'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, antic.i.p.ated 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, n.o.body 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.

Sat.u.r.day came and pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sed 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 x.x.xI.

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.'