Part 53 (2/2)

'Oh yes! you are, about the eyes. _Malin!_' said Madame Duvet.

After breakfast, Owen tried to get Netta a little to himself, but there were distant calls to make, and drives and rides to be arranged, which caused him to be unsuccessful in his efforts. So he fell to the lot of Mr Deep, who took him to see Howel's hunters and dogs, and all the other wonders of Abertewey.

'Deep by name, and deep by nature,' was Owen's reflection, after his morning with his new acquaintance. 'He has managed to get all my secrets out of me, one excepted; but he has not confided any to me in return.

One thing I suspect, however, that he has a turn for horse-racing and betting.'

Howel and Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party, with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, a.s.sembled at dinner. Howel had ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed; and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.

He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening costume.

'What do you think of her, Owen?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally gazing at her before dinner.

'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta Prothero of the Farm.'

'I should imagine not!' said Howel. 'Pray don't let us talk of farms here, Owen. I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.'

'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops?' asked Owen, maliciously.

Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen wondered on.

Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago. 'Her own mother would not know her!' thought Howel. 'Poor mother, she would scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta.'

The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's bewildered imagination. Madame Duvet made such very decided attempts to talk to him, however, that he was obliged to cease wondering, and to bring his usually versatile genius into play, in the light of all the grandeur. He got on so well with the lady, that Howel wondered in his turn, and after dinner told Owen that he verily believed if he played his cards well, he might make an impression on the pretty widow.

'One can do that, I should say, without any cards at all,' said Owen, showing his white teeth from amidst his big black beard.

When the ladies had left the dinner-table, Owen began to gain some insight into the characters and pursuits of Howel's guests. He had not spent thirteen or fourteen years amongst men of all ranks and all nations, without having acquired a shrewd judgment, and a tolerable knowledge of mankind.

The conversation turned at once upon hunting, racing, steeple-chasing, billiards, bets, and the like. It was evident that Howel, too, was well initiated into such matters. Mr Rice Rice asked him when the question of the hounds was to be decided, and Howel said that kennels were in preparation, and that he hoped to have a first-rate pack by the winter.

There arose a dispute about a celebrated racer that Howel appeared to possess in London, and that was expected daily at Abertewey. Howel declared his intention of letting her run at the Carmarthen races.

Captain Dancy, having heavy stakes on the mare, vowed it might disable her for the Derby, and words ran high; but Mr Deep interposed, and changed the subject to that of _rouge et noir_.

They sat over the dinner-table till nearly eleven o'clock, by which time they were all more or less exhilarated. Howel's wines were good, his cellar was well stocked, and he was lavish of everything that might give him a reputation amongst the Welsh squires that surrounded him, many of whom still wors.h.i.+pped at the shrine of Bacchus.

When they joined the ladies, Owen thought the conversation was rather too loud and boisterous. Captain Dancy alone was quite himself, and made Netta sing some little French songs to Owen's great amus.e.m.e.nt. After tea and coffee had been carried round, a card table appeared, and _vingt-et-un_ was proposed. The stakes were so high that Owen trembled for his small stock of wealth? but to his astonishment again, he found himself, at the end of the evening, a gainer of nearly five pounds, although he had been most moderate in his own stakes. He was struck with the eagerness of Madame Duvet and Netta, who entered into the game with all the avidity of accomplished gamblers.

It was very late when they finished the game, and nominally retired for the night, but not late enough to prevent Howel, Captain Dancy, Mr Deep, and Sir Samuel Spendall from sitting down again to whist. Owen left them at it, not altogether satisfied with himself or his companions.

The following day, Owen again tried to get some private conversation with Howel or Netta, but in vain. The breakfast was even later than the previous morning, as Howel did not go out fis.h.i.+ng, and afterwards there were more distant calls to make, and Netta was engaged in preparing her dress with her maid for a dinner-party at Mr Rice Rice's, at which she desired to appear particularly grand. The gentlemen were playing billiards part of the day, and riding the rest, in neither of which amus.e.m.e.nt Owen joined. Madame Duvet did her best to amuse him, and succeeded very well, for Owen was far from insensible to the charms of beauty, and, in spite of Gladys, could not resist flirting a little, in his own matter-of-fact way, with a pretty woman.

The three ladies, Captain Dancy and Howel, were the dinner guests at Mr Rice Rice's, the other gentlemen were invited for the dance in the evening. Young Rice Rice had given Owen a lame invitation the previous day, which he had declined; never having been in the habit of visiting him when at home, he did not choose to do so under Howel's countenance.

Owen's astonishment was brought to a climax that evening when his sister appeared dressed for this, her first public appearance on the small stage of a country-neighbourhood, or, to speak more respectfully, county visiting. It was Howel's pleasure that she should make it in point lace and diamonds. Not even to Owen was it whispered that the lace was a wonderfully good imitation, or that the diamonds, instead of being of the first water, were first-rate paste; and no one suspected the deception. The great millionnaire, Howel Jenkins, could well afford to give his pretty wife the real jewels and lace, and had the credit of so doing; and as no one, save himself and the jeweller, knew that they were false, he thought himself a very clever fellow for gaining the reputation of unbounded liberality upon very small means. Be it said, however, that his own studs, pin and ring, were real.

The French maid had eclipsed herself in Netta's toilet, and Owen felt that if she were not his sister, he must have fallen in love with her himself. The black roguish eyes sparkled like the brilliants she wore, and the complexion was scarcely rivalled by the roses she had in her bouquet.

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