Part 31 (1/2)

'Thank G.o.d that 'Lizbeth was with her,' said Mrs Prothero.

'The deceitful, pompous old vagabond,' thundered Mr Prothero. 'She to connive and contrive! fit mother for such a son. They 'ont come to no good end. No, mother, I can't, nor I 'ont go after 'em; Netta has made her own bed, and she must lie on it.'

'Mr Owen is gone, ma'am,' whispered Gladys. 'Try to take comfort; there is One who can make all our rough ways straight, and will bring poor Miss Netta home again, if we pray for it.'

'What's the girl preaching about?' said Mr Prothero, glancing sternly at Gladys, who was silenced at once. 'Now, mother, we mustn't let that undutiful girl upset us. I must go to the wheat-field--you must--' he looked at his wife, and changed what he was going to say to, 'lie in bed.'

'No, Davy, I can't lie in bed, I must go and look for Netta.'

'Now, wife, I 'ont have none of this nonsense. You must either lie in bed or go about your work. The whole house sha'n't be turned topsey-turvey for a baggage like that.'

Mr Prothero left the room, and his wife insisted upon getting up.

'If you could pray for her, ma'am, you would be happier, and perhaps poor Miss Netta might be helped in a way we cannot see.'

'Pray for me, Gladys, I cannot think or pray for myself, I am so bewildered.'

The two earnest-minded women knelt down by the bedside, and Gladys offered up a simple prayer in her clear, strong language, for the 'poor lamb who had strayed from the fold;' in which the mother joined in the midst of her sobs and tears. When they arose from their knees, Mrs Prothero kissed Gladys, and said she would go downstairs, and try to work, and seek to keep her heart in prayer.

And the day wore through, until the evening brought Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero. For the first time, Mrs Jonathan comforted her sister-in-law.

'Now, really, I do not see why you should be so very much distressed,'

she said. 'Howel is a fine, clever young man, with plenty of money. He is sure to make his way into good society, and to place Netta in a superior position. Of course, it was very wrong of her to elope, very; but your husband is so obstinate that they knew he would never consent, and what else were they to do? I confess I should have done the very same thing. As to his not marrying her after all, that is absurd. He is devotedly attached to her, and he knows that with her beauty and spirit, she will soon be fit for good society.'

Mr Jonathan was not so successful with his brother. After saying that he had seen a carriage and pair pa.s.s at about six that morning, he proceeded to offer consolation.

'It is according to nature, brother. Since the creation, the man has cleaved to the woman and the woman to the man. You married according to your fancy, so did I; so have men and women ever since the world began.

It may turn out better than you imagine.'

'Brother Jo!' thundered the farmer, 'hold your tongue. I know Howel better than you do, or anybody else, except Rowland. I 'ont hear any more about 'em, and the less you say the better. She's no daughter o'

mine any more.'

With this Mr Prothero walked away, leaving his brother very much perplexed and distressed, but comforting himself with hoping that time would soften even his choleric relative.

Owen returned about ten o'clock. He had ridden to the inn where Howel had changed horses, and learnt the name of the house whence the fly came; had left his own horse and taken another, and gone on to Swansea, where he found from the drivers that the trio had gone direct to London.

Thinking it useless to try to track them farther, he returned, fully impressed with the wisdom of Howel in running off with what he couldn't get by fair means.

'Such a row as father makes,' he soliloquised. 'Why, I should do the very same thing to-morrow. And Howel's a decent chap too; will be, at least, when he's sown a few more wild oats. But if Netta doesn't lead him a dance I'm mistaken. She's father all over. There's a difference between her and that Irish girl! My wig! if she isn't a quiet one. But I never saw such eyes as hers in all my life, or such a sweet temper. I wonder what father would say if I ran off with her, and took her a voyage or two to give her a little more colour. That's all she wants to make her a downright angel'

CHAPTER XVII.

THE COLONEL.

The next day it was evident to every one that Mrs Prothero was very ill.

She had never had any very extraordinary misfortunes or troubles, and the elopement of an only daughter was an event to her so dreadful and unexpected that it seemed as bad, or worse, than her death. As nothing more was to be gleaned concerning Netta, and further inquiries were literally useless--indeed, Mr Prothero would not hear of their being made--Mrs Prothero gave way to her grief, and her husband's most pa.s.sionate demonstrations of displeasure failed to frighten her into her usual calm submission to him and his humours.