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 a.s.sist 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 amus.e.m.e.nts.

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 pa.s.sion.'

'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-cla.s.s ticket for his mother as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-cla.s.s 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-cla.s.s 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 a.s.sembled 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 s.l.u.t Netta.'

Off started Owen with a piece of bread and b.u.t.ter 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 pa.s.sed 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.'