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 a.s.sizes. 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?'

'n.o.body 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,--G.o.d 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-cla.s.s ticket for himself, but when Netta heard that he had done so she begged so hard to be allowed to travel second cla.s.s 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. G.o.d bless you, Netta, dear! G.o.d 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.