looked on his daughter, heard her words,
+thought of her mother, he began to repent of what he had done. He, who
+hated scenes, dreaded tears, would not annoy Freda for the world, to
+have raised such emotion! He did not understand it. Lady Mary had
+assured him Freda would be so glad to be allowed to marry Rowland. And
+she was so discerning and clever! But he could not bear those sobs.
+
+'Freda! my dear, don't, I beg, I entreat! You will make me so nervous.
+You know I cannot bear--in short, I feel quite ill. The fact is, you
+will make yourself ill, and after all, it need make no difference to
+you. You will be just the same. Freda, I must beg you to desist. I must
+insist--I will ring for the housekeeper.'
+
+'No, no, papa. Do not let us expose ourselves!' cried Freda, rising
+suddenly; 'I will go upstairs. Neither you nor I will ever be happy
+again!'
+
+Freda was about to leave the room, when Mr Gwynne suddenly went up to
+her, and putting his arm round her neck, whispered, whilst the tears
+sprang into his eyes,--
+
+'Freda, Freda! my child, forgive me! I didn't think it would vex you so.
+I scarcely know how it has all happened.'
+
+Poor Freda threw both her arms around her father, and sobbed again. As
+she leaned on his shoulder, his white hairs touched the brown glossy
+braids of her head, and his lips kissed them. At that moment he knew
+that he did not love Lady Mary Nugent as well as he loved his child,
+and that child was conscious for the first time how very dear her father
+was to her.
+
+Again she roused herself, and as if ashamed of her emotion, hastened out
+of the room. She went upstairs, and locking herself in her room, threw
+herself on her bed. Here she gave way to feelings that were as new as
+strange to her, unaccustomed as she was to what some one calls 'the
+luxury of tears.' She scarcely knew whether sorrow or anger
+predominated, but she was wretched and indignant. Tumultuous thoughts
+rushed through her mind of the past, present, and probable future!
+thoughts too numerous and changeable to be transcribed, but which may
+well be imagined.
+
+At last her pride, that one grand feature of her character, got the
+better of her grief and anger. She rose from her bed, dried her eyes,
+arranged her hair, and with a carriage as erect as her soul was haughty,
+once more entered her father's library. The momentary emotion and pathos
+of their last embrace had been overpowered in both by stronger
+sensations; in him by the remembrance of Lady Mary Nugent's
+fascinations, in her by the sense of that lady's tact and duplicity.
+
+Freda sat quietly down opposite her father, and said abruptly,--
+
+'Papa, this odious subject must be begun and ended between us this day.
+If you will be good enough to answer me a few questions and to listen to
+me, I will never mention it again. Are you really engaged to Lady Mary
+Nugent, or is it a horrible dream?'
+
+'I--yes--I certainly am, my dear--engaged to be married to her
+ladyship.'
+
+'And you mean to marry her? Impossible!'
+
+'Do you consider me a man of honour? or am I one likely to break my word
+when pledged?'
+
+'Oh! papa, when a woman proposes and makes love, and waits till the very
+moment when it suits her own convenience to marry, do you think she
+deserves consideration? You know that Lady Mary Nugent has done it all
+herself, and that you would never have taken the trouble, or had the
+courage to propose for any woman under the sun, if she had not asked you
+first. You know you do not want to marry. I would give the world to know
+how she managed to bring you to the point.'
+
+'Really, Freda, this is too--too--personal, and rude, I may call
+it--and--'
+
+'Forgive me, papa. Of course you are your own master, and are at liberty
+to be chosen by any woman, but she will not choose me, nor I her. I hate
+Lady Mary Nugent, despise her most intensely, and shall leave this house
+before she comes into it; never--'
+
+It seemed as if an invisible hand checked the end of Freda's
+determination, for she stopped short at the 'never.'
+
+'But what I came particularly to say, papa, is, that I believe I have
+some little private fortune of my own, my dear mother's, in short, and I
+suppose I can have that when I like.'
+
+'Certainly--certainly--but--'
+
+'Then I wish both you and Lady Mary Nugent to understand that I shall
+not live here. Not on your account, but on hers. I ask, as a particular
+favour, that I may not be informed of the day of your marriage; and I
+shall make it a point of going away in a month or so, so as to leave you
+free to act. I shall hope to hear from you, and to write to you. I am
+only sorry for you, because she cannot understand your tastes; but that
+is nothing. I don't think either she or her daughter ever read any book
+but a fashionable novel in their lives. But what is the difference!
+Money and tact against the world! I cannot help speaking my mind for
+this first and last time. Forgive me. You will not have me long to speak
+it, and my successor never spoke her's in her life, so she will not bore
+you by abruptness and sincerity, as I perhaps have done.'
+
+Freda had spoken so fast that she paused to take breath, and during that
+necessary process her father wiped his face, as if he, too, were
+exhausted by her volubility. Freda could scarcely help smiling.
+
+'I am very sorry for everything I have ever done to displease you,' she
+began again; 'and I only hope you will not be so unhappy, as I am afraid
+you will be.'
+
+'This is too exhausting!' muttered Mr Gwynne, sinking back in his chair.
+'Freda, you really do talk too much. Will you ring for Perkins? I must
+take a dose of that cordial.'
+
+When the cordial was mentioned, Freda knew that all conversation was at
+an end. She rang the bell, and when Perkins came, left the room.
+
+She went at once to her writing desk, and wrote the following note:--
+
+    'MY DEAREST SERENA,--What you and I have sometimes feared is about
+    to come to pass. My father is going to marry Lady Mary Nugent. Of
+    course I can no longer live here; will you and Mr Jones give me
+    shelter for a time whilst I arrange my thoughts and plans? I will
+    give as little trouble as I can, but I know you will bear with
+    me.--Your loving friend,
+
+    'WINIFRED GWYNNE.'
+
+Freda sealed and directed her letter, and then went to the open window,
+and stood there for some time. A slight shower of rain was falling and
+a few light clouds were struggling with the afternoon sunbeams. Strong
+shadows fell from the trees in the Park, equally strong lights were on
+the distant hills. The river looked hot and hazy, and the cattle had
+congregated under the arch of the bridge--the only cool spot--as if for
+shelter from the sun. A shrill, blithe, distant whistle sounded, and the
+bells of Llanfawr church pealed in the far-away town, just sending their
+faint echoes across the river.
+
+'What are those bells ringing for?' said Freda, as she wiped away some
+large tears that were gathering in her eyes. 'They ring for everything;
+soon it will be for these odious marriages. Why was I ever born? Why,
+above all, was I born in such a place as this? And to leave it! Yes,
+Frisk' (to her terrier, that was barking and jumping outside the
+window), 'you and I must go away. No more quarrels with Jerry; no more
+fights with Gelert?; no more hunts in the brook. Will you come with me
+to smoky London? Yes, and hate it as much as I shall. Sleep away your
+life by a city fire, and grow fat and old, instead of racing after me
+and Prince. But we shall not live long in a town, Frisk. We shall soon
+die of sheer laziness, and so much the better--for who will care for us?
+Lion and Jerry and even Gipsy will forget you; and every one has
+forgotten me already. Why am I so foolish as to cry so? I never knew how
+weak I could be until these last few days. But we must be strong,
+Frisk--we must be strong, and not care for this old place, and the
+beautiful park, and all the--oh, why will those bells ring? and what are
+they ringing for? And there is the dinner-bell, too, harsh as my lot.
+And I must try to be dutiful, and show a bold face and good courage to
+the world, who will pity me, or rejoice over me, and say that I wanted
+something to pull down my pride. And so, perhaps, I do; but this shall
+not be the something. No, no; it shall only make me prouder. Poor papa,
+too; he will be more wretched than I--I am sure he will. I cannot bear
+to think of him. Frisk! Frisk! don't make such a noise. Don't jump so,
+Frisk. There! I will take you in. Good dog! good Frisk! You love me if
+no one else does; you and Gladys.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE FIRST-BORN.
+
+
+Those Llanfawr bells which, as Freda said, certainly did ring for
+everything, were sending forth their chimes to celebrate the birth of a
+daughter at Plas Abertewey. But whilst they were ringing, and Freda was
+abusing them, the mother of the little daughter was, apparently, about
+to depart for that other country where bells shall no longer 'ring out
+the old, and ring in the new,' welcome the babe, or speed the spirit of
+the dead.
+
+Good Dr Richards and the nurse stood, one on either side of Netta's bed,
+pouring brandy and wine down her throat, whilst her infant was on its
+grandmother's, Mrs Jenkins's lap, in the next room. The doctor was in a
+state of intense anxiety. He had sent off one man and horse for another
+surgeon, and a second to Swansea, to telegraph for Howel, who had not
+yet returned from London, where he had been nearly three months. He felt
+the great responsibility of his situation, and that if Netta did not
+rally, she must die.
+
+It was six o'clock in the evening; the baby had been born in the
+morning, and Netta's continual cry had been 'Howel! Howel! When will my
+husband come?' But she had not spoken for some hours, and seemed to be
+sinking out of the world.
+
+As Dr Richards leaned over her, he thought she murmured something.
+Putting his ear close to her, he heard the words, 'Mother! oh, mother!'
+
+'She shall come! you shall see her!' said Dr Richards. He went to a
+writing-table, and wrote as follows:--
+
+'Mrs Howel Jenkins is dying. The only chance to save her is her mother's
+presence. Come, for God's sake.'
+
+He went out of the room, and ordered the carriage and horses to be
+prepared at once, and sent them and the coachman to Glanyravon Farm. The
+man said it was as much as his place was worth to go; but Dr Richards
+insisted, and he went.
+
+In about two hours the carriage returned. Dr Richards heard the distant
+sound of wheels, so did Netta. She opened her eyes, and with a painful,
+eager glance, again said, 'Mother!'
+
+Dr Richards left the room, and, to his great joy, welcomed Mrs Prothero
+in the hall.
+
+'Thank God, you are come! She is yet alive,' said he.
+
+'I did not stop to ask David,' said Mrs Prothero, 'but came straight
+away.'
+
+She followed Dr Richards to Netta's room, and the feelings of the mother
+and the daughter may well be imagined, as they thus met after such a
+separation. Mrs Prothero turned away and wept--then prepared to wait
+upon her child.
+
+As the long absence of Howel, and his non-arrival day after day,
+according to promises almost daily made, had caused Netta's extreme
+prostration of mental as well as physical power; so the presence of her
+mother appeared to revive and cheer her. Again she had some one near her
+who loved her. Her mother, whom she had so grievously offended, had come
+to her in trouble, and she was roused and comforted. The mother-in-law,
+who had been so anxious to take her from her parents, did not fill their
+places.
+
+Whilst Mrs Prothero was tenderly nursing her daughter, and gently
+assuring her of her love and forgiveness, Mrs Griffey Jenkins was
+discussing her arrival with the various domestics and the nurse, who
+went into an adjoining room to have her supper, where Mrs Griffey also
+had hers.
+
+Their conversation was carried on in an under voice, and between sips of
+gin and water, Mrs Griffey said,--
+
+'You do see, Mrs Gwillim, that if Mrs Howel was to die, my Howels 'ould
+be seure to be marrying again. He could have anybody.'
+
+'Of course, ma'am--of course.'
+
+'There don't be a lady anywhere as 'ouldn't be proud to be marrying my
+Howels. Up in London there's my Lady Sinclairs, and a hundred others;
+and down here there's Miss Nugent, or Miss Gwynne. You do see, Mrs
+Gwillim, that though Mrs Howels do be very respectable, she 'ouldn't be
+Mrs Howel Jenkins, Abertewey, only my Howels was too honourable not to
+be marrying her. I 'ould be sorry after her, but if she was to be taken,
+why, she couldn't go at a better time. What was you thinking of her by
+now?'
+
+'Very bad, ma'am, very bad,' said Mrs Gwillim, ominously shaking her
+head.
+
+And 'very bad,' Netta undoubtedly was all that night. Dr Richards did
+not leave the house, and in due course of time the other medical man
+arrived; still, the half-expressed and wholly felt wishes of her
+mother-in-law for her death were not realised. The dawn of morning found
+her sleeping peaceably with her infant in her arms, and her mother
+thanking God that she was better.
+
+At ten o'clock in the morning, carriage wheels were again heard, and Mrs
+Prothero trembled as Howel entered the house, and there was a
+consultation of doctors as to the propriety of his seeing his wife at
+once.
+
+Mrs Griffey anticipated every one else by going direct to Howel.
+
+'How is she, mother?' were his first words.
+
+'Better they do say.'
+
+'Then why on earth did they telegraph for me. It may be the loss of
+thousands.'
+
+'Mrs Prothero is with Netta, Howel, bach.'
+
+'Who dared to bring her into my house?'
+
+'Netta, I 'spose. They was turning _me_ out of Glanyravon.'
+
+'And I'll turn her out of Abertewey, the canting old humbug.'
+
+Here Dr Richards came in.
+
+'She is out of danger, I hope, Mr Jenkins; anxiety about you reduced her
+so low; and I took upon myself to send for her mother, who has roused
+her, and, I believe, saved her life. She knows you are come, and perhaps
+the sight of you for a moment may not injure her, as she is very anxious
+to see you; but we must not excite her.'
+
+Howel looked paler and darker than usual, and Dr Richards attributed it,
+and his silence, to his emotion. They went together upstairs, and Howel
+stood by the bed where lay his young wife and his first-born child. As
+he looked upon the pale face of Netta, and saw her large black eyes
+gleam with joy, and her lips purse themselves up like a double cherry,
+to kiss him, he was touched. He bent over her, and kissed her warmly.
+When she uncovered a small portion of the bed-clothes, and displayed the
+infant that lay in her arms, a smile passed over his countenance, and he
+kissed his wife and child together.
+
+'Dear Howel,' murmured Netta, as the nurse covered up the mother and her
+babe, and the doctor touched Howel, and told him to come away. He caught
+sight of the trembling Mrs Prothero as he was leaving the room, and a
+terrible frown passed over his face. She followed him downstairs, and
+anticipated his abuse of her, by saying at once, gently, but firmly,--
+
+'Howel, I came here at Dr Richards' summons to my dying child. My
+husband did not even know I was coming, but neither he nor you could
+have prevented me at such a time. You cannot turn me from your doors
+whilst she is still in danger. When she is out of danger I will go.'
+
+'You turned my mother from yours.'
+
+'Not I, Howel; and I have never injured you. Leave me till to-morrow,
+and I will go.'
+
+One of the few people in the world for whom Howel had a small amount of
+respect and affection, was Mrs Prothero. The simply good, and
+unaffectedly pious, will sometimes command the regard of the worldly and
+irreligious.
+
+'If you remain in my house, Mrs Prothero, it is because you have been
+consistently kind to me, and received my mother. As to your husband, I
+would--'
+
+'Not to me, Howel, if you please I can hear nothing against him. You
+must remember the provocation, and try to forgive and forget as I do.
+But thank you for letting me stay with Netta. I have so longed and
+prayed to see her again, and it has been brought about for me.'
+
+Mrs Prothero remained one clear day and two nights longer at Abertewey.
+As Netta was quite out of danger before that time had expired, she
+thought it right to go home, both on Howel's account and her own
+husband's, whose anger she would have to allay. During her stay with
+Netta she lost no opportunity to work gently on the mind of her child,
+now opened and softened by her late trials. She found, with grief, what
+she had always feared, that Howel and Netta were not happy together;
+that he was frequently morose and unkind, and that she was passionate
+and revengeful. This eked out in Netta's confessions to her mother, for
+Howel was attentive and affectionate during her illness. Mrs Prothero
+entreated her to be gentle and obedient. Earnestly did she speak to her
+of religion, trying to recall the lessons of her childhood; and with
+tears poor Netta promised everything. Particularly she promised to read
+her Bible. Her mother was shocked that the Book was not to be found in
+her bedroom. She put a little Testament, that she always carried in her
+pocket, under her child's pillow. It was lined, and underlined by her
+own hand, and she fondly hoped she might read it for her sake.
+
+Netta was so loving, gentle, and teachable with her mother--blamed
+herself so severely for having displeased her and her father--sent so
+many messages to him, and seemed so desirous of obtaining his
+forgiveness, that Mrs Prothero hoped everything.
+
+It was a hard struggle to part again with that dear child, and to kiss
+the little grandchild for the last time, perhaps, for years--she would
+not believe for ever; but both she and Netta were obliged to put a brave
+face upon it, in order not to displease Howel, already suspicious of
+their conversations.
+
+'You see Netta has all the grandest lady could desire,' said Howel,
+before Mrs Prothero left.
+
+'Oh yes! I hope you will be happy,' was the reply. Mrs Prothero had
+never given a thought to the grandeur by which she was surrounded.
+
+'Why not? Does Netta complain?' said Howel.
+
+'No, no; she says you are very good, and let her have all she wants;
+but, Howel, riches may not always bring happiness, and we must try to
+look beyond the perishable things of life for it.'
+
+'Pshaw!' said Howel, impatiently; 'you know, aunt, I hate that sort of
+cant.'
+
+Soon after she left Abertewey, Colonel Vaughan called Howel and he had
+a long conversation, the purport of which was, that the colonel wished
+to come himself to reside at Abertewey at the end of Howel's term of two
+years; and Howel was quite ready and willing to give it up to him,
+saying that he meant to purchase a house in town--in Belgravia, of
+course--and to reside there until he could meet with a property that he
+could purchase.
+
+Howel told Netta that he was tired of the neighbourhood already, it was
+so stupid; and that London, and a country house in some English county,
+would be far preferable to living in such a dull part of the world. She
+quite agreed with him, and had her own reasons for being glad to leave
+Wales. In the first place, she was not at home with the people she met
+in society, and liked the notion of living where no one would know that
+she was the daughter of the Protheros of Glanyravon. In the second,
+Howel would be always at home in London, and never again absent for
+three months, she knew not why. Moreover, she longed to be far away from
+the mother-in-law, who was a sort of spy over all she said or did; and
+she thought Howel would be kinder to her when he was at a distance from
+their kith and kin, whose propinquity seemed to irritate him.
+
+Netta did not stop to consider Howel's real reasons for leaving the
+country, or imagine for a moment that a man of his, to her,
+inexhaustible resources, could be induced to do so because he found
+those resources were not inexhaustible. Neither did she remember that in
+London he would be in the midst of the gamblers, horse-racers, and
+spendthrifts who had been helping him to diminish his father's
+ill-gotten gains, before and since, he came into possession of them.
+
+During the remainder of his stay in the county, his house was open to
+sportsmen of every grade. His racers, hunters, hounds, and good dinners
+were points of union to all the sporting men of the county; and Captain
+Dancy, Mr Deep, Sir Samuel Spendall, the Simpsons, Madame Duvet, and
+many others, again adorned Plas Abertewey. Races and race-balls,
+steeple-chases, and steeple-chase balls, hunts, and hunt-balls, took
+Howel, Netta, and his friends from place to place, and he and his horses
+soon became celebrated. The latter ran at all the races. He was a good
+rider, and rode himself in several steeple-chases; in short, he was
+declared to be 'a capital fellow!' and one who, if he would only remain
+in the county, would raise the sporting interest throughout it. As
+'blessings brighten as they take their flight,' so Howel's popularity
+reached its zenith just as he resigned Abertewey to Colonel Vaughan, and
+went, with his wife and child, abroad for a few months.
+
+As Freda foretold, bells rang, bonfires blazed, and cannons fired, when
+the respective owners of Glanyravon and Abertewey brought home their
+respective brides, which took place in due course. If anybody thought of
+Miss Gwynne, it was to comment loudly on her conduct in leaving her
+home, because her father chose to marry again, and lowering herself and
+her position by going to reside with her former governess, the wife of a
+curate in the East End of London. Some few sympathised with her, but the
+greater number laughed at Mr Gwynne, admired Lady Nugent's tact, and
+blamed Freda.
+
+Those, also, who discussed Colonel Vaughan, as everybody did, thought
+him a wise man to marry a woman who could at once clear his estate, and
+enable him to live upon it as his fathers had never lived before him,
+and welcomed him home with great ardour, and a regular volley of dinner
+parties.
+
+Thus Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter, with their various worldly and
+external advantages, and Colonel Vaughan, with his _savoir faire_, had
+done more for themselves than Freda or Gladys, or Owen or Rowland could
+have done, with their honesty of purpose, beauty, and intelligence, in a
+worldly point of view, I would be understood to mean.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE SPENDTHRIFT.
+
+
+We must now run rapidly through the next six years of Howel and Netta's
+career.
+
+After spending nearly a year abroad, where Howel amused himself, in
+addition, to his usual diversions, by speculating in some German mines,
+they came back to England. They went for a time to Spendall Lodge in
+Yorkshire, on a visit to Sir Samuel Spendall, in order to be in the
+vicinity of the Doncaster races. Thence they went to Scarborough, where
+Howel left Netta, her child and maid in a lodging, whilst he attended
+the various races in other parts of the country.
+
+About this time, Sir John Simpson died, and his son came into his
+fortune. Howel immediately bought a handsome house in Belgravia,
+furnished it expensively, and began life as a London fine gentleman.
+
+It is needless to describe how Howel's income and position in society
+gradually dwindled down; or more properly, how his means fluctuated
+according as his horses lost or won, or his various speculations
+succeeded or failed. Long before his father died, he had mortgaged that
+father's very mortgages; and had spent a large portion of his wealth in
+paying off debts of honour, and freeing himself from the Jews, into
+whose hands he had got before he went to live at Abertewey.
+
+During his four years' residence in London, it was evident that his
+means fluctuated in some wonderful way. His house was the rendezvous of
+men of all ranks who were on the turf, and his life was passed in a
+state of perpetual excitement. Netta did not see much of him, except at
+their own table, or that of their acquaintances. When she was alone with
+him, he was either quite silent, or abusive; the career of such a man
+will be better understood by most of my readers, than described by me.
+The resorts of black-legs, and the betting-books of men on the turf, the
+dishonourable payment of so-called debts of honour, the trickery of
+horse-dealers, horse-trainers, and horse-racers, and the wretched
+madness of professed gamblers, are things we have all heard of, but of
+which, happily, comparatively few of us know much, practically.
+
+Howel managed to maintain his reputation as a gentleman and man of large
+fortune, even when he was, from time to time, on the verge of ruin; and
+the purchase of Sir Samuel Spendall's property in Yorkshire, when that
+baronet was obliged to leave the country for debt, confirmed the opinion
+of his wealth. Every one did not know that Sir Samuel, like Mr Simpson,
+owed him an enormous sum of money, for various bets, loans, and even
+mortgages, of which Howel kept quite as usurious an account as his
+father would have done before him, and at which the lawyers of those
+gentlemen shook their heads, although they could not disprove any item
+of it. Howel had learnt enough of law to serve his purposes, and to
+teach him how far he might venture to go, in the matter of interest and
+compound interest, with impunity.
+
+Howel's friend, Mr Deep, was a lawyer by profession. He had duly taken
+out his stamps, and had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and did such business
+as fell in his way amongst his sporting friends.
+
+It was he who had been Howel's attorney in all his dealings with Sir
+Samuel Spendall, Mr Simpson and others, and although his reputation was
+not very good amongst his professional brethren, nothing dishonourable
+had ever been proved against him.
+
+We will now look into the chambers of this worthy in Lincoln's Inn, and
+listen to a conversation that is passing between him and Howel, over
+what appears to be their mid-day potation of brandy and water. Howel's
+manner is excited, and his face at its darkest; Mr Deep is calm, and his
+face smooth as usual.
+
+'You see, we must have money!' says Howel, 'I, at least, must have six
+thousand five hundred pounds before this month is out. I owe that to
+Dancy, who, of all men in the world, I don't choose to make wait. If I
+lose at the Derby, I must have twenty thousand more.'
+
+'But the chances are you will win. Alma is pretty safe, I think.'
+
+'Yes, if we can manage to drug Magnificent. I think I have Little Bill
+in my power; he will do anything for us. But this six thousand five
+hundred is the first thing to think of. I have mortgaged Spendall Lodge
+almost to its value. By the way, are you quite sure that Spendall has
+nothing against us? They say his mother is paying his debts, and that he
+will be able to come back.'
+
+'Positive; besides, he never knows what money he has paid, or what
+receipts he has had, or what the amount of his mortgages was.'
+
+'Simpson, again, I think he is sharper since his father's death. He was
+regularly frightened when he found what a sum he owed me; and if I
+hadn't got into a passion, and threatened to call him out for doubting
+my honour, I believe he would have checked our bill.'
+
+'Can't you get more money on your house in town?'
+
+'No; I have tried Levi and Jacobs, and they won't advance any more
+without better security.'
+
+'Your mother; surely she would help you, if you were to make up a good
+story.'
+
+'No; I ran down to see her the other day, and she had taken offence
+because she chose to think I had neglected her, and was as obstinate as
+an old mule. I believe she is getting stingy, too, and says she will
+keep her money as long as she lives, and then I may do what I like with
+it.'
+
+'What is she worth?'
+
+'Well, I should say by this time, she must have as good as six or seven
+hundred a-year. She hasn't lived up to her income, and what she has
+doled out to me now and then, hasn't touched the principal. She must
+have from fifteen to twenty thousand pounds one way and another.'
+
+'Ask her to come and visit you; take her about and make much of her, and
+then seize upon her in an unwary moment. Borrow the money, and say you
+will pay it back, which you know, you will be able to do, if you have
+any luck.'
+
+'That's a bright idea. The old soul has always been hankering to come to
+London. Give me a pen and ink directly. Let me see; I know how she
+likes me to begin. "Dear and honoured mother." Faugh! shall we go on in
+the ancient style? "I hope this will find you well, as it leaves me at
+present." I only wish it would find her--well--I think that will do. I
+have told her that Netta and I will be delighted to see her, etc., etc.
+And Netta hates her, too.'
+
+'By the way, Jenkins, could not Mrs Howel Jenkins get Dancy to give in
+about that money? She is a prime favourite.'
+
+'Mrs Jenkins knows nothing of my money transactions, and certainly would
+be the last person I should wish to interfere in such a matter. Let us
+go and post this letter, and then I want to go to Tattersalls. Will you
+dine with me at the club at six? and afterwards we will keep our
+appointment with Dancy and Lord Dupe; we may make something of the
+latter, if we can't of the former.'
+
+It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Howel reached his home.
+His little girl was ill in the measles, and Netta, feeling anxious about
+her, had been sitting up with her. When Howel entered the bedroom in
+which the mother and child were, he began to talk in a loud voice.
+
+'Why on earth don't you go to bed, Netta?'
+
+Netta put her finger on her lips, and pointed to the little bed in which
+her child was sleeping, then hurried into the next room, a kind of
+nursery and play-room, and sent the maid, who was sitting there, into
+the bedroom. Howel followed her; Netta saw that he had been drinking,
+and was greatly excited; he never was absolutely intoxicated, but he
+constantly drank too much.
+
+'Why do you sit up I say, Netta?'
+
+'Because Minette is so feverish; I did not like to leave her.'
+
+The child had been called Minette by a French _bonne_, and they had all
+somehow adopted it as a name; her real name was Victoria.
+
+'You didn't sit up for me, of course?'
+
+'Certainly not; you are not so very agreeable when you come home, as to
+make me sit up for you.'
+
+'I say, Netta, do you know I have written to invite my mother to come
+and pay us a visit.'
+
+'Your mother! then you must amuse her, for I certainly won't.'
+
+'I beg to say you will, and will do everything in your power to make her
+visit agreeable. It will be worse for you if you do not. What do you
+mean by always disobeying me?'
+
+'You had better not strike me again, you coward, you! Justine will hear
+you. She can see and hear, if she can't understand.'
+
+'I tell you what, Netta, everything may depend on our reception of my
+mother--your very living, and mine, and Minette's.'
+
+'I don't care about living; I'd rather starve than live the life I do,
+and if I have Aunt 'Lizbeth, too, I shall run away, I am sure I shall.'
+
+'With whom, madam?'
+
+'With anybody or nobody; I don't care what becomes of me since you're so
+unkind. Perhaps you'd like to see my shoulder that you hurt yesterday? I
+haven't had the pleasure of seeing you since. Your shakes, and pinches
+ain't very soft, sir, I assure you.'
+
+Netta threw off a portion of the white dressing-gown she had on, and
+displayed her round white neck and shoulder disfigured by a
+black-and-blue mark.
+
+'I'll do the same to the other if you aggravate me any more,' said
+Howel, clenching his teeth, and moving towards Netta.
+
+'Not to-night, anyhow,' said Netta, running through the door and short
+passage into her child's bedroom. She knew that he was always
+sufficiently master of himself not to expose himself before the
+servants.
+
+'Justine, I shall sleep with Minette to-night--that is to say, I shall
+lie down on this sofa by her side. You can go to bed as usual,' said
+Netta.
+
+And when Minette and Justine were fast asleep in their respective beds,
+poor Netta sat and cried the livelong night, with her feet upon the
+fender, and her eyes fixed upon the almost-extinguished fire.
+
+The following morning, when she was watching her child, Howel came into
+the room. He went up to the bed on which Minette lay, and kissed her,
+and asked her how she did. The little girl looked pleased, and putting
+her arms round her father's neck, whispered,--
+
+'Papa! do you know mamma has not been in bed all night? Will you tell
+her I am quite well, and ask her to go to bed?'
+
+'I will, darling. I have a new picture-book for you downstairs Mamma
+will come and fetch it. Mamma, will you come and fetch a new book for
+Minette?'
+
+Netta looked at Howel for the first time, and seeing that his face was
+tolerably pleasant, followed him out of the room, and down into the
+dining-room, where his breakfast was awaiting him.
+
+'Netta! you must make my breakfast, and have some with me. Minette is
+better, and you needn't starve yourself to death,' said Howel, sitting
+down at the breakfast-table.
+
+'Thank you,' replied Netta sulkily. 'I can't eat anything, I am a great
+deal too tired and wretched.'
+
+'Netta, I am sorry I hurt you; but you do aggravate me so, and I have a
+great deal on my mind.'
+
+Netta's face brightened a little.
+
+'Why don't you tell me what you have on your mind, instead of bullying
+me from morning to night?'
+
+'Because a woman cannot understand such matters. But if I do not get
+some money this month we shall be ruined. I have asked my mother up to
+see whether she will advance it, and that will depend on our treatment
+of her. Will you be kind to her?'
+
+'I suppose you will give me some of the money, if you get it, to pay
+servants' wages, and other bills? I am dunned for money from morning to
+night, and never have a farthing to pay.'
+
+'I shall be able to pay everything next month. I am sure of plenty of
+money.'
+
+'And I suppose you want to get money from your mother to pay bets, or
+something of the sort? Why won't you tell me?'
+
+'Yes; I owe it to _your_ friend Dancy. Perhaps you will help me to pay
+_him_.'
+
+'He is no friend of mine. I don't like him; but he would do more for me
+than you would, and is kinder too. But I don't want to be under any
+obligation to him.'
+
+'If you wish to keep a house over your head, or me out of a prison, you
+must either ask him, as a personal favour, to let me off the debt, or
+you must help me to get the money out of my mother.'
+
+'Howel, I don't like underhand ways. I don't mind trying to be civil to
+Aunt 'Lizbeth, provided you tell her exactly how you are situated, and
+promise me never to bet with Captain Dancy, or borrow money of him
+again.'
+
+'I promise most faithfully.'
+
+'And if you can't afford to live in this grand house, Howel, why don't
+you give it up, and take to the law, or anything to get your living?
+Perhaps, if you did, we should be happy again. I would rather work like
+a slave, and not keep a servant, and live in a small lodging, or
+anything, than see you so altered.'
+
+Here Netta began to cry.
+
+'If I get this money from mother, and what I expect from other sources,
+we shall be all right again, and then--'
+
+'And then, Howel, you will give up horse-racing and betting and gambling
+and bad company, and think more of Minette and me--your poor unhappy
+Netta--your wife--your little cousin that you used to say you
+loved!--oh, Howel! Howel! that you hate so now, and treat so unkindly.'
+
+Netta had been standing by the fire-place hitherto, but at this juncture
+she went towards Howel timidly, and kneeling down by his side as he sat
+at the table, put her hands on his arm, and fixed her tearful eyes on
+his face.
+
+Howel was touched. We know that there are moments in the lives of the
+worst of men when better feelings overcome the evil ones; and Howel was
+not utterly bad; and now his guardian angel seemed to be making a great
+effort to reclaim him from his sins. He really loved Netta as much as he
+could love anything. Was she not the only creature in the world who had
+really loved him?
+
+'Then you do not quite hate me, Netta?' he said, putting his arm round
+her neck, 'I thought all the old love was gone.'
+
+'No, no, Howel! Dear, dear Howel! I love you in my heart! but you are so
+changed--so--so--you don't care for my company now. You never come home
+and play and sing as you used to do. You never speak to Minette; you
+never speak to me except--'
+
+Here Netta leant her head on Howel's knees, and began to sob. He put his
+hand on her head, smoothed her hair, and finally raised her from the
+ground, and took her in his arms to his weak, wicked heart--a heart not
+wholly depraved, because there was still in it love for his wife.
+
+For a long time she clung to him; her arms round his neck, her cheek to
+his cheek, her beating heart to his bosom, as if she was afraid that the
+spell would be broken if once she let go. Howel kissed her pale cheek,
+wiped those large black eyes, and comforted her as she had never hoped
+to be comforted again. Vague thoughts entered his mind of the
+possibility of beginning life afresh--of being a better husband and
+father--of giving up his wild, sinful courses. 'Shall the Ethiopian
+change his skin, or the leopard his spots.'
+
+'I will do anything, Howel, darling--anything you wish,' suddenly
+murmured Netta, returning his caresses, 'only you will promise never to
+be unkind again. I will beg, starve for you as long as you love me; but
+you know I am hot-tempered, and when you are cross I get angry; and then
+you are violent, and I am hard and sullen and wicked--oh, so wicked! I
+think I must have lived fifty years in the last five years, Howel, I
+feel so old and altered. Don't make me so hard-hearted again, Howel,
+bach, or I shall die, indeed I shall; I feel it now at my heart.'
+
+Netta put her hand on her heart as she leant against Howel. He raised
+her, and saw that she was of a deathly paleness.
+
+'Don't be--frightened--I have--it--often--only--a spasm,' she gasped, as
+frightened he went to the sideboard, and poured out some brandy into one
+of the tea cups, and putting a little water to it, gave it her to drink.
+
+She soon revived, and recovering a little of her old colour again, put
+her arms round Howel, and thanked him for being so kind. Howel was
+aware, for the first time for many years, that conscience is not a myth;
+his smote him.
+
+'Will you stay at home to-day, Howel?' asked Netta. 'I will write myself
+to your mother, if you will.'
+
+'Yes, Netta, dear, I will. Now, shall we carry the picture-book to
+Minette?'
+
+'No; you must have your breakfast now, and I will make it. Oh! I am so
+happy.'
+
+'And you do not care for Dancy, Netta?'
+
+'No; I hate him.'
+
+Howel kept his word, and stayed at home that one day with Netta and her
+child, and she wrote that day down on the tablets of her memory as the
+brightest spot in six years of trouble and distrust.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE FORGER.
+
+
+In a few days Mrs Griffith Jenkins arrived in London, equally surprised
+and delighted by the invitation she had received from her son and
+daughter-in-law. Netta kept her word, and behaved to her with all the
+kindness and consideration she could assume. She took her to various
+places of amusement, and tried to find pleasure herself in scenes that a
+few years before would have given her great delight; but the forebodings
+of coming evil hung heavily over her, and she could not rouse herself
+into her old spirits. Howel was very kind to her when with her; but
+after that one white day he was not much at home. He went out once or
+twice with her and his mother in the evening, and was so very attentive
+to the latter that she began to think herself a person of consideration
+once more.
+
+'There's kind Howels is, Netta, fach!' she would say. 'There's proud you
+ought to be to be having such a kind husband. But he don't be looking
+well, nor you neither. You was looking as pale as those wox figures at
+Mrs Tuss's; and seure won was as like you as could be. Ach a fi! I
+'ouldn't like to be going again into that little room with all the
+murderers. And Howel was looking quite pale. But such beauty music, and
+dresses, and all like life. I thought I should a-screeked out when that
+man turned and looked at me, and wogged his head, and was nodding, is
+seure as if he was alive, and he only wox!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins had been in London about a week, when Howel began
+carelessly the subject nearest his heart.
+
+'I say, mother, fach, how does your money hold out? I daresay you are
+rich as a Jew by this time.'
+
+'Pretty well, Howel. I hope you do be well off now, and don't be living
+so gay as you wos.'
+
+'Well, mother, if I could just get a few thousands for a couple of weeks
+I should be as rich as Croesus, and out of all those difficulties I told
+you of in another month. Do you know of any one likely to have such a
+sum to lend?'
+
+'Thousands, Howel! why hundreds wasn't plenty with us, let alone
+thousands. You do know that there don't be any wan so rich as you in our
+parts.'
+
+'So I am, mother, or rather shall be by-and-by. I have lived beyond my
+income, but I am going to retrench, and if you could only lend me five
+or six thousands pounds, it would set me right, and I could pay you
+again in a month.'
+
+'Five or six thousand! Why, Howel, I 'ouldn't know how to get it; and I
+don't cheuse to be reuining myself, and bringing myself down again for
+nobody.'
+
+'Not even for me, mother? To save me from jail, perhaps! Ha! ha! I'm
+sure you wouldn't like to see me in jail; and 'pon my honour I don't
+know how I shall keep out of it unless you help me.'
+
+'And where's the thousands and hundreds of thousands your father was
+leaving you? Ten years ago come next Jeune he did die, my poor Griffey.'
+
+'Now, mother, don't humbug me about that. You know you were glad enough.
+Only let me have the money, unless you want me to leave the country,
+never to come back.'
+
+'Ach an wyr! How you be talking. You wos frightening me to death. I
+'ouldn't mind lending you a few hundreds, but--'
+
+'Hundreds won't do, mother. I must have five thousand six hundred before
+this week is out, or else--It is impossible you could be cruel enough to
+see your only son in distress, and not help him out of it.'
+
+'I have been helping you all your life, Howel. I could lend you wan
+thousand, and no more, and if you'll promise to be paying me soon.'
+
+'One thousand six hundred, mother, I must have that at least.'
+
+It would be waste of time to write the reasons urged by Howel to induce
+his mother to advance him this money; but after some hours of entreaty,
+and a promise from him that he would repay it shortly, she consented to
+write the necessary cheque for that sum. She insisted upon the business
+being managed through Mr Rice Rice, her attorney at home, and wrote to
+him to empower him to raise it as he best could for her son at once.
+
+As she was a poor scribe, and a still worse orthographer, Howel
+superintended the letter, and when it was written said he would enclose
+and post it. He was most particular in telling her where and how to
+write the figures; and before the ink was dry begged her to go to a
+davenport, which stood at the other end of the room, for a stamp.
+
+No sooner was her back turned towards him, than with the same pen and
+ink he made the straight figure _one_ into a _four_, and in the cheque
+which she had written, as well as in the accompanying letter, four
+thousand six hundred pounds held the place that one thousand six hundred
+had held when Mrs Griffith Jenkins left the table to go to the
+davenport.
+
+If Howel trembled, or if his conscience smote him when he did this
+dreadful deed, he did not let his mother see it.
+
+'Perhaps, after all, you had better direct the letter, mother,' he said,
+as he finished sealing it. 'If I do it it will look as if I thought you
+couldn't write, and you really write just as well as any other lady of
+your age. I am really very much obliged to you.'
+
+When Howel carried the letter out of the room, and went for a few
+moments into another, he said to himself, 'I can pay the whole back
+after the races, and manage so as to prevent her knowing anything about
+it. And if the worst come to the worst, I must tell her what I did. She
+won't expose me; it will be a furious quarrel, and then all will be
+over. We must keep her here for a long time, and I must get hold of her
+letters first and read them to her, and alter them if necessary. Now I
+must look about for another thousand pounds.'
+
+In due course of time the money was procured for Mrs Jenkins, and paid
+into a London bank. Howel took possession of the letter of advice
+concerning it, and told his mother he had opened it because she was out
+when it arrived, and he had not a moment to lose in obtaining the money
+from the bank. He kissed her, and talked to her, and hurried her and
+Netta to dress for a drive in the park with him, until he made her
+forget to obtain possession of the letter, and so far his fraud
+prospered.
+
+A few mornings after he had received the money, he had a note from Mr
+Deep, containing the intelligence of the return from abroad of Sir
+Samuel Spendall, and that his attorneys were investigating his affairs.
+As soon as he received this note, he went by a succession of omnibuses
+to the east of London, and, as it chanced, into his brother-in-law's
+parish. In this parish there was a wretched-looking suburb, inhabited
+principally by Jews, whose houses were, unlike the whited sepulchres
+metaphorically used in scripture to describe the hearts of their race,
+most unclean without, but magnificent within. Into many of these
+dwellings Howel went in the hope of raising money, but without success.
+His credit was at zero.
+
+In a desolate, but somewhat more respectable-looking house of the same
+parish, he hired a couple of rooms, giving his name as Mr Mills, and
+paying a week's rent in advance.
+
+He was walking up this street, looking for a cab, when he was suddenly
+accosted by his brother-in-law, Rowland Prothero.
+
+'You are coming to see me, Howel, I am so glad,' said Rowland, as they
+shook hands.
+
+'Not to-day; I am here on a little business, and in a great hurry.'
+
+Howel walked on, but Rowland accompanied him.
+
+'You were all out when I called yesterday,' said Rowland, 'and I
+particularly wanted to see you, Howel. When will you be at home?'
+
+'It is impossible to say.'
+
+'It is on your own account; it is about Sir Samuel Spendall that I wish
+to speak.'
+
+Howel turned pale, and stood still for a moment, looking round him as he
+did so to see that no one was listening.
+
+'What of him?'
+
+'Sir Philip told me that he had been heard to say he would dispute your
+right to his property, for you had acquired it by unfair means.'
+
+'The scoundrel!' cried Howel, turning pale. 'You have always something
+agreeable to communicate when we do meet. It is well it is so seldom, Mr
+Rowland Prothero.'
+
+'Oh, Howel! hear me whilst it is yet time, and clear yourself from the
+imputations to which I cannot shut my ears. My eyes, alas! have been
+long opened, and I would have helped you, but neither Netta nor you will
+listen.'
+
+'Cab!' shouted Howel, and a cab drew up, and Howel jumped into it, with
+a 'good morning,' leaving Rowland looking mournfully after it.
+
+The next morning Rowland was at Howel's house very early. He found Netta
+alone, and heard from her that Howel had not been at home since the
+previous morning. She had had a line from him telling her that he was
+going with Mr Deep to Greenwich.
+
+Netta looked ill and anxious. Rowland entreated her to tell him freely
+what made her so unhappy. He said he did not wish to interfere between
+her and her husband, only to advise her for her good.
+
+Netta burst into tears, and said that Howel was very kind now, but that
+she feared there was something on his mind. She knew they were in debt,
+but that Howel told her all would soon be right.
+
+Rowland begged her to come to him if she were in any difficulty; assured
+her of his brotherly love and deep interest in her; pointed out her path
+of duty to her, and urged her to be patient with her husband whatever
+might happen, and to endeavour to win him to better courses; then left
+her with a heavy heart and a promise to return on the morrow. He was
+obliged to be at home that evening for a service in the church.
+
+Late at night Howel returned, anxious and pale. Netta and Mrs Griffey
+had been to see Albert Smith's entertainment, and the latter was in a
+great state of descriptive excitement, when Howel interrupted her by
+saying,--
+
+'Mother, I am very sorry to seem so unkind and inhospitable, but I am
+afraid I must ask you to return home to-morrow.'
+
+'To-morrow! I am feeling too tired to be up in time to-morrow, and,
+seure! if you 'on't give your own mother a home for as long as she do
+like to stay, there's my Lady Simpson who is asking me there, and--'
+
+'Impossible, mother, I must see you off for Wales. I am in great trouble
+about money, and I must leave to-morrow myself or shall be in jail.'
+
+'Name o' goodness, Howel, what wos you doing with what I did give you?'
+
+'Never mind; only, if anything is said to you about that money by any
+one, take care what you say in answer. Don't answer at all, indeed, or
+it may ruin you and me. Now you must pack up your things to be ready for
+the first train. Tell the servants--I will--that you are summoned home
+by a telegraphic message.'
+
+Howel impelled his mother upstairs, and then said to Netta, who was
+standing looking very pale, with her hand on her heart,--
+
+'Netta, you must fill your pockets, and every corner of your dress that
+will contain them, with such jewels and plate as are of value. Money, I
+fear, there is none, unless my mother has any. Send the servants to bed,
+and do this when all is quiet. I am liable to be arrested for debt, and
+do not know when it may or may not take place. Have a cab to-morrow
+morning, and send my mother to the station; then take Minette, at your
+usual hour, through the park to Hyde Park Corner. Start about ten. I
+will meet you. I must not stay here to-night; indeed, I must not stay
+longer.'
+
+Netta threw her arms round Howel's neck, and entreated him not to leave
+her.
+
+'Netta, don't be a fool! You don't want to ruin me, do you?'
+
+Netta withdrew her arms, and stood like a statue before Howel.
+
+'You needn't look so frightened? it will be all right in a few weeks.
+To-morrow at ten, remember.'
+
+Howel kissed her, and again left the house.
+
+Poor Netta set about the work that was appointed her mechanically. First
+of all, however, she went into her mother-in-law's room, and assisted
+her to pack. Mrs Griffey was by turns indignant, alarmed, and sorrowful;
+but finding that she must depart, and that some real difficulty existed,
+she made no further resistance. Seeing that Netta had literally no
+money, she gave her a ten-pound note, under a faithful promise that she
+would not transfer it to Howel.
+
+'He do be very good-for-nothing, Netta, and have been spending money
+enough to buy half London. Tak' you care of this, and write you to me.
+You was very good to me since I was come here.'
+
+The kind word was too much for Netta, and she sat down and cried
+bitterly. Mrs Griffey tried to comfort her by crying too, and so the
+night waned away.
+
+The following morning the cab was sent for, according to Howel's order,
+and a man-servant ordered to accompany Mrs Griffith Jenkins to the
+station and see her off. Netta had never believed it possible that she
+could have cried at parting with her mother-in-law; but after she left
+the house she wrung her hands in despair, and wept as if she had lost
+her last earthly friend.
+
+Still, she thought, Howel is kind, and loves me, so I will not mind what
+else happens.
+
+She ordered Justine to dress Minette, whilst she hurriedly finished such
+preparations as she could make for her uncertain future. She found that
+all Howel's jewels were already gone, so she had only to fill her
+pockets and a bag with the best of her own and some plate and lock her
+drawers. She took it for granted that Howel wanted the jewels for
+himself, and that she would be obliged, when she returned home, to
+secure other things.
+
+As she took Minette by the hand, and led her along the handsome square
+in which they lived, she saw two men look at her very intently, and then
+exchange some words apparently about her. In former days, when her
+bright colour and pretty face attracted the notice of passers-by, this
+would only have pleased her; now it frightened her.
+
+Before they reached Hyde Park Corner Howel hailed her from a cab.
+
+'Netta, would you rather go into Wales to my mother or come with me?'
+said Howel.
+
+'With you, Howel, anywhere, not into Wales for the world.'
+
+Howel leaned back into a corner of the cab, and did not speak again.
+
+Netta did not know where they went, but they got into four cabs in
+succession, driving a certain distance in one, then paying the driver,
+then walking into another street and hailing a fresh vehicle.
+
+At last they reached the far east of London, and found themselves in a
+dirty, wretched street, amongst a squalid population.
+
+'Give me the bag, and take care of your pocket,' said Howel, as they
+walked along the pavement. 'Keep close to me.'
+
+They reached the house where Howel had taken a lodging the previous day.
+He walked through the passage, and bade his wife and child follow him;
+ascended two pair of stairs, and entered a large and tolerably
+respectable room.
+
+There was a letter on the table, which he opened at once. It contained
+the following lines:--
+
+'The double S are comparing notes, and various rumours are in
+circulation amongst that set.'
+
+He put the letter in his pocket, and, turning to Netta, told her to go
+into the bedroom and take off her own and Minette's bonnet, as they must
+stay for a little while where they were.
+
+'Not here, papa,' said Minette, beginning to cry. 'I don't like this
+place.'
+
+'Hold your tongue!' said her father sternly, as Netta led her out of the
+room.
+
+'Netta,' whispered Howel, 'our name is Mills here--just for a time
+only.'
+
+When Netta went into the close, dark bedroom at the back of the
+sitting-room, she took off her sobbing child's things, set her on her
+lap, and by degrees soothed her to sleep. She laid her on such a bed as
+she had assuredly never slept on before, and then returned to Howel.
+
+She stood before him pale and resolute. He was pacing the room rapidly,
+and muttering to himself.
+
+'Howel, I must know all! What is the matter? What is to become of us?'
+she said.
+
+'We must not be seen by our friends for a time, dear Netta, because I
+am liable to be arrested. Will you mind staying here a day or two alone?
+I must go away for a short time on business but will return and remove
+you when it is settled. You are better here than at home, as everything
+will be seized. You are in Rowland's parish, if the worst should come to
+the worst; but I don't want him to know anything about me, as it will be
+all right again by-and-by.'
+
+'Howel, I asked Captain Dancy not to insist upon that money.'
+
+'You did! That is why he let me off with half for another month. What
+did he say?'
+
+'He said, Howel, that if I would go to France with him he would forgive
+your debt.'
+
+'And you, Netta?' Howel clenched his fist.
+
+'And I, Howel? I left the room, and have never seen him since. He called
+after, but I could not speak to him again. How could I?'
+
+'Netta, will you forgive and try to forget how jealous and unkind I have
+been? In spite of all, I have loved you, Netta. Oh! if I had not taken
+you away from your happy home!'
+
+'I can bear anything if you love me, Howel. We will try to get through
+this difficulty, and then you will begin afresh as a clerk or anything;
+and we will be happy--oh, so happy again! Happier than ever!'
+
+Netta smiled through her tears, whilst Howel groaned aloud.
+
+'Think kindly of me, Netta; don't let them make you hate me. I care for
+no one else in the world. If I send for you, will you come to me,
+supposing I cannot come myself?'
+
+'Anywhere! anywhere!'
+
+Netta put her arms around her husband and sobbed aloud.
+
+By-and-by some refreshments that Howel had ordered came up. The landlady
+appeared, who seemed a quiet, meek-looking woman.
+
+'I shall be obliged to leave Mrs Mills and the little girl for a day or
+two,' said Howel. 'You will see they are attended to, I hope.'
+
+'Yes, sir,' said the landlady looking, and, doubtless, feeling
+astonished at the sort of person Netta was, so pretty and well-dressed.
+
+That evening another letter arrived from Mr Deep, which told Howel very
+plainly that writs were issued against him, and that his bills, cheques,
+betting debts, and affairs generally, were being questioned by his
+friends. There was also rather more than a hint of his being suspected
+of forgery.
+
+He went out as soon as he had received that letter, and did not return
+until past midnight. Netta awaited him in an agony of terror lest he
+should return no more.
+
+He gave Netta ten pounds and told her on no account to disclose her real
+name, or give a clue to his having been with her in those lodgings, if
+she should see Rowland.
+
+'But you will be back soon?' said poor Netta.
+
+'In a few days I hope, or else I will send for you. I must leave
+to-morrow morning at daybreak.'
+
+A few weeks ago and neither husband nor wife would have cared how long
+the separation might be, now it seemed death for each to part.
+
+Howel kissed his child again and again as she lay sleeping in her dingy
+bed, and held Netta long in his arms. The only human being who really
+loved him! Him, weak, wild, sinful, godless! yet with one divine spark
+rekindling in his breast--the spark of human love.
+
+He laid his wife, fainting, by the side of her child on the bed, bathed
+her temples with water until he saw that she would revive, and then
+rushed out into the dirty streets, under the misty, murky morning sky, a
+reckless and miserable man.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+THE ACCOUNTANT.
+
+
+'I never shall get through these accounts!' is the soliloquy of Miss
+Gwynne, to whom we return with much pleasure, on my part, at least,
+after a separation of six years.
+
+She is seated in a gloomy but comfortable dining-room, in a house
+situated in one of the squares at the East End of London. We left her in
+her large, airy, country home, looking out upon a beautiful view of hill
+and valley--we find her in a close, dark square, with nothing to enliven
+the scene without but a few dingy shrubs, a row of tall gaunt houses,
+and a smoke-discoloured, soot-filled atmosphere. We left her unhappy and
+discontented--we find her happy and contented. We left her with a mind
+harassed by uncertain plans, disappointed hopes, and humbled pride--we
+find her with a mind strengthened by good purposes, holy aspirations,
+and prayers for humility. Still, we left her and find her Winifred
+Gwynne. She has not lost her idiosyncrasy.
+
+Reader, be not hasty to pronounce upon the suddenness of these changes.
+Six years spent principally amongst the earnest minded, laborious clergy
+of London and their families, in the heart of the most wretched, squalid
+parish, amongst the lowest, most depraved, most ignorant, most utterly
+miserable set of people in England, would sober the most thoughtless
+woman in the world, provided she had a heart. And Freda has not only a
+heart, but one earnestly desirous of doing good.
+
+She has found vent for her energy, occupation for her time, a bank for
+all the money she possesses; therefore we find her in the midst of
+papers covered with figures, containing accounts of ragged schools,
+which she is labouring to reckon up, in the simplest of morning dresses,
+without ornament or extraneous adornment. She is somewhat paler and
+thinner than she used to be amongst the breezy hills of Wales, but her
+eyes are brighter, and the expression of her countenance is gentler.
+
+'How stupid I am!' she exclaims. 'Gladys would reckon them up directly,
+but she is at the school, and I am ashamed to ask Nita, with all her
+accounts.'
+
+She pauses a moment and lays down her pen. Her eyes fall upon an
+unopened letter.
+
+'And I declare I have not broken the seal of my own father's letter,'
+she mutters, performing this duty as she does so, and running through it
+with occasional comments.
+
+'"We hope you will come and spend Christmas--" I suppose I must--"and
+see your little brother, who longs to see sister Freda again--" Humph!
+but who cut her out of Glanyravon Park and all thereto belonging, though
+he certainly is a dear little man. "Her ladyship quite well, and desires
+her love." I suppose I ought to be glad and try to return the love. "Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan and her children were here yesterday. She asked for you,
+and the little ones wished to know when you were coming home--" I am
+much obliged to her, and am afraid I am _not_ too anxious to see either
+her or her husband, in spite of their civility. "Little Harold is really
+a wonderful child! He begins to spell already!" So like my good father.
+Well, I ought to be thankful he is happy, and that it all turned out so
+much better than I expected. But I can't help feeling a kind of wicked
+disappointment when I think that Lady Mary should be quite as good a
+tactician as a second wife, as she was before she married again. But, I
+hope, I am happy that she makes poor papa comfortable and doesn't worry
+him to death. I don't think he loves her now half as well as he does me;
+still, perhaps she suits him better, because she manages him, and I
+never could. But the _tyfydd_ [Footnote: Welsh for heir.] is a dear
+little fellow, and I am really fond of him.'
+
+Miss Gwynne's soliloquy is cut short by a rap at the door, followed by
+the entrance of Rowland Prothero, who says, as he bows and seems about
+to retreat,--
+
+'I beg your pardon--I was told Mr Jones was here.'
+
+'Oh, do come in!' says Miss Gwynne, rising, and advancing to meet
+Rowland; 'I cannot get through these accounts. I have been reckoning and
+reckoning ever since breakfast, and they will not come right. I should
+be so much obliged to you if you would just look them over for me.'
+
+Rowland seated himself at Freda's desk, and began at once to do her
+bidding. The ragged school was the one in which he was so much
+interested, and that he had been instrumental in establishing.
+
+Whilst Miss Gwynne had been living with her friend, Mrs Jones, she had
+seen a great deal of Rowland; they had, in fact, been thrown much
+together. At first, Rowland ceased to come to consult the Joneses, or to
+spend his few spare hours with them, when he heard that Freda was there;
+and, of course, they and she understood and respected his reasons for
+absenting himself; but in the course of time, they met at Sir Philip
+Payne Perry's, at his rector's, and elsewhere, and his reserve slightly
+wore off. When Freda began to assist Mrs Jones in her parish work, and
+threw herself, heart and soul, into the ragged school, they met of
+necessity very frequently. Freda was so studiously polite in her manners
+to him, and so careful to avoid every subject that would recall their
+old relations at Glanyravon, that he gradually felt more at his ease
+with her, and it ended by his resuming his old, friendly intercourse
+with Mr and Mrs Jones. But Freda knew well that, in spite of her best
+efforts to propitiate him, he never forgot those words, 'Do you know who
+I am, and who you are?' He was always gentlemanlike, always kind, always
+ready to do anything she asked him, but he never relaxed the somewhat
+formal respect of his manner. In society, he was quite different with
+every one else to what he was with her. With the Perrys he was as much
+at ease as if he were their own son; and they seemed almost to consider
+him as such. At his rector's he was the life of their little circle, and
+might have been, Freda shrewdly suspected, united to it by a link closer
+than that of curate, had he so chosen; for there was a very pretty
+daughter who evidently looked upon him with favourable eyes. Amongst the
+respectable portion of his flock he was a general favourite, and all the
+young ladies, as young ladies will, worked with and for him; not only in
+the matter of schools, but in slippers and purses. What was still more
+clear and satisfactory to Freda was, that he made way amongst the
+miserable poor.
+
+The ragged school children loved him, and through them, he got at the
+hearts of some of their degraded parents. His seemed a labour of love
+with every one but her. She received his marked politeness and nothing
+more. But he interested her daily. Some new trait of character would
+break out--some little touch of deep feeling--some symptom of a highly
+sensitive nature, which told her how much he must have felt her cutting
+words. He was proud, too, and she liked him for it, although she was
+striving to humble her own pride. What would she not have given to have
+recalled those words! The Rowland Prothero of London, esteemed and loved
+by the wise and good, for his unpretending but strenuous parochial
+labours, his clear, forcible, but very simple preaching--was to her
+quite a different person from him of Glanyravon Farm, the son of her
+father's tenant. In short they were no longer identical. As she was no
+longer the heiress of Glanyravon, but simply Miss Gwynne, Mrs. Jones'
+friend--so he was Mr. Rowland Prothero, a respectable and respected
+London clergyman.
+
+And these are the relations under which they appear, sitting near one
+another over the accounts of the ragged school, which Freda has
+undertaken to keep.
+
+'I think there is a slight fault here, Miss Gwynne,' he says, pointing
+out an error in calculation.
+
+'Of course, I never had a head for figures, and Mrs. Jones could never
+get me to do my sums.'
+
+'Still, the account is quite right in the main, the errors were in the
+adding up, and it is rightly balanced.'
+
+'Thank you, I am so very much obliged to you. I should never have got
+through them. And now, will you tell me of those wretched people that
+Mr. Jones would not let me go and see.'
+
+'I gave them the money you kindly sent, or, at least, laid it out for
+them, as they would have spent it in gin, and they are already more
+comfortable; but the father is gone away, and the mother apparently
+dying.'
+
+'Is there no way of alleviating all this wretchedness?'
+
+'I fear none. Sin is at the root, and as long as the present world
+lasts, there must be misery with it.'
+
+Rowland spoke these words in an unusually melancholy and depressed tone
+of voice, which caused Miss Gwynne to look up from the papers, directly
+at him. He was paler than usual, and his lip quivered. He met her
+glance, and making an effort to rise, said hastily,--
+
+'Can I have the honour of doing anything more for you, Miss Gwynne. I am
+sure I can return you the thanks of the committee, indeed of every one
+concerned for--'
+
+'I want no thanks, I deserve no thanks from any one; are you ill, Mr.
+Rowland? You have been in some of those dreadful haunts, and they have
+upset you. May I get you something?'
+
+'Thank you, I am quite well.' Rowland's lip quivered still more and he
+grew still less calm, as he again met Miss Gwynne's eye fixed on him
+with evident interest.
+
+'I am sure you are ill; you must allow me the privilege of a
+parishioner, if not of an old friend, and let me ask what is the
+matter?'
+
+Her manner was so kind, that Rowland's reserve was for a moment
+overcome.
+
+'Thank you, Miss Gwynne--my poor sister.'
+
+'Yes, what of her? I assure you I am truly interested for her; poor
+Netta!'
+
+'I fear she is in serious trouble, I scarcely know what myself as yet;
+but she, her husband and child have left the house, and Howel's
+creditors have taken possession of all his effects. No one knows where
+they are gone, or what is to become of them.'
+
+Rowland had not the courage to tell Miss Gwynne that the police were
+searching for Howel right and left upon a charge of forgery.
+
+'Poor Netta! I am very, very sorry. What can have reduced him to this?'
+
+'Gaming, horse-racing, speculating! These will waste the largest fortune
+and ruin the fairest hopes. But he deserves it all, only my poor sister
+is the victim, and the respectability of an honest name is impeached.'
+
+'Oh no--poor Netta's hasty marriage and wilful temper were the causes of
+her trouble, it can have nothing to do with your family; besides, many
+people of high family and position are obliged to fly for debt.'
+
+'That is dishonour enough, Miss Gwynne, but this--this is worse; Howel
+is suspected of--of forgery.'
+
+Rowland gave Miss Gwynne one quick, searching glance as he said that
+word, and then rose to go. She rose, too, but putting out her hands, and
+looking him full in the face, kindly and gently, she said,--
+
+'Mr. Prothero, I am very sorry for you; for Netta; for all. But if this
+is true, the sin and the shame will rest with him who caused them--it
+cannot fall on you or yours.'
+
+Rowland shook the offered hand, and then left the room.
+
+In the hall he met Gladys, who had just come in from the school. Frisk
+was barking and jumping about her with great animation, not having
+grown, as Freda foretold, a useless and fat London dog. When Rowland
+appeared, he transferred his attentions to him, and looked much
+disappointed at receiving none in return.
+
+Rowland shook hands with Gladys, and asked her to come with him into Mr
+Jones' little study, where he told her, more clearly than he had told
+Miss Gwynne, what he knew of Howel and Netta.
+
+He said that he had been to their house the previous day in the
+afternoon, and had found it occupied by sheriffs' officers and
+policemen, who were trying, in vain, to ascertain from the servants
+where their master and mistress were. All that they knew was that their
+master did not sleep in the house the previous night, and that their
+mistress left it that morning. Rowland had waited until late at night,
+but no further intelligence was gained.
+
+He gleaned that Howel was accused of having forged cheques, at different
+times, to a very large amount, in the names both of Sir Samuel Spendall
+and Sir Horatio Simpson. The frauds had been discovered through a cheque
+on the latter's bank, purporting to be written by him for five hundred
+pounds, received by Howel a few weeks before. Sir Horatio Simpson having
+gone himself to his bankers for some money, it was found that he had
+overdrawn his account, and, upon examining his late cheques, he utterly
+disclaimed that of Howel, and declared it forged. The result of this was
+a general examination of his banking accounts for the last four years,
+and the discovery of forgeries, by alteration of figures and forged
+signatures, to the amount of some five or six thousand pounds.
+
+At the same time Sir Samuel Spendall's attorneys found, from a rigid
+examination of that baronet's affairs, that Howel's claim on him did not
+amount to two-thirds of his demand, and that various signatures to
+betting debts, and loans of money, etc., were forgeries.
+
+In addition to this, Howel's own debts, both on the turf and to his
+tradesmen, were enormous, and ignominy surrounded him on all sides.
+
+Rowland groaned aloud as he told Gladys these horrible truths, and
+Gladys had no words of comfort; all she could say was,--
+
+'It is not poor Netta's fault; it is not yours, Mr Rowland, or that of
+any one belonging to you.'
+
+'But the shame, Gladys; you know my father, it will be his death.'
+
+'Oh no, sir, he always expected something of the kind. I have often
+heard him say so. If we could only find Mrs Jenkins and her child it
+would not be so bad.'
+
+Mr Jones came in, and Gladys left the room and went to Miss Gwynne.
+
+Gladys has become the friend and confidential adviser of every member of
+that small household; no one but herself considers her as a servant. She
+acts as housekeeper for Mrs Jones, maid to Miss Gwynne, school teacher
+and district visitor to Mr Jones and Rowland, almoner and confidante to
+all. Gladys, within doors, Miss Gladys, without; no one knows that she
+has any other name. In spite of her beauty, her youth, her timidity, she
+goes amongst scenes and people, from whom most women, even the best,
+would shrink, and seems to bear about with her a charmed life and
+invisible strength that nothing can destroy.
+
+Amongst the wretched Irish who inhabit a portion of that vast, depraved
+parish, she has an influence that even the clergy cannot boast, due to
+her Irish extraction and slight accent; and the sufferings she has
+herself undergone from gaunt famine and grim death, make her keenly
+alive to their wants and feelings. No one has such power over the poor
+untutored heathen children of the ragged school as she has, and no one
+loves them as she does. She, too, like her mistress, has found her
+vocation in their city home; who cannot find a vocation in any home, if
+they will only look around them for it?
+
+Whilst Rowland and Mr Jones discuss the sad news Rowland has to tell,
+Miss Gwynne, Mrs Jones and Gladys discuss it also, for Mrs Jones has
+joined the pair in the dining room. There is but one feeling in that
+household--sorrow for Rowland and his family, anxiety about Netta. Tears
+are in the eyes of all those true-hearted women as they think of the
+probable fate of the once bright little belle of their country
+neighbourhood, deserted, perhaps amongst the wild wildernesses of London
+houses.
+
+Mr Jones endeavours to console Rowland by suggesting that if Netta is
+left by her husband she will surely fall back upon her brother; and when
+he has exhausted what little portion of hope he can inspire, Rowland
+turns resolutely to subjects that must be attended to, even if his heart
+were breaking from sorrow.
+
+The respected rector of that large parish was in very uncertain health,
+and had gone abroad with his family for three months, leaving all the
+parochial duties in the hands of his two curates. They were heavy enough
+for three clergymen, but Mr Jones and Rowland found them almost too
+weighty for them, unassisted by their chief; however, they fought
+manfully through them, Sundays and week days.
+
+Rowland refused Mr and Mrs Jones' invitation to dinner, and, crossing
+the square, entered his solitary lodging in one of the opposite houses,
+and began to write to his brother Owen. He told him all that he knew of
+Howel and Netta, and begged him to break it to their parents as best he
+might.
+
+When he had finished his letter he prepared to go out again. His
+landlady brought him some luncheon, but he could not touch it. He went
+first to his ragged school, and there the sight of those children of
+crime and infamy recalled his little niece to his mind, and made his
+heart sink still lower with the fear of what she might become. Never had
+he spoken with such feeling to the motley throng that stood about him as
+he did that day. Then he had to thread some of the haunts whence those
+children came to seek out the miserable parents to whom they had been a
+sort of introduction, and never before had he experienced so forcibly
+that he was their brother, even theirs, as now that he knew that his
+sister's husband was 'a thief and a forger;' he could almost fancy that
+they already pointed to him as belonging, at least, to one as degraded
+as themselves.
+
+That evening he read prayers and lectured in one of the churches. He
+lectured extempore, and it was noted by all his congregation that more
+than once his feelings nearly overcame him. They thought and talked of
+the fact, when, at a later period, they heard of his family sorrow. But
+they all said that his 'word was with power,' and there was many a moist
+eye amongst them as he warned them, in language made even more forcible
+than usual by the events of the day, against the pleasures and vices of
+the world.
+
+After the service many of the school teachers and Scripture-readers met
+him in the vestry to have their work allotted, and their word of advice
+and encouragement. Again he pressed upon them the subject brought home
+to his heart, that of resisting in youth the 'temptations of the world,
+the flesh, and the devil.'
+
+His youthful regiment of soldiers talked to one another afterwards of
+the earnestness and piety of Him who led them on in their battle against
+evil, and prayed to become more like one who was so devoted to 'fighting
+that good fight,' which they had enlisted to join in.
+
+Tired and exhausted, Rowland returned to his lodging. He tried to review
+the events of the day, but in doing so, fairly broke down. He had been
+striving to keep his mind in subjection by beating down his monster
+enemy, pride, for the last six years; but he found that he was still
+rampant within him. It was not simply the grief for a sister's distress
+and a brother-in-law's sin that he felt, but strong personal
+mortification. How could he think of self, of the Perrys, of his rector,
+of his family, of his parishioners and their opinion, above all, how
+could he think of Miss Gwynne, who disdained him,--at a time when every
+personal feeling ought to be merged into sympathy with others? He prayed
+and struggled against the tempter; prayed for his sister; above all, for
+Howel; in words too fervent and holy for these pages; and went to bed
+and slept from mere exhaustion of mind and body. Little did Netta
+imagine, when she made that disobedient step into the dark future, what
+misery it would bring upon all who loved her!
+
+Pause, then, and think, all you young women who may be meditating a
+similar course, even whilst reading this story, or may be at issue with
+your parents, because their experience shows them a future which your
+inexperience cannot show you! Pause and think that Netta is no
+fictitious character, her story no mere creation of an author's brain,
+but the portrait and history of one out of hundreds of wilful daughters
+brought to shame and grief, and bringing all belonging to them to shame
+and grief by an unblessed and unholy marriage.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+THE FORGER'S WIFE.
+
+
+Days and weeks passed, and there was no intelligence of Netta. Rowland
+had heard from Owen of the domestic misery at home, and also that he had
+been to see Mrs Griffith Jenkins, who disclaimed all knowledge of her
+son's hiding place, or what had become of his wife and child. Her own
+grief was too real to allow even the sceptical Owen to doubt it; and
+when, in addition, she gave him to understand that she, too, was nearly
+ruined by Howel's forgeries, but that she would die rather than tell any
+one else of it, he could only pity the wretched mother who had, by her
+bad example and teaching, helped to train her son for the ruin into
+which he had fallen.
+
+Rowland heard that Mr Deep had been arrested upon a charge of abetting
+Howel in his crimes, and that a search-warrant for the examination of
+his papers had brought to light other nefarious dealings, as well as an
+unsigned letter, supposed to be in Howel's writing, intimating his
+intention of going to America. This had caused inquiries to be made at
+the docks, and police emissaries to be despatched forthwith to America.
+A person answering his description had sailed for that continent from
+Southampton the day after Howel left his house, but unaccompanied by
+wife or child.
+
+Strange to say that the Epsom races had come off, and that Howel's
+horse, Magnificent, had actually won the Derby stakes! Too late! save
+for his creditors and those he had defrauded. Still, doubtless, one more
+bitter drop in the cup of his despair, wherever he might chance to be
+drinking it.
+
+All that he had left behind him was sold, hunters inclusive, and this
+Magnificent alone, particularly after the Derby, yielded a princely
+fortune. Too late, either for further crimes, or poor Netta's hoped-for
+reformation.
+
+It was hard work for Rowland to go through his heavy parochial duties
+with this great misfortune hanging over his head. But if the sympathy
+and kindness of friends could help him in his work, and support him
+under the pressure of anxiety, he was helped and supported. Still it was
+evident to all that he fled from society, and in spite of the delicate
+tact of the Joneses and Freda, he had scarcely been near them since that
+first day. Whether it was pride or susceptibility, he could scarcely
+tell himself, but he could not bring himself to thrust his sorrow and
+those of his family upon others. He caused every possible search to be
+made, through the police and otherwise for Netta, but in vain.
+
+But Providence answered his prayers, when his own efforts seemed
+fruitless, and that through the instrumentality of one of the poor
+children, for whose benefit he had exerted such talents as God had given
+him.
+
+Some four years before, a miserable girl of eleven years old had become
+one of his ragged school children. I say _his_, because even his rector
+allowed him the merit of establishing the school. Through this child,
+Rowland became acquainted with her mother, a wretched, starving widow,
+living in squalor and iniquity. Miss Gwynne had helped her temporally,
+Rowland spiritually, and when she had died, about a year ago, he had
+strong hopes that much suffering had brought forth a sincere repentance.
+
+Her little girl was one of the many examples of the blessed effects of a
+ragged school. At her mother's death she was fifteen years old,
+teachable and anxious to be taught. Rowland prevailed on a respectable
+woman, the lodging-house keeper, in whose house Netta had found a
+refuge, to try her as a servant, and she had turned out well.
+
+So it was that this girl, having an idea that Rowland could effect
+wonders, waited for him one Sunday evening after service, and asked if
+she might speak with him. She told him, with a long preface of
+apologies, that she did not know if she was right in saying what she was
+going to say, but that there was a poor lady in her mistress's second
+floor, who was very ill, out of her mind she thought, and who hadn't a
+friend in the world. The lady had forbidden her mistress to speak to any
+doctor or clergyman about her, but she had not forbidden her. And indeed
+it seemed almost worse to see a lady in such trouble and sickness than
+it did those who were used to it, as she, and the like of her had been,
+and would be still, but for Mr Prothero.
+
+'What is her name?' asked Rowland eagerly.
+
+'Mrs Mills, sir.'
+
+Rowland's sudden hope fell.
+
+'And she has a little girl, sir, who isn't well either, and who does
+nothing but cry and moan.'
+
+'What is her name?'
+
+'Her mamma calls her Minette, or some such name, sir.'
+
+'I will come with you now,' said Rowland, in great agitation. 'Make
+haste; I suppose she has been with you some time.'
+
+'More than a month, sir, and she is always expecting some one to
+come--and no one comes.'
+
+Rowland strode on, fast--faster than he had once before walked with
+Gladys--heedless of everything around him. In about a quarter of an hour
+he and the girl reached the lodging house.
+
+'You will tell missus how it was, please, sir. I don't think she can be
+angry, sir.'
+
+'I am sure she will not be angry; tell her that I want to see her.
+
+Mrs Saunders, the landlady, came at once.
+
+Rowland inquired into the particulars of Netta's arrival at her house,
+her illness, etc., and heard what we already know of Howel's sudden
+departure; and the following account, in addition of the month Netta had
+spent since he left her.
+
+'The morning after Mr Mills left, sir,' said the landlady 'Mrs Mills did
+not ring for breakfast, or show any sign of being up. I waited for a
+long time, and then I went and listened at the bedroom door. I heard a
+kind of moaning, and was so frightened, I made so bold as to go in. I
+found the poor lady lying down on the bed, beside the little girl, who
+was still asleep. She seemed more dead than alive, and looked at me
+terrified-like, as if she didn't know who was coming in. When she saw
+me, she tried to get up and look cheerful, and to give account of her
+never having undressed. I went and made her some tea, and got her to go
+into the sitting-room by the fire which the girl lighted, for she was as
+cold as death. Then I dressed the little girl, who awoke and began to
+cry when she saw how pale her mamma looked, and I told her to try to
+make her mamma eat and drink. And the little dear, like an angel as she
+is, began to comfort her mother, and to coax her, and when I saw the
+poor lady begin to shed tears over the child I went away.
+
+'Ever since that morning, sir, she has been in a kind of a dream. She
+does nothing but look out of the window, up and down the street, as if
+she was expecting some one, and whenever there is a step on the stairs,
+she runs to the door and peeps out. And then, when the postman's knock
+is heard, she starts, turns red, turns pale, and puts her hand on her
+heart. I am sure she has heart complaint, and I asked her to let me send
+for a doctor, but she wouldn't hear of it. Sometimes I think she's a
+little crazed. Once I mentioned the clergy, and asked if she wouldn't
+like to see one, and said you and Mr Jones, sir, were very kind
+gentlemen. She started up, and said, "Hush! hush! not for worlds--not
+for worlds! Mr Mills will soon be back!" She gave me a ten-pound note to
+change twice--and I was obliged to buy everything for her and the little
+girl, for they hadn't a rag with them, except what they stood up in. I
+was as careful as I could be, but the money went, and now she talks of
+selling some jewels and things she brought with her. Oh, sir! if you
+could find their friends!'
+
+As may be supposed, Rowland had some difficulty in controlling his
+emotion during this recital. When Mrs Saunders paused, he said,--
+
+'I have every reason to believe that I know this poor lady, and, if you
+will trust me to go to her, I am sure that I shall be of service. I must
+go quite alone. You may depend upon my having a right to do this.'
+
+'Whatever you do, sir, is sure to be right and kind. If you will take it
+upon yourself I shall be only too glad. You know the room, sir? the one
+where you used to go and see my poor husband.'
+
+Rowland was upstairs immediately. Almost before he reached the door, a
+pale, haggard face peered out of it.
+
+'It is--it is Howel!' cried poor Netta, rushing into the gloomy passage,
+and throwing her arms round Rowland's neck.
+
+'No, Netta--dearest Netta! it is I, Rowland--your brother,' said
+Rowland, supporting his fainting sister back into the room.
+
+'Uncle! Uncle Rowland! I am so glad!' exclaimed a little voice, as
+Minette ran towards him and clasped his knees.
+
+As, the glare of the gas by which the room was lighted fell upon Netta's
+face, Rowland half believed that it was the corpse of his once blooming
+sister that he was placing on the sofa.
+
+'Fetch some water, Minette, darling,' said Rowland, supporting Netta.
+
+'This is what mamma takes,' said the child, bringing Rowland a small
+bottle labelled 'Prussic acid' from the bedroom.
+
+'I cannot give her this. Is there no wine?'
+
+'The little girl went to an old chiffonier and brought a decanter with
+wine in it. Rowland poured some down Netta's throat, and she recovered.
+
+'Rowland, is it you? Not--not--' muttered Netta, as she strove to rise.
+'I think you had better go. Perhaps, when he comes, he won't like--oh,
+my heart.'
+
+'Be calm, dear Netta; I will do nothing you dislike. If Howel comes back
+I will go away directly. I will be most careful of what I say. You need
+not fear me, Netta,--your brother who loves you so dearly'
+
+'You won't go away again, uncle, will you?' said the pale, little
+Minette, climbing on Rowland's knee and nestling her head in his bosom;
+'or will you take mamma and me away from this nasty place?'
+
+'No, dear, Uncle Rowland will not leave you, he is so very glad to find
+you.'
+
+Tears, actual tears, filled Rowland's eyes as he kissed the brow of the
+child, who was soon fast asleep in his arms, and as he held Netta's thin
+hand and looked at her bewildered face.
+
+'Did you say you loved me, Rowland?' asked Netta, looking at him with a
+strange, wandering glance, whilst large tears rolled down her cheeks. 'I
+don't think I deserve any one's love, do I? Is mother vexed that I have
+been away so long?'
+
+'Yes, dear, and you must come home at once. You must come to me first to
+get strong, and then--'
+
+'Hush! hush! No, I cannot leave this house,--I will not; never, never
+till Howel comes or sends for me. Isn't that some one on the stairs?'
+
+'I will see, dear.'
+
+'No, not you,--not you.'
+
+'It is some one gone to the next floor. Lie still, dear Netta.'
+
+'It is nice having you, Rowland; but if he should come--'
+
+'I would go away. You are ill, Netta. Tell me what is the matter with
+you.'
+
+Rowland was feeling Netta's pulse, and found that they were too rapid to
+be counted, whilst he could literally hear the pulsation of her heart.
+
+'I don't know; something at my heart. And--and--my head, just here,--at
+the top. It is so burning, like fire.'
+
+'We must nurse you, Netta. If you would only come to my lodgings.'
+
+'Hush! hush! not for the world. I will stay here till--I am sure that is
+a step.'
+
+'No dear. Try to be calm and sleep for half-an-hour, whilst I go and
+make some arrangements.'
+
+'Do you think he will come to-night?'
+
+'I scarcely think he can, Netta. You know he is obliged to hide, dear,
+do you not? for--'
+
+'Yes, yes! he told me for a few days for debt, and then he would come
+back. But he didn't murder Captain Dancy, did he?'
+
+Netta started up and fixed her eyes wildly on her brother.
+
+'No,--I assure you, no! I saw some one who saw Captain Dancy yesterday.'
+
+'Thank God! thank God!'
+
+'And, Netta, I do not think he can venture to come back just yet; so you
+must try to get well for all our sakes.'
+
+'Yes, I will, that I may go to him. I will sleep now. Put Minette by my
+side. Poor Minette!'
+
+Rowland laid the child's head on her mother's lap, and arranged the
+pillows for Netta, and then went, with a heart full to bursting, to Mrs
+Saunders.
+
+'Mrs Saunders,' he said, 'I know that I can trust you. The poor lady to
+whom you have been so kind is my own sister, for whom we have been
+anxiously searching all this time. I don't know how far secrecy may be
+necessary, but, at present at least, do no let this fact go beyond
+yourself. Her husband has reduced her to what you see. I must leave her
+for half-an-hour; meanwhile, will you prepare supper, make a cheerful
+fire, let off the gas, and give us a couple of candles? Make the room as
+home-like as you can, in short. After my sister and the little girl are
+gone to bed, put a couple of blankets on the sofa in the sitting-room
+for me. I cannot leave her to-night.'
+
+'Excuse me, sir,' said Mrs Saunders, 'wouldn't your sleeping here excite
+observation, if secrecy is necessary. You may depend on my care. Sarah
+has slept on the sofa for a fortnight, unknown to Mrs Mills, to be
+within call.'
+
+'Perhaps you are right; but I want to make my sister fancy she is at
+home. It might recall her mind, which is evidently wandering. I shall be
+back soon.'
+
+Rowland walked as fast as he could to Mr Jones'. He found him, his wife,
+and Freda together in his library.
+
+'I must apologise for coming so late,' he began; 'but I know you are so
+kindly interested in my poor sister that you will excuse me. I have
+found her and her child, and cannot prevail on her to leave her rooms at
+Mrs Saunders', where she is.'
+
+Then Rowland told his friends shortly how he had found her, and that he
+feared her mind was in a most uncertain state.
+
+'She evidently does not know her husband's crimes, but thinks he is
+hiding on account of debt, and is expecting him to fetch her away every
+moment. I think if we could distract her thoughts from this one subject
+she might get better; but she is very ill, bodily as well as mentally.'
+
+'Would not the sight of old friends be the best restorative?' suggested
+Miss Gwynne. 'Gladys and I could go to her, and as we are in the habit
+of visiting the sick in the parish, no suspicion could attach to our
+being with her; for it would never do, in poor Netta's state, to expose
+her to inquisitive people connected with her husband's flight.'
+
+'Thank you--thank you, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland 'This is what I
+wished, but scarcely dared to ask.'
+
+Miss Gwynne left the room, and returned accompanied by Gladys.
+
+'Gladys says she is ready to go at once, if necessary,' said Freda; 'and
+we can do without her, cannot we, Serena?'
+
+'Quite well,' said Mrs Jones; 'but it will not do to excite an invalid,
+and so sudden a visit may not be good for her.'
+
+'She must not be left another night without a friend at hand,' said
+Freda decidedly.
+
+Rowland looked his thanks.
+
+'Could not Mr Rowland prepare her for my coming? And I could sleep in
+the sitting-room, and not even see her to-night, but be ready to wait
+upon her to-morrow morning,' said Gladys.
+
+'Yes,' said Freda. 'If you will go back and try to prepare her for
+Gladys, Mr Prothero, she shall follow you in a short time.'
+
+'I will bring her,' said Mr Jones, 'and she can but return, if you
+cannot prevail on your sister to see her.'
+
+Rowland could only press the hands of his kind friends, and hurry back
+to Netta.
+
+He found her sitting in an old easy-chair, with Minette on a stool at
+her feet, fast asleep. The child refused to go to bed till 'Uncle
+Rowland' came back. There was a bright fire in the grate, and a supper
+was spread on a table drawn close to it. Candles replaced the gas-lamp,
+and the room looked almost cheerful, in spite of its faded red curtains
+and dingy furniture.
+
+Netta had a small book in her hand, which she gave Rowland to look at.
+
+'Mother gave me that when I was ill years ago--how long ago? How old is
+Minette?'
+
+'She must be nearly eight, I think,' said Rowland, turning over the
+small, well-read Testament that had once been his mother's.
+
+'I like that book now, Rowland!' said Netta. 'I am so glad you have come
+back. It seemed so lonesome when you were gone. Ha! ha! Howel used to
+say I must say _lonely_ and not lonesome. Are you sure he won't come and
+find you here?'
+
+'Quite sure. And I am going to bring another old friend to see you?--you
+remember Gladys?'
+
+'Gladys! No, I don't remember her. What! The Irish beggar? I don't like
+her, and she don't like me. I think I was very unkind to her. Yes, I
+should like to see her once to ask her pardon.'
+
+Minette awoke just at this moment, and Rowland took her on his knee, and
+gave her some supper, and tried to make Netta eat, but it was evident
+that she had neither appetite nor inclination for food, though she did
+her best to please her brother.
+
+'This is like old times, Rowland,' she said. 'I like it better than
+grandeur. When will Gladys come? Owen told me she saved mother's life.
+Is it true? Why doesn't mother come?'
+
+'Would you like to see Gladys to-night, Netta?'
+
+'Yes. Will you go and fetch her?'
+
+Rowland found Gladys and Mr Jones in Mrs Saunders' parlour. Gladys said
+she would take her bonnet off, that she might meet Netta as she used to
+do at the farm.
+
+Rowland did not know that Gladys had put on the identical print gown
+that Netta had given her years ago, and which she had kept carefully, in
+remembrance of her. This and a plain cap transformed her into the Gladys
+of Netta's recollection, from the Gladys of Miss Gwynne's attiring.
+
+Her heart beat almost as quickly as Netta's as she entered her room, but
+she steadied her nerves and voice as she went up to Netta, curtseyed,
+and said quite naturally,--
+
+'How do you do, Miss Netta?'
+
+Netta put her hand to her brow, as if to clear her memory, and fixed her
+large bewildered eyes on Gladys. Then she put out her hand, rather
+condescendingly, with something of the old attempt at superiority, and
+finally burst into tears.
+
+The tears were so natural that Rowland and Gladys let them flow on; only
+the latter knelt down by poor Netta's side, and taking her hands in
+hers, pressed them tenderly. Netta threw her arms round Gladys' neck and
+kissed her, and called her, 'Gladys, Gladys, fach!' and said, 'You will
+not leave me.'
+
+And thus the once proud little Netta and the always humble Gladys clave
+to one another, as Naomi and Ruth.
+
+Minette got off her uncle's knee, and climbed up into the chair, and
+put her arms, too, round her mother's neck, and began to cry with her.
+
+Rowland's emotion at this scene found vent in prayer. Inwardly he asked
+that Gladys might be a comfort and support to his dear, wandering,
+forsaken sister.
+
+When Netta's emotion had worn itself out, Rowland prepared to go,
+promising to return early on the morrow.
+
+He asked Netta if she would like him to offer up a few words of
+thanksgiving for their reunion before he left her, and when she assented
+they all knelt together in family prayer. Eight full years had passed
+since Netta had so knelt before.
+
+When Rowland had departed, Gladys asked Minette if she might put her to
+bed. The child looked shyly at her at first, and then allowed her to
+undress her, and to take her to the close, gloomy bedroom. It was so
+late, and the child was so tired, that her little head drooped in sleep
+even before she was undressed, and when Gladys laid her pale cheek on
+the pillow she slept soundly at once. Then Gladys returned to the
+sitting-room, and found Netta at the door listening.
+
+'Hush! you had better go. I think he is coming,' she said.
+
+Gladys withdrew for a moment, till the steps were no longer heard. As
+long as Netta had been occupied with her brother and Gladys, she seemed
+to have forgotten the passing sounds, but when left alone she listened
+as before.
+
+With some difficulty Gladys prevailed on her to go to bed. Mrs Jones had
+given her night-lights, and a slight sleeping potion before she left
+home, upon the chance of their being wanted; and she put one of the
+former in the bedroom, and gave Netta the latter. She sat by her side
+until she fell asleep, and then returned to the sitting-room, literally
+'to watch and pray.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+THE SISTER OF CHARITY.
+
+
+The following morning, soon after eight o'clock, there arrived a basket
+from Miss Gwynne, containing various meats and condiments that she
+thought might be good for Netta and her child, and, above all, a nosegay
+of Glanyravon flowers. Mr Gwynne had of late taken to send his daughter
+baskets of game, poultry, and other country cheer, to which her
+particular ally, the old gardener always added a tin of well-packed
+flowers. These Miss Gwynne was in the habit of tending and treasuring,
+as people in large cities alone can tend and treasure flowers, until
+their last odour and colour departed, and these she now gladly
+sacrificed to Netta.
+
+It was an October morning, dull and misty. Gladys had kept up the fire,
+and when Rowland's friend, Sarah, came to clean the room, she found that
+her work had been done for her.
+
+'Oh, Miss Gladys,' said the girl, 'why did you?'
+
+'Never mind, Sarah, you get the breakfast things and boiling water, and
+I will do the rest.'
+
+Netta and her child slept late, and so heavily, that Gladys thought they
+would never awake. She had arranged and rearranged the room, the
+breakfast, everything; and was employed in mending a rent in Minette's
+frock, when she heard the little girl say 'Mamma!' She went into the
+bedroom, and found Minette sitting up in bed, and her mother still
+sleeping. She washed and dressed the child, who seemed to take to her
+naturally, and then led her into the sitting-room. Her delight was so
+unbounded at the sight of the breakfast and the flowers on the table,
+that her exclamations pierced the thin partition, and awoke her mother.
+
+'He is come! he is come!' cried Netta, jumping out of bed, and hastening
+into the sitting-room in her night-dress through the door that
+communicated with the bedroom.
+
+When Gladys saw the wild excitement of Netta's manner, and the unusual
+gleam of her eyes, she understood what Rowland meant by saying that her
+mind was unsettled; when she saw Gladys, she started, and ran back again
+into the bedroom, whither Gladys followed her. A fit of depression and
+pain at the heart succeeded, as they always did, this new
+disappointment; and it was evident to Gladys that the only chance of
+restoring her to health of mind or body was by keeping her amused, and
+distracting her thoughts from her husband.
+
+Minette brought in the flowers, and Gladys ventured to say that they
+came from Glanyravon, and that Miss Gwynne had sent them. The flowers,
+or their associations, brought the tears, which were the best outlets
+for poor Netta's hysterical feelings, and when she had minutely examined
+each--chrysanthemums, verbenas, salvias, geraniums--she shook the one
+carnation from the vase, and kissing it, and pressing it to her heart,
+said,--
+
+'This came from mother, how good of her to think of me.'
+
+Then she let Gladys help her to dress, and went to the well-stored
+breakfast-table, sitting down on a chair Gladys placed for her. She
+seemed to take up the teapot mechanically, and began to pour out the
+tea; Gladys did not attempt to sit down, but waited upon her and
+Minette, as if she were, indeed, the servant she professed to be. Either
+Netta took this as a matter of course, or was too much absorbed in other
+thoughts to give it consideration.
+
+'Mamma, I should like Gladys to have some breakfast with us,' said
+Minette, 'she must be so hungry. I think she is a lady, mamma; I like
+her, she is so kind.'
+
+'Yes, Gladys, do,' said Netta, 'you know this is not Abertewey. But
+where did you get this game?'
+
+'Miss Gwynne sent it, ma'am, she will come and see you by-and-by. I am
+sure I hear Mr Rowland's voice on the stairs,'
+
+Gladys said this to avoid another start, and Rowland appeared. Having
+kissed his sister and niece, and shaken hands with Gladys, he sat down
+to the breakfast-table. Gladys was still standing, but he begged her to
+sit down, and she did so.
+
+'Miss Gwynne sent me all this, Rowland,' said Netta, 'except the
+carnation, that was mother's.'
+
+Netta had placed it in her bosom.
+
+'Uncle must have a flower too, mamma,' said Minette, jumping up, and
+taking him a red geranium. 'Let me put it into your button-hole, it
+smells so sweet.'
+
+Rowland smiled and coloured as that sprig of red geranium from
+Glanyravon was placed in his coat by his little niece, and in spite of
+his better resolutions, when he went home, it was transferred to a
+glass, and treasured as long as imagination could fancy it a flower.
+
+After breakfast, Gladys asked Netta if Minette might go with her to see
+Miss Gwynne, as she was obliged to leave for a short time.
+
+'Gladys, you are going away, and would carry off my child, I know you
+are,' said Netta, 'all, all! nobody cares what becomes of me. Why can I
+not die?'
+
+Minette's arms were round her mother's neck in a moment.
+
+'I will stay till you return, Gladys,' said Rowland.
+
+'She will not come back if once she goes,' repeated Netta; 'none of them
+do, except you, Rowland. Owen never did--mother never did--Howel--oh! he
+will! he will!'
+
+'They will both return, dear Netta, only let Minette go.'
+
+'No, uncle, I won't leave mamma, never--never!'
+
+Gladys went away alone. Sarah came to clear the breakfast things, and
+when Netta was seated in her old armchair, Rowland again began to urge
+her to leave the lodgings she was in, and either come to his, or accept
+an invitation that he brought her from Mrs Jones to go to her house.
+
+'I will never leave these rooms, Rowland,' she said solemnly, 'until
+_he_ fetches me, or sends for me, or bids me go. He loves me, Rowland,
+dearly; he said so. Do you know, I once fancied he did not, and tried
+not to care for him. But when he was in debt and trouble, it all came
+back again. And, you know, he is my husband, even if I did run away from
+home, and I must do as he bids me.'
+
+Mrs Saunders came to say that Mr Wenlock wanted Rowland.
+
+'Perhaps it is he, Rowland,' said Netta.
+
+'No, dear Netta; it is a great friend of mine, a doctor. Will you see
+him to please me? We all want so much to get you better.'
+
+'Yes, if you will not tell him about Howel. I must get well, for it may
+be a long, long journey. Do you know that I dreamt last night that he
+sent for me, and that I was to travel thousands of miles before I met
+him. I must get well, so I will see your friend, Rowland, only don't
+tell him my name. Minette, go with Mrs Saunders, whilst mamma sees Uncle
+Rowland's friend.'
+
+Mrs Saunders took Minette away, and Mr Wenlock, a gentle-looking,
+elderly medical man, a great friend of Rowland's, made his appearance.
+
+Netta rose with a little attempt at her Parisian curtsey, and an effort
+to assume her Abertewey manners; but she soon forgot her grandeur when
+the doctor spoke to her in a soothing, fatherly way, and won her to
+confide her long-concealed illness to him. Rowland left them together,
+and went down to Mrs Saunders' parlour to amuse his little niece.
+
+In something less-than half-an-hour he was joined by Mr Wenlock, who
+took Minette on his knee, and looked at her thin cheeks and hollow eyes,
+felt her weak pulse, and asked her many questions.
+
+When she went upstairs to her mother, Mr Wenlock said,--
+
+'The poor lady is very ill, dangerously, I fear. She must have had some
+heavy sorrows for years to have reduced her to her present state of
+nervousness, nearly amounting to insanity, but not quite. This may yet
+be warded off with great care, total freedom from all excitement, and
+change of air and scene. She has heart complaint of an alarming nature.
+This can never be cured; but if her strength can be restored, she may
+live for years--her natural life, in short--or she may be taken at any
+moment. Any sudden shock would probably be fatal.'
+
+Rowland had not told Mr Wenlock that Netta was his sister. When he heard
+his opinion, so clearly and unreservedly expressed, he was greatly
+distressed.
+
+'She will not be moved from these lodgings,' he said. 'She positively
+refuses. Will it do to oblige her to leave?'
+
+'By no means. But I hear that admirable young woman, whom I call _our_
+Sister of Charity, Miss Gladys, has undertaken to nurse her. If any one
+can persuade her to submit to go elsewhere she will do it. It should be
+into the country. To her native air, if possible.'
+
+Just at this juncture, Gladys returned, and Rowland called her into the
+consultation. Mr Wenlock continued,--
+
+'Lead her to think of her child, who is also in a most delicate state.
+Tell her, that change of air, country air, is absolutely necessary for
+her--which it really is--but she must not be taken from her mother.
+Distract her mind as much as possible from the trouble, whatever it is,
+that oppresses it. Had she been left much longer to herself, she would
+have quite lost her reason. Let her see such friends as can be trusted
+to talk to her cheerfully and to amuse, without wearying her. If you
+undertake this office, Miss Gladys, you will require all your patience,
+and more than your natural health; and once undertaken, you must not
+give it up, for she will get used to you, and depend upon you. Poor
+thing! poor thing! I have seen many such cases, and never need to
+inquire much into private history to know their origin. Wicked, morose,
+unfeeling, cruel husbands are generally at the root, and God only knows
+what their victims have to bear. There will be a pretty large account to
+make up at the Great Day, Mr Prothero, between man and wife, of marriage
+vows broken, and feelings outraged.'
+
+'And my poor--and Mrs Mills,' said Rowland, 'ought, you think, to be
+removed at once from London?'
+
+'Decidedly, if she can be prevailed upon to go of her own free will, not
+otherwise. I will see her again to-morrow, and watch her case as long as
+she remains here. As regards the poor child, Miss Gladys, she, too, must
+be nursed and amused, and well fed. I suppose she has been neglected
+since the measles that her mother told me of, or else she never was a
+strong child. Poor little lamb! It would kill her mother if she were to
+be taken! But, really, I couldn't say--however, we shall see. Good
+morning. I ought to be elsewhere by this time.'
+
+Mr Wenlock took his departure.
+
+'Miss Gwynne is coming directly, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys; 'I suppose I
+had better tell Mrs Jenkins so. She has been out all the morning,
+purchasing everything she thought Mrs Jenkins and Miss Minette could
+want, and is going to bring what she has bought, in a cab, herself,'
+
+'God bless her!' murmured Rowland. 'Gladys, do say Minette, and not
+Miss. Why will you not consider yourself as a friend--a sister?'
+
+Why did that quick, bright flush spread so suddenly over Gladys' pale
+face?
+
+'Thank you, Mr Rowland, I will. But I cannot forget what I really was,
+and am.'
+
+'You are and have been everything to us all, and now all our hopes seem
+to centre in you. Can Miss Gwynne spare you?'
+
+'She proposed my coming herself; but even if she had not, my first duty
+is to my dear mistress and her children.'
+
+'You will receive Miss Gwynne, Gladys. It will be less awkward. I have a
+hundred things to do. Tell Netta that I will come again.'
+
+Rowland went first of all to his lodgings, and wrote a long letter to
+his father. He told him boldly and plainly what Mr Wenlock had said; he
+had already written to his mother the good news of his having found
+Netta. He asked his father in a straightforward manner to receive Netta,
+and to forgive her. He made no comments, preached no sermon. He thought
+that a statement of facts would have more effect on his father than all
+his eloquence, or all the texts of the Bible, every one of which his
+father knew as well as he did. He also began to feel it was not for him
+to lecture and reprimand a parent, even though he knew that parent to be
+in the wrong. As he folded his manly and affectionate letter, he prayed
+for a blessing upon it, and went to preach and pray with many members of
+his flock, who, alas! knew not, like his father, those blessed texts,
+which teach us to 'forgive as we hope to be forgiven.'
+
+Later in the afternoon he went to Netta again; he found Miss Gwynne with
+her, cloak and bonnet thrown off, and Minette in full and eager talk on
+her lap. Netta was looking quite cheerful under the influence of Miss
+Gwynne's animated manners, and Minette's shouts of laughter. Toys and
+picture-books were on the table before the child, and all sorts of
+garments spread about the room. Miss Gwynne had sent Gladys home for a
+large dressing-gown for Netta, and had expressed her intention of
+remaining some time.
+
+Minette jumped off her lap when Rowland entered, and ran towards him,
+with a book in one hand, and a doll in the other.
+
+'Look, uncle, what this kind lady has brought me; and she has made mamma
+quite well. She has been laughing like she used to laugh. Oh, uncle, I
+love her very much, don't you?'
+
+Rowland did not say 'yes,' but went up to Miss Gwynne, and with all his
+heart,--
+
+'Oh, Miss Gwynne, how can we ever thank you enough for all this
+kindness?'
+
+'By not thanking me at all,' replied Miss Gwynne, stooping to pick up a
+book, doubtless to conceal a very decided increase of colour.
+
+These were the first genuine and natural words that Rowland had spoken
+to Miss Gwynne since those fatal sentences under the great oak in her
+father's park.
+
+'It is all like a dream,' said Netta, passing her hand over her eyes and
+forehead, as she did constantly, as if to clear away some cloud that
+obscured her memory. 'If mother were only here, it would be quite
+home-like.'
+
+Truly Gladys had made the room almost a pleasant place. The books and
+work she had brought with her, were already on the tables, and the
+flowers filled all the old-fashioned vases, taken from the mantelpiece.
+The fire was bright, and the hearth swept, and poor Netta and Minette
+were neat and clean.
+
+'Uncle, what have you done with the geranium?' suddenly asked Minette.
+
+'I left it at home, dear.'
+
+'How cross of you, uncle, to let the pretty flower die.'
+
+'I put it in water, Minette, because it came from Glanyravon, where your
+mother and I were born, and where your grandfather and grandmother
+live.'
+
+'I don't like grandmamma, uncle, she was so fat, and talked so
+strangely.'
+
+'You should not say that; but you have another grandmother whom you have
+never seen.'
+
+'Shall we go to her, mammy dear? and will you come, Uncle Rowland? and
+shall the kind lady come, and Gladys? and then we can gather those
+pretty flowers. I saw them growing once at the Crystal Palace, and they
+would not let me pick them.'
+
+Netta forgot her grief, Rowland his sermon, Miss Gwynne her dignity, in
+talking to Minette of Glanyravon and its inhabitants; and, by degrees,
+they fell into a conversation upon old friends and old times, that ended
+in the days when they played together as children in the garden at the
+vicarage, whilst the squire and his lady were paying their periodical
+visits to the vicar and his lady.
+
+Unconsciously it oozed out how every incident of those childish games
+was remembered and treasured up by Rowland, as well as the meetings of a
+more advanced age, when, as a Rugby boy, he tried to make himself
+agreeable to the young heiress, who bestowed no thought on him.
+
+But Rowland suddenly remembered that he was treading on dangerous
+ground, and must not forget who he was, and who Miss Gwynne was. Those
+words always came to haunt him, whenever he felt more than usually
+happy; and how could he feel happy for one moment, with Netta possibly
+dying, and Howel an exile for forgery. Poor fellow, it was only a
+passing gleam through the mists of a hard life; let him enjoy it.
+
+Gladys returned, and Rowland got a cab for Miss Gwynne, who went home to
+dinner. Rowland had some tea, and went to his evening service in the
+church.
+
+After tea, Gladys read a story to Minette, which interested Netta, and
+so the day passed, with but a slight recurrence of Netta's nervous
+excitement.
+
+Gladys asked Netta if she would like her to read a chapter in the Bible,
+and Netta said yes; so, with Minette on her lap, she read one of the
+lessons of the day, which she knew to be particularly applicable to her.
+
+'I will read the other with you,' said Netta, when it was concluded
+taking her mother's little Testament out of her pocket.
+
+'I wish you would teach me to read, Gladys?' said Minette. 'Justine
+taught me to read French, and to say French prayers, but I can't read
+English,'
+
+'Perhaps mamma will teach you, darling!' said Gladys, 'and I will help
+when she is poorly.'
+
+'We will begin to-morrow,' said Netta? 'I meant to get her a governess,
+but we were always moving about, and so I never did.'
+
+They read the second lesson, and when it was finished, Netta asked
+Gladys to sing her a hymn. 'The Evening Hymn, Gladys. I could sing and
+play that once, before I learnt to sing French songs.'
+
+Gladys' beautiful, clear voice soon began the 'Glory to Thee, my God,
+this night,' that has been the evening song of praise of so many
+thousands for so many years. Netta joined at intervals, and her
+wandering eyes seemed to be steadied, for the time, into a fixed
+attention, as she gazed at Gladys whilst she sung.
+
+When she finished, Minette was crying. Gladys soothed her, and asked her
+what was the matter.
+
+'It was so beautiful!' she said. 'Your voice was like the lady's I heard
+at the play, only the words were so solemn. I thought of my papa. I do
+not love him much, because he was cross to mamma, but I want to see him,
+that you may sing to him and make him good.'
+
+Gladys saw Netta's countenance lose the expression of calm it had worn
+for a few moments, and regain the bewildered and painful one of the
+morning.
+
+'We can pray for your papa, my love,' she said, gently.
+
+'Will you, will you, Gladys!' almost screamed Netta. 'Your prayers will
+be heard, you are so good. Now, before Minette goes to bed, that she,
+too, may pray for her father.'
+
+Gladys had long been in the habit of praying with and for people in
+great misery, as well as in great sin, so the request did not startle
+her as it might have startled many. She read, from the Prayer Book, the
+Confession, and then chose the concluding portion of the Litany, feeling
+sure that almost any part of that list of petitions was suitable both
+for Howel and themselves. When she read the words, 'That it may please
+Thee to have mercy upon all men,' she paused, and added earnestly,
+'especially upon him for whom we now desire to pray,' and little Minette
+added to this, 'that is my poor papa.'
+
+It was with difficulty that Gladys could conclude, she was herself so
+affected by Netta's sobs, and Minette's innocent petition, but when they
+rose from their knees, Netta said, 'I have not really prayed before,
+Gladys, for a long time. Will God ever forgive me?' and Minette
+entreated Gladys 'to teach her prayers in English; she liked them so
+much better than in French.'
+
+Gladys endeavoured to comfort the poor mother by passages from the
+Scripture, and promised the child 'to teach her to pray,' and so she
+helped to repay to her mother and grandmother the debt of gratitude she
+owed to her and her family.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+THE NIECE.
+
+
+THE following day Mrs Jones came to see Netta, and to do her part in
+amusing her, and distracting her mind from Howel's promised return. Mr
+Jones also accompanied Rowland in the afternoon in his visit to his
+sister, and, the ice once broken, these kind and Christian people came,
+alternately with Miss Gwynne, daily, for about a week, during which
+period there had been no news of Howel, either public or private. Mr
+Wenlock visited Netta regularly, but said there could be no improvement
+in her health, and comparatively little strengthening of the mind, until
+she could be removed to country air; this, however, she would not hear
+of, although she cried very much, and was painfully excited, when
+Rowland gave her a letter from her mother, entreating her to come to
+Glanyravon, and made her acquainted with the contents of a letter he had
+received from his father, which we will transcribe.
+
+     GLANYRAVON FARM, _October 9, 18--._
+
+     'MY DEAR SON,--Your letter came duly to hand, and I will not deny
+     that it affected me very much. Netta, set up above her station at
+     Abertewey, after disobeying her parents by running away, is very
+     different from Netta, deserted by her scamp of a husband, and left
+     in a poor London lodging. Bring her home, and we will take care of
+     her and her child, though I would rather lose a thousand pounds
+     than have to see her as she is. Mother wants to go up and nurse
+     her, but as that would kill her, I don't choose to let her go. If
+     you can't bring her down, Owen shall fetch her. I always said how
+     it would all end. Netta will believe me now it's no good; but no
+     need to tell her that. I wish Howel the--Well, I won't say more,
+     but remain your affectionate father, DAVID PROTHERO.'
+
+Miss Gwynne was very anxious to tell Netta that Howel was supposed to be
+in America, and that it was well known he could not return; and at last
+Rowland took Mr Wenlock into full confidence and asked him whether it
+would be advisable to do so. He said that he feared she would be
+frightened at first, and then consider it a _ruse_ to get her away.
+However, something must be done. To tell her that her husband was a
+felon would kill her; and she would die if she remained in that close
+air. He would think the matter over, and decide.
+
+It was, however, decided for them the following morning. Netta was the
+first to hear, as usual, the postman's rap. Manoeuvre as she would,
+Gladys could not prevent this, and it always brought on considerable
+excitement. This morning, however, there was actually a letter for
+Netta, and Sarah went upstairs with it to Gladys. Although she called
+Gladys out of the room to give it to her, Netta suspected something, ran
+into the passage, and seized the letter.
+
+Gladys was obliged to support her back to the sofa, and give her some
+medicine, before she was sufficiently herself to open it When she
+recovered, she waited for Gladys to leave the room, which she thought it
+best to do, and then broke the seal. The letter contained the following
+words:--
+
+     'DEAREST,--You had better go to your mother or mine. Kiss our child
+     for me. Believe that I love you. God bless you.'
+
+When Gladys returned to the sitting-room, upon a cry from Minette, she
+found Netta in a swoon. The letter was tightly clasped in her hand, the
+envelope was on the floor. She ventured to look at the address and
+postmark. The former was to Mrs Mills, the latter some illegible place
+in America. She wanted no more information, and asked for none. She
+brought poor Netta to herself with difficulty, and let her put the
+letter in its envelope, and both in her bosom, without a question. Netta
+lay on the sofa, with her eyes closed, and said not a word. All that
+Gladys or Minette could do to attract her attention was unavailing. But
+when Rowland came, she roused herself sufficiently to say, 'I am ready
+to go home now, Rowland: I must go directly.' And then she relapsed into
+a state of passive inaction. Rowland went for Mr Wenlock, and was
+fortunate in finding him at home. He accompanied him to Netta, and said
+that she must be roused by a change of some kind. Rowland said that it
+was absolutely necessary to write to summon his brother to fetch Netta,
+and that by the time the letter reached home, and Owen reached London,
+three days must elapse. Fortunately, Miss Gwynne arrived, and with her
+usual promptitude, proposed that Netta should be taken for those three
+days to Mrs Jones'; and she returned home at once to expedite any
+arrangements Mrs Jones might have to make.
+
+'I am afraid, my dear Serena,' she said, when she had begun the subject,
+'that it will put you out. But the poor creature shall have my bedroom,
+and I can sleep anywhere for those few nights. The dressing-room,
+Gladys' workroom, will do beautifully for her to sit in if she shouldn't
+be able to come into the drawing-room.'
+
+'Yes,' said Mrs Jones, 'we can put a sofa in it and easy-chair, and make
+a regular snuggery of it.'
+
+Mr Jones came in and entered into consultation.
+
+'I shall be thankful if she can come here,' he said, 'for poor Prothero
+is making himself quite ill with anxiety and overwork. I don't think he
+has slept four hours a night since he found her. And then, Gladys! she
+is not strong, she will be laid up.'
+
+'I believe you love Gladys better than me,' laughed Mrs Jones.
+
+'It was love at first sight, my dear. She was the first pretty girl that
+I saw after I came from Australia. And I have gone on loving her better
+and better ever since.'
+
+'The worst of it is, that it is mutual,' said Miss Gwynne. 'I wonder
+whether it is on your account or Owen Prothero's that she has refused
+all the London swains who are dying for her.'
+
+Mrs Jones and Freda were soon hard at work arranging rooms. Every
+available comfort was put into Freda's bedroom and dressing-room, and
+her own clothes and general possessions were turned out to find a home
+elsewhere. Gladys' little workroom soon wore a most cheerful aspect, and
+the easiest chair and sofa the house afforded were put into it. Whilst
+these matters were being arranged, Mr Jones was despatched to tell
+Rowland to bring his sister as soon as possible, and in the course of a
+few hours they arrived, accompanied by Gladys and Minette. The shock of
+the morning had so weakened Netta's nervous system, that Rowland was
+obliged to carry her upstairs. When she was put on the sofa in the
+little room, and saw so many kind friends about her once more, the
+bewildered, wandering eyes found relief in tears.
+
+'Gladys! you will not go away?' she said, holding Gladys by the hand.
+'She may come home with me, Miss Gwynne?'
+
+Gladys knelt down by the sofa, and tried to soothe her, by telling her
+that her brother was coming to fetch her.
+
+'I can't go home without Gladys!' persisted Netta, casting wild,
+beseeching glances from one to the other of the friends who stood round
+her.
+
+'She shall go with you, Netta, decidedly,' said Miss Gwynne. 'It will be
+much the best plan.'
+
+'Gladys, you will come with us?' said Minette, throwing her arm round
+her neck, as she knelt by her mother. 'You won't go away from poor
+mamma, and your little Minette.'
+
+Gladys felt, that in this, she was but an instrument. However it was
+settled that she was to accompany Netta home; and if the inmates of the
+farm did not receive her willingly, she was to go to the Park, whither
+Miss Gwynne was to follow shortly, for her long-promised Christmas
+visit.
+
+When Netta and Rowland were left alone, Minette having been seduced by
+Miss Gwynne into another room, Netta said,--
+
+'You see, Rowland, I must go away directly, because I don't know when he
+may come. I am sure he will fetch me, and if I stay here he will not
+know where to find me.'
+
+'Only two or three days, dear Netta. I have written to Owen. He will get
+the letter to-morrow, and be here the next day. You can start the day
+after to-morrow, if you will try to rouse yourself, and eat and drink.'
+
+'Yes, I will; but I am afraid of father. It is nearly ten years since I
+saw him, and if he is cross now, I shall die.'
+
+'He will be kind, quite kind.'
+
+'Are you sure?'
+
+'Yes, quite sure.'
+
+'And will you come and see me, Rowland? I used to think you cross too,
+but now you are very good to me. Do you think it was wrong of me to run
+away with Howel? You know he loves me; he says so, Rowland.'
+
+Here Netta pressed her hand upon the letter that was in her bosom, and
+Rowland kissed her tenderly.
+
+At intervals, during that day and the next, Netta made fitful efforts
+to exert herself, but it was evident to all that her body was getting
+weaker, and every one dreaded the journey in prospect, and longed for
+its conclusion.
+
+Netta had taken a sudden and violent interest in teaching her child to
+read and repeat hymns. The hymns that it pleased Minette best to learn
+were some that Gladys had sung at her mother's request. These Netta did
+not know by heart, indeed, her failing memory prevented her retaining
+anything she had once known; so an old hymn book was produced from
+Gladys' book-shelf, which contained these hymns that she had been taught
+in her childhood by her mother.
+
+It was the second evening of Netta's stay with the Joneses, and she had
+been prevailed upon to go into the drawing-room, where Rowland was added
+to the usual little party.
+
+She was gradually sinking into a state of apparent forgetfulness of
+those around her, from which it had been so difficult to rouse her since
+Howel's letter, when Miss Gwynne said,--
+
+'I think Minette knows the hymn now, Mr Jones. Ask mamma if you may say
+it, dear.'
+
+'Mamma, may I try to say the hymn now? Mr Jones will take me to see the
+little children to-morrow if I know it,' asked the child.
+
+Netta was roused.
+
+'Where is the book? I don't think I remember it, she said.
+
+'I will go to Gladys for the book. I know the way, mamma.'
+
+Minette ran to the little room where Gladys was at work busily preparing
+for the journey. She got the hymn book, asked Gladys to find the place,
+and returning to the drawing-room triumphantly, gave the book to Mr
+Jones.
+
+'You must hear me, to see that I say it quite, quite right,'
+
+The hymn was somewhat difficult for a child, but it had taken Netta's
+fancy, because the words were written for an old Welsh air that she knew
+well; indeed the book consisted principally of English and Welsh hymns
+that had been composed for some of the fine old Welsh tunes.
+
+The words were as follow:--
+
+             MORNING, Y FOREU.
+
+         Great God, look on me,
+           From Thy throne eternal;
+         Make pure unto Thee
+           This my hymn diurnal.
+     I my grateful voice would blend,
+       With nature's loud thanksgiving;
+
+     Praises through the earth would send
+       For the bliss of living.
+         Then, God, look on me,
+           From Thy throne eternal,
+         Make pure unto Thee,
+           This my hymn diurnal.
+         On the wings of morning,
+         With songs of birds up-soaring,
+           I address Thee,
+           Praise and bless Thee,
+           Joying and adoring.
+       O Lord! bless this day,
+         All my thoughts and doings,
+       And keep my heart away
+         From all vain pursuings.
+       Shield me with Thy fostering wings,
+         From every wild temptation.
+       Let the daily course of things,
+         Work for my salvation.
+       O Lord I bless this day,
+         All my thoughts and doings,
+       And keep my heart away
+         From all vain pursuings.
+         With the hymns of flowers,
+       And streams and fountains blending?
+             I adore Thee,
+             And implore Thee,
+       Prayer and praise upsending.
+
+Minette was in a great state of excitement whilst saying her hymn, and
+repeated it so energetically, and withal so feelingly, that the
+attention of Mrs Jones, Miss Gwynne, and Rowland was quite drawn towards
+her. They did not, therefore, notice the still greater excitement of Mr
+Jones, as he was, professedly, looking at the hymn book to see whether
+the child repeated her task correctly.
+
+'Well done, my little niece,' cried Rowland, catching her up in his
+arms, and giving her a hearty kiss.
+
+'Let me go, uncle. Mr Jones, Mr Jones,' screamed Minette, 'may I go with
+you to see the poor children, Mr Jones?'
+
+Mr Jones did not even hear the entreating appeal of the little girl. He
+was out of the drawing-room, book in hand, and in Gladys' work-room,
+almost before the struggling Minette was released from her uncle's arms,
+and forcibly caught by Miss Gwynne.
+
+Gladys was sitting quietly at her work, humming low the air of the hymn
+Minette had been saying, when Mr Jones entered the room abruptly.
+
+'Gladys, tell me where you got this book?' he said, putting the hymn
+book on the table before her.
+
+He looked so nervous and excited that Gladys was almost frightened.
+
+'My mother gave it me, sir,' was the reply.
+
+'And who wrote these names?' he asked, pointing to the words written on
+the fly-leaf, which were, "Margaret Jones, from her affectionate
+brother, William Jones."
+
+'My uncle, sir, I believe, who gave the book to my mother.'
+
+'And your mother--your mother, who was she?'
+
+'The daughter of a clergyman, sir.'
+
+'I know that. But where--what--who?'
+
+'That is what I don't know, sir.'
+
+'Who did she marry? For God's sake tell me all, Gladys.'
+
+'She ran away with my father, sir, an Irish soldier, a corporal named
+O'Grady. She went abroad with him, and did not come back to Ireland for
+two years.'
+
+'And then--and her father--and--and her brother?'
+
+'Her father was dead, sir, and nobody knew where her brother was.'
+
+'Where did her father live?'
+
+'Alas! sir, I cannot tell that either. We never talked to my poor mother
+about him, because it made her so unhappy, and as he was dead, I had no
+interest in asking for the address. All I know was, that she was Welsh;
+and when she was dying, she told me to go into Wales and find my uncle.
+I don't think she quite knew what she was saying, but I came.'
+
+The tears gathered in Gladys' eyes, and hearing a strange heavy sigh
+from Mr Jones, she looked up at him through their mist, and saw that he
+was struggling to speak through some great emotion.
+
+'Oh, sir! what is the matter?' said Gladys, rising and going towards him
+as he stood, trembling, on the other side of her work-table.
+
+He could not speak, but opening his arms as she approached him, folded
+her in them, and kissed her, as she had not been kissed before, since
+her poor mother died.
+
+Gladys could only yield to the embrace, she knew not wherefore. She
+loved Mr Jones as if he were her own father, he had been almost like a
+father to her ever since she had been in his house; she felt as if she
+were once more in a father's arms.
+
+We will leave them thus for one moment, to return to the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs Jones, in her turn, kissed Minette, and praised her for repeating
+her hymn so well.
+
+'But where is Mr Jones?' asked the child. 'Will he take me to see the
+little boys and girls?'
+
+'I think he must be gone to find a book for you, dear,' was the reply.
+
+But as neither Mr Jones nor the book came, Mrs Jones got rather fidgety,
+and fancying her husband might be ill, left the room to see what had
+become of him. She went to the dining-room, study, and bedroom, and, not
+finding him, went to ask Gladys whether she knew where he was. She was
+not a little astonished at finding him with Gladys in his arms, and the
+door half open at his back.
+
+Mrs Jones was not a jealous wife, but Gladys was a very pretty girl, Mr
+Jones was avowedly very fond of her, and Mr Jones was mortal.
+
+She felt a strange pain at her heart, turned pale, and stood for a
+moment unobserved by either, on the threshold, irresolute, when she
+heard these words from her husband,--
+
+'It must be so. Gladys--you are--you must be--my poor, dear, lost
+sister's child!'
+
+Gladys and Mrs Jones uttered a simultaneous cry, and the latter entered
+the room.
+
+'My dear William, what does this mean?' she said, approaching her
+husband and putting her hand on his shoulder.
+
+'Serena!' (he, too called that gentle woman Serena) 'my love. For my
+sake! This is my sister's child--my niece--my--our Gladys!'
+
+Mr Jones released the bewildered Gladys from his embrace, and almost
+placed her in the arms of his wife, who, scarcely comprehending what was
+passing, kissed her tenderly.
+
+Then Gladys sat down, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed
+convulsively. It was all a dream to her, from which she must awake. It
+could not be true. Mr and Mrs Jones soothed her. The former, restraining
+his own emotion, endeavoured to calm hers, by telling her that it was he
+who had written the names in that fortunate hymn book; he who was the
+brother of her mother; he who was her uncle, and who would be, not only
+an uncle, but a father to her henceforth.
+
+At last, the agitated girl looked up at the kind and loving faces that
+were bending over her, and murmured,--
+
+'It cannot be--it is--too good--too great--too happy.'
+
+'It is true, Gladys, my niece, my child,' said Mr Jones, stooping to
+kiss her forehead.
+
+Mrs Jones sat down by her, and taking one of her hands in hers, said,--
+
+'It all seems a dream, Gladys. But if it be true, remember, you are now
+my niece, my child as well; and, God knows, I love you, and value you
+dearly.'
+
+Once more the lonely Gladys felt that she had kindred. Yielding to the
+feeling, she threw her arms round Mrs Jones' neck, and gave vent to the
+emotion she had been striving to suppress.
+
+At this juncture, Miss Gwynne appeared, who, wondering in her turn what
+could detain Mr and Mrs Jones so long from their guests, came to look
+for them.
+
+Of course, she wondered still more when she found them both with their
+arms round one another and Gladys.
+
+She was going away; but Mrs Jones, perceiving her, said,--
+
+'Come in, dear Freda, Minette's hymn has led to a wonderful
+discovery--has given us a niece--a child--in--in--our dear friend
+Gladys.'
+
+Miss Gwynne knelt down at the feet of the sobbing Gladys, and taking one
+of her hands, said,--
+
+'Gladys, if this be true, we cannot love you better than we do now, or
+esteem you more; but you now _feel_ one of us, instead of the isolated
+Gladys of this little room, which you have resolutely been hitherto.'
+
+As may be imagined, Gladys was a long time realising the fact, that she
+was suddenly, and in the most extraordinary manner, raised from the
+Irish beggar, lady's maid, or whatever she had hitherto chosen to
+consider herself--for every one about her had long looked upon her as a
+friend--to the niece of the good and kind Mr Jones. When she was able to
+speak, her first words were,--
+
+'I do not understand it--I cannot believe it. It is too good--too
+happy.'
+
+'I can scarcely believe it either,' said Mr Jones, taking up the hymn
+book, and turning to his wife and Miss Gwynne, who had, thus far, taken
+the strange news upon Mr Jones' word, which they never ventured to
+dispute.
+
+'This is my writing. Margaret Jones was my sister, and Gladys' mother. I
+gave her this book when we were both young, and the date, also in my
+handwriting, marks the time, some two or three years after the gift,
+when I was at college, and she must have been about eighteen; she ran
+away with an Irish soldier, whose real name, even, we never learnt. My
+poor father doated on my sister, and spoilt her. She was high-spirited
+and wilful, but very loving, and very handsome. Not at all like Gladys.
+My sister's was the Welsh, Gladys' the Irish cast of countenance; yet I
+have seen an expression in Gladys' face that has reminded me of her
+mother.'
+
+'We discovered, after my sister ran away, that she had met the man she
+married when going to visit the landlady of a small inn, in my father's
+parish, who was ill. It seems that this woman connived at their meeting;
+and when strictly questioned, said, that she had believed he was a
+gentleman, and that he had called himself Captain O'Brien.'
+
+'My poor father!' here broke in Gladys. 'He bitterly repented this, his
+only deception. He was of a good family, and his mother was an O'Brien;
+but no one belonging to him could afford to purchase him a commission,
+and so he went into the ranks. He once told me, that he persuaded my
+mother to marry him first, and then promised to let her write to his
+father. But I only know scraps of the story. I fancy my father was on
+his way home on leave, when he saw my mother and fell in love with her.
+He loved her very dearly, and as long as he lived she wanted nothing
+that he could get her. The regiment was suddenly ordered abroad, and my
+mother could not write to her father, or did not, before they sailed.
+And so she delayed, and delayed; but she wrote at last, and received no
+answer at all. I fancy she wrote several times from foreign parts, but
+never heard from any one. I know she wrote again from Ireland; but the
+letter was returned, with a note from some one, saying that her father
+had been dead some years, and no one knew anything of her brother.'
+
+'Too true! too true!' said Mr Jones. 'My poor father, never very strong,
+was in his grave in less than six months after my sister left him. I
+returned from college to nurse, and bury him. I have told you all this,
+my dear Serena, little thinking that the young girl I first saw, after
+visiting his grave some twenty years after I had seen him laid in it,
+should be the child of the beloved daughter who had helped to hasten him
+thither.'
+
+'My poor, dear mother!' said Gladys, sobbing as if her heart would
+break.
+
+'Still less that you, my dear niece, would be five or six years in my
+house; I loving you as a daughter, and yet not knowing the relationship
+existing between us. But how could it have been discovered but for this
+book? I only knew of you, that you were an Irish girl escaping from
+poverty in Ireland, to find some Welsh friends, whose address even you
+did not know. But for your evident truthfulness, the very story must
+have been doubted. When I saw you at Mr Prothero's, I took you for his
+daughter; since I have looked upon you as one of our family, an orphan
+to be pitied and loved. Let us thank God and kind Christian people, that
+you have been so pitied and loved.'
+
+Mr Jones' mild grey eyes, full of tears, turned upon Miss Gwynne, who
+said, hastily,--
+
+'Ought not we to tell her first and best friends of this strange
+discovery?--Rowland, Mr Prothero, and Netta. What must they think of our
+long absence?'
+
+'Not for worlds, Miss Gwynne, if you please!' cried Gladys, 'I could
+never be what I would like to be to Mrs Jenkins and her dear mother, if
+I were anything but the Gladys they have always known. They would be
+treating me as--as--they would not let me work and wait upon Mrs
+Jenkins. Until she is at home, at least, let me be as I am, as I was; it
+is all so strange. Until I have offered to remain and nurse her, and
+been refused--until, in short--'
+
+'I understand, Gladys,' said Miss Gwynne. 'You are quite right. Let them
+all value you for yourself, and then we will introduce you as--'
+
+'I didn't mean that, indeed, indeed, Miss Gwynne,' said Gladys, her pale
+face growing red. 'I only wanted to show my gratitude, as I am, to them
+all. Perhaps even Mr Prothero may excuse me then, and--'
+
+Here Gladys broke down again. She could not explain her own bewildered
+thoughts; but her friends understood her, and respected the honest pride
+that would be known, welcomed and beloved for merit, and not for a
+bettered position and condition. Miss Gwynne saw a vision of Owen in the
+background, with his handsome, honest, black eyes, and white teeth; but
+she did not mention what she saw.
+
+'At any rate, I must go and make the best of lame excuses,' she said,
+'and leave you in your new relationship, to dry your eyes, and learn to
+say "Uncle." Such a pleasant name! I always longed for an uncle.'
+
+Miss Gwynne returned to the drawing-room, and told Rowland that Mr Jones
+had been quite upset by the Welsh hymn that Minette had repeated, having
+known it under peculiar circumstances when he was young. She apologised
+for his non-appearance, and Rowland, seeing that something unusual had
+occurred, took his departure. She promised Minette a visit to the
+school, and prevailed on the little girl to allow one of the servants to
+put her to bed, instead of Gladys. Minette begged Miss Gwynne to let her
+say her 'English prayers' to her first, which she, of course, did.
+
+Then Freda did her best to amuse Netta until Mrs Jones appeared, and
+said Gladys was quite ready to assist Netta, if she liked to retire for
+the night.
+
+When Netta was in bed, Gladys joined her friends, and they discussed,
+more calmly than before, their newly-found relationship.
+
+Gladys brought with her her Bible, in which her mother had written her
+name, and Mr Jones recognised his sister's hand writing. She had also a
+lock of her mother's hair, and her wedding-ring, and one or two other
+trifles, that drew fresh tears from a brother's eyes.
+
+Gladys said that she should like, for her own satisfaction, that a
+certificate of her mother's marriage, and of her birth, should be
+obtained. Her mother was married, she believed, during the short time
+she was in Ireland; and she was born, she knew, in the parish where her
+father's parents lived, to whose care her father had confided her
+mother. Two children had been born, and died before her birth, during
+the period that her parents were abroad.
+
+It may be as well to say here, that the certificates were duly procured,
+through the clergyman of the parish, to whom Mr Jones wrote a statement
+of the case. Also that letters, written for the gratification of Gladys,
+to the Protestant and Roman Catholic clergy of her parent's last
+neighbourhood were duly answered, and confirmed all that Gladys had said
+of them and of herself from first to last. This, of course, took some
+time to effect; but I have so far anticipated the event, to avoid
+fanning to it again.
+
+Gladys now recapitulated, more minutely, the circumstances of her early
+history, a sketch of which she gave Miss Gwynne and Mrs Prothero when
+she was recovering from her fever.
+
+There were a few points that she did not mention at that time, which, we
+will insert for the benefit of the reader, in Gladys' own words.
+
+'My father left my mother in Ireland, and went with his regiment to
+India. My mother lived with my grandfather, who was old and infirm, but
+still managed a small farm, in which my mother assisted. He died, and
+then my mother kept a school, took in needlework, and did what she could
+to help out my father's remittances, which were small, but regular. He
+was severely wounded in the head, and got his discharge upon his
+corporal's pay. Being a clever man, he soon procured work, as a kind of
+under-agent, and we lived very happily together for some years. He was
+never a saving man, so what he earned he spent, and my poor mother spent
+it with him. I had two brothers and three sisters, and when my father
+died, rather suddenly, we had nothing but our own exertions to depend
+upon. My mother and I managed to live and keep the children--how, I
+scarcely know--till the famine from the failure of the potato crop, and
+consequent fever and starvation came upon us. God preserve me, and every
+one else, from witnessing such misery again! One child died after
+another, and then the darling mother! I had nothing to give her;
+literally nothing. Every one round us was in the same state. On her
+death-bed she was rambling and incoherent, but talked of Wales, and her
+father and brother.
+
+'"Go to them, Gladys," she said, "when I am gone. Maybe they'll take to
+ye." "Where, mother dear!" I asked. But she did not hear me. Thank God!
+she clasped her hands and prayed for pardon of her sins through Jesus
+Christ; and so she died. I don't know how I lived after her--how I
+buried her--how I came into Wales. I scarcely remember anything, till I
+awoke from that illness in calm, clean, beautiful Glanyravon; with my
+mistress's blessed face looking down upon me, and Miss Gwynne waiting on
+me, and Mr Rowland praying for me.'
+
+For some years past Gladys had succeeded in obtaining a calm and even
+spirit, by striving to banish these dreadful scenes from her mind, by
+active labours for others, and abnegation of self. Now, they opened once
+more the flood-gates of memory, and as the old recollections rushed
+through, like repressed waters, her strength of mind gave way, and she
+could do nothing but weep.
+
+'Only to-night--forgive me!' she sobbed. 'I shall be better to-morrow.
+But it all comes back, all; even in the moment of my great happiness.'
+
+Her kind friends soothed and comforted her--her uncle wept with her, and
+by degrees she once more grew calm.
+
+Before they separated for the night, Mr Jones offered up a thanksgiving
+for the great mercy God had vouchsafed to them; and commending his
+newly-found niece to the further protection of that gracious Providence,
+who had led the orphan to her home; in His presence, and that of his
+wife and her friends, he solemnly blessed her, and adopted her as his
+own child.
+
+It need scarcely be added that his wife registered and signed the vow
+that her husband made.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD.
+
+
+Most people know what it is to awake from sleep the morning after a
+great sorrow; some, also, know what it is to awake after a great and
+unexpected joy. Gladys opened her eyes upon a dark, thick, cheerless
+November fog in London, one of the most depressing of all the
+atmospheric influences. But she did not think of the fog. Although she
+did not at first fully realise the happiness that she had experienced,
+and was to experience, she felt, on awakening, a strange sensation of
+spirits so light, and a heart beating to such cheerful measure, that it
+all seemed too ethereal to be real. She thought it was the continuation
+of a blissful dream. For many a long year she had retired to rest, and
+arisen in the morning calm, resigned, nay, cheerful; but it was the
+calmness and resignation of a soul attuned by prayer and self-restraint
+to an equanimity that rarely was disturbed by mirth or pleasure. Now,
+that soul seemed to dance within her to exhilarating melodies. So happy
+had been her dreams, so joyous her sleep, that her eyes sparkled
+unwonted fires when she opened them; and as she jumped out of bed, there
+was an elasticity in her movements that surprised her very self.
+
+Netta and Minette were still sleeping, and as she dressed herself
+carefully and neatly, she almost forgot that every one else was not as
+suddenly raised from sorrow to joy as herself.
+
+'He will come to-day,' she thought, as she smoothed her dark hair, 'and
+I shall meet him as an equal, no longer a suspicion of my truth. He will
+not know it yet, but I know it, and oh! the difference of feeling that
+you can clear yourself by a word when you like. Not to him, for he never
+doubted--generous, kind Mr Owen! but to his father! to all. How can I be
+thankful enough! and such an uncle and aunt! It must be a dream; but
+will he care for me still? so long! and after all my coldness. He has
+asked me again and again, and each time have I refused him; but then I
+was an Irish beggar, and nothing more, and I would have died rather than
+have brought disgrace into his family. And still my promise to his
+father is binding, and without his consent I never could--but where am I
+wandering? Maybe he'll not care for me now I am all this older--and he
+so handsome that he may have any one in and about Glanyravon.'
+
+Gladys cast a shy look into her glass, and a delicate blush kindled her
+cheek as those dark violet eyes glanced from beneath their long black
+fringes. Gladys! you are but a weak woman after all.
+
+When Gladys was dressed, she gently awoke Minette, and took her into the
+dressing-room to attire her also.
+
+'Gladys, dear, how pretty you look!' exclaimed the child, 'you have a
+pink cheek, and your eyes are as bright as the sky; and you have such a
+pretty gown and collar, and everything. You are quite a lady, now you
+have left off that gown mamma gave you so long ago. Is Uncle Owen, who
+is coming to-day, as nice as Uncle Rowland? Do you love him as well,
+Gladys?'
+
+'He is very, very nice, dear, and as kind as any gentleman in the
+world.'
+
+The little girl clapped her hands.
+
+'I shall like to go to Glanyravon and make mamma quite well.'
+
+Soon after breakfast, Rowland arrived, accompanied by Owen, who had
+travelled all night.
+
+Gladys was with Netta in her bedroom, but all the rest of the family
+welcomed Owen. Mr Jones shook him by the hand with peculiar warmth,
+because he was given to understand that he loved his newly-found niece.
+
+Minette was soon on his knee, and in less than ten minutes had duly
+informed him that she loved him next to Uncle Rowland and that Gladys
+told her he 'was the nicest gentleman in the world.'
+
+Owen laughed heartily at this, to conceal his rising colour, and said,--
+
+'And how is Gladys?'
+
+'Quite well; she is coming to Glanyravon with us, to take care of mamma
+and me.'
+
+Here Mrs Jones interposed, and explained how matters stood.
+
+In a few moments Gladys appeared to say that Netta was ready in her
+little sitting-room to see her brothers.
+
+Owen was not shy, so he walked bravely across the room to meet Gladys,
+and to shake hands with her, so thoroughly _con amore_ that if, as
+Minette expressed it, her cheek was pink when she entered the room, it
+was crimson when she quitted it.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones looked at one another with great satisfaction, and
+somehow or other Rowland's eyes met Miss Gwynne's, and both smiled
+involuntarily.
+
+'He is a fine young fellow,' said Mrs Jones, when Owen and Rowland had
+gone upstairs to Netta, accompanied by Minette.
+
+'I almost wonder how two such sons, with such a fine, sturdy, sensible
+father, should have had such a silly little sister as that poor child
+upstairs; but I must go out. Ask them to dinner, my dear, and don't let
+Gladys tire herself to death before she starts for her journey. Did you
+ever see any one look prettier in your life than she did when she met
+that fine young man? What a couple they will make!'
+
+'What a romance you have worked up already, my dear,' said Mrs Jones
+laughing, 'but certainly one may be proud of Gladys. How thoroughly
+ladylike she is, and looks. And she is so happy; she told me just now
+that she felt as if she had suddenly begun a new life.'
+
+'God grant it may be a happy one, and may He bless you, my dear, for
+taking to the poor child so kindly.'
+
+Miss Gwynne, who had left the party to put on her bonnet, here appeared,
+and Mr Jones and she set out on parochial business.
+
+When Rowland and Owen had been some time with Netta, they returned to
+Mrs Jones, who pressed them to come to dinner. They declined, however,
+having much to talk of, that could not be discussed in public, even
+before the kindest of friends. Moreover, when Owen had been in London
+before, he told his brother that he would not dine in any house as guest
+where Gladys was considered as a servant. In vain his brother assured
+him that she was more friend than servant--she did not dine with her
+friends, and therefore he would not dine with them.
+
+When they had left the house, and reached Rowland's lodging, Owen said,
+his usually joyful face clouded by an expression of sorrow and pain,--
+
+'Curse that fellow! I say, Rowland, I can't help it, it breaks my heart
+to see Netta as she is; and she will kill mother. As to father, there is
+no getting a civil word from him ever since the news came.'
+
+'I suppose every one knows it?' said Rowland.
+
+'Of course Aunt 'Lizbeth has employed Mr Rice Rice and a counsel for
+that scoundrel, to do what they can when the case is tried. You know
+they have indicted him, and, present or absent, it is to come on at the
+next assizes. Then, if they prove him guilty, or make out a case against
+him, or whatever they call it, he will be brought to trial as soon as
+they can catch him.'
+
+'Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio Simpson are furious against him, I
+hear,' said Rowland.
+
+'No wonder; I foresaw something bad when I was at Abertewey. But what of
+that rascal, Deep?'
+
+'They can make nothing of him; he is already released, and if he knows
+anything of Howel he has not let it out.'
+
+'I can't help liking poor Aunt 'Lizbeth; she says she will spend every
+farthing she has for Howel, and when I tell her to remember her old age
+and keep her money, all I get is, "What will I do if my Howel is ruined?
+What will I care for money if he is gone?" It is pretty well known that
+he has forged her name for thousands of pounds, but she won't own it,
+and swears to all his signatures as her own, I verily believe, with her
+eyes shut.'
+
+'Does father hear all these things?'
+
+'Nobody dares to speak to him. He opens out to me with a vengeance, and
+wants a little of your preaching to refine his language. But who can
+wonder? I am ashamed to show my nose myself. The first bit of pleasure I
+have had since it began was seeing Gladys look so well and happy this
+morning. What has happened to her? Is she going to be married? for
+nothing else have changed a girl's face from November to June. At the
+same time, she might have a little more feeling for us than to look her
+best when we are at our worst. Poor Netta! I'm sure she won't live. I've
+wished myself at sea nearly every day for the last six years, and I'm
+sure I wish myself there now.'
+
+'My good fellow,' said Rowland, 'don't say that; what should any of us
+do without you? You are the only stay of our parents at home, and will
+be poor Netta's last comfort.'
+
+'If I were sure I were of any use I wouldn't mind; but when I see
+Gladys, or think of her, the truth is I get savage. Perhaps it is a
+proper punishment for pretending to stay at home on father and mother's
+account, when it was really on hers. But never mind; I suppose one
+girl's really as good as another. Will you come down at Christmas,
+Rowland?'
+
+'I wish I could; but our rector is so ill that there is no chance of his
+being able to leave Nice this winter, and Jones and I have all the duty.
+The last account was so bad that Mr Wenlock fears, if he returns at all,
+it will be only to die.'
+
+We will not follow the brothers further in their conversation; they made
+the most of the few hours they were together, and after a short night's
+rest, arose early, breakfasted, and went to fetch Netta.
+
+The sight of her favourite brother, and the prospect of returning home
+had roused her, and she seemed more herself than she had been since
+Howel's letter. Gladys was as bright and busy as a queen-bee, and
+Minette was all tears and smiles.
+
+There were a great many 'last words' to be said, and as all the
+preparations had been made the previous day, there was plenty of time to
+say them.
+
+'I don't know how to thank you,' said poor Netta to Mrs Jones and Miss
+Gwynne, as they were putting on her last warm cloak. The tears were
+streaming down her pale cheeks, and her hand, as usual, was on her
+heart.
+
+Mrs Jones kissed her, and Miss Gwynne said cheerfully, 'I shall see you
+soon, Netta, and I want Mrs Jones to come to Glanyravon with me, so it
+will not be a long parting.'
+
+'You have been very good to my child and me,--God will bless you!'
+sobbed Netta.
+
+'I will come again, Mr Jones, and see you, and Mrs Jones, and the little
+children,' said Minette, who was hugging Mr Jones warmly.
+
+He took her up in his arms, kissed her, and put her into the cab next
+her mother, who had been placed therein by Rowland.
+
+Gladys' farewells were the last.
+
+'That's what I call something like it, Rowly,' said Owen tapping his
+brother's shoulder, as he watched Mr and Mrs Jones alternately give
+Gladys a most affectionate embrace.
+
+'But why does the old parson hug her so? He shouldn't do that if I were
+Mrs Jones, or if she were Mrs--'
+
+The truth was, that at the last the uncle's feelings overcame Gladys'
+desire for secrecy, and exploded in a kiss long and fatherly.
+
+When she was in the cab Mr Jones called Owen aside, and said in a
+whisper,--
+
+'I know you will take care of Gladys, and remember, that although she is
+ready for everything that is good, she is not strong. If your father
+makes the least objection to her remaining with your sister, take her to
+the Park, whence she can return at once to us. As long as I live, no one
+will neglect her with impunity; but I am sure I can trust you and
+yours.'
+
+'That you certainly may,' said Owen, nearly shaking Mr Jones' hand off,
+but saying to himself a few minutes after, 'What could he mean by
+putting her into my care? If his wife had done it, or Miss Gwynne, well
+and good; but I declare parsons are no better than the rest of us, I
+daresay Rowly isn't half as steady as he seems; he and Miss Gwynne are
+wonderfully polite to one another, and he's as grand as any lord.'
+
+Owen jumped upon the box, and Rowland by the side of Gladys inside the
+cab, and so they drove off through the thick fog, some five or six miles
+to the Paddington Station.
+
+Owen took a second-class ticket for himself, but when Netta heard that
+he had done so she begged so hard to be allowed to travel second class
+with him, or that he would come with her, that he was obliged to change
+it, and become, as he expressed it, 'a grand gentleman for once in his
+life.'
+
+They had a compartment to themselves, into which Rowland went, to be
+with Netta until the whistle sounded.
+
+'Oh, brother!' sobbed Netta, 'if I never see you again, promise to be
+kind to Howel; promise to give him whatever I leave for him. Perhaps I
+shall die,--I don't know. Tell him all you have said to me; try to make
+him good, and give him the hope you have given me. Will you, brother?
+Say, will you?'
+
+'I will do everything you wish, my darling sister, if I have the
+opportunity.'
+
+'And will you write to me about what you have been saying to me?'
+
+'I will, dear, regularly. But you have only to believe and pray. God
+bless you, Netta, dear! God for ever bless you!'
+
+The guard was at the door, Owen in the carriage. Rowland gave Netta one
+long, last kiss, and went out upon the platform.
+
+'Kiss me, uncle,' said Minette, putting her little face out of the
+window.
+
+When she drew it in again she wiped off a tear that Rowland had left
+upon her cheek.
+
+'Good-bye, Gladys,--good-bye, Owen,' he said, stretching out his hand,
+which was clasping that of his brother as the train began to move, and
+separated him from the sister, brother, niece, and friend whom he loved
+so well.
+
+Poor Netta cried long and quietly in the corner of the carriage in which
+she had been placed. Of course she had the side without an arm that she
+might put up her feet when she liked, so Owen and Gladys were placed, of
+necessity, side by side, and Minette jumped upon Gladys' lap, and began
+talking of Glanyravon. Owen and Gladys were quite shy with one another.
+The former studied Bradshaw, the latter occupied herself with Minette.
+
+When Netta ceased crying, Owen tried to engage her attention, and amused
+her for a time by accounts of home and country news. But by degrees she
+relapsed into her usual abstraction.
+
+Owen hated railway travelling, and was a great fidget. Out at every
+station, of course, and alternately reading the newspaper and making
+remarks upon the confounded November weather when in the carriage. He
+scarcely addressed Gladys particularly, but talked to Netta or Minette;
+and Gladys thought him very cold and constrained, but did not know that
+he was thinking of what Colonel Vaughan had done years ago, and
+comparing it with Mr Jones' embrace.
+
+'Do you know, Netta, that I am thinking of getting married?' he said
+suddenly, and thoroughly rousing Gladys.
+
+'Don't be so foolish, Owen! You have been getting married or falling in
+love ever since you were twelve,' said Netta. 'Who is it now?'
+
+'Miss Richards,--Dr Richards' daughter. It is the talk of the county.
+You know she has plenty of money.'
+
+Owen cast a side glance towards Gladys and saw her turn quite pale,
+which was very satisfactory to him.
+
+'Is Miss Richards pretty, uncle?' asked Minette. 'Is she as pretty as
+Gladys?'
+
+'That depends upon taste.'
+
+'But what do you think, uncle? She must be very pretty, if she is as
+pretty as my dear Gladys! Isn't Gladys pretty, uncle?'
+
+'Gladys knows what I think on that subject,' said Owen, 'but she doesn't
+care what I think.'
+
+This was said so that Netta, sitting opposite, did not hear.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys, involuntarily.
+
+'Oh, Mrs Snow!' said Owen.
+
+'As the day went on, Netta got very weary, and, finally, slept. Minette,
+also, in spite of Gladys' resolute efforts to keep her awake, fell fast
+asleep, curled up in the corner, with her mother's feet in her lap. And
+so Owen and Gladys were _tete-a-tete_.
+
+The November day was drawing to a close, and it was dull and dark.
+Gladys fancied Owen was asleep, and was thinking how very much more
+cheerful she felt in the morning than she did at that moment; and all
+because Owen said he was going to be married. She was trying to remember
+the great blessings she had lately experienced, and that she ought to be
+thinking of Netta instead of her brother.
+
+At last, Owen started up, and said,--
+
+'Gladys, do you like coming back to Glanyravon?'
+
+'Dearly, sir, if you like to have me.'
+
+'Now, Gladys, that is too absurd! You know I have wanted to have you all
+these years.'
+
+'I didn't mean that, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Gladys, tell me why that old Jones kissed you.'
+
+'I--I--don't know. Because--because he is fond of me, Mr Owen.'
+
+'That is no reason, Miss Gladys. If it was, somebody else would kiss
+you, too. Now I have an opportunity, I must ask you a few more
+questions. I beg you to understand that old Jones, who is so fond of
+you, put you under my especial care.'
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!'
+
+'Oh, Mrs Snow! Now, tell me why you let that cunning man of the world,
+Colonel Vaughan, give you ten shillings? This has been on my mind for
+six or seven years, and I have never had an opportunity of getting it
+off before. You know if you won't have me for a lover, you may for a
+brother.'
+
+'Colonel Vaughan offered me the money, Mr Owen, and I returned it to
+him. Who could have told you of that?'
+
+'The boy who saw him give you some money, and picked up the
+half-sovereign you dropped.'
+
+'He gave me money for poor Mr Lloyd, who was ill, and offered me the
+half-sovereign for myself, which I refused.'
+
+'Why did you refuse it.'
+
+'Because I did not want it, and because he had no right to offer it me.'
+
+'Bravo, Gladys! You are a capital girl!'
+
+'And yet, Mr Owen, you think all sorts of unkind things of me when I am
+absent. For six years!'
+
+'How can I help it, Gladys? You know that I love you better than my
+life, and yet you won't care one straw for me.'
+
+'Oh! Mr Owen.'
+
+'I can tell you it is no trifling mark of constancy, for a wandering
+fellow like me to stick to farming, and doing the dutiful son all these
+years. I should have been off to sea again long ago but for you, and--'
+
+'And the father and mother, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Well, yes, to a certain extent. But you always answer every question
+but one like a pure, straightforward young woman, as you are. Why won't
+you tell me the reason you have for hating me so?'
+
+'I don't hate you, Mr Owen.'
+
+'It must be either love or hate. You don't love me. Do you love any one
+else?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'Have you a heart to give?'
+
+'Ye--no.'
+
+'Which do you mean?'
+
+'I cannot tell you, indeed I cannot!'
+
+'Oh! Gladys, if you knew the pain! Why will you not make me happy, or at
+least give me a sensible reason?'
+
+'I--I--promised--oh, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Dear Gladys, what? I will never betray you, and will always be a
+friend, a brother. Who have you promised? Not to marry, not to love--'
+
+'Your father, Mr Owen. I--I--promised never--to--without his consent.'
+
+Fortunately it was dusk, and the curtain between the double carriage was
+drawn, and Netta and Minette were, apparently at least, fast asleep, so
+no one saw Owen jump up from his seat with a kind of bound, seize
+Gladys' hand, try to look into her face, and finally sit down again,
+retaining possession of the said hand across the elbow of the carriage.
+
+'Do you mean, Gladys, that you promised never to marry me without my
+father's consent?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Never to love me without his consent?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'That you don't hate me?'
+
+'No.'
+
+'That if I got his consent you would make me the happiest man in the
+world?'
+
+'I would try, Mr Owen.'
+
+'Nothing but his consent?
+
+'Nothing, Mr Owen. If you do not change, I cannot.
+
+'Gladys, do not trifle with me. But you could not trifle. Have you cared
+for me--may I say loved me--all these years?'
+
+'All these years.'
+
+Gladys bowed her head as if in shame over those clasped hands, and a
+large tear fell upon Owen's. He wanted no other confirmation of her
+words, and felt, as he had expressed it, the happiest man in the world.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.
+
+
+It was nine o'clock when the fly that took the travellers from Swansea
+to Glanyravon reached the door of the farm. The night was 'dark and
+dreary;' very different was the weather, the aspect of external nature;
+very different were Netta's feelings and all the circumstances, when she
+was at home ten years ago. She had been thinking again on all these
+things during that gloomy drive, when her companions thought she was
+asleep.
+
+Bright lights are in the windows and passage as the travellers look out
+of the carriage. Mrs Prothero's anxious face is visible in front, Mr and
+Mrs Jonathan's tall forms above her from behind, the servants are
+without, Lion is barking joyously, but there is no Mr Prothero.
+
+'Is this Glanyravon, mamma?' asks Minette waking up and rubbing her
+eyes.
+
+No answer.
+
+Owen jumps out, and without stopping to greet his pale, trembling
+mother, turns to help Netta, who cannot help herself. He carries a dead
+weight into the parlour, and lays it on the sofa. Netta has fainted.
+
+Gladys is at her side in a moment with every kind of restorative but no
+one notices or thinks of her. Mrs Prothero is on her knees rubbing her
+child's cold hands, and looking as white as the corpse-like daughter
+thus restored to her. Mr and Mrs Jonathan look at one another, and then
+at Netta, with a glance of pity and grief.
+
+There is another face for one moment bent over the sofa, and the next a
+loud heavy groan is heard in the corner of the room that comes from a
+heart in extreme agony; but no one, save Minette, seems conscious of
+it. She turns affrighted at the sound, and in the impulse of her quick,
+warm nature runs to comfort.
+
+'Mamma will be better soon,' she says; 'she is often so. Don't cry so
+loud, you will frighten her.'
+
+Poor Mr Prothero removes his hand from his eyes to behold, for the first
+time, his grandchild. Another heavy groan, almost a cry, and he takes
+the child in his large arms, and presses her to his breast, weeping like
+an infant.
+
+Netta uncloses her eyes on familiar objects for a moment, and shuts them
+again. Has she seen the cheerful, old-fashioned parlour, the bright
+fire, near which the sofa is wheeled, her father's portrait over the
+mantelpiece, her mother at her feet?
+
+'She is getting better,' whispers Gladys, who still holds her place at
+Netta's head, with strong salts in her hand, and a bottle and glass by
+her side.
+
+Again the eyes unclose, wander restlessly from one anxious face to
+another, settling on none; close again, once more unclose and look with
+some consciousness on the breathless group that surrounds the sofa.
+
+'Father! father!' now murmurs Netta; 'where is father?'
+
+The feeble cry has reached that father's ears and inmost heart. He puts
+down Minette and staggers, blinded by his grief, to the sofa. All
+withdrew but his wife. He is on his knees before his poor penitent
+daughter. Her arms are round his neck, and she strives to rise but
+cannot. Oh! the depth, agony, remorse of that long, silent, paternal,
+and filial embrace.
+
+'Do you forgive me, father?' asks Netta.
+
+'All--all. God forgive us both!' groans Mr Prothero.
+
+Mrs Prothero lays her head on her hands on the sofa, by which she
+kneels, and gives way to a passionate burst of grief.
+
+'My poor, poor mistress,' says Gladys, unable any longer to refrain from
+approaching her. 'All is well; she will be better now.'
+
+'Mother!' cries Netta. 'Don't cry so for me. Come and kiss me, mother.'
+
+Father and mother surround with their arms that wandering, restored
+lamb, and take it into the fold again.
+
+A little voice from behind is heard.
+
+'Mamma! mamma! think of your poor Minette!'
+
+And in another minute Minette is on the sofa, in the midst of her
+mother, grandfather, and grandmother.
+
+Blessed are the warm, gushing tears that fall on the child's head--tears
+of love and reconciliation.
+
+Soon the worthy vicar and his wife, who have thus far been only
+spectators of the scene, draw near to bless and welcome their niece.
+
+'She will faint again,' whispers Gladys to Owen.
+
+'She is happy now,' replies Owen, looking into Gladys' tearful eyes from
+his own, equally dimmed with tears. It is the first time he has seen
+that face since he has known that Gladys loves him.
+
+But Gladys is right--happiness is too overpowering for Netta. She faints
+in the midst of all those dear ones, so kind and loving.
+
+Again Gladys is at her side to revive her, which she is able to do more
+quickly than before. When she is better, Gladys raises her pillows, and
+places her in a more comfortable posture. By degrees every one is
+conscious that Gladys is present.
+
+'Dear Gladys!' says Netta, 'I am better now; quite--quite well, father!'
+
+'Drink this first,' says Gladys, giving her some wine and water that
+Owen has brought.
+
+She drinks the wine and water, and again calls her father
+
+'I brought Gladys, father; I cannot do without her. She has saved my
+life, I think, and mother's, so Owen told me--didn't you, Owen? May she
+stay with me, father?'
+
+Netta presses her hand to her head, and looks at her father with those
+bewildered eyes, which are only too sadly irresistible.
+
+'Gladys!' he replies. 'Oh, yes! I haven't seen her yet.'
+
+Gladys is by his side, and he turns and shakes her hand warmly, and
+says,--
+
+'Thank you, Gladys, thank you, I have heard all; but we will talk of
+this another time.'
+
+'Best now, father, whilst I remember. She may stay? You like to have
+her?'
+
+'Of course, of course, my dear.'
+
+Mr Prothero glances rather uneasily at the very lady-like looking young
+woman, for whom he is thus humbly petitioned, and in doing so spies Owen
+close behind her.
+
+His feelings are too much softened by Netta to allow him to feel angry;
+still he does not know what to make of if. Mrs Prothero kisses Gladys,
+and Mr and Mrs Jonathan shake hands with her.
+
+'Nothing like the present time,' thinks Owen; but Gladys declares
+decidedly that Netta ought to go to her room, and everybody yields to
+her calm, assured voice.
+
+'Then you will stay with us?' asks gentle Mrs Prothero, looking the
+while at her husband.
+
+'To be sure she will,' says Mr Prothero.
+
+'Thank you, sir; thank you, ma'am. I shall be only too glad,' replies
+Gladys, as humbly as if she were really the servant she professes to be.
+'Miss Gwynne will allow me to stay, if you wish it.'
+
+After they had been upstairs they returned to tea, and Mr Prothero could
+not quit Netta, but sat watching her with a painful anxiety.
+
+She was greatly excited, and her mind and eyes appeared equally to
+wander on the objects of her childhood. She asked her father a variety
+of questions concerning scenes and people that she felt were
+particularly associated with him, and he was quite overcome.
+
+When the meal was finished, Owen carried Netta at once to her room, and
+all the womankind accompanied her. It was then that poor Mr Prothero's
+wrath and grief exploded. Left alone with his brother he vented both in
+language which, as Owen had expressed it, needed clerical revision. But
+Mr Jonathan knew that it must have its course before exhortations could
+take effect. He paced up and down the room pouring curses loud and deep
+upon Howel, and bemoaning his unfortunate daughter. At last he sat down
+and cried bitterly.
+
+It was then that his brother drew near to comfort, and that Owen
+returned to the room.
+
+'So young, so pretty--our only girl! God only knows how I love her--to
+come to die! Driven mad by that heartless villain--curse him--a
+thousand--'
+
+'Hush, brother! hush! You cannot alter the past. Home and a father's and
+mother's love will soon bring her round, poor dear.'
+
+'Do you think so? why, she looks like a corpse. No rose was redder when
+she went away, when I kissed her the night before. And now! and now! I
+say again, curse the man! I can't help it, brother,--I won't help it.'
+
+'Come, father, let us hope the best, now we have her home again.'
+
+Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder as he spoke, but there was no
+comfort for that sorrowing parent. While he cursed Howel there, was much
+self-reproach within him for long-harboured feelings of anger and
+unforgiveness against his daughter. He even began, to think that if he
+had been gentle and kind he might have saved her. The proud hearts of
+parent and child were alike subdued by heavy sorrow.
+
+The following day Netta was unable to leave her bed. Excitement and
+fatigue had been too much for her. Dr Richards was sent for, who shook
+his head, and ordered quiet and rest. Mrs Prothero and Gladys were with
+her, and as she was continually sleeping, no one else was admitted. Mr
+and Mrs Jonathan left early, after having made friends with Minette, who
+confided to them that she liked them better than grandpapa and
+grandmamma, because they were gentlefolks. She didn't know why there was
+no carpet in the hall, and didn't like stones to her feet. She promised
+to go and see them when her mamma was better. The worthy couple took to
+her as they had done to her mother.
+
+In a day or two Netta was much better and able to be brought downstairs.
+Matters gradually settled into their regular course at the farm, and all
+went on as usual. Mr Prothero spent every spare moment with Netta and
+his grandchild, who soon forgot that 'grandfather,' as he insisted on
+her calling him, 'talked loud, and had large, rough hands.' Gladys
+slipped imperceptibly into her old place, and alternately nursed Netta
+and helped Mrs Prothero in the dairy. Owen found many opportunities of
+entreating Gladys to let him speak to his father, but she positively
+forbade him, as long as there was painful anxiety about Netta; and, at
+the same time, angered him by refusing to consider him as her accepted
+lover until his father's consent was obtained. Mrs Prothero schooled her
+aching heart into outward calm, but her white hair and paleface showed
+what she had gone through, and was still suffering. Howel's name was
+never mentioned, except between Netta and Gladys. It was to Gladys that
+poor Netta opened her mind, and poured out all her hopes and fears about
+Howel's return.
+
+The state of that mind varied continually. Sometimes it was tolerably
+clear, at others sadly wandering, and the least excitement produced
+faintness and pain at the heart; still her friends fancied she gained
+strength.
+
+She had the sofa placed so that she could look out of the parlour-window
+upon the distant hills. The weather cleared up brisk and bright. The red
+and yellow foliage that still remained to cover the huge trunks of the
+oaks shone in the sunlight, and the lights and shadows danced upon the
+mountains. A few white chrysanthemums, and one or two roses still looked
+in at the window, upon her who had once been the brightest flower of
+Glanyravon.
+
+Netta had been at home a fortnight, and was really stronger and better.
+The sun was setting behind those distant hills, and casting glorious
+shades of red, purple, and gold upon them. She was gazing wistfully on
+the sky, and thinking of Howel, whilst Minette was sitting on a stool at
+her feet, turning over a book, out of which she had been reading to her
+mother, whose chief occupation was trying to teach her.
+
+Mr Prothero came in, and took his customary seat at the head of her
+sofa. He was followed, almost instantly, by Gladys, who called Minette
+out to have her cup of warm milk fresh from the cow, ordered by her
+doctor.
+
+'Father,' began Netta, abruptly, 'I have something to say to you.'
+
+'Well, Netta, fach!' said her father, cheerfully. 'Say away. I'm all
+attention,'
+
+'Do you like Gladys, father?'
+
+'Of course I do, my dear. Who could help it? She's an excellent young
+'ooman.'
+
+'I wish you would promise me one thing, father, before I go away.'
+
+'But you are not going away ever again, my love?'
+
+'Perhaps I may--far, far away; and perhaps I may go to heaven. I don't
+know. But I should like, when I go away, to leave you a better daughter
+than I have ever been to you. One that will take care of you and mother,
+and my Minette, as long as you and she live; who will make Owen a good
+wife and a happy man, as he is now, a good son and brother. Father, will
+you take her for my sake?'
+
+'My darling, I don't know what you mean?'
+
+'I mean--You won't be cross, father, bach?'
+
+'Never again with you, Netta, please God.'
+
+'Will you promise to grant me this great favour, now that my head is
+clear, and I have no pain, and can ask it right?'
+
+'There is little I 'ould refuse you, Netta; but I should rather hear it
+first.'
+
+'It is about Owen and Gladys, father. They have loved one another ever
+since they were first together. I found it out in the train; and when
+Owen pressed Gladys very hard to tell him why she didn't love him, she
+said it was because she had promised you something. I could not hear
+what; but I heard enough to know that she loved Owen dearly. And she is
+good and clever; and, oh! so kind and gentle to me. I never think now of
+what I used to think so much--how she was a beggar at our gate; and
+everybody in London looks up to her and loves her. Mr and Mrs Jones,
+Miss Gwynne, and Rowland, all treat her like a lady. I should die, I
+think I should, so much happier, or go away when I am fetched, so much
+happier, if I could know she was with you as a daughter. I have been
+very disobedient and wilful; but she has been obedient and grateful,
+though she was not your child. When I left mother to die of fever, she
+nursed her and saved her life. May God forgive me, for Christ's sake,
+and bless her! She has made Owen steady. She has nursed the sick. She
+has taught in the poor, wretched London ragged-schools, as well as in
+the others. She has made clothes for the poor. What has she not done?
+Oh, that I were like her! And now she is waiting on me, and helping
+mother, and nursing my child, like a common servant. Oh, father! take to
+her instead of me. Indeed indeed, you will never repent--never!'
+
+As Netta spoke, her wasted cheek flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her
+manner grew more and more animated. Her father listened attentively,
+without interrupting her, and when she paused, said,--
+
+'Netta, fach, are you seure you didn't dream or fancy this? Owen
+declared to me, Gladys 'ouldn't have him, and didn't love him.'
+
+'Because you would not let her, father. Think of her making him believe
+this, and yet loving him dearly all the time; and because she was too
+grateful to you and mother to do what you don't like.'
+
+'Yes; the girl's a good girl, Netta, I don't deny that; but I can't bear
+the Irish, and don't want Owen, who is a fine, sensible young man, who
+might have any respectable young 'ooman, to marry a girl nobody knows
+of, and there's the treuth! If you let him alone, he'd marry Miss
+Richards.'
+
+'Never, father! Only ask him; for my sake--though I don't deserve you
+should do anything for me.'
+
+'There--there; don't you begin to cry, and excite yourself. I'll ask the
+boy.'
+
+'Now, father! He's in the hall; I heard him whistling. Let him come
+here.'
+
+Mr Prothero went out and called Owen, who came in forthwith He began the
+subject at once.
+
+'Owen, Netta has got into her head that you and Gladys are making fools
+of one another still, in spite of all I said. Is that treue?'
+
+'Not exactly, father. You know I have been in love with Gladys nearly
+ever since I knew her, and made up my mind never to have anybody else. I
+don't call that making a fool of her; perhaps it was of myself. She has
+refused me, without rhyme or reason, more than once; and it was only
+when we came home with Netta that I found out the cause of her refusal.
+It is just because she won't marry me without your consent. I have been
+waiting for her permission to speak to you about this ever since I came
+home; but she wouldn't let me, because Netta was ill. I must confess to
+you, honestly, that I would have married her any day these seven years,
+and worked for her, by sea of land, if she would have had me. But she
+wouldn't, so there's an end of that I find, now, that your consent is
+wanting alone, and I ask it boldly. If you let us marry, you make us
+happy; if you refuse, you make us miserable, and send me to sea
+again--for I don't see that you can expect me to work at home, if you
+don't try to contribute to my happiness. I am not angry, father, though
+I can't see what right you had to extract a promise from a girl to whom
+you had done a service. That was not generous, or like Prothero,
+Glanyravon.'
+
+'Treue for you there, boy.'
+
+Mr Prothero began to rub his ear; a trick he had when in doubt. Netta,
+seeing this, put her arms round his neck, and whispered,--
+
+'Oh, father! make us happy. He is a good son, father, bach.'
+
+'Then go you and tell the girl, you may have her, as far as I am
+concerned,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'Indeed, father!' said Owen doubtfully.
+
+'Do you want me to swear, sir? Upon my deed, then, you may marry the
+girl. I have but one objection, and that's the way she came here. The
+girl's a good girl, and I like her well enough. Now, p'r'aps you 'ont go
+to sea.'
+
+'Decidedly not; I'm a steady land-lubber for my life: thank you, father.
+Shake hands upon it! You won't repent. Kiss me, Netta! You have done it,
+I know, and you shall dance at the wedding. Now, I'll go and tell
+Gladys.'
+
+Owen and his father shook hands until their arms ached. Then the brother
+and sister kissed one another, and, with a sort of greyhound leap, or
+caper, Owen started off in search of Gladys.
+
+'Father, you will never repent it. Thank you--a thousand times,' said
+Netta, covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears.
+
+The worthy farmer cried with her, and thus the father and daughter's
+love returned and increased.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+THE BETROTHED.
+
+
+Owen found Gladys in the dairy with his mother and Minette. She had a
+candle in one hand, lighting Mrs Prothero, whilst she was looking at the
+fresh milk just put into the pans; Minette held the other.
+
+'All right, Gladys! all right! Father has consented!' cried Owen,
+literally tumbling down the passage between the milk-pans.
+
+Down went a splendid tin of milk right over Minette. Owen didn't mind.
+His arm was round Gladys' waist, and the candle stowed away somewhere,
+before any one knew what he was about. Mother and niece saw the long,
+fervent embrace to which Gladys yielded; but Owen didn't mind that. If
+all the servants, domestic and otherwise, had been there, he wouldn't
+have cared.
+
+'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys.
+
+'Oh, Mrs. Owen,' said he.
+
+'Mother, she is mine and yours now for ever!' he continued, releasing
+Gladys somewhat from his firm clasp. 'Father has given her to me. I
+needn't ask you. We will live all together. I will herd the cows, and
+she shall milk them.'
+
+'Come into the kitchen, Owen,' said Mrs Prothero, utterly astonished.
+
+'Uncle, you have wet me all over,' sighed Minette.
+
+'Never mind. Come by the fire and dry yourself.'
+
+They all went into the kitchen, which was empty. There, by the blazing
+wood fire, Owen kissed Gladys and his mother and Minette, and Mrs
+Prothero kissed Gladys; and the women cried and Owen laughed. It was a
+long time before he could explain the real state of the case.
+
+'You are quite sure you love me, Gladys? It is not _gratitude_, but
+love!' said Owen, looking into the pure, lustrous 'violets dropping
+dew,' that he had studied so long and so lovingly.
+
+The answering glance and the quick blush were quite satisfactory.
+
+'Then, will you come with me to father and Netta. We owe it all to
+her--poor dear Netta!'
+
+'Please to wipe my frock first,' said Minette to her grandmother; 'and
+tell me if uncle is going to marry Gladys. I am so glad.'
+
+The frock was wiped, and Owen took the child up in his arms, and told
+her to love her new aunt better than ever.
+
+'I can't love her better, uncle,' was the simple assurance of the little
+girl.
+
+'Nor can I, even as my daughter,' said Mrs Prothero, pressing the hand
+she held with a mother's love.
+
+They all went to the parlour, where Mr Prothero and Netta were sitting,
+quite silent, by the fire-light.
+
+Owen led Gladys to his father, who did not well know what to do on the
+occasion, not being quite satisfied with the respectability of the
+parentage of his future daughter-in-law.
+
+Gladys summoned all her courage, and standing before Mr Prothero, said
+firmly,--
+
+'You will be glad, sir, to know that I have found my friends, and that
+they acknowledge me as their relation. I could never have consented to
+bring disgrace upon you and yours. I do not think I could have accepted
+your present great kindness even, had I not been able to make my truth
+as clear as the noon-day. Mr Jones, with whom Miss Gwynne and I have
+been living so long, is my uncle--my mother's own brother.'
+
+The general exclamations of surprise may be imagined.
+
+'The girl's dreaming, like Netta,' from Mr Prothero.
+
+'Why didn't you tell me before?' from Owen.
+
+'I knew she was true,' from Mrs Prothero.
+
+'How can this be, Gladys?' from Netta.
+
+Gladys told her story simply. Every one was too much engrossed with it,
+to think of the pretty picture that wondering family group made; but as
+we know it already, we will look at the picture whilst she is telling
+her tale.
+
+The large, old-fashioned sofa is placed at one side of the fire-place,
+its head against the wall, its foot towards the window, so as to give
+Netta warmth and the view of the distant hills at the same time. Between
+the head of the sofa and the fire-place is an arm-chair, also against
+the wall, Mr Prothero's favourite seat; and Minette's footstool is by
+the side of her mother, and at the feet of her grandfather.
+
+Netta's pale face is in shadow, but the large, bright black eyes beam
+upon Gladys, with preternatural lustre, and the raven hair shines
+against the white pillow that supports her head. The broad, massive
+figure of the father, in its rough work-a-day clothes, is also in
+shadow. One elbow rests upon the arm of Netta's sofa, one hand smooths
+mechanically the head of his grandchild, resting against his knee. This
+large hand and that tender head come within the glow of the fire-light.
+His grey head is lifted towards Gladys, on whom his keen black eyes, so
+like Netta's, are also fixed. Minette, too, sitting at his feet, gazes
+with child-like wonder on Gladys; her long black curls falling over her
+pale face. Grandsire, daughter, child, so like one another, and yet so
+far apart in age. Three types they are of the ancient Briton.
+
+Opposite this trio, with her left hand clasped in that of Netta, and
+close to her sofa, stands the fair, blue-eyed, graceful Gladys;
+thoroughly Irish in beauty, if Welsh in heart. The red glare of the
+large bright fire brings out her sweet, earnest face, and slight form.
+Her eyes are cast down, as if they cannot support the gaze of so many
+other eyes, and her cheeks are flushed with a strange excitement.
+Towering a full head above her, his arm round her waist, the thick black
+beard touching her hair is the manly, handsome Owen. Love, joy, pride,
+in his honest black eyes, and health on his bronzed and ruddy cheeks.
+Seated on the sofa, her arms on Netta's knees, her head, with its silver
+hair, and plain white lace cap, eagerly pressed forward, is the
+well-beloved mother. For the first time since Netta's return, grief for
+the one child, has merged into joy for the other, and prayer and praise
+for all are in her heart even whilst she listens.
+
+The story is told, Gladys raises her eyes and head somewhat proudly for
+her. Owen lowers his, and kisses the pure, white forehead. There is
+silence for a few moments, no one can speak for tears. Owen is the
+first.
+
+'Well, father! all's right now, at any rate.'
+
+'Treue for you there, Owen, my boy. The only objection is removed;
+everybody will know now that Gladys was honest, God bless you both, and
+make you happy.'
+
+At this moment there was a suppressed sob from Netta. Her mind had
+wandered from the open, straightforward betrothal of Owen and Gladys,
+crowned, after years of difficulty, with a father's and mother's
+blessing, to her own unhallowed marriage--to her lost husband.
+
+Again poor Netta was the object of every one's thoughts, Gladys forgot
+herself, and Owen his joy, to cheer and comfort her.
+
+It was in private that Mrs Prothero poured out her feelings to Gladys,
+and assured her of her unbounded satisfaction in the prospect of such a
+daughter. It was also in private that Netta solemnly gave her child into
+Gladys' care. She said,--
+
+'If I die, Gladys, you are to be her mother. You are to bring her up;
+she is never to leave you. If Howel comes back, say to him this was my
+wish. But I will write it for him. You must teach her to love her
+father, and to pray for him; and when she is old enough to be firm in
+her duty, to go to him if he wishes it. But never let Aunt 'Lizbeth have
+her--never. I _must_ see Aunt 'Lizbeth, I must tell her my wishes
+myself; you must talk to her, Gladys; she must not have my child if I
+die.'
+
+Owen and Minette went together to see poor Mrs Griffey. They
+found her much altered. Owen could scarcely recognise the brisk,
+handsomely-dressed Aunt 'Lizbeth who came to announce her son's gay
+wedding to Mrs Prothero, in that son's mother, as stricken by his crime.
+Moreover, there was a very strong smell of spirits in the room, and Owen
+perceived a bottle and glass, that had been hastily put aside, under a
+table in the corner.
+
+Mrs Jenkins cried a great deal when she saw Minette, and Owen was soon
+very sorry that he had brought the child. However he told her to go to a
+small inner room, the window of which looked into the street, and her
+attention was soon quite absorbed. Her grandmother was in a maudlin
+condition, out of which, under any other circumstances, Owen would have
+extracted mirth, but now he only felt anger and sorrow.
+
+'Have you heard anything of Howel, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' he asked.
+
+'Oh, _annwyl_! No. Mr Rice Rice is telling me there is a 'ditement
+brought against him for forgery, and now they can be taking him
+anywhere, and bringing him to trial as soon as they do find him.
+Forgery! name o' goodness, why 'ould he be forging, as I do say to every
+one, and his own mother as 'ould be giving him thousands of pounds. My
+Howels! Ach a fi! for sham to them! But he 'ont be found guilty, if they
+do tak him. Owen, bach! it was killing me, 'deet to goodness it was,'
+
+'Don't cry, Aunt 'Lizbeth, I wanted to speak to you about Netta.'
+
+'Oh seure! she 'ont come to see her husband's mother! and I don't be
+cheusing to be turned out of doors again.'
+
+'She is very ill, aunt. We don't know whether she can ever recover. Her
+mind is wandering, and has been ever since that--Howel left her; she
+thinks he is gone for debt, and if she knew the real state of the case,
+it would probably be the death of her. If we could manage a meeting
+between you, could you speak only of Howel's debts, and not of this
+terrible suspicion.'
+
+'Seurely I could; but I 'ont go to Glanyravon; if your father was
+turning me out of doors then, what will he be doing now?'
+
+'We must see, Aunt 'Lizbeth? poor Netta sends her love to you, and begs
+you to keep up; she says she is sure Howel will come back; I was to tell
+you this.'
+
+'Netta! Netta! poor dear, poor dear.'
+
+Mrs Jenkins began to rock herself to and fro in her chair violently, and
+to cry hysterically.
+
+'He was very fond of her, Owen; you don't think she'll be dying? I do be
+wishing all day long that she hadn't gone off with him, and that my
+Griffey hadn't left all that money--and--and--tak you a glass of
+brandy and water, Owen, it will be warming you after your cold walk, and
+I do feel so poorly and wretched all over, that I'll be having a drop
+along.'
+
+'No thank you, aunt, we must be going; what of the counsel for Howel?'
+
+'Oh, I do be having the best in all London; Prince Albert or Queen
+Victoria 'ouldn't be having a better; to think of him as was dining with
+them wanst.'
+
+'Don't believe such nonsense, Aunt 'Lizbeth.'
+
+'Was you thinking that my Howels is not telling the treuth? But I am
+seure they 'ont be finding him; they was telling me that America, where
+they do think he is gone, is bigger than all Wales, and England, and
+London put together. Oh, if I could be going to him, I 'ouldn't be
+vexing shocking, as I was now. All that money that my Griffey was
+putting by in pence and sixpences and shillings all gone, and he no
+better, and Howels no better, and I no better, 'scept that I did be
+seeing London. Come you, Owen, tak you a drop of brandy and water. I do
+tak it very kind of you to be coming to see me.'
+
+'What message shall I give Netta, Aunt 'Lizbeth?'
+
+'Give you her my love, and I'll be seeing her whenever she do like. Tell
+you her that Howels shall be having every penny his poor old mother do
+own to set him right again; he'll be seure to be proving himself right,
+come you. Them Simpsons and Spendalls were always living upon him, and
+now to be turning against him. Ach a fi! now do be taking a drop before
+you do go.'
+
+'No thank you, Aunt 'Lizbeth; and I don't think spirits good for you.
+You had better be careful.'
+
+'I don't be drinking a wine glass full in a week, but when I am having
+the spasms, and now I am vexing so, they was coming oftener than they
+was eused to.'
+
+Owen left Mrs Jenkins with a heavy heart, foreseeing her end; Minette
+said she didn't like her because she smelt so of wine, and wasn't a
+lady.
+
+The next day but one Gladys went to see her, and did what she could to
+comfort and help her; she was used to all sorts of sorrow and sin, and
+was so gentle a consoler, and so Christian an adviser, that poor Mrs
+Jenkins asked her to come and stay with her always; but that could not
+be; she went, however, as often as she could leave Netta.
+
+Netta's will and word was now law with her father; he refused her
+nothing; he even allowed her to see her mother-in-law, provided the
+meeting was managed when he was from home. It was so managed, and a
+melancholy meeting it proved; the old woman's tears and sobs were so
+irrepressible, that Gladys was obliged to shorten it as much as
+possible; Netta, however, was calmer than she expected.
+
+'Mother,' she said, 'I want you to promise me one thing. If I die--'
+
+'Oh, Netta, fach! why was you talking of dying? you 'ont be dying.'
+
+'I said _if_, mother. I wish Gladys, who is going to marry Owen--'
+
+'Gladys, Owen! name o' goodness! and your father! he 'ouldn't let you
+marry my Howels, and she--'
+
+'Is very good, mother, whilst I am very bad. But I wish her and Owen to
+bring up my child; you must tell Howel so, when he comes back; and when
+she is grown up, she will be a comfort to you and him. My head is
+confused; I dreamt last night Howel was here, and he was going to take
+away Minette. Is he with you, mother? tell me! do you know where he is?
+Oh! if I could see him once more! once more!'
+
+'He is being safe in America, Netta, fach, but is coming home soon I am
+thinking. Don't you be dying; he was doating upon you, and if he do come
+home, and don't be finding you, he'll be dying too.'
+
+'Are you sure he will come back? Did he tell you so himself?'
+
+'To be seure. He is coming back soon, only he must be paying his debts
+first. Come you!'
+
+Mrs Jenkins' unmitigated falsehoods did Netta a great deal of good; they
+cheered her, and gave her hope for the time. Gladys doubted whether
+hopes so based, and to be so miserably crushed, were to be encouraged,
+but she had not the heart to undeceive her.
+
+When Mr Prothero returned home that evening, he was surprised to see
+Netta looking so much more cheerful than she had done since her return.
+
+'Better, much better,' was her answer to his eager look of inquiry. 'And
+now I am better, I have another favour to ask. I want to see Owen and
+Gladys married while I am here. I think it would almost cure me to feel
+that I had helped to do one kind and right thing in my wrong life. Would
+you mind it, father?'
+
+'I shall be very glad to see them married, my dear; the sooner the
+better. Owen's good-for-nothing now but sitting with his arm round
+Gladys' waist all day long, and I hate those sort of follies.'
+
+'Oh! Davy,' said Mrs Prothero, 'young people will be young people, and
+I'm sure no one can be so modest as Gladys,'
+
+'Well, I'm of Netta's opinion, and the sooner they're married the
+better. I must confess, now I know who Gladys is, there isn't a girl in
+all the country I like so well. And Mr and Mrs Jones have written as a
+gentleman and lady ought to write, owning her, and giving their free
+consent to her marrying our Owen. So, Netta, fach, if you can get the
+young folk's consent you have mine.'
+
+Owen and Gladys had accompanied Mrs Jenkins part of the way home. She
+had particularly asked Gladys to 'send her,' and as it was getting dusk,
+Owen had 'sent her' also. They returned during the conversation
+respecting their marriage and Mr Prothero who had forgotten, if he had
+ever experienced, the shyness of affianced lovers, began the subject at
+once.
+
+'Netta wants you two young people to be married directly, so do I. I
+shall be glad when 'tis all over. What do you say to it?'
+
+They had nothing to say, Gladys blushed, and Owen felt awkward on her
+account, not his own.
+
+'There, I always said that lovers were fools,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+'We will settle it another time,' said Netta.
+
+'Go you and settle it directly,' said Mr Prothero; 'what my little girl
+here says, is law in this house.'
+
+Poor Netta always began to cry when her father said anything
+particularly kind. She did so now. There was a reaction on her spirits,
+and she suddenly became as depressed as she had previously been gay. The
+constantly recurring contrasts between herself and Gladys continually
+affected her, and her father's readiness for the marriage reminded her
+of the scenes between him and herself previously to her own.
+
+The topic was given up for that evening, but the following morning Netta
+renewed it with Owen, who declared himself ready to marry Gladys that
+very moment.
+
+The upshot of it all was, that the wedding was settled for New Year's
+Day, at Netta's particular request. No one cared, or indeed thought what
+the world would say at a marriage taking place during a period of such
+heavy affliction. Netta willed it, and to give her pleasure, and an
+object for her poor wandering mind, every member of the family would
+have made any sacrifice; and this was not a sacrifice at all, but an
+event of importance to all.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones promised to come if only for one clear day, and sent a
+box of presents to their niece, which Netta had the pleasure of
+unpacking. Amongst them was a simple and pretty wedding dress and
+bonnet, that poor Netta wept over, thinking of her own.
+
+On the whole, however, Netta was better and more cheerful, and even
+assisted in the preparations that were going forward. She helped to make
+that pretty dove-coloured silk dress that was manufactured at home, and
+tried to join in the happiness which her apparently improved health
+seemed to make allowable.
+
+But Netta's heart was with Howel, and the certainty that she felt of his
+return and constant love, alone sustained her. Alas! that poor,
+fluttering, uncertain heart!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+THE HEIR.
+
+
+Miss Gwynne returned to Glanyravon on Christmas Eve. She had not visited
+it before, since she left it when her father married. She had seen her
+father, his wife, and her little brother almost yearly in London,
+whither Lady Mary Nugent insisted on dragging her husband annually; but
+she had not hitherto had love, or courage, or Christian charity enough
+to visit them at home. When last in town, and repeatedly by letter, her
+father had urged her doing so, and she had at last complied with his
+request, more from a latent sense of duty than from inclination.
+
+It was a bright, frosty night, when the carriage that had been sent to
+meet her drove up to the door. If poor Netta had fainted on returning to
+the farm, Freda was obliged to brush away gathering tears as she
+returned to the Park. Every branch of tree, as it glittered in the
+moonlight in its dress of hoar frost, was familiar to her, every pane of
+glass in the windows of the old place seemed a friend.
+
+On the lowest step, bare-headed and expectant, were the old butler and
+footman she had left when she went away; she shook hands with each, and
+they almost rung her hand off. In the door-way stood her father, not
+bare-headed, but expectant, who received her with paternal warmth. Freda
+knew that he must for once have forgotten himself and his nervous
+debility to have thus exposed himself to the frosty air. In the hall was
+Lady Mary ready with smiles and embraces, with which Freda would gladly
+have dispensed; but she did her best to seem, if she could not feel,
+glad to see her.
+
+Her ladyship preceded her to her own old bedroom, where a huge fire, and
+bright wax candles bade her welcome, and whither she was followed by
+Frisk, who was exuberant in his demonstrations of delight at his return
+home after his long absence.
+
+'I have ordered my maid to wait on you my dear,' said Freda's
+stepmother, 'because I find your's does not return to you. But we can
+replace her. Dinner will be ready whenever you are; can I do anything
+for you?'
+
+'No, thank you, I shall not be long,' said Freda mechanically.
+
+Lady Mary left the room.
+
+Freda felt that her tact was good after all; for no nice feeling could
+have been more successful than it was. She had received her just as if
+she had come home after a short absence. No demonstrations of any kind;
+her room was much as it had ever been. There were even some of her
+clothes in the wardrobe.
+
+'I won't cry! I won't give way!' muttered Freda, beginning to take off
+her wrappings.
+
+There was a tap at the door.
+
+'Come in!' And Anne the old housemaid appeared.
+
+'Oh, miss, I am so glad to see you home again, it do seem so natural.
+Please to let me unpack your things, miss. My lady thought you might
+like me better than Mrs Pink.'
+
+'Thank you, Anne, it does look like home to see you.'
+
+'Shall I get your dress, miss?'
+
+'I can't dress to-night, I am too tired. There, that will do. Now I will
+go downstairs.'
+
+She did so, and found her father alone in the library.
+
+'I won't cry,' again she said, as she kissed him affectionately.
+
+'Thank you for coming, Freda, it will do me good, and my wife is
+delighted. Harold, too, is in ecstasies, and only went to bed with a
+promise that sister Freda--he calls you sister, you know, and--and all
+that sort of thing.'
+
+The 'my wife,' grated strangely on Freda's ear, but she promised to go
+and see her little brother.
+
+Lady Mary came in, and they went to dinner.
+
+It seemed strange to see her at the head of the table, and Freda felt as
+if she were in a dream. But nothing could be more perfect than her
+ladyship's manner. She behaved as if nothing had ever happened to cause
+the least estrangement between them, and almost as if she were still
+Lady Mary Nugent. Handsome as ever, and perfectly well-bred, she almost
+made even Freda believe, after her long absence from her, that she
+really was what she seemed. However, Freda tried to take her as she was,
+and to feel thankful that she was no worse. It was she who principally
+kept up the conversation; Freda made great efforts, and signally failed,
+and Mr Gwynne never talked much.
+
+After dinner, Freda proposed to go and see the little brother. As she
+looked at the magnificent boy who lay peacefully sleeping in his little
+crib, she was thankful to be able to kiss him, and say, 'God bless you,
+my brother,' without feeling angered that he had deprived her of the
+inheritance she had once been so proud of. She knew that Lady Mary was
+watching her narrowly, but there was no hypocrisy in her affection, so
+she did not care.
+
+They went down to the library, where were Mr Gwynne, tea and coffee.
+
+'Is he not a splendid fellow, my dear?' said Mr Gwynne.
+
+'He certainly is, papa,' replied Freda, aloud, saying inwardly, 'and
+everything with you now. I am quite second--third I ought to say.'
+
+This was true; Mr Gwynne was proud of his wife and son. The former took
+care of him, and did not greatly interfere with his pursuits or
+peculiarities, the latter gave him new life and hopes. An heir in his
+old age was a gift that might well exceed that of the daughter who could
+not perpetuate his name.
+
+Freda was glad when she went to bed, which she did as soon as tea was
+over. It was a great relief to sit down once more in the easy-chair
+which had helped to nurse so many crude fancies and humours in days gone
+by, and think over the past and present. There was an atmosphere of
+unreality about everything at Glanyravon, that she hoped to clear off on
+the morrow, so she resolved to try not to feel depressed under its
+influence; but having once known what it was to enjoy living with real,
+working men and women, with aims beyond the formalities of society, it
+seemed hard to be thrown back upon the cold worldliness of her
+stepmother, and the selfish nervousness of her father.
+
+She was, however, aroused on the blessed morning of Christmas Day by
+something that was very real.
+
+'A merry Kismas, sister Freda,' shouted a sharp little voice into her
+ear, and before her eyes were half opened brisk little feet were
+stamping at her bedside, and the same voice authoritatively enouncing,
+'Put me up, Dane, I 'ull be put up.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, miss,' said the nurse, who stood in the doorway,
+'but Master Harold would come, and my lady isn't up, and--'
+
+'Never mind, let him in,' said Freda, sitting up in bed, and opening her
+arms to receive the rosy, wilful, handsome child, who did not know how
+he had supplanted her.
+
+'A merry Kismas!' he repeated, returning Freda's kisses by pulling off
+her night-cap, and letting down her long hair before she knew what he
+was about. 'Now, I'll dive 'ou to Tewey.'
+
+'Master Harold! don't, sir!' said the nurse.
+
+But Master Harold was jumping on the pillow behind his sister, making
+reins of her hair and horses of her head in no very gentle fashion.
+
+'I sha'n't give you what I brought you from London if you pull my hair,'
+said Freda, catching the bare, firm, sturdy leg of the small tyrant who
+called her sister.
+
+'Is it soldiers?' asked the child, suddenly tumbling down before her.
+
+She caught the little fellow in her arms, and told him that if he would
+go away whilst she dressed he should have the present. After some demur
+he consented, having first informed Freda that ''ittle Minnie, and
+Winnie, and Dot, and baby' were all coming to dinner.
+
+'A family party!' groaned Freda, when the child was carried away by its
+nurse, 'myself the only rightful member of the family, and probably the
+only one who will feel as if she doesn't belong to it.'
+
+Freda got up and looked out upon the fine park and the hills beyond. She
+sighed involuntarily.
+
+'Why should I sigh,' she said. 'I am happier than when it was my
+home,--happier, and, I hope, more useful. My father doesn't want
+me,'--here she paused. Perhaps that father really did want her, for she,
+at least, loved him, and his wife did not; and she was beginning to be
+conscious, daily more and more conscious, of the exceeding preciousness
+of love.
+
+Breakfast passed, with the same effort to feel at home on her part, and
+attempt to keep up a conversation on that of Lady Mary, as had the
+dinner of the previous day.
+
+Harold made a diversion by bursting into the room to ask for his
+soldiers. He, at least, was quite natural, and entirely spoilt.
+
+Immediately after breakfast they drove to church. It was delightful to
+Freda to see the good vicar in the reading-desk, and his wife in the pew
+beneath. She felt at home again for the first time. For the first time,
+also, she really listened to the worthy man's somewhat dry sermon, and
+strove to feel 'in charity with all men' on that blessed day. She
+thought once or twice of a sermon Rowland had preached that day
+twelvemonth, which riveted the attention of his large congregation, and
+made her wonder whence he had received the gift, by half-an-hour's plain
+eloquent preaching, of opening the heart to receive truths hitherto more
+understood than felt. Rowland had become to her, and many, the type of a
+preacher and minister of the Gospel, and to him she owed, under God, the
+fuller enlightenment and enlargement of her own mind.
+
+After the service was over she went into the vicarage. Here, again, she
+was at home. She had much to tell Mrs Prothero of the kindness of Sir
+Philip Payne Perry and his wife to her, and many messages to deliver
+from them. She had also to hear Mr and Mrs Jonathan's opinion of Netta,
+and of the approaching wedding. She avoided any word that could recall
+Howel.
+
+'I hope you are not displeased with the match?' said Freda.
+
+'By no means,' was Mrs Jonathan's reply. 'I always thought Gladys very
+superior, and her turning out to be Mr Jones' niece removes our only
+objection. It is quite a romance!'
+
+'She is a clever young woman,' said Mr Jonathan. 'I was surprised the
+other day to find how much history she knew. As to Wales, she has it by
+heart, and is not wholly unacquainted with the antiquities of the
+country. It was quite a pleasure for me, Miss Gwynne, I assure you, to
+meet with any one who took so much interest in ancient lore. And now she
+is to be one of the family she is so much more at her ease. Actually
+asked me, of her own accord, of the fossils in the Park quarry, and a
+very acute question concerning the lords of the marches. She even knew
+that her name, Gladys, meant Claudia, and that the original Gladys is,
+probably, the very Claudia mentioned by St Paul.'
+
+'We shall all be thrown into the shade now, Mrs Prothero,' said Freda,
+laughing. 'Gladys will evidently be the favourite.'
+
+'I am afraid I must break up your conversation, my love,' interrupted
+Lady Mary. 'You can drive or ride over to finish it when you like.'
+
+On their way home her ladyship remarked,--
+
+'I suppose this unfortunate discovery concerning Mr Howel Jenkins will
+quite ruin Mr. Rowland Prothero's position in London society?'
+
+'He is scarcely in what is called "society;" but his friends are not
+likely to be changed by the conduct of his brother-in-in-law. He is far
+too highly esteemed and admired to be injured by such a man as Howel
+Jenkins.'
+
+Freda felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and was convinced that Lady
+Mary noticed it.
+
+'I am glad to hear you say so, my dear,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a great
+favourite of mine, and I should be sorry to think his prospects were
+injured. They are a rising family. His brother is very much thought of,
+and improving his own and my property amazingly. A most energetic young
+man, and so amusing, that he almost kills me whenever I see him. I am
+glad he is going to marry that pretty Gladys.'
+
+When they arrived at home they found the party from Abertewey ready to
+receive them,--at least, Mrs Gwynne Vaughan and her children. The
+colonel was to join them at dinner.
+
+'Oh, Freda, dear, I am tho glad you are come home again!' lisped Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan. 'Tho ith Gwynne. He thaith it will be delightful to have
+you. Thith ith little Gwynne, and thith ith Minnie, and we call thith
+one Dot, and baby ith in the nurthery. You thall thee her by-and-by.
+Kith Aunt Freda, Minnie,--they all call you Aunt Freda, you know.'
+
+Freda, not at all rejoicing in the honour, stooped to kiss all the
+pretty little children by turns, and had soon made friends with them
+all. The children were the greatest possible relief to her; she turned
+to them as a sort of neutral ground between the war in her own heart and
+the tact and inanity of her stepmother and stepsister.
+
+The latter was as unchanged as the former. Very handsome, very
+fashionably dressed, very good-tempered,--in short, Miss Nugent simply
+turned into Mrs Vaughan. Freda wondered how the really clever and
+agreeable Colonel Vaughan could live with so dull a companion.
+
+Having got through luncheon and the afternoon somehow, thanks to the
+children, the dinner-hour arrived, and therewith the colonel. Freda
+always felt reserved with him, and his studied kindness and politeness
+to her when she had met him occasionally in London, irritated her. She
+had spoken to him before his marriage so unreservedly of his wife, and
+had given him to understand so unmistakably that she knew what had
+passed between him and Gladys, that she fancied he must at heart
+cordially dislike her. Moreover, she had loved him. Much as she despised
+herself now for having done so, she knew it, and she despised him all
+the more on that account.
+
+There was, however, no mistaking the real warmth of his welcome, and for
+the moment--only for the moment--Freda's heart beat quick.
+
+'I am so glad to see you, Freda,--sister Freda, you know, now,--and
+looking so well.'
+
+'Yeth, ith'nt the looking well. I think the lookth younger than when the
+went away.'
+
+'Handsomer, at any rate. I may pay you a compliment, now, Freda.'
+
+Freda could not return it. Colonel Vaughan looked more than six years
+older since his marriage, and there was a dissatisfied expression on his
+countenance very different from the old suavity.
+
+Freda was not long in discovering that if he had improved his fortune by
+marriage he had not improved his temper, or increased his happiness.
+Fortunately for his wife, her imperturbable placidity and want of acute
+feeling prevented her from appropriating many hard hits from her husband
+that would have made Freda wretched.
+
+Again, she admired the tact of the mother. By it she managed her husband
+admirably, and retained her power over him in precisely the same way as
+she did before she married him; while Wilhelmina wholly lost what little
+she had gained over hers prior to her marriage. Her silliness annoyed
+him continually, and her beauty, for want of expression, palled upon his
+fastidious taste.
+
+Freda's contempt very soon turned to pity. The handsome, fascinating,
+deceitful colonel was amply indemnified for all the hearts he had
+broken, and those broken hearts fully avenged by the tedium of his home
+life.
+
+Of course, Freda did not discover all this during that one Christmas
+Day, but it developed itself during her subsequent stay at Glanyravon.
+
+'We did not ask any one else to dinner to-day, Gwynne,' said Mr Gwynne,
+'because we thought Freda would like to have us alone, you know, and see
+the children, and--and all that sort of thing.'
+
+'I hope Freda enjoys a family-party better than I do,' said the colonel,
+looking at her as he spoke. 'Of all things on earth, it is the slowest.'
+
+'Complimentary,' said Lady Mary.
+
+'Oh! Gwynne ith alwayth tho fond of thaying what he dothn't mean. He
+often doth to me, don't you, my dear? But I don't mind, becauth I
+underthtand him now.'
+
+Freda looked at Mrs Vaughan to see if she spoke ironically. Not at all.
+She fully believed what she said. Colonel Vaughan saw the glance, and
+smiling, said,--
+
+'All in good faith, I assure you.'
+
+Freda blushed, and to turn the conversation, began to talk to him of his
+children, and to praise their beauty. He smiled again, as perfectly
+understanding her ruse.
+
+'People call them loves and angels!' he said, 'and even go into raptures
+over the baby. For my part, I never look at them when they are babies.
+Indeed, I don't like children, and all ours are so spoilt. Wilhelmina
+doesn't know how to manage them, and now their governess is away, the
+house is like a lunatic asylum.'
+
+'Oh, Gwynne, how abthurd you are! He ith tho fond of them, Freda, you
+can't think, and they are thuch little dearth.'
+
+'I was greatly amused,' said Freda, 'to hear Minnie call Harold "uncle,"
+just now; and he seemed not a little proud of his dignity.'
+
+'Surely, Freda, you haven't learnt to talk baby talk!' said Colonel
+Vaughan. 'You used to eschew such twaddle.'
+
+'It was time for me to learn to like a great many things that I
+professed to hate. I hope I am improved since I was here last. But I
+always liked children.'
+
+'Oh! Harold is so fond of her,' said Mr Gwynne. 'He is a wonderful boy.'
+
+Here followed a history of various achievements of Harold, during which
+Colonel Vaughan vainly endeavoured to catch Freda's eye. She was only
+too well-disposed to smile at the infatuation of the doating father.
+
+'Here are the children, I think,' said Lady Mary.
+
+In bounded Harold, and jumped, unbidden, on Freda's lap.
+
+'I ull have some of that--and that,' said Harold.
+
+'And I will have--' began Minnie.
+
+'You will have nothing if you ask for it,' said the colonel with a
+frown.
+
+His little trio were quiet in a moment.
+
+'Ganpapa, take me up,' said Dot, creeping round to Mr Gwynne.
+
+Freda felt her blood creep at that word 'Grandpapa,' and also felt the
+colonel's glance. He seemed to take a pleasure in watching every
+expression of her countenance, and it did, unfortunately, always convey
+her feelings to the watcher.
+
+Freda had never passed so uncomfortable a dinner since the day when the
+present Mrs Vaughan came of age. Probably she was the only one of the
+party who was conscious of Colonel Vaughan's changed manner and temper,
+because it was new to her, and she could scarcely believe him to be
+himself. Her father was wrapped up in his boy--his wife's attention was
+divided between him and the other children, and Mrs Vaughan smiled and
+lisped on all by turns.
+
+Freda thought of old times, when her father and herself were so happy
+together; and then she thought of the last Christmas day in London, when
+Mr and Mrs Jones, Rowland, and herself dined late off a Glanyravon Park
+turkey, having first feasted as many poor people as the kitchen would
+hold, on geese from Glanyravon Farm. Certainly the comparison with her
+present companions was 'odious' to her.
+
+Freda scarcely knew which was worst--the riotous, untameable spirits of
+Harold, who did and said what he liked, unchecked either by father or
+mother, or the cowed and altered manner of the other children in the
+presence of their father; they, too, had been noisy enough before he
+arrived.
+
+'It was very good of you to come to-day, Gwynne,' said Lady Mary; 'I
+scarcely expected you, knowing how you dislike this frosty weather.'
+
+'Freda is attraction enough to draw off the frost, though she has become
+so much better than her neighbours. Wilhelmina, my dear, why do you let
+Minnie stuff her mouth so full of orange? The child will choke.'
+
+The dinner came to an end at last, and the children went to bed. Freda
+played and sung some sacred music at Colonel Vaughan's request, and he
+complimented her on her improvement, and said he wished his wife played
+and sung as well, because music was such a resource in a dull country
+place.
+
+'I suppose you have practised a great deal since you have been in
+London?' he said.
+
+'Mrs Jones and I play and sing whenever we have time, and I have had
+some lessons,' replied Freda. 'Besides, one hears all the first
+musicians and singers, and they teach one.'
+
+'Did you see much of that young parson, Prothero? I remember he was
+somewhere in your neighbourhood,' asked the colonel.
+
+Freda was sure this question was a feeler, and she answered
+carelessly,--
+
+'Yes, naturally. He is Mr Jones' brother curate.'
+
+'Now confess, you didn't like those people, and that sort of life? You
+must have been _ennuyee_ from morning to night.'
+
+'On the contrary, the days were not half long enough.'
+
+'Freda!' exclaimed Mrs Vaughan, 'I get tho tired, and tho doth the
+colonel, before half the evening ith over.'
+
+'Some one else seems in the same condition,' said Freda. 'Papa is fast
+asleep.'
+
+'And mamma nearly,' said Mrs Vaughan. 'And I am tho tired. I think
+Chrithmath dayth are very dull. One dothn't know what to do.'
+
+'That isn't peculiar to Christmas days in your year,' said the colonel,
+sarcastically; 'but I suppose we had better go to bed. I hope we shall
+be more amusing to-morrow, Freda. All your old friends, the constant Sir
+Hugh amongst them, are invited to meet you. Let me light your candle.
+Remember, I always used to do that, when we had our snug evenings
+together such an age ago.'
+
+'Yeth, he often talkth of you, Freda, and thayth you were thuch good
+company.'
+
+Freda heard Colonel Vaughan sigh, and thought, as she said 'good-night,'
+and hastened upstairs, that she ought to be thankful that the
+imperturbable and dull Wilhelmina Nugent had been the choice of that
+discontented and irritable colonel, instead of the quick-tempered,
+independent Winifred Gwynne.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.
+
+
+New Year's Day dawned under the influence of a bright sun, and a clear,
+frosty atmosphere. The old year was dead and buried with all his griefs
+and joys; his son and heir came forward smiling, to begin his career of
+times and seasons, clouds and sunbeams.
+
+With him, Owen and Gladys were to commence their united lives. An
+auspicious morning ushered in this, their bridal day, and the year's
+birthday. Nature had put on all her jewels in honour of the joint
+festivities. Her very tears were turned into diamonds that sparkled on
+her capacious breast, neck, and arms, more brilliantly than stomachers,
+necklaces and bracelets of gems, on the courtiers of an Indian monarch.
+
+Truly, as the fair and gentle Gladys drove through the roads and lanes
+that led from the farm to the church, the hedge-rows sparkled with these
+brilliants, and her very pathway was strewn with them. Attired in that
+Quaker-like garb of dove-colour and white, her soft cheek tinged as from
+the sun, her eyes cast down in modest shyness, and her heart beating
+with quiet happiness, she seemed a fitting bride to wait upon that heir
+of so many by-gone generations.
+
+And assuredly a happier never drove to a church to meet her expectant
+bridegroom, her hand clasped lovingly between the kindly palms of her
+future mother, sitting by her side; and the affectionate glances of her
+uncle and aunt cast upon her from the opposite seat. She felt as if it
+were all a dream. She, the Irish beggar--the friendless--the
+wanderer--the orphan!
+
+And now so honoured! All whom she most cared for in the world, with the
+exception of Rowland, were assembled in that village church to meet her.
+There were Owen and his father--Miss Gwynne and Minette--Mr and Mrs
+Jonathan Prothero.
+
+Gentleness, gratitude and simple merit, were, for once rewarded, even in
+this world.
+
+The kind and worthy Uncle Jonathan--so soon to be _her_ uncle--married
+her. Her own uncle gave her, with prayers and blessings, to him whom she
+had loved so long and truly--her former mistress, now her fast friend,
+and another mistress's grandchild, were her bridesmaids.
+
+If a tear gathered in her eye, it was a tear of joy; and there, at the
+altar, amongst all those to whom she was henceforth to be united by the
+ties of relationship, she inwardly vowed to devote herself to their
+happiness, and to the fulfilment of the promises she was making to him
+who would be one with her for ever.
+
+The churchyard was full of spectators, as the proud and happy Owen led
+his bride through it to the vicarage, and the general opinion was, that
+there had never been married so handsome a couple in the church of
+Llanfach.
+
+The bells and the sunbeams rang out and shone out together, and all the
+wedding-party forgot their private sorrows in the joy of the moment.
+
+Even Netta, who had been taken to the vicarage for the occasion,
+received them with one of her old bright smiles. She threw her arms
+round Gladys, and called her 'sister.'
+
+'_My_ sister,' she said more than once emphatically.
+
+And if tears would, from time to time, spring into her eyes, as she
+contrasted herself with Gladys, she brushed them away, and did her best
+not to cast a shadow from her grief, on the brightness of a brother and
+sister's joy. That little drawing-room at the vicarage contained as
+pretty and pleasant a group as could well be seen, of which Owen and
+Gladys formed the centre figures.
+
+'Now, my good girl, let me give you a real kiss,' said honest Mr
+Prothero, 'and tell you that I am proud of my daughter. Mother, what do
+you say?'
+
+'I say, thank God for all His mercies,' said quiet Mrs Prothero, shaking
+Gladys' hand, which she seemed loath to part with.
+
+If there is a great variety of character and feeling displayed in
+shaking hands, there assuredly is, also, in kissing. Gladys experienced
+it in that same little drawing-room, where she submitted her blushing
+cheeks to all sorts of impressions.
+
+Mr Prothero gave her three very hearty smacks, which resounded through
+the room, and seemed to say at once, 'I am your father; his wife's
+embrace was quieter, but more tender. Mrs Jonathan stooped majestically,
+and imprinted her lips patronisingly on the forehead, as much as to say,
+'I receive you into the family of the Payne Perrys, since you are
+respectably connected.' Mrs Jones kissed her on the lips, and said, 'God
+bless you, my dear.' Miss Gwynne, who hated kissing, and did not
+consider herself one of the family, looked on, but took no active part.
+Was that pride? she asked herself afterwards, and the answer was, 'Yes.'
+As to Mr Jones, his embrace made Owen exclaim, 'It is well I know you
+are her uncle now. I was as jealous as could be when you kissed her in
+London.' Minette's embrace was a long hug, and when the vicar came in,
+he wound up the scene by a salute as original as himself, which called
+forth the following reproof from his brother:--
+
+'Why, man, you don't know how to kiss. You stumbled upon the very tip of
+her nose, and almost put her eyes out with your spectacles.'
+
+Heedless of the interruption, Mr Jonathan addressed his niece as
+follows:--
+
+'My dear Niece, Claudia,--I shall henceforth call you by that name, in
+memory of her of the Epistle, and I so registered it just now, Gladys or
+Claudia--I wish you and my good nephew, Owen, all happiness and
+prosperity, both spiritual and temporal. I pray that you may, according
+to the example of your illustrious namesake, devote yourself to works of
+piety and hospitality, making your husband's home happy, and keeping a
+place therein for his and your friends.'
+
+'To be sure she will, uncle,' said Owen, 'and we will have an especial
+corner for you, called "The Claudia," where the little hypocrite shall
+talk to you of all the druidical remains, and fossil mammoths, that she
+pretends to be so interested in.'
+
+'You had better come and take off your bonnet now, my dear,' said Mrs
+Jonathan to the flushed and shy Gladys.
+
+'I hope I shall never be married,' whispered Freda to Mrs Jones, 'if I
+am to undergo that sort of ordeal. But I suppose all brides are not
+kissed in that way.'
+
+Uncle and Aunt Jonathan had prepared a substantial early dinner--they
+did not dignify it by the name of _dejeuner_, or miscall it
+breakfast--to which, in the course of an hour or so, the family party
+sat down, much as they would have sat down to any ordinary dinner. The
+dining-table just accommodated ten comfortably, and Netta sat in her
+easy-chair by the fire, with a small table by her side, making the
+eleventh.
+
+Miss Gwynne remained to luncheon only, being engaged to dine at
+Abertewey, and not considering herself quite as one of the guests. She
+had come uninvited and unexpected, to show due honour to Gladys and her
+dear friends, Mr and Mrs Jones, and the whole party were gratified by
+the attention.
+
+The remarks upon her doing so made by her friends at home, were various.
+
+'Freda is certainly very eccentric,' said Lady Mary to her husband. 'Her
+former maid--your tenant's son--the brother-in-law of that Howel
+Jenkins. Do you think it discreet, Mr Gwynne?'
+
+'Why, really, Lady Mary, I didn't think about it. She has always done
+what she likes; they are very worthy, respectable people, you know, and
+all that sort of thing.'
+
+'Well, if you don't object, of course it is no affair of mine. But it
+looks very much as if she still thought of Mr Rowland.'
+
+'Oh, an excellent young man! It was only yesterday I saw his name
+mentioned in the _Times_, as having attended a large meeting in the
+place of his rector, who is ill. It was upon the general question of all
+sorts of improvements of the low parts of London. I can't exactly
+remember what they were, religious, and sanitary, and all that sort of
+thing you know. Well, the thanks of the meeting were awarded him, for
+his very clear and accurate information, or something of the sort. Very
+satisfactory, you know.'
+
+'Oh very! but that can have nothing to do with Freda.'
+
+'She is very good, is Freda, much improved! she never disputes and
+quarrels with me now. I hope she will live with us--indeed I cannot part
+with her again.'
+
+At Abertewey, Mrs Vaughan asked the colonel whether 'he thought Freda
+would come away from that thupid wedding, in time for dinner.'
+
+'If she doesn't, I will never ask her here again,' was the reply. 'Now
+Freda really is a capital girl, unaffected and sensible; improving every
+year. I wish all women were more like her.'
+
+'Tho do I, Gwynne; the ith very nice, tho kind to the children, and not
+tho thatirical to me as the uthed to be. I uthed to be afraid of her,
+but I am not now, at all. Don't you think thatirical people very
+dithagreeable? I hope Winnie won't be thatirical, don't you? Mamma
+thaith--'
+
+'Never mind what she says, my dear. I hope Freda will come. All the
+people will be so disgusted if she does not, particularly poor Sir Hugh.
+I wish she would marry him--but she is too good for him. Intellectual
+people ought not to marry those who have no brains.'
+
+'No, thertainly not. Oh! here they are! Freda and all. I hear her
+voithe. I am tho glad.'
+
+To Freda's surprise, every one seemed really glad to see her, and to the
+surprise of every one, the more they saw of her, the more they liked
+her. The very people whom she had shunned as bores, and who had shunned
+her as 'tho thatirical,' now became friendly and pleasant to her, and
+she to them; how it was they could not tell, but various reasons were
+assigned for the change.
+
+'How altered Miss Gwynne is,' said one; 'I suppose the birth of the
+brother has made her more humble.'
+
+'Nothing like London to pull the pride out of our country gentry,' said
+a second. 'Lords at home, they are only one of a multitude there. Miss
+Gwynne has learnt her true position at last.'
+
+'How much more agreeable Miss Gwynne is,' said a fourth. 'I suppose it
+is because she has been living in a clergyman's family, where they are
+obliged to be pleasant to all the parishioners.'
+
+'How much less fastidious, satirical, and overbearing Freda Gwynne is,'
+a fourth; 'her very countenance is altered; I am sure there has been
+some great change in her mind.'
+
+And thus the neighbours rang the changes upon Freda's change; but Mrs
+Gwynne Vaughan had been, perhaps, the nearest to the real cause. She was
+no longer satirical, no longer striving to find out vulnerable points in
+people's characters to laugh at; she had learnt to make allowances for
+others, who in turn made allowances for her. Satirical people are very
+amusing, but rarely welcome, companions; not that Freda was exactly
+satirical, but she had the gift of finding out every one's weak
+points--a good gift to those who will kindly cover the point, but a bad
+one to such as like to lay it bare.
+
+The party at Abertewey went off very well; the colonel was in good
+humour, and devoted to Freda, who tried to treat him as her
+brother-in-law; and Sir Hugh was more gallant than ever, and long before
+the evening was over, had managed to tell Freda that he would rather
+have her without the Park than with it, which Freda pretended to take as
+a joke on the part of her old admirer.
+
+The following day, Mr and Mrs Jones spent at the Park, according to a
+special invitation from its master and mistress. Lady Mary's attention
+to Freda's friends did more towards reconciling her to her step-mother
+than anything else; and she even forgot to ask whether it was tact or
+not. Mr Jones was obliged to return to London the next day, but at
+Freda's earnest entreaty, he left his wife behind him for a week, which
+was spent by her between the Park and farm very agreeably.
+
+Before she left, Mr Gwynne had a little private conference with her, to
+the following effect, and very nervous he was meanwhile:--
+
+'I am very much obliged to you and Mr Jones, I am sure, for your
+kindness to Freda. I hope you understand how satisfied, and--and--all
+that sort of thing, you know, I am whilst she is with you.'
+
+Mrs Jones saw that she must say something to help him on.
+
+'We are only too glad to have her society and aid. I assure you she has
+been invaluable in the parish, and is beloved by every one.'
+
+'Exactly; I perceive a wonderful change in her; she is gentler, and less
+excitable. I feel that you--that your husband--in short, I
+mean--that--hem--'
+
+'Freda has such a fine natural character, Mr Gwynne.'
+
+'Precisely; I would say that I am convinced you would not influence her,
+and so forth, in remaining away from--you understand--from me, in
+short.'
+
+'Certainly not. I should be very glad to think that she would return
+and live happily at her natural home, sorry as I should be to lose her.'
+
+'Thank you very much indeed; you have always been her true friend. I am
+very anxious--so we are all you see--Lady Mary would like a
+companion--Harold attends to her better than to any one else. I hope you
+like Harold; ah--yes--he is a fine boy, and so talented; and you
+know--to be sure. I should wish to have Freda to read with me again; I
+assure you I miss her in many ways. And the colonel and Mrs Vaughan--the
+children--in fact--in short--you understand?'
+
+'Perfectly, and will not throw any obstacle in the way of Freda's
+remaining at home.'
+
+'Thank you very much. You are a true friend, Mrs Jones; thank you.'
+
+Mrs Jones made a point of repeating that conversation to Freda, whose
+look of blank dismay quite startled her.
+
+'Oh! Serena, you want to get rid of me. I could never live this kind of
+life again. Lady Mary would kill me in another month; not an idea in
+common. Her daughter is fifty times more endurable, for she is innocent
+in her silliness. And then that cranky, exigeant colonel, longing to
+make love to me if I would let him; the stiff dinner parties, tiresome
+people, spoilt children--though I do delight in Harold and Winnie and
+Gwynne and Dot and baby, too, for that much--and--'
+
+'And your father,' quietly suggested Mrs Jones.
+
+'I never thought you would wish me to leave you, Serena. Those happy,
+useful days! The poor, the schools, the church!'
+
+'They are everywhere, my love.'
+
+'But so different. I never felt so happy or useful before I lived with
+you in London.'
+
+'The change is in yourself, not in the place.'
+
+'Oh! Serena, this is cruel! I could live with my father anywhere, but
+the others--impossible.'
+
+'Think it over. You know that you have a home with us whenever you like;
+that it would be my pleasure as well as interest to have you always.
+That we shall miss you in every possible way; still duty is duty. As
+long as your father did not care, and Lady Mary was rather glad to have
+the Park to herself, the thing was, perhaps, different, at any rate
+Freda was not then the Freda she is now.
+
+'Serena, you are a bitter-sweet, and a horrible little apple that is.'
+
+'But they say it makes good cider.'
+
+'At any rate you ought not to influence me. I will not decide whilst you
+are here, and that is all I will promise. If I do, it will be to go to
+you undoubtedly. But I will think it over.'
+
+That very night before she went to bed, Freda did think it over, sitting
+by the fire in her delightful, warm, well-lighted, well-furnished
+bedroom; but she could not come to any determination. She made out a
+sort of debtor and creditor account in her own head, and cashed it
+according to her somewhat imperfect notions of book-keeping.
+
+'My father--of course I owe him a great deal in the way of duty and
+love; but he owes me something for letting me have my own way all my
+life, bringing me up with the notion that I should be an heiress, and
+then disappointing me by marrying a woman whom I utterly despise. Lady
+Mary--I owe her nothing whatever, beyond the common proper treatment
+that one must give to every one; she, on the contrary, owes me
+compensation for marrying my father when I am sure he didn't want her,
+and certainly I did not.
+
+'Colonel Vaughan--I don't owe him anything beyond a little improvement
+in my style of singing and drawing; yes, I owe him a heavy debt of
+gratitude for not proposing for me instead of Wilhelmina, for assuredly
+I should have married him, and he owes me something for making a fool of
+me. Wilhelmina--I owe her a good deal, firstly, for despising her,
+laughing at her, ridiculing her--and she all the time better than I was,
+for she never retaliated--and secondly, for trying to prejudice the
+colonel against her. Harold--I owe him the love of a sister, and he owes
+me nothing as yet; here I am decidedly debtor. The poor, of course,
+wherever one is, one owes them a great debt of Christian charity and
+love; and I must confess that they are not quite so well seen to as when
+Gladys was my almoner; but then she is here again to see to them, and
+that, on her own responsibility, and it is Lady Mary's place to care for
+them now.
+
+'On the other hand, Serena--I owe her everything; all my few good
+thoughts, words and works. She owes me nothing. Mr Jones, ditto; I am
+wholly creditor in London: the poor, the ragged schools, I owe them
+every farthing I can give, for they want it, and have few to help them.
+I feel almost sure I should be best in London. Rowland Prothero, I owe
+him compensation for my great, unpardonable rudeness and pride; I am
+more ashamed of that one action than of any other. He so superior to me
+in every way, but the mere accident of birth.'
+
+Thus far Freda got in her arithmetic. But Rowland seemed to open a new
+rule, farther on in Butler than addition and substraction. In short,
+she found herself lost in the maze of fractions, and could not extricate
+herself. When she jumped up from her easy-chair, she was trying to
+reduce the following complex fractions, into one simple one, and
+entirely failed.
+
+'A curate, the son of my father's tenant, the brother-in-law of my
+former maid, brother-in-law also of a man indicted for forgery. But,
+proud as myself; below me here, but above me in London; infinitely my
+superior in everything worth the consideration of a person travelling
+quickly through a world of silly distinctions, to one where we shall all
+begin life on very different principles. The fact is, Freda, that the
+tables are turned, and you now esteem this same Rowland Prothero much
+higher than he esteems you. Constant intercourse has brought out all his
+grand points, and all your weak ones. His mind has conquered your vulgar
+prejudices, but has also fully seen through them, and despises you
+accordingly. Well, I suppose duty and propriety concur in my remaining
+at Glanyravon Park, discretion being the better part of valour.'
+
+And so ended Freda's arithmetic.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE PENITENT.
+
+
+A week after the marriage of Owen and Gladys, the following conversation
+took place between Gladys and Netta. The latter had been much more
+wandering in mind since the wedding, and had been occupying herself by
+writing a variety of letters, all of which were addressed to Howel, with
+the exception of one, which was to her brother Rowland.
+
+'You see, dear sister,' said Netta, 'that Howel cannot come to me,
+because he is in debt, so I must go to him. He is in America, I know.
+His letter was from America.'
+
+'But America is an immense continent, dear Netta,' said Gladys; 'you
+would not know where to seek him.'
+
+'Oh, yes! I should find him very soon. My love would point the way. I
+should track his steps like a dog, Gladys--like a dog.'
+
+'But you cannot go till you are better and stronger. Then we can all
+consult upon the best way.'
+
+'Hush not a word to any one. They would stop me. And you know now
+Howell is my husband, I must leave father and mother to follow him. I
+know I was wrong to leave them to marry him; though he loves me, Gladys!
+he loves me! Don't you think he does?'
+
+'I am sure he does. Still, it might not be well for you to go to him, if
+he is hiding for debt. He might prefer your remaining here?'
+
+'Would you not go to Owen? Would he like you to be away from him in
+trouble? You, who have only been married a week, know better; and I have
+been married years.'
+
+'Owen shall tell you, my dear love, whether he would wish me to go to
+him at such a time. Perhaps men know best what other men would like?'
+
+'But I mean to go, Gladys. Neither Owen nor you can hinder me.'
+
+'And what of Minette? You would kill her, if you took her so far.'
+
+'Ah! that is what I wanted to say to you. I knew there was something;
+but my head aches so, I forget. If I go away, will you take care of
+Minette till I come back. Will you love her as if she were your own?'
+
+'Wherever you go I will be a mother to her; but she would not like to
+part from her own dear mother, any better than you will from yours. We
+will not think of the journey just yet, dear; we will be happy together,
+all of us, for a little longer. You cannot leave so soon, after you have
+made Owen and me so blest.'
+
+'None of you want me now; father and mother have a new daughter, a
+better one than I have ever been; Owen a wife! What a word that is,
+Gladys! We don't understand it till we are parted from our husband; and
+I give Minette a mother in my place. I must go very soon.'
+
+Poor Netta laid her head on Gladys' shoulder, and began to cry.
+
+'Well, dear,' said Gladys soothingly, 'we will see about it, you and I.
+But you must not go till I think you strong enough, and till we are
+prepared with clothes and money.'
+
+'Oh! I can beg! I don't want clothes or money to get to Howel.'
+
+Gladys knew that it was of no use to try to combat Netta's purpose. All
+she could do was to seem to yield.
+
+'We will see,' she said, 'when the days are a little longer. But you
+have not told me about the letters yet.'
+
+'No, I was forgetting them. If anything happens to me, or it I should
+miss Howel on my way, I want him to have this packet of letters. In
+them, I have told him that I wish Minette to remain here with you and
+mother; I have said a great deal to him, but mostly to beg him to
+forgive me, as I forgive him, all our unkindness to one another. Was
+that right, Gladys?'
+
+'Quite right, love. We must forgive, as we hope to be forgiven.'
+
+'Father and mother have forgiven me. Do you think my heavenly Father
+has?'
+
+'Yes, I do; because you have repented, and "come to your Father," and
+asked forgiveness for His Son's sake.'
+
+'I have, Gladys; so I can go on my journey cheerfully.'
+
+Gladys could scarcely refrain from tears, when she thought of the
+journey she was really travelling.
+
+'I know you have forgiven me, Gladys, for all I said of you when you
+came here first. Strange that I should have been willing to leave you in
+the barn, or anywhere, to die; you who have done so much for me! Oh,
+Gladys!'
+
+'Don't think of those times, Netta, dear; they are past, thank God.'
+
+Here the door opened, and Owen appeared, his face beaming with a
+happiness that it did all around him good to see.
+
+'What! tears! both of you! Only a week married!' he said, half
+playfully, half reproachfully, as he kissed, alternately, his wife and
+sister, and finally, sat down by the side of the former.
+
+'It was my fault, Owen,' said Netta.
+
+'Is that true, Gladys--quite true?' asked Owen, taking Gladys' hands in
+his, and looking into her eyes.
+
+'Quite true, Owen,' said Gladys, smiling lovingly on the open
+countenance of Owen, whilst a quiet tear rolled down her cheek.
+
+Owen kissed off the tear.
+
+'You are happy, my love?' again he asked, as if fearing that a shadow
+should pass over that fair, sweet face, to obscure the light of their
+spring of wedded life.
+
+Gladys pressed his hands, assured him by a glance true as oaths, and
+looked at Netta. The hint was taken.
+
+In a moment Netta's were the thin hands that Owen clasped, her's the
+face into which he gazed.
+
+'Owen,' she said earnestly, 'if I go away, will you take my child, as if
+she were your own? Will you love her, and bring her up?'
+
+'You are not going away, Netta! But you may be quite sure that I will
+love Minette, without any going away. We will all keep together now, we
+are too happy--so happy, my Gladys, are we not?'
+
+There was a strange restlessness about Netta. This resolution to go
+away had taken such a hold upon her, that she reverted to it again and
+again. Gladys confided it to Owen and their mother, and they all decided
+that it would be necessary to watch her night and day, without letting
+her know that she was watched.
+
+They resorted to every possible means of amusement, but in vain. She was
+quite preoccupied, and even her child failed to attract her attention.
+Again she became nervous at every sudden sound, and started at every
+footfall. She told Gladys that she knew that Howel would either come to
+her during the course of that week, or that she should go to him.
+
+Her mother assisted her in going to bed that night, and before she laid
+down, she said,--
+
+'Dear mother! do you remember that you used to come to this dear room
+when I was a child, the last thing at night, and, sleeping or waking, to
+kiss me before you went to sleep? and do you remember that I always said
+my prayers at your knee, in that very corner by the little table?
+Sometimes I feel as if I was a child, or quite a young girl again. It
+was so good of you to give me my own room, and my own bed, that I love
+so well. If I go away, I should like Minette to have this room. It will
+make her think of me. I pray she may be a better child than I have
+been.'
+
+'Will you not get into bed, dear, and try to sleep?' said Mrs Prothero.
+
+'I think I should like to say my prayers again alone with you; so, at
+your feet. You shall pray for me, and I will join with you.'
+
+Netta knelt, as if she were, indeed, once more a child, at her mother's
+knees, and clasped her thin white hands together.
+
+'Will you pray for Howel, mother?' asked Netta.
+
+Mrs Prothero laid her hand on her kneeling daughter's head, and
+uplifting her tearful eyes to heaven, prayed aloud for Netta, for Howel,
+for all. Netta repeated each sentence after her mother, and when the
+prayer was concluded, threw her arms around her, and thanked her for
+praying for Howel.
+
+'I cannot deceive you again mother, fach,' she said 'I am going away to
+seek Howel, because he cannot come to me. If I should never find him,
+mother--but I shall, I know I shall, if I should die on the road--tell
+him that I never loved any one but him all my life, and I am sure he
+loves me. And now I am at peace with all the world, and have repented of
+all my sins. Gladys thinks I shall go to heaven if I die. And I humbly
+believe I shall. I feel quite calm and happy in my own mind, only
+wishful to go to my poor Howel, who is alone and unhappy. Now, mother, I
+will go to bed.'
+
+She went to bed accordingly.
+
+'Let Minette come and say good-night to me, mother,' she said, when Mrs
+Prothero had made her comfortable.
+
+Mrs Prothero called the child, and her grandfather brought her upstairs.
+
+'How does my girl feel to-night?' asked Mr Prothero cheerfully.
+
+'Better, father, thank you; quite well indeed. God bless you, darling.
+Be a good child to grandmother and Aunt Gladys, and all. God bless you,
+father. I think I should like to have Owen and Gladys to wish me
+good-night; it is so nice to see you all together.'
+
+Owen and Gladys came, and Netta bade 'God bless' them all, and said she
+should now go to sleep quite happy.
+
+Gladys went to put Minette to bed, and Mrs Prothero sat by Netta's
+pillow.
+
+'Good-night, mother; God bless you,' Netta said, more than once, before
+she fell asleep.
+
+When Gladys returned, she was sleeping peacefully.
+
+'The excitement of the day seems to have passed away,' whispered Gladys.
+'Let me watch by her, dear mother.'
+
+The words 'mother' and 'daughter' had come quite naturally to Mrs
+Prothero and Gladys.
+
+'No, Gladys, thank you; not to-night. I will be in the room to-night.'
+
+'Then you will go to bed soon?'
+
+'Yes, very shortly.'
+
+The two women embraced one another tenderly.
+
+'We can only pray for her, poor lamb,' said Mrs Prothero gently. 'I have
+given her to the Lord to do with her according to His good pleasure.'
+
+'He will not leave her nor forsake her,' said Gladys.
+
+Mrs Prothero sat a long time by her child's side watching her, but she
+slept so calmly that at last she went to the little table by the fire,
+and read her Bible. It was late--very late for the farm--when she
+undressed herself and lay down on the little bed, placed near the larger
+bed of Netta. Even then, more than an hour passed before she slept. The
+last thing she heard before she closed her eyes was her daughter's
+somewhat irregular breathing--the last words that rang in her ears were
+her 'God bless you, mother.'
+
+Gladys, uneasy, she knew not wherefore, was in the room at about three
+o'clock in the morning. She had learnt to move so gently that the
+sleepers were not conscious of her presence. She was most thankful to
+find them sleeping.
+
+Gladys was up and dressed by six o'clock. She was anxious to spare her
+mother all possible trouble, and to see that the household was astir
+before she arose. It was a cold, dark January morning. As she went down
+the passage, a candle in her hand, towards Netta's room, she felt the
+chill air press heavily around her. She put the candle on the floor,
+outside the room, and went in. The night-light had burnt out, and the
+fire was dim, though not extinguished. Gladys passes Mrs Prothero
+without awaking her, and stands at Netta's bedside.
+
+She cannot see clearly the face of the sleeping Netta, but such a
+restless anxiety about her had haunted her all the night, that she
+stoops down to listen to her breathing. It is so faint that she kneels
+down, and puts her ear close to the face. So very faint it is, that she
+is not quite sure that she hears it at all. She goes into the passage
+for the candle, and meets Owen. She signs him to silence, and her pale
+face frightens him. He goes with her into Netta's room. Shading the
+candle with her hand, she again stoops over Netta, so does Owen.
+
+Very calm, very pale, and most lovely is the face on which they gaze
+with an eager, throbbing anxiety. Gladys presses her hand on Owen's arm,
+as she puts the candle near that placid face. He, too, puts his ear
+close to the half-open mouth, touches the hand that lies on the white
+counterpane, feels for the pulse, so quick but yesterday. He is about to
+utter the fear that oppresses him, but Gladys points to his mother,
+still heavily sleeping.
+
+'Perhaps it is a swoon,' she whispers, and goes for the draught ready
+for such an attack. The light of the candle awakes Mrs Prothero, and she
+is out of bed in a moment.
+
+'Netta has fainted, mother; she has one of her spasms,' says Owen,
+turning his pale face to his mother.
+
+'My God, it is death!' cries the stricken mother, falling on her knees
+by the bedside of her child.
+
+And it is death. Without a groan the spirit has quitted its dwelling of
+clay to enter upon its eternal rest!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+THE RECTOR.
+
+
+Life and death! What are they? A soul in chains, and a soul set free.
+Darkness and light, uncertainty and certainty! Warfare and peace! A
+railway journey and the great terminus! A span of time and immeasurable
+eternity! A bounded horizon and illimitable space! Earth and heaven!
+Satan and Christ! Man and God!
+
+Life! On New Year's morning Glanyravon Farm was gay with preparations
+for a wedding. All its inmates were hopeful and cheerful! Two human
+beings were made as happy as human beings can be in this world. Three
+generations witnessed the auspicious event, and blessings and
+congratulations mingled with the marriage bells!
+
+One short week, and Glanyravon Farm was mournful with lamentations for
+the dead. All its inmates were weeping. Death's angel had glided in
+unawares and unexpected, and had borne away one of that loving family,
+leaving only her earthly tenement behind!
+
+Another short week, and Glanyravon Farm held no longer even that once
+beautiful tenement. Quiet forms moved about in black clothing, and
+melancholy faces looked sadly at one another, and spoke low of her from
+whom they were parted for an indefinite period.
+
+Such is life!
+
+Death! what know the living of death? Is it not 'swallowed up in
+victory?' Death, then, to the believer in Christ is victory.
+
+Such is death!
+
+These were thoughts that presented themselves to Rowland Prothero after
+he had followed his sister's body to the grave. It was with such
+thoughts, simplified when put into words, that he attempted to comfort
+his mother, and to raise his father's mind from a morbid ruminating upon
+the past, to the hope that his beloved child had found death victory.
+Whilst Gladys comforted Owen and Minette, Rowland seemed to be all in
+all to his parents, and devoted himself to them during the period that
+he was able to leave his duties in London. The news of the death of his
+rector abroad had reached him the day before the intelligence of that of
+Netta; and, had it not been for the kind exertions of Mr Jones, he could
+not have stayed with his family the Sunday that followed the funeral.
+
+Mr Jones, however, managed everything for him in London, and procured
+help in the emergency. Thus Rowland was able to accompany his family to
+church, and to be with them a few days of the week succeeding that on
+which his dear sister was buried.
+
+It was on the afternoon of one of these few and precious days that he
+was sitting alone with his mother. The rest of the family were about
+their necessary avocations. Gladys, followed by poor little Minette in
+her black frock, was managing the household. Owen and his father were
+out of doors, the former doing his best to cheer his poor father, who
+had been perhaps more entirely cast down by his loss than any other
+member of the family, Mrs Prothero not excepted. As he himself said, he
+had not known what an idol he had made of his girl until she was gone
+from him.
+
+Rowland and his mother were talking of Netta. It was Mrs Prothero's one
+theme when alone with him or Gladys. They could comfort her aching heart
+by assuring her that they believed her child's repentance to have been
+sincere, and her faith, if at times troubled and confused by the
+wandering mind and puzzled brain, placed on the One sole and sure
+foundation.
+
+It was in the midst of this conversation that Mrs Griffith Jenkins
+entered, unushered, into the parlour where they were sitting.
+
+At the earnest request of his wife and all his children, backed by the
+feeling that Netta would have wished it, Mr Prothero had consented to
+ask Mrs Jenkins to the funeral, which she had attended, together with
+Mrs Prothero, Mrs Jonathan, and Gladys. Mr Prothero had shaken her by
+the hand on that sad day, but had not spoken to her. Sorrow had so far
+bowed his spirit as to teach him to forgive her, if not Howel.
+
+Mrs Jenkins scarcely gave herself time to say 'How do you do?' when she
+poured out the grief which had brought her to Glanyravon.
+
+'Oh, Mrs Prothero, fach! Ach, Rowland! what will I do? They was finding
+him in America--the pleece was finding him, my Howels! And he do be in
+jail in London, 'dited for forgery. He, my beauty Howels--he forge! Why
+'ould he be forging? Annwyl! Fie was innocent, Rowland--on my deet, he
+was innocent. Oh, bach gen anwyl!'[Footnote: Oh, darling boy!]
+
+Mrs Jenkins wrung her hands and cried bitterly.
+
+'How do you know this, Aunt 'Lizbeth?' said Rowland. 'Tell me calmly,
+and then we will see what can be done,'
+
+'Read you that letter. By to-morrow he'll be in all the papers. He--so
+clever, so genteel, so rich! And all my Griffey's savings--hundreds of
+thousands of pound--nobody do be knowing where they was. Ach a fi! ach a
+fi!'
+
+Rowland read a letter from a celebrated London counsel retained by Mr
+Rice Rice for Howel, to the effect that Howel had been taken in America
+on the very day that his poor wife was planning to wander away in search
+of him, and was a prisoner the day she died. He had arrived in London,
+and been lodged in Newgate the previous day, the one on which that
+letter was written.
+
+Rowland gently told his mother the contents of it.
+
+'Thank God that my child did not live to see this day!' exclaimed Mrs
+Prothero.
+
+'Better dead, cousin, than to be living as Howels is!' sobbed Mrs
+Griffey. 'In a prison, too, my beauty Howels! But I was wanting to know,
+Mr Rowland, when you was going to London? Seure, I do think of going
+to-night, or to-morrow morning.'
+
+'Why must you go, aunt?' asked Rowland.
+
+'Why must I be going? Why ask such a question? 'Ould I be staying at
+home, and my Howels in gaol? I do go to tak care of him, to pay for him,
+to be seeing justice done him, to be near him. Night or morrow morning I
+do mean to go.'
+
+'Mother,' said Rowland, 'I am sure you will not mind sacrificing one day
+to poor Aunt Griffey and Howel. I must be in London the day after
+to-morrow. I will go to-morrow instead, and take her up with me, and see
+what is to be done for Howel. He will not have too many friends near him
+at such a time.'
+
+'God bless you, Rowland, bach,' said Mrs Griffey, springing up from her
+chair, and running to Rowland and kissing him vigorously--a compliment,
+it must be confessed, he could have dispensed with. 'And you will be
+standing up for him, and be telling of his character--and of his living
+at Abertewey--and how he was so clever, and did never be doing anything
+wrong. You will be saving him, Rowland, seure!'
+
+Rowland shook his head.
+
+'I will go with you, Aunt 'Lizbeth, and take you to my lodgings till I
+have seen Howel, and told him you are in London. We shall then see what
+can be done.'
+
+'But you will be speaking up for him, Rowland, bach?'
+
+'Cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero, 'if Howel had been a good son, and
+a steady young man, you could scarcely ask Rowland to speak up for him,
+and his own sister in Llanfach churchyard! "As we have sown, so must we
+reap," in this world.'
+
+'It do be fine for you, cousin, to be preaching, who was having
+fortunate sons, but--'
+
+'Hush, Aunt 'Lizbeth, if you please,' interrupted Rowland. 'I will take
+you to London to-morrow, if you are resolved to go. You must meet me at
+the omnibus.'
+
+(There was now a railway within a few miles of Llanfawr.)
+
+'Then I will be going home to get ready. You was seure to come, Mr
+Rowlands?'
+
+'Sure, if nothing unforeseen prevents me.'
+
+At this point of the conversation, Mr Prothero entered the parlour,
+leading Minette, who had two letters in her hand.
+
+'Here are two letters for you, Uncle Rowland,' said the child.
+'Grandfather says one must be from a bishop. What's a bishop, uncle?
+Oh, Grandma Jenkins!'
+
+Minette gave the letters to Rowland, and then went to kiss her
+grandmother, who began to cry when she saw her. Mr Prothero suppressed a
+very equivocal question concerning the reason of her again appearing at
+Glanyravon, and said,--
+
+'How d'ye do, Mrs Griffey?'
+
+Rowland opened his letters. One was from Mr Jones, the other, as Minette
+said, was from a bishop--the Bishop of London. He read Mr Jones' first,
+and turned more than usually red as he did so. He uttered an exclamation
+of surprise when he finished reading it, and put it into his father's
+hands.
+
+He then read the second letter. It was short. He got up, sat down, got
+up again, gave the letter to his father, and said,--
+
+'It is too much! I do not deserve it! I wish it were Jones instead of
+me. He is much better--more suited--married. I cannot believe it!'
+
+Neither could Mr Prothero, to judge from the expression of his face. He
+read each letter twice over, and seemed struggling with some great
+emotion as he ejaculated, 'Rowland, my boy!' and burst into tears.
+
+Mr Prothero had not cried before since Netta's death, and those were,
+indeed, precious tears.
+
+Minette, terrified at seeing her grandfather cry, ran off in search of
+Gladys, who had been every one's refuge since her marriage.
+
+She and Owen were at the front door, receiving Mr and Mrs Jonathan
+Prothero, who had just arrived.
+
+'Aunty, grandfather is crying,' said the child. 'You said you wished he
+would cry; but I don't like it. I think he is crying for poor mamma, who
+is in heaven, and can't come to him.'
+
+All hurried into the parlour.
+
+They found Mr Prothero holding one of his son's hands, and shaking it
+nervously, and Mrs Prothero holding the other, and vain attempts to
+speak.
+
+'Brother Jo! sister-in-law! Just in time. If our Netta was but here!'
+said Mr Prothero. 'Mrs Jonathan shall read the letters. It was she who
+got him the curacy.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan was not a little surprised to be greeted by having two
+letters thrust into her hands, and being requested to read them.
+
+'This one first, sister-in-law.'
+
+At any other time Mrs Jonathan would have resented the epithet of
+sister-in-law, but she now swallowed it, and began to read as follows:--
+
+     'MY DEAR ROWLAND,--I should have written to you earlier, but I
+     could not do so until a question that has been pending ever since
+     you left was decided. Deputations and round-robins have been
+     issuing from this parish by unanimous consent, and tending to St
+     James'. For once High Church and Low Church have united in paying
+     you the greatest compliment you can have paid just at present,
+     viz., in requesting the bishop to give you the living of which you
+     have been more than ten years curate. I believe it is pretty nearly
+     settled that you are to be our new rector, and that I shall have to
+     knock under, and solicit you to continue me in the curacy. I
+     congratulate you from my heart; so does my wife; so, I am sure, do
+     rich and poor around us. There never was a more popular
+     presentation. May God prosper your labours as a rector as He has as
+     curate.
+
+     'Give our love to my niece, Gladys, and kind regards to all the
+     rest of your family, with a kiss to Minette, and believe me, most
+     faithfully yours,
+
+     WILLIAM JONES.'
+
+Mrs Jonathan Prothero had begun to read this letter with a firm voice.
+It faltered before she got half way through it, and nearly failed before
+she completed it.
+
+'Read the other before you say anything,' said Mr Prothero.
+
+She began accordingly, clearing her throat and eyes at the same time.
+
+     'MY DEAR SIR,--I have great pleasure in offering you the living of
+     which you are now curate, vacant by the lamented death of Mr
+     Stephenson. I assure you that the united request of your friends
+     and parishioners was but the echo of my own will, as I have long
+     known and appreciated your untiring labours for the good of the
+     souls committed to your care, particularly during the long illness
+     of the rector, when you were of necessity brought more prominently
+     forward.
+
+     'Praying that God's blessing may rest on you and your
+     parishioners,--I remain, my dear sir, faithfully yours,
+
+     'LONDON.'
+
+'Rowland! my dear nephew!' exclaimed Mr Jonathan Prothero, 'this is
+incredible! Such a living, without interest, personal application, much
+acquaintance with his lordship--'
+
+'You forget, my dear,' said Mrs Jonathan interrupting her husband in his
+speech, and herself in an embrace she was about to give Rowland; 'you
+forget that Rowland frequently met the bishop at Sir Philip Payne
+Perry's, and was not without interest, I am proud to say.'
+
+'And I am proud that he has got on by honest merit,' said Mr Jonathan.
+
+'And so am I, uncle, much obliged as we are to the "three green peas,"'
+said Owen. 'Let us shake hands upon it, Rowly, and here's Gladys waiting
+for a kiss; she'll be running away from me again to be your district
+visitor, or Sister of Charity, or whatever you call it. Quite grand to
+have a near relation a London rector; I am half a foot taller already.'
+
+'Kiss me, Uncle Rowland; I am very glad the bishop has written you such
+a nice letter,' said Minette. Rowland took the child up in his arms.
+'Grandma Jenkins is crying so in the corner,' she whispered; 'is it for
+papa, or poor mamma?'
+
+Rowland's attention was instantly recalled to Mrs Jenkins, who was,
+indeed, crying and sobbing very much. He pointed her out to his mother,
+who at once went to her.
+
+'Oh! I am thinking of your Rowlands and my Howels, so different!' said
+the wretched mother; 'he to be beginning life so rich, and your son with
+nothing; and now! oh, anwyl! oh, anwyl!'
+
+'Come with me, cousin 'Lizbeth,' said Mrs Prothero kindly; 'come
+upstairs, and I will make you some tea, and then Owen shall send you
+home.'
+
+Mrs Prothero and Mrs Jenkins left the room, followed by Gladys, who was
+soon making the required beverage.
+
+Whilst congratulations were still going on in the parlour, Miss Gwynne's
+voice was heard in the passage.
+
+'Not a word to Miss Gwynne, or indeed to any one, of my having the
+living, to-day at least,' said Rowland, leaving the room hastily, and
+repeating his request to Gladys in the hall.
+
+'I can only stay a few minutes,' said Miss Gwynne, when she had shaken
+hands with the party in the parlour, 'I wished to ask how Mrs Prothero
+is, and to see you, Mrs Jonathan. I have been delayed at the school, and
+it is nearly dusk already.'
+
+'Oh, don't go yet, Miss Gwynne,' said Minette, creeping up to her, and
+getting on her lap, 'it is so nice with you. Poor mamma is gone to
+heaven, Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'Yes, love,' whispered Miss Gwynne, kissing Minette, 'but we will not
+talk of it before your grandfather, you see it grieves him.'
+
+'But you won't go; it is moonlight now--a pretty moon--I see it. It will
+light you home.'
+
+The 'pretty moon' rather frightened Miss Gwynne, who said that if she
+did not go, she would have the servants in search of her.
+
+'Will you allow me to walk with you, Miss Gwynne?' said Rowland; 'it is
+too late for you to return alone.'
+
+'Thank you, I shall be really obliged, if I am not taking you from your
+friends. I am a much greater coward than I used to be. London lamps
+spoil one for country roads. Tell your grandmother that I will come
+again to-morrow and see her, Minette.'
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland left the house together. Mr Prothero saw them to
+the door, and watched them up the road.
+
+'Strange times!' he said to his brother, when he returned to the
+parlour. 'Rowland walking with Miss Gwynne quite familiar. I hope he
+isn't too forward; to be seure he don't offer his arm, or go near her;
+but it seems out of place their going together in that way at all.
+Gwynne, Glanyravon is a proud man, perhaps he 'ouldnt like it; but
+Rowland is so grand and so good now, that I daren't say a word.'
+
+'Oh!' said Mrs Jonathan, drawing herself up to her fullest height, 'a
+Rugby boy, and an Oxford man is a companion for any lady--and a London
+rector is a match for any lady in the kingdom, allow me to assure you,
+Mr Prothero; and Rowland has been in quite as good, or better society in
+town, than you can meet with in this neighbourhood. Sir Philip is quite
+in the first circles.'
+
+'And Rowland isn't spoilt by it, brother,' said Mr Jonathan. 'He is a
+son and nephew we have reason to be proud of.'
+
+Thus, in the midst of heavy sorrow, a joy came to the inmates of
+Glanyravon Farm. A sunbeam through the shadows.
+
+Such, too, is life!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+THE DISINHERITED.
+
+
+Miss Gwynne and Rowland walked on quietly together for a little space.
+There was something in the heart of each, unknown to the other, that
+seemed to close up speech. It was nearly five o'clock, and a January
+evening; but for the 'pretty moon' and the white mist from the river,
+and the frost-bitten snow on the roads, it would have been dark; but it
+was really a fine, bright night. That river-mist rose from the meadows
+beneath like a large lake, and the moonlight pierced through it and
+mingled with it.
+
+It was such a night as lovers of a healthy, natural tone of mind might
+rejoice in; frost and snow being no refrigerators of true, honest
+warmth, but rather tending to keep it alive, by exhilarating the spirits
+and clearing the atmosphere.
+
+Rowland broke the silence, and so clear was the air, that his own voice
+startled him.
+
+'I am going to London to-morrow, Miss Gwynne; may I give Mrs Jones some
+hope that you will soon be back again?'
+
+'I fear not,' said Freda; 'my father wishes me to remain at home, and I
+have decided upon doing so.'
+
+'Not entirely?' asked Rowland, in a voice that all his self-command
+could not render calm.
+
+'I believe it is so settled. He makes a great point of it. Lady Mary is
+equally urgent, and I have promised. Do you not think it is right?'
+
+'I suppose so; but what shall we do without you?'
+
+Rowland spoke as he felt, from his heart. Miss Gwynne was touched by the
+words and tone.
+
+'I shall be very sorry,' she said, simply. 'I never was so happy as in
+that dingy old square.'
+
+Rowland felt that his new living, with all its increased
+responsibilities, would be a heavy burden to him without Freda's ready
+energy to lighten it. He did not at that moment pause to think how
+closely even our highest duties are entwined with our affections, and
+thereby lowered to earth--but so it is. The conscientious man does them;
+but a helping hand, a friendly voice, a loving word, is a wonderful aid
+towards doing them with a cheerful spirit.
+
+There was silence for a few minutes between Rowland and Freda, and their
+quick steps slackened. At last:
+
+'I thank you from my heart, Miss Gwynne,' said Rowland, for all your
+kindness to my dear sister. It must cease, alas! but it will never be
+forgotten.'
+
+'Poor Netta! my old playfellow! I was only too thankful to be of any
+service. I wish we could have saved her.'
+
+'God knows best. Her husband is in Newgate gaol.'
+
+Rowland said this with a great effort; Freda started, and there was
+again a brief silence.
+
+'Miss Gwynne, I have long wished to say to you, how much I have felt
+your devotion to the schools and poor of our parish. Now that we are
+about to lose you, perhaps, I may do so. Glanyravon will gain what our
+poor East End loses.'
+
+'Thank you. If I leave London in a better spirit than I entered it, I am
+in great measure indebted to you for it.'
+
+'To me!'
+
+'Yes. I do not wish to flatter, or to be religiously sentimental; but
+your practical, simple sermons, and your still more practical life have
+done me much good. Now we will not compliment one another any more.'
+
+'Oh, Miss Gwynne! you do not know what you do when you say such words
+to me.'
+
+'I simply tell the truth.'
+
+'I, too, have another truth to tell, which, if not told now, will never
+be told.'
+
+Freda's heart beat quick, and her face flushed. She was thankful that
+silence concealed the one, and night the other. But the truth was not
+what the heart whispered, and the pulsation slackened.
+
+'Years ago--I know not how many years, the time seems so long, and yet
+so short--I insulted you by words that should never have been said. We
+were on this very drive, near this very spot--the same moon was looking
+down upon us. This very tree was over our heads. Do you remember? You
+do--alas! you must. Pride, most improper pride in one who should be a
+teacher of humility, has prevented my alluding to the subject ever
+since.'
+
+Rowland paused, and he and Freda stood still beneath that old oak, so
+well remembered by both. She did not speak; she could not for the
+moment; and Rowland continued,--
+
+'Those words, which called forth your severe and deserved reproof,
+should never have been said; but your kindness, the hour, the scene, my
+own excited feelings, my--in short, they were called forth
+involuntarily, but were wholly inexcusable. I forgot my birth and
+position, and was punished accordingly. Pride has kept me silent ever
+since. Pride has prevented my saying that I am sorry now that I so
+forgot myself then, and pride has made me cold and reserved to you, when
+I saw clearly that you wished to be my friend, and have since proved
+yourself such. Will you forgive me?'
+
+Freda did not, as when they once before stood beneath that huge oak,
+draw herself up to her full height, and make an indignant answer. She
+trembled, and glanced very timidly into the face that looked down upon
+hers. There, in the cold moonlight, with the icicles hanging from the
+old tree, and the frost-spirit hovering near, she read that face more
+truly than she had done in the genial summer moonshine, and wished those
+words had never been spoken. She said, gently but decidedly,--
+
+'Mr Rowland, it is I, not you who ought to crave forgiveness. You did me
+an honour of which I was not deserving, and, therefore, I could not
+appreciate it. I have repented of those proud words almost ever since. I
+am heartily ashamed of them, and beg you to try to forget that they were
+ever uttered.'
+
+Once more there was a momentary silence, then Rowland said firmly,--
+
+'Miss Gwynne, you must understand that I only regret the boldness of my
+conduct, and that I did not conceal my feelings from you as from the
+rest of the world. I do not regret the feelings; do not apologise for
+them. They were my own, engendered by nature and circumstances, given me
+by God, as part of my portion of trial in this world; they grew with me
+from childhood, ever since I used to play with you at the vicarage--they
+were fostered by your father's kindness and my own self-esteem, as well
+as by your presence, which I ought to have fled; they are with me still,
+have never left me, will be my weakness and my strength so long as this
+earthly warfare lasts.'
+
+'And is it really so?' said Freda, a large tear glittering in the eyes
+into which the moon, the frost-spirit, and Rowland were equally looking.
+
+Two hands were tightly clasped that had hitherto scarcely dared to touch
+each other; two hearts were for ever united, that hitherto had been as
+far estranged as Vesuvius and the icebergs.
+
+I know that many cynical and sentimental readers will ask if there is no
+danger of the pair of lovers taking cold on an evening in January,
+whilst thus mutually discovering the 'eternal passion' in the presence
+of the 'Erl-king.'
+
+Rowland and Freda seem to ask the same question, for, loosening that
+close grasp of hands, and without one word of love, they walk hastily
+towards the house. Rowland talks rapidly the whole way, interrupted by
+an occasional sentence from Freda. Readers, there is no proposal, no
+acceptance. The conversation is as follows:--
+
+_Rowland._--I have just received letters from the Bishop of London and
+Mr Jones offering me the living, and telling me that the parishioners
+wish me for their rector. I am most thankful now, for it puts me in a
+very different position--it allows me to hope, and with less
+presumption.
+
+_Freda._--It makes no difference to me, you are yourself whether rector
+or curate. But I rejoice for your sake, and to know that they appreciate
+you.
+
+_Rowland._--You will know and believe that it was Miss Gwynne, Freda,
+the woman, not the heiress, that I have loved so long and so well.
+
+_Freda._--I am no longer an heiress; you are far the best off.
+
+_Rowland._--I am most thankful. Had this wide park still been yours, I
+could never have said what I have dared to say to-day; but let me repeat
+once more your words that I may remember who I am--a farmer's son, your
+father's tenant.
+
+_Freda._--A clergyman, a gentleman, and a Christian.
+
+_Rowland._--My brother-in-law a--a--felon.
+
+_Freda._--Yourself not changed by your brother-in-law's crimes.
+
+_Rowland._--If then in the course of another year our present painful
+position should be forgotten, or at least, at rest, when I am
+established at the rectory as rector, when I can come forward on my own
+responsibility, when, in short, I can say without compunction all I now
+feel, may I hope?'
+
+_Freda._--Then as now, you may be certain.
+
+They were on the steps before the door of the house; again their hands
+were firmly clasped.
+
+_Rowland._--Till then, farewell, and God bless you.
+
+_Freda._--Will you not come in?
+
+_Rowland._--No, I would rather not now.
+
+_Freda._--Then God bless you, and be with you during your coming trial.
+
+And thus they parted, happy, and having perfect faith in one another.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE CONVICT.
+
+
+Forgeries of all sorts are so much the taste of genteel rogues of the
+present age, that the reader will readily dispense with a detailed
+account of the trial and conviction of Howel Jenkins. Any one of the
+various cases that fill those columns of the _Times_, devoted to such
+criminalities, will give a very good general idea of his. All that his
+mother's remnant of his father's hoarded wealth could do, was done, to
+prove him guiltless, but in vain. Counsel pleaded, some of his turf
+friends, themselves of doubtful reputation, spoke to his character, and
+he sat through his trial as imperturbably as if he had been at a
+dinner-party. The prosecutors, Sir Samuel Spendall and Sir Horatio
+Simpson, met with deserved reproofs for allowing themselves to be
+swindled, almost before their faces, out of money and property to an
+enormous amount.
+
+Long before his father's death, Howel had begun a system of betting-book
+cheating, and forgery on a small scale, which had ceased for a short
+time when he came into his enormous wealth, but recommenced as that
+wealth dwindled. Numerous instances came out from various sources whilst
+he was in America,--all his former associates being ready to leave his
+setting sun, for the rising one of his accusers.
+
+Sir S. Spendall and Sir H. Simpson were sole prosecutors, and between
+forgeries on banks, and in betting-books, and the unjust acquisition of
+Spendall Lodge, Howel was found guilty of forgeries to the amount of
+some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, and sentenced to transportation for
+fourteen years. So much general villainy transpired amongst the set in
+which these crimes were committed, and the prosecutors themselves were
+so weak and dissipated, that the sentence was supposed to be less severe
+than it might have been under other circumstances.
+
+The nefarious conduct of Mr Deep as Howel's attorney, and the enormous
+interest he was found to have received, caused him to be struck off the
+rolls, and very little evidence was wanting to prove him an accomplice
+in Howel's villainy. However, it was not forthcoming, and so Howel
+suffered alone.
+
+It was generally rumoured that Howel had forged his mother's name, at
+various times, to a very large amount; but, as she vigorously denied the
+fact, and acknowledged every signature as her own, the case was, of
+course, not brought forward.
+
+In spite of her manifold exertions in his favour, in spite of all
+Rowland's efforts, Howel positively refused to see either of them before
+the trial took place. He declared to his mother, through his attorney,
+that if he saw her, she would take away some of that nerve and courage
+so necessary to establish his innocence; and to Rowland, he politely
+hinted that he did not wish to see him at all.
+
+As the trial was almost immediate upon the imprisonment, they did not
+press the point. Rowland and Mr and Mrs Jones, pitying Mrs Jenkins in
+her evident misery, would have had her remain amongst them, but she
+insisted on taking a lodging near the gaol, that she might, at least, be
+in her son's neighbourhood, and hear from his attorney and others of his
+health daily.
+
+He was always reported to be well, and in good spirits, and indeed was
+so, to all appearance. He ate, drank, and slept much as if he had never
+committed crimes that at one period would have brought him to the
+gallows; and to the last moment of his leaving the prison for his trial,
+jauntily talked of what he should do when he was out of 'that confounded
+hole.'
+
+It was with great difficulty that Rowland persuaded Mrs Jenkins to
+remain in her lodging during the time of the trial, which he attended
+himself, more on her account than his own; for he was so fully convinced
+of Howel's guilt, that he knew he should only witness his degradation.
+
+In the court he fell in with Captain Dancy, who told him that he had
+wished to say a good word for Howel on his wife's account, for whom he
+entertained a great respect; but that Howel had positively refused any
+aid whatever from him. He thought this strange, as he owed him a large
+sum of money, and he had not brought forward his claim. Rowland thought
+it strange too, not knowing then, that Howel had one soft part in his
+hard nature, and that was love for Netta.
+
+Howel bore the summing up of the judge and his severe reprimand with
+indifference. He seemed slightly moved when the sentence was pronounced;
+but recovering perfect calmness, he said aloud, so that the whole court
+could hear,--'If I am guilty, my prosecutors are guilty, and all the
+speculators in the world are guilty.'
+
+When Rowland went to Mrs Jenkins' lodging after all was over, he found
+Mrs Jones with her, her husband having been with him during the trial.
+Mrs Jones had been endeavouring to prepare the poor mother for the
+probable sentence, but nothing could persuade her that 'her Howels, so
+clever, so genteel, who dined with the Queen and Prince Albert, and was
+handsomer than the Prince, for she had seen him,' could be transported
+for forgery.
+
+When Rowland told her the truth, as gently as he could, the effect it
+had upon her was quite different from what he had expected. She burst
+into a passion, not of grief, but of rage. She had been drinking brandy
+before Mrs Jones went to her, and had been greatly excited the whole
+morning, as she had also been on the previous day, the trial having
+lasted two days. At the climax, the true nature of the woman showed
+itself, and the friends who surrounded her thought she was insane.
+
+Judge, jury, witnesses, prosecutors, and finally every member of the
+Prothero family came in for a share of abuse of the coarsest kind.
+Rowland felt thankful that the greatest part of it was uttered in Welsh,
+and that, therefore, Mrs Jones could not understand it, although the
+strong guttural, made stronger by uncontrolled passion, was enough, in
+itself, to frighten any one. Happily, she was surrounded by Christians
+who pitied her, and did not leave her in her sin and sorrow to the
+strange people who came, uncalled, to see what was the matter, and who
+would fain have remained; but Rowland told them, decidedly, to go away.
+
+Mr and Mrs Jones, also, withdrew at Rowland's request when the outburst
+had somewhat subsided, and left him to reason with the wretched,
+maddened woman alone.
+
+He let the fury wear itself out, and then stood by to hear his
+unfortunate sister and his father abused as the primary causes of
+Howel's downfall.
+
+'If he didn't be marrying beneath him, he 'ould be holding up his head,
+and looking for a lady, who do be keeping him in his place. And Netta
+Prothero so 'stravagant! ach a fi! and Prothero, Glanyfavon, who was
+turning against him, and kicking me out of his house. Shame for you all,
+Rowland Prothero! your own cousin and brother-in-law! and no one to be
+saying a word to help him. Oh, anwyl! my boy! my Howels! What 'ould his
+poor father be saying if he was knowing all! and how his money was going
+and all mine too! I shall be going to the Eunion, and then you'll be
+feeling satisfied, Rowland Prothero! and your mother, and that Gladys,
+and all so grand! 'll be looking down upon me. And my Howels over the
+sea! 'sported for fourteen years, and I 'ont be living to see him come
+back again. Anwyl! anywyl!'
+
+Here tears came, and Mrs Jenkins sank upon a chair, and covered her face
+with her hands.
+
+Rowland let them flow for a time, and then putting his hand kindly on
+her shoulder said,--
+
+'Aunt 'Lizbeth! you must try to keep up for Howel's sake. He will like
+you to visit him now, perhaps,'
+
+The kind tones touched a gentler chord in the poor woman's heart, and
+she looked up at Rowland, like one awaking from a dream.
+
+'Seure! Mr Rowland Prothero! I'm thinking you're too fine for us now. A
+clergy and a rector! oh seure! you'll not be going to see my poor
+Howels!'
+
+'Yes, I will, if you will try to be calm. I will see him first, and
+prepare him for your coming; I will not even ask his permission but go
+to him. I can gain admittance at once, I know, both as a clergyman and
+relation.'
+
+'Now! go you directly! tell you my Howels--'
+
+'I don't think I can go to-night. It is too late--but to-morrow I will
+go, on condition that you compose yourself, and return with me to my
+lodgings.'
+
+'I 'ont be going to your lodgings, I 'ouldn't be leaving my Howels for
+the world.'
+
+'You cannot see him to-night, you must not stay with the people of this
+house after what you said to-day, or they will take advantage of your
+being alone, to make you say more. I cannot remain here to-night, and I
+am the only friend you have in town to whom you could go.'
+
+'Treue, for you, Rowland Prothero. There's my Lady Simpson was asking me
+to stay with her, when my Howels and I was having money enough to buy
+her presents, and her son and doater did go to Abertewey when they did
+like--and now, not wan of all the fine folks do come and say, "How was
+you, Mrs Jenkins?"'
+
+Rowland ventured to repeat a few verses from Scripture, and to beg her
+to turn her mind to better thoughts. Then he induced her to put on her
+bonnet and cloak and go home with him, promising to bring her back the
+following day, and retaining the lodging for another week.
+
+They passed a miserable evening. It was in vain that Rowland strove to
+comfort or advise his guest. She did nothing but abuse justice, and
+lament her son's past grandeur.
+
+The following day, Rowland fulfilled his promise. He left her at her
+lodging and went to the gaol.
+
+He had previously obtained full permission of the authorities, through
+the chaplain, who was well-known to him, to visit Howel when he liked,
+and to give him the letters left for him by his deceased wife. The
+chaplain had told him that the prisoner was quite indifferent to all
+that he said to him on religious subjects, and listened to them, if,
+indeed, he listened at all, with a scoffing, incredulous, hardness of
+manner, that was more painful than mere carelessness.
+
+When Rowland entered the cell, Howel was sitting with his back to the
+door, and did not turn or take any notice of the incomers. He had a
+piece of paper before him, and a pencil in his hand, over which he
+seemed rather to be dreaming than writing. The gaoler closed the door,
+having orders to remain without, and left the cousins alone.
+
+Rowland stood some time irresolute in the gloomy cell, but finding that
+Howel did not move, he went round in front of him, and said,--
+
+'Howel!'
+
+The word was quite sufficient. He started up, and whilst the blood
+rushed to his face, said coolly,--
+
+'To what am I indebted for the honour of a visit from Mr Prothero? I
+think I sent you a message to the effect that I am not now in a position
+to receive company. My chambers are anything but suited to convivial
+society, and I prefer solitude just at present. I have already had the
+benefit of clergy, and do not need any of your sermons, excellent as I
+am told they are. Indeed, divinity was always out of my line.'
+
+'I come to fulfil the dying request of your wife and my sister, which
+that letter will explain,' said Rowland, calmly and gravely, placing an
+open letter on the table.
+
+Howel's countenance changed at once--the flush of passion passed away,
+and left a painful pallor, whilst the sarcastic mouth became compressed
+into a marble rigidity. He sat down again, and pushing aside the paper
+that had previously been before him, drew the letter towards him. He put
+his elbows on the table, and shrouded his face so that Rowland could
+not see him, and bending over the letter, gazed on the writing without
+attempting to read, as one might gaze on a spirit without daring to
+speak to it. The letter was, indeed, a voice from the dead, and dated
+the very day before that on which Netta died. Its contents were as
+follows:--
+
+     'MY DEAR BROTHER,--I intend leaving Glanyravon, and all my dear
+     relations, to go in search of Howel, who, you know, is my husband;
+     and therefore to be loved and obeyed before any one else. If I die
+     before I find him, as perhaps I may--my heart being so bad--I wish
+     you to see him when he comes back, and to give him the accompanying
+     sealed packet yourself. Nobody knows how I have loved him all my
+     life, and perhaps if I had been better tempered and less jealous,
+     he might have stayed at home, and not been obliged to go away for
+     debt. But when I have found him, I will be very loving and patient,
+     and then we shall be happy together again. If I don't find him,
+     however--if I die first--will you, dear brother, talk to him as you
+     have talked and written to me, and then I may meet him again in a
+     happier world, where I am praying and striving to go, through the
+     atonement of Him who died for sinners--even for me and Howel, who
+     are both great sinners--yet not too great to be saved. Thank you,
+     my dear, dear brother, for showing me the way to heaven, and for
+     all your goodness to me and Minette--(my poor Minette, I must leave
+     her, but you will all take care of her better than I have done).
+     Thank you, I am very sorry that I was such a wilful, perverse
+     sister, when you tried to do me good.
+
+     'God bless you for ever and ever--you and all--Your loving but
+     afflicted sister, NETTA JENKINS.'
+
+Rowland sat down at one end of the cell, on the iron bedstead and that
+he might not seem to be watching Howel, took a small Testament from his
+pocket and began to read. This, too, he had brought for Howel. It was
+the one Netta had used, as long as she lived, and in it she had written,
+'To be given to my dear husband, if I die.--Netta.' She had marked many
+passages, and appended her initials to each of the marks.
+
+Rowland could not read long. It was impossible not to see the trembling
+of that iron man who sat before him; the heaving breast and the
+convulsed hands. And yet Howel did not read the letter. He saw the
+familiar handwriting once more of the only thing he had ever
+loved--loved and murdered--and he sat transfixed before it.
+
+At last Rowland rose, and going to him, put his hand on his shoulder.
+He started as if Netta's spirit had appeared, and looked up wildly.
+Seeing Rowland, he struggled for self-possession and again shrouding his
+face, began to read.
+
+Rowland kept his hand on his shoulder, gently pressing it, as if to
+assure him of sympathy. He felt him trembling beneath his touch.
+
+As he stood thus his eye fell on the paper that Howel had had before him
+when he entered the cell. He could not help seeing the words, 'From my
+cell in Newgate--my judge and jury.' Underneath this heading appeared to
+be the commencement of a poem, and beneath that were caricatures of a
+man in a large wig, and of others, with every variety of nose and chin.
+
+This had been Howel's occupation within four-and-twenty hours of his
+conviction!
+
+Three times Howel turned the sheet of paper that he was reading, as if
+he had not understood the words that were written on it, and then he
+uttered a groan, so deep and loud, that Rowland could restrain himself
+no longer, but said,--
+
+'Howel, for her sake, listen to me, her brother. Look on me as your
+friend, your brother.'
+
+Howel looked up, and for one moment there was remorse and agony in his
+face; the next, no stone was harder and colder.
+
+'Brother!' he said, with a voice of icy sarcasm, 'you have shown
+yourself my brother of late! I saw you in the court, cold and
+calculating; not a word for this, your _brother_! Bah!'
+
+'What would you have had me say?' asked Rowland, recovering his
+composure, and glancing from Howel to Netta's letter.
+
+'I understand you; you mean that I murdered her. I did, virtually. Then
+why be hypocrite enough to call me brother?'
+
+'She forgave you, and called you husband.'
+
+'Because she--she loved me.'
+
+There was another involuntary groan, and a brief silence.
+
+'Where are her papers? Give them me, and go,' said Howel imperatively.
+
+Rowland put a neatly-sealed packet on the table, on which was written,
+'For my husband, Howel Jenkins;--to the care of my brother, Rowland
+Prothero. Janetta Jenkins.'
+
+'This, too, she left for you,' said Rowland, putting the small
+Testament, originally her mother's, on the table. Again the stony lips
+trembled, the eyes softened. 'Howel, Howel, for her sake!' once more
+ventured Rowland.
+
+There they lay--the letter, the packet, the Testament. All that was left
+to him of the once bright, loving, and lovely creature, who had been
+devoted to him all her life.
+
+He turned the leaves of the Testament mechanically; touched the
+packet--shuddered; then leaning his head upon his folded arms on the
+table, burst into an uncontrollable agony of grief.
+
+'She is--she was--where?' he said, after a short interval, rising from
+his seat, and beginning to pace the cell.
+
+'Her soul is in heaven, I hope and believe; her body rests in Llanfach
+churchyard, under the large hawthorn bush near the vicarage gate.'
+
+Often and often had Howel gathered Netta bunches of May from that very
+tree that now sheltered her remains.
+
+'Tell me--tell me all,' he said, 'from the time I left her, till--how
+you found her--everything.'
+
+'You must sit down, Howel, and hear me patiently if you can.'
+
+Howel sat down on the bedstead, and again covering his face with both
+hands, listened; whilst Rowland took the seat he had left, and fulfilled
+his bidding.
+
+He told him everything that had happened to Netta, from the period of
+her being left in the lodgings in his parish, until her death at the
+farm. He felt that the one hope of softening Howel, or doing him any
+good, was through his love for his wife; he therefore narrated simply
+what she had suffered and said; he told how that she had been hourly
+expecting him back, until his one short note; how she had listened for
+his footsteps, and refused to leave the place where he had left her,
+until he came. All that her friends had done for her, was introduced
+incidentally; Howel understood that she had been taken to her relations
+again, as the prodigal son to his father, but he was not told so.
+
+Rowland did not spare him, however, as regarded Netta. He knew him to be
+utterly callous as to the follies and crimes of his life; he must,
+therefore, be made conscious of their weight, through their effects upon
+others; he knew that they had been the cause of Netta's death, and this
+would show him the enormity of sin if nothing else would.
+
+As he detailed the wanderings of poor Netta's mind, and then her anxious
+inquiries of him of the way of salvation for Howel, as well as herself,
+he was visibly affected. Not even his determination that Rowland should
+not see his emotion could conceal it; but he did not speak a word. He
+listened to the end, and then, without uncovering his face, he said in a
+voice tremulous from emotion,--
+
+'Thank you; now go; and come back to-morrow; I would be alone with her.'
+
+'And to-morrow I must bring your mother,' said Rowland
+
+'No, no, let me see you alone,' was the hasty reply.
+
+'God bless you, Howel, and grant you His help,' said Rowland, passing
+before the stooping figure.
+
+There was no reply, so, with a heavy sigh and an inward prayer, Rowland
+left the cell.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+THE PENITENT HUSBAND.
+
+
+The following morning, Rowland again took Mrs Jenkins to her lodging and
+left her there. It was with very great difficulty that he persuaded Mrs
+Jenkins to remain behind, and only under a promise to prevail upon Howel
+to see her immediately after his interview with him.
+
+As he expected, he found Howel almost as cold and impassive as on the
+previous day. But he fancied that this was an assumed manner, and that
+he could trace workings of more natural feelings underneath. He was at
+least civil to him, and instead of receiving him as before, said,--
+
+'I thought you would never come; but I suppose prosperous people are
+never in a great hurry to visit the unfortunate. Ha! ha! Certainly my
+reception-rooms are not very inviting.'
+
+'I came as soon as I could gain admittance. I wish you would believe,
+Howel, that I am very anxious to be of any use to you that I can. You
+know that you refused to see me before.'
+
+'And it is no great compliment now; this confounded place will kill me.
+I have been haunted by spectres all the night, five thousand times worse
+than a voyage to Australia. That will be amusing, ha! ha! But to have my
+father in one corner, and--and Netta in the other,--and that cursed
+money rolling about everywhere, just as it did--well, never mind that!
+but hanging outright would have been better. Don't preach; it is no
+good; I am far beyond that, and I know you have your sermon ready; but
+your presence is some relief after such a night. I tell you what it is,
+Rowland, if you are a better and a happier man than I, it is because you
+had honest parents; it is no merit of yours, and no fault of mine.'
+
+'Howel, I claim no merit; but we are all responsible for our own
+actions, God forgive those who set a bad example: they will have to
+answer for it.'
+
+'Pshaw! Do you think I meant that? I mean that if my father hadn't
+heaped up all that gold--bah! the word makes me sick,--and denied me a
+sixpence whilst he lived; and if I hadn't seen my mother rob him
+whenever she could, and learnt from her to do the same, I shouldn't be
+here now! No, I should be a plodding shopkeeper, or at least a country
+lawyer, or doctor, and should have been living in a house with three
+steps to it, and a portico, by this time, with--don't suppose I regret
+such a house--but Netta! oh, God! Netta!'
+
+Howel beat his forehead with his hand, and pointed to the corner of his
+cell.
+
+'There she is! there she has been all the night. Pale as when I laid her
+on her bed that miserable day!'
+
+'Howel! you loved Netta, I see, and believe it now,' said Rowland.
+
+'You do! And why not before? Ah! I see. Because I have never done
+anything to prove it. But I did not know how I loved her until I knew
+how she loved me.'
+
+'Would you prove it now, if you could?'
+
+'Would I? Why do you mock me by such a question?'
+
+'Because she, being dead, yet speaks. Her last wishes, thoughts, words,
+writing, were for you.'
+
+'Do I not know it? Have I not read? All night have her words not haunted
+me?'
+
+'And her prayers, Howel? Shall they be forgotten? And that Book in which
+she wrote last, will you not read it?'
+
+'I don't know. I tried last night, and I could not. I have never read
+the book since I wrote Greek at school.'
+
+'Netta begged you to read it.'
+
+'What is that to you, Rowland Prothero? Who put you over me as judge and
+counsellor?'
+
+'Netta. As spiritual counsellor, at least; and in her name, since you
+will not let me appeal to you in a Higher name, I command you to listen
+to me.'
+
+Rowland saw that he had gained an advantage by appealing to Netta, and
+that Howel checked the irony that was on his tongue, out of reverence
+for her name. At once he spoke as an ambassador in that Higher name he
+had feared to use before.
+
+Rowland had had ten years' experience of men as bad and worse than
+Howel, and had learnt how to speak to them, and to seize the mood of the
+listener. He knew Howel well; and he, therefore, used the strong and
+powerful language of the Bible, as the priests, prophets, and apostles
+used it--as the word of God to man. Not diluted by their own
+reflections, but in its bare and grand simplicity. He had not made the
+Bible his study in vain. He knew how to bring it to the heart of men
+with a power that none 'could gainsay or resist,' Even Howel, sceptic,
+scoffer as he was, listened in spite of himself.
+
+Rowland was a humbler man than he had been, when he used, years before,
+to argue with Howel, and endeavour to convert him to the truth. He was
+equally right in his views then, but he gave them forth more
+dogmatically, and allowed self to peep in; now self was wholly swallowed
+up in the Word itself; and so Howel gave heed as to God, and not to man.
+
+He laid bare Howel's heart to himself, for the first time that it had
+ever been so exposed, and then showed him the denunciations of the law
+against sin. He did not spare him. He knew that the only way to save
+such a man was by bringing him to know himself first, and then to ''
+preach repentance and remission of sin.'
+
+In his energy and longing to rescue him from destruction, he stood
+before him as one sent to tear up his unbelief by the roots not to dally
+with it.
+
+'Flee from the wrath to come,' might have been the text of his
+discourse, as it was that of the Baptist.
+
+When he paused, as if for breath, Howel exclaimed,--
+
+'Enough! enough! Stop! I can hear no more; you have opened to me the
+gates of hell wide enough.'
+
+'And now I would open those of heaven. Let us pray.'
+
+Rowland's eyes flashed such a fire as Howel had never seen in them
+before; his voice and words had a command that he had never heard.
+Perforce he obeyed. And there, in that narrow cell, actuated by fear,
+rather than remorse, astonishment rather than contrition, bowed by a
+will yet stronger than his own, Howel fell on his knees beside his
+cousin, and listened to a prayer for pardon and help, that might have
+melted the heart of a Nero.
+
+At first he heard as in a dream, then his ears were opened, then his
+heart. And at last Rowland's spirit breathed within him the blessed
+words, 'Behold he prayeth.'
+
+It is not for us to look into the heart of the criminal, and decide how
+God works in it. Even Rowland could not tell the ultimate effect of his
+preaching and prayers. All he knew that from that day Howel welcomed him
+to his cell as the one hope of his life. He was awakened to a sense of
+his condition, and Rowland thanked God, and took courage.
+
+As the meetings and partings of parent and child--however wicked they
+both may be--in the cell of a felon, simply harrow the feelings of the
+reader, I will pass over those of Howel and his mother. Some
+recrimination, and much grief on the one side--some remorse, and much
+misery on the other. Rowland did what he could for both until the last
+parting was over. And then he left the mother to the care of Mrs Jones
+to accompany the son on board the ship that was to convey him to his
+convict home.
+
+We are not to suppose that the 'Ethiopian's skin' was changed because it
+was pierced. Howel continued outwardly proud, scornful, and hard to the
+last; but Rowland witnessed the struggle that went on within to maintain
+that bearing, and knew that some good might arise even out of the
+spendthrift and the forger.
+
+'You will take care of Minette amongst you, for her mother's sake,' he
+said to Rowland.
+
+'And for yours, and her own,' was the reply.
+
+'Tell her not to hate her father. You who never told her mother of my--I
+suppose I must use the word--crime, will be as gentle as you can in
+letting the child know who and what her father is. I thank you all, more
+for keeping _her_ in ignorance till death, than for all the rest.'
+
+'And for _her_ sake, Howel, you will read that book, and pray to be kept
+from temptation.'
+
+'What temptation shall I have? I shall be more inclined to pray to be
+thrown into temptation.'
+
+'Oh, Howel!'
+
+'Well! This convict ship and the ocean, and chains and hard labour at
+the end, don't seem very inviting. I know it has been my own fault and
+my father's, but that doesn't make it better; however, I will try. And
+if ever I get back to Old England again a reformed character, will you
+lend me a helping hand, or turn your back upon me?'
+
+'Give you the hand of friendship and brotherhood.'
+
+'Thank you; and don't let them quite desert my mother. Bad as she is, I
+am worse, and I have ruined her; a worse thing that than getting a
+little money out of those turf-dupes and idiots, though hers was
+ill-gotten wealth.'
+
+'We will take care of your mother amongst us as well as we can. My
+mother never forsakes an old friend.'
+
+'Give my love to her; she was kind to me and to my child. All the rest
+have deserted me, and wished me hanged. But I have to thank you, who
+always despised me, for being here now, and for your anxiety about me.
+Rowland, you are a better fellow than I thought you, and you have helped
+to rid me of some of those spectres that haunted me night and day. You
+must go! I know it. Alone! alone! with this crew! Is this Heaven's law
+or man's? and I was not made for this. I shall destroy myself--I must--I
+will. Good-bye! oh Rowland! cousin! brother! remember me, for God's sake
+and for hers!'
+
+The hands of the minister of the Gospel and the felon were clasped for
+a few seconds, as if they could never unlink, and then, with a heavy
+groan, Howel sank down upon some timber that was near him, and covered
+his face with his hands. Thick tears filled Rowland's eyes as he stooped
+over his wretched cousin, and again whispered, 'God bless you, cousin
+Howel, God bless you.'
+
+And so they parted.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+GLADYS REAPING HER FRUITS.
+
+
+Our story began at Glanyravon, in the cheery month of June, and at
+Glanyravon, in the same cheery month, we will end it.
+
+I must beg my readers to pass over in their imaginations one
+twelvemonth, of which I do not mean to say anything, and to accompany me
+to the gate at Glanyravon Farm, where they first made acquaintance with
+Mrs Prothero and Gladys. A hasty glance will suffice to show that all is
+much the same at this said gate as it was ten years ago, save and except
+that the extraneous accompaniments are changed. Instead of a group of
+Irish beggars and a dying girl, it is surrounded by a party of
+well-dressed peasants in high, smooth hats and striped flannel gowns.
+Moreover, it is surrounded by an arch of evergreens and flowers, of most
+tasteful form and beautiful colour.
+
+We will not linger here at present, but pursue our way along the road.
+We meet more peasants, in holiday costume, talking and laughing
+together, with Miss Gwynne's school children in their scarlet cloak and
+best frocks. They all seem to be lingering about, with nothing to do,
+and enjoying their idleness and June holiday as thoroughly as the
+greatest philanthropist in the world could desire. As we approach the
+entrance of the Park, we see another magnificent arch spanning the road.
+We turn to the large iron gates, and they, too, are circled with laurels
+and roses.
+
+We walk through the gates, and to the right, far in amongst the trees,
+are long lines of tables covered with white, and bearing the remains of
+a huge feast, at which, we take it for granted, the people we have met
+have been regaled. Scattered here and there amongst the oaks, elms, and
+ashes are more peasants and school children amusing themselves
+variously.
+
+We pursue our way up the drive until we come to the memorable oak,
+under which words were spoken greatly influencing the fates of two of
+the individuals in whom I have been endeavouring to interest my readers.
+From this venerable tree to another, almost as venerable, hangs another
+wreath, flanked with banners. We reach the house, and another garland
+entirely surrounds the door. White roses and lillies of the valley make
+the air heavy with their breath, drawn out by the attractive rays of the
+beaming afternoon sun.
+
+We enter the hall, and peep into the different rooms. In the dining-room
+is the remains of an ample repast. At the head of the table is an
+enormous cake, covered with silver doves and ornaments of all kinds;
+servants are drinking the remains of champagne out of glasses and
+bottles with healths innumerable. In the library and hall, children in
+white frocks, with silver bows fastened to them, pattering to and fro in
+unchecked excitement. In the drawing-room we pause, and listen to the
+conversation that is passing between Mr Gwynne, Lady Mary, Colonel and
+Mrs Gwynne Vaughan, and Sir Hugh Pryse.
+
+'I am so thankful it is over, and that it has all gone off so well,'
+says Lady Mary.
+
+'Really, Lady Mary,' says Mr Gwynne, 'great thanks are due to you for
+the admirable manner in which you managed everything. I think it was
+wonderful that we amalgamated, and all that sort of thing, don't you,
+Gwynne?'
+
+Colonel Vaughan replies, yawning,--
+
+'I don't know what on earth we shall do without Freda! And she to throw
+herself away upon that stupid London parish, where all her charming
+manner and talent will be lavished upon ragged schools and missionary
+meetings. I wish she had never come back.'
+
+'Oh, Gwynne, I'm thure Mr Prothero ith very nithe, and tho gentlemanlike
+and good and handthome. And, you know, clergymen are ath good ath any
+one in London.'
+
+'Prothero is better than most, I think,' says Sir Hugh, 'because there
+is no humbug about him. And I'm sure, since Freda wouldn't have me, I'm
+glad she had him, though I never guessed she liked him; I used to think
+she liked you best, Vaughan.'
+
+The colonel sighs.
+
+'Oh! I never flattered myself so far, I wish--'
+
+'Certainly, I could not have believed the Protheros were such superior
+people,' says Lady Mary. 'As to Mr Owen and his wife, they might be
+introduced into any society.'
+
+'Thweetly pretty, Gladyth ith, I never thought tho much of her before,'
+lisps Mrs Vaughan. 'Tho interethting the looked in that dreth, the one
+the wath married in, my maid thaith.'
+
+'I was obliged to call at the farm myself, to induce old Prothero and
+his wife to come,' says Mr Gwynne, 'Freda wished it so much; I cannot
+say I did: you see it was rather awkward. But he did not change his old
+manner towards me--or--in fact--you know, Sir Hugh he might have been--'
+
+'Bumptious,' breaks in Sir Hugh; 'exactly, not a bit of it. They're
+better behaved. Besides, there was Mrs Jonathan to support the honour of
+the family, and her husband the learning.'
+
+'Yes,' says Lady Mary; '' it is a comfort that they are really
+gentlefolks. And Mr and Mrs Jones too--in short, with the exception of
+the parents, after all, there is no great objection. Many girls make
+worse matches. Only they live so near.'
+
+Here little Harold comes bouncing into the room, followed by the other
+children.
+
+'Mamma! papa! do you know I am going to marry Minette, I told her so;
+her name is Victoria, after the Queen, she said. I shall go to see her
+to-morrow; she is bigger than Minnie, and looked prettier in her veil.
+Didn't Dot look funny in a veil? Dot nearly cried, but Aunt Freda gave
+her some cake. Why did Mr Prothero come, papa? isn't he a farmer?'
+
+'And isn't your papa a farmer? and am not I a farmer, Master Harold?'
+exclaims Sir Hugh, catching the boy up in his arms.
+
+'I am so sorry Aunt Freda is going away,' says quiet little Minnie to
+her mother.
+
+'And tho am I, my dear.'
+
+'And tho am I, mamma,' lisps Dot, exactly as lisps her mamma.
+
+'I hope she will be happy,' says Mr Gwynne, aside to the colonel; 'do
+you think she will?'
+
+'Yes, I am sure she will; she is evidently sincerely attached to Rowland
+Prothero, and he to her. He is a good man and a gentleman, one cannot
+deny that. Pshaw! why am I so sorry she is gone? we shall miss her
+dreadfully after this twelvemonth.'
+
+'Thank you, Gwynne; she has been very good and kind to us all; so much
+improved, and she told me she owed it all to Rowland. Well, I liked him
+from the first. You saw the Bible his school children gave him, and the
+presents from his parishioners and the letter from the bishop, so
+complimentary, you know, so flattering, and all that sort of thing. God
+bless them,'
+
+Mr Gwynne very nearly begins to cry, and Colonel Vaughan feels inclined
+to join; but by way of consoling himself, says,--
+
+'I shall go and see the Protheros sometimes now. I never saw anything in
+my life so lovely as that younger Mrs Prothero.'
+
+'Take care, my dear,' cries Lady Mary to her daughter; 'the colonel is
+going to visit the fair Gladys.'
+
+'Oh! I thant allow that, Gwynne, the ith much too pretty.'
+
+'Let us go out and look at the people before dinner,' says Colonel
+Vaughan; 'I must say it was cruel of Freda to refuse to have a party.
+This is fearfully dull; the vicar and his wife, or Mr and Mrs Jones
+would have been better than nobody.'
+
+'Much obliged!' says Sir Hugh.
+
+As all the party go into the Park, we will follow them, and leaving them
+there, retrace our steps to the farm.
+
+There is high tea going on in the parlour, and a pleasant, cheerful
+party they are, assembled round the tea-table. Gladys in the
+wedding-gown, with a colour on her cheeks and a light in her eyes that
+were not there in former days, presides. Owen divides his attentions
+between her and some object in the corner of the room; first jumping up
+to peep into this curtained curiosity, and then returning to put cream
+into the tea-cups, hand the cakes and bread and butter, or do any and
+everything that his loving and lovely Gladys asks him, with whom he is
+just as much in love as ever.
+
+Mr Jones and Mr Prothero sit on either side of Gladys, and seem to vie
+with one another in showing a father's and uncle's affection to her.
+Next to Mr Jones we have Mrs Prothero, looking more like what she looked
+when first we saw her, than she has done for years. Then Mr Jonathan and
+Mrs Jones; and between Mrs Jones and Owen we are glad to see poor Mrs
+Jenkins, very kindly treated by her neighbours, and dressed in the
+_moire_ and a handsome shawl; then Mrs Jonathan, in the richest of
+silks, and the loveliest of caps; and, finally, Minette between her and
+her grandfather; completing a 'round table' more cheerful and natural
+than that of King Arthur.
+
+Through the open window and white netted curtains--Gladys' treasured
+work--the roses and sunbeams look in together, and the distant mountains
+are blue and hazy as the sky. Flowers are on the mantel-piece and
+tables, bridal-favours are scattered here and there. Above all, there is
+a large white and silver bow, surmounting that 'curiosity' in the
+corner, towards which all eyes occasionally turn. Perhaps we may as well
+peep within the little white curtains.
+
+There lies a wee baby, fast asleep, with its tiny hand outside the
+coverlet, and its lace cap on the little pillow. 'Netta,' is the name of
+that small fragment of humanity. Owen and Gladys' first-born.
+
+Having surveyed the company, we will listen to their conversation.
+
+'Well, father, don't you feel vain-glorious to-day?' says Owen,
+stopping suddenly on his way to the cradle, and pulling his father's
+grey whisker.
+
+'I feel very thankful that it is all over, and very unnatural.'
+
+'Not unnatural, David, bach,' says his wife.
+
+'Yes, unnatural. It was never intended for Miss Gwynne to be my
+daughter-in-law, and I breakfasting at the Park. I felt like a hog in
+armour, fidgeting inside and out.'
+
+'Perhaps it was never intended for me to be your daughter, either,' says
+Gladys, looking archly at the farmer.
+
+'Treue for you, my dear. That was a piece of luck that came without my
+seeking, and I like it all the better for that reason, I suppose.'
+
+'I am sure you may rejoice in the present Mrs Rowland Prothero,' says
+Mrs Jonathan; 'and you certainly need not imagine, for one moment, that
+she is degrading herself by marrying your son. In London he is in the
+first society, and meets people constantly, on equal terms, who would
+quite throw your Lady Marys into the shade. Does he not, Mr Jones?'
+
+'I cannot quite enter into these points, ma'am,' says Mr Jones; 'but he
+and his bride are as well suited to one another as any young people I
+ever saw, and will be a blessing to their parish and their friends.'
+
+'Besides, if you come to family, brother David,' says Mr Jonathan, 'ours
+is of considerable antiquity, and I cannot think how it got Anglicised
+into Prothero. You know I have been enabled to trace it back to
+Rhyddrch, or Rhodri, a prince who fought with and frequently defeated
+Ethelbald. You may not be aware, Mrs Jones, that our name, properly
+Prydderch, means Ap Rhyddrch, and that we owe it to this illustrious
+source.'
+
+'Now, aunt,' exclaims Owen, 'never mention the Payne Perrys again. Why,
+you cannot light a candle to us. I am sure your Herefordshire Perry
+can't date back to the conquest, and here are we long before it. What
+date, uncle?'
+
+'720, Owen. And I wish you, as the eldest son, would begin to write your
+name in the proper way. I contemn, absolutely, this altering our fine
+old language into that jargon of Anglo-Saxon, Danish, Norman, and
+French, now yclept English.
+
+'Very well, uncle, let us spell it R, H, Y, D, D, R, C, H,--eight
+consonants without the aid of one single vowel. I declare the very name
+is courage itself,--no auxiliary forces. Gladys, I beg you will always
+sign yourself so when you write to Mrs Jones; and be sure you spell your
+own name as it ought to be spelt,--G, W, L, A, D, Y, S. Even this shows
+the weakness of the female sex; you do require one little vowel to help
+along the consonants,'
+
+'Ha, ha, ha!' shouts Mr Prothero, 'he has you now, brother Jo.'
+
+'Not at all. Owen seems to have forgotten that w and y are vowels. But
+he never had a taste for study, Rowland is quite different; and our dear
+niece, Claudia, is much better suited to him than to Owen, for she
+appreciates the wisdom of a past age.'
+
+'The little hypocrite,' cries Owen. 'She doesn't--'
+
+'I never could have supposed Lady Mary could be so affable,' interrupts
+Gladys, fearing a dispute.
+
+'She can be anything she likes,' says Mrs Jones. 'She pressed me and Mr
+Jones to stay there to-day, but I could not have done so without Freda.
+She was especially kind all last week, and resolved to go through
+everything properly. I told her that your uncle could only stay two
+clear days, and that we had promised to spend them here. It is such a
+relief to be here, Mr Gwynne and Mrs Gwynne Vaughan are very well; but
+her ladyship's constant tact and effort to do exactly the right thing
+are wearying.'
+
+'Do my Laddy Marry be very grand? Grander than Laddy Simpson, Mrs
+Jones?' asked Mrs Jenkins, in an undertone, of her neighbour. She has an
+infinite awe of Mrs Jonathan.
+
+'I don't think I ever saw Lady Simpson,' says Mrs Jones,
+
+'Not be seeing Laddy Simpson! Well, it is no loss for you. She was as
+ugly an 'ooman as I ever was seeing. I am hating the Simpsons, and no
+wonder. But Miss Gwynne is a lady,--Mrs Rowland Prothero, I am meaning.
+She was coming to see me the other day, and says she, "I know you have
+been unfortunate Mrs Jenkins, fach! and no fault of yours." And she was
+giving me this new white shoal. And, seure, if it wasn't for Rowland
+Prothero and she, I 'oudn't be in that tidy cottage by there, with Mrs
+Owen and my grandoater coming to see me and reading to me; and Mrs
+Prothero too, is seure, and bringing me something nice, and my Griffey
+with hundreds of thousands, Mrs Jones, as you was knowing,'
+
+Mrs Jenkins gradually gets excited, as she finds Mrs Jones listens, and
+by degrees she gains the ear of the rest of the party, who all, in spite
+of Gladys' efforts to divert their attention, turn to her when they hear
+the words 'Rowland and Miss Gwynne.'
+
+'I must be telling you now, Mrs Jones, ma'am,' continues Mrs Jenkins,
+'that I am not forgetting all your kindness to me up in London, when
+every one else was turning away. Ach a fi! and they 'joying themselves
+at Abertewey.'
+
+Mrs Jones presses Mrs Griffey's arm, and whispers 'hush!'
+
+'To be seure! I was forgetting. But, indeet, Rowland Prothero did be
+more than a son to me, and if Miss Gwynne was my own doater she couldn't
+be kinder. She was buying up enough of my beauty furniture to fill the
+little cottage. I did be finding it out 'esterday, and seure it was
+their wedding present to a poor, childless widow, as 'ould be in the
+Eunion, and I with hundreds and thousands!'
+
+'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins!' growls Mr
+Prothero.
+
+'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles,' says Mrs Prothero,
+brushing a tear from her eye.
+
+'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much!' says Minette, to the great relief
+of the rest of the party.
+
+'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx,' says Mr Prothero,
+patting the child's back gently.
+
+'Oh! but he told me he should marry me, and that Colonel Vaughan said he
+was my uncle.'
+
+'Children and 'oomen all alike,' says the farmer; 'thinking of marriage
+as soon as they can speak. Gladys, why don't you teach the child
+better?'
+
+'It was the champagne, father,' says Owen. 'My full impression is, that
+a few glasses more and you would have kissed Lady Mary. I wish we had
+brought a glass for you to drink the bride and bridegroom's health, Aunt
+'Lizbeth.'
+
+'Oh, I have been drinking that pain!'
+
+A sudden little cry in the corner prevents any allusion to the occasion
+on which Mrs Jenkins drank champagne.
+
+Gladys has her baby in her arms in a few seconds. The infant is attired
+in her christening robe and cap, and seems to add a new beauty to the
+sweet and gentle Gladys. All eyes are directed towards them, all hearts
+warm towards them. Minette is instantly kissing her little cousin, even
+Mrs Jonathan takes its tiny hand, as Gladys carries it round in her
+mother's pride and joy.
+
+'Your grandchild and my grandniece, Mr Prothero,' says Mr Jones, 'may
+she grow up as good as her mother.'
+
+'Amen!' replies Mr Prothero.
+
+And with this word we end our story. The wedding wreath--the
+christening-robe--the shroud! Again the wreath and the robe! Such has
+been our tale, and 'such is life!'
+
+
+
+
+Printed by
+Morrison and Gibb Limited
+Edinburgh
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADYS, THE REAPER***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #15315 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15315)