Part 83 (1/2)

Mr Prothero glances rather uneasily at the very lady-like looking young woman, for whom he is thus humbly pet.i.tioned, and in doing so spies Owen close behind her.

His feelings are too much softened by Netta to allow him to feel angry; still he does not know what to make of if. Mrs Prothero kisses Gladys, and Mr and Mrs Jonathan shake hands with her.

'Nothing like the present time,' thinks Owen; but Gladys declares decidedly that Netta ought to go to her room, and everybody yields to her calm, a.s.sured voice.

'Then you will stay with us?' asks gentle Mrs Prothero, looking the while at her husband.

'To be sure she will,' says Mr Prothero.

'Thank you, sir; thank you, ma'am. I shall be only too glad,' replies Gladys, as humbly as if she were really the servant she professes to be.

'Miss Gwynne will allow me to stay, if you wish it.'

After they had been upstairs they returned to tea, and Mr Prothero could not quit Netta, but sat watching her with a painful anxiety.

She was greatly excited, and her mind and eyes appeared equally to wander on the objects of her childhood. She asked her father a variety of questions concerning scenes and people that she felt were particularly a.s.sociated with him, and he was quite overcome.

When the meal was finished, Owen carried Netta at once to her room, and all the womankind accompanied her. It was then that poor Mr Prothero's wrath and grief exploded. Left alone with his brother he vented both in language which, as Owen had expressed it, needed clerical revision. But Mr Jonathan knew that it must have its course before exhortations could take effect. He paced up and down the room pouring curses loud and deep upon Howel, and bemoaning his unfortunate daughter. At last he sat down and cried bitterly.

It was then that his brother drew near to comfort, and that Owen returned to the room.

'So young, so pretty--our only girl! G.o.d only knows how I love her--to come to die! Driven mad by that heartless villain--curse him--a thousand--'

'Hush, brother! hus.h.!.+ You cannot alter the past. Home and a father's and mother's love will soon bring her round, poor dear.'

'Do you think so? why, she looks like a corpse. No rose was redder when she went away, when I kissed her the night before. And now! and now! I say again, curse the man! I can't help it, brother,--I won't help it.'

'Come, father, let us hope the best, now we have her home again.'

Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder as he spoke, but there was no comfort for that sorrowing parent. While he cursed Howel there, was much self-reproach within him for long-harboured feelings of anger and unforgiveness against his daughter. He even began, to think that if he had been gentle and kind he might have saved her. The proud hearts of parent and child were alike subdued by heavy sorrow.

The following day Netta was unable to leave her bed. Excitement and fatigue had been too much for her. Dr Richards was sent for, who shook his head, and ordered quiet and rest. Mrs Prothero and Gladys were with her, and as she was continually sleeping, no one else was admitted. Mr and Mrs Jonathan left early, after having made friends with Minette, who confided to them that she liked them better than grandpapa and grandmamma, because they were gentlefolks. She didn't know why there was no carpet in the hall, and didn't like stones to her feet. She promised to go and see them when her mamma was better. The worthy couple took to her as they had done to her mother.

In a day or two Netta was much better and able to be brought downstairs.

Matters gradually settled into their regular course at the farm, and all went on as usual. Mr Prothero spent every spare moment with Netta and his grandchild, who soon forgot that 'grandfather,' as he insisted on her calling him, 'talked loud, and had large, rough hands.' Gladys slipped imperceptibly into her old place, and alternately nursed Netta and helped Mrs Prothero in the dairy. Owen found many opportunities of entreating Gladys to let him speak to his father, but she positively forbade him, as long as there was painful anxiety about Netta; and, at the same time, angered him by refusing to consider him as her accepted lover until his father's consent was obtained. Mrs Prothero schooled her aching heart into outward calm, but her white hair and paleface showed what she had gone through, and was still suffering. Howel's name was never mentioned, except between Netta and Gladys. It was to Gladys that poor Netta opened her mind, and poured out all her hopes and fears about Howel's return.

The state of that mind varied continually. Sometimes it was tolerably clear, at others sadly wandering, and the least excitement produced faintness and pain at the heart; still her friends fancied she gained strength.

She had the sofa placed so that she could look out of the parlour-window upon the distant hills. The weather cleared up brisk and bright. The red and yellow foliage that still remained to cover the huge trunks of the oaks shone in the sunlight, and the lights and shadows danced upon the mountains. A few white chrysanthemums, and one or two roses still looked in at the window, upon her who had once been the brightest flower of Glanyravon.

Netta had been at home a fortnight, and was really stronger and better.

The sun was setting behind those distant hills, and casting glorious shades of red, purple, and gold upon them. She was gazing wistfully on the sky, and thinking of Howel, whilst Minette was sitting on a stool at her feet, turning over a book, out of which she had been reading to her mother, whose chief occupation was trying to teach her.

Mr Prothero came in, and took his customary seat at the head of her sofa. He was followed, almost instantly, by Gladys, who called Minette out to have her cup of warm milk fresh from the cow, ordered by her doctor.

'Father,' began Netta, abruptly, 'I have something to say to you.'

'Well, Netta, fach!' said her father, cheerfully. 'Say away. I'm all attention,'

'Do you like Gladys, father?'