let us marry! he will be sorry when he sees how grand and happy I am!
father called me bad names!" I wish I had called her worse! she deserves
every name that was ever written!'

'But, perhaps,' suggests Owen, 'she will be happy, and Howel will be
steady.'

'Steady! hold your tongue and don't be a fool! Make a drunkard steady!
make a bad son steady! make a gambler steady! make a horse-racer steady!
make--make--make--hold your tongue, sir: don't say a word for the
ungrateful girl--never mention her name to me again--I never wish to see
her face more as long as I live--I--I--I--'

Mr Prothero's passion choked his words. Could Netta have suddenly
returned and seen her father shaking with suppressed grief, his face
crimson with rage, and his hands and teeth clenched, and her mother
pale and weeping on her bed, she would, I think, have paused longer
before she caused them this great grief.

Mr Prothero returned to his wife before his passion was calmed. He found
her sitting up in bed wringing her hands, and crying as if her heart
would break.

'Now, mother, there's no good in this,' began the farmer. 'That girl
don't deserve tears and lamentations, and I 'ont have 'em. We 'ont have
the house turned upside down because a bad, obstinate, ungrateful
daughter has run away with a miser's son, and a good-for-nothing
spendthrift. Let 'em go, I say! I 'ouldn't stir a step to bring 'em
back--'

'Oh, David! dear, dear husband! if only you will find out that they are
married; if only you would send some one to see that Howel marries her!
This is all--all--all! I will never name her again! I will try to forget
her--I will do all you wish! but for my sake, for yours, for all, for
God's sake, see to this, or I shall die.'

Mr Prothero was cowed at once by this passionate burst of grief. He had
never seen his submissive, patient little wife excited in this way
before, for never before had she felt so deep a pain. Her only daughter!

'God help me! God help me!' she sobbed, when she had controlled her
great emotion. 'I know I have indulged her--spoilt her perhaps. I know
she is proud and wilful, and obstinate; but oh! to disobey us all--to go
off, she doesn't know where--with Howel, too, who has no religion,
nothing to keep him pure and honest--this is too much! too hard! No,
David, bach! it is no good to be angry now--if you won't go after her I
must.'

'Stop you, mother, stop you! we'll see the slut married anyhow; that is
to