d 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
passionate demonstrations of displeasure failed to frighten her into her
usual calm submission to him and his humours.

Owen paid a visit to Mrs Jenkins' abode, and heard from the servant left
in charge that she was not expected home for some time. Owen bribed the
woman to let him know when her mistress returned, and comforted his
mother by assuring her that he would find out all about Netta from Aunt
'Lizbeth, whose tongue was too well oiled to stop going.

Mr and Mrs Jonathan offered to remain at the farm, but as they rath