a sinner. That would be working out
two problems at once. I wonder whether Netta will help me to solve
them?'

Netta, meanwhile, was receiving a very severe lecture from her brother,
to which she did not condescend to reply, until he spoke of what his
father would say to her meeting Howel clandestinely,

'I suppose you are not going to be cross enough to tell father,' said
Netta'

'I shall certainly think it my duty to tell him,' was the reply.

'Then you are an unkind, unfeeling, unnatural brother,' cried Netta,
bursting into tears.

'Will you promise not to meet Howel again without my father or mother's
consent?' asked Rowland, relenting,

'I won't promise anything? and Howel is a thousand times nicer and
kinder than you are. You have no feeling for any one. I wish Owen were
at home.'

'Netta, you are very unjust? you know I only wish your good.'

'And I suppose you wish Howel's good, too. Just as his father is dead,
and he meaning to be good, and only wishing to see me before he goes to
London, and having plenty of money to do what he likes, and intending to
pay his debts with it, and--and--'

Here sobs and tears came to the rescue of the voluble words that would
soon have worn themselves out--for Netta had no great flow of language.

Rowland was perplexed. He was fond of his sister? he wished Howel well?
he did not know whether it would be best to let them marry or not. If
they were prevented, they would either take French leave, or hate all
their relations? and if they married they would not be happy, he was
sure. But he knew it was wrong to deceive his parents. In this uncertain
state of mind they reached home, through, the little hawthorn lane
before described. Mrs Prothero was on the look out for them, she having
returned from chapel and missed them.

Netta ran past her mother into the house, without replying to her
question concerning her headache, and Rowland at once related to his
mother what he had seen of Howel and Netta's private interview, which
that good lady was very much distressed to hear.

CHAPTER IX.

THE IRISH BEGGAR.

Glanyravon farm was anything but a quiet home during the ensuing week.
Mrs Prothero thought it right to inform her husband of what had passed;
and he blustered and raged even more than he had ever done about the
Irish beggars. Everybody thought proper to try to convert Netta, but
none of them knew the indomitable obstinacy of her character, and all
sign