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 p.r.o.nounced; 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 pa.s.sion, 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 coa.r.s.est 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 pa.s.sion, 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sion pa.s.sed 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. n.o.body 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.

'G.o.d 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 pa.s.sages, 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 a.s.sure 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?'