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 x.x.xVIII.

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 a.s.sume. She took her to various places of amus.e.m.e.nt, 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.'