exclaimed the trio in
concert.

'True it is that mountains fall and mushrooms rise,' said the colonel
laughing. 'But he has money, and as far as negotiations have gone, seems
willing to pay, so I am content.'

'And I am not,' said Freda. 'It will be odious, and I shall be so sorry
for poor Mrs Prothero. You must settle there yourself, Colonel Vaughan.'

'A poor lonely bachelor with no money!'

'Hem--hem, you might find a wife, I should think,' suggested Mr Gwynne.
'There is a beautiful girl in this neighbourhood with thirty thousand
pounds at her disposal.'

'Oh, papa!' said Freda frowning perceptibly, 'such an empty-headed,
insipid idiot would be dear at a hundred thousand.'

Colonel Vaughan looked at Freda to see whether she was jealous, but
could not quite understand the frown.

Soon after luncheon he took his leave, with promises to make Glanyravon
his head-quarters if he remained any time in the country.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE NURSE.

Mrs Prothero continued very ill, and the doctor said there was no chance
of her amendment until her mind was more at ease. Four days had passed,
and no intelligence of Netta. Each day found her worse than the
preceding, and brain fever was apprehended. Gladys nursed her day and
night. Mr Prothero stormed and lamented by turns. Owen did what he could
to assist and comfort all, and Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall sent every kind
of nourishing food from the Park.

On the fifth morning, Owen rode into the town in the vague hope that he
should hear something of his sister, either through Mrs Jenkins's
servant or the post. Mrs Jenkins had not returned, but there was a neat,
smooth letter for his father, directed by Howel, with which he rode off
homewards at full gallop. He longed to open it, but he dared not. He was
fearful that his father would put it into the fire unread, so he formed
twenty plans for securing it, which he knew he could not carry out;
however, when he returned home and sought his father in the harvest
field, he said,--

'Father, I have a letter directed by Howel. Will you let me open it for
mother's sake?'

'If it is yours, do what you will with it? if it is mine, burn it
unread.'

'But, father, surely you would do something to save mother's life. Any
news of Netta--'

'Don't name that girl to me, sir, or I'll horsewhip you!'

'May I open the letter, father?'

'Do as you will, but don't let me see it. The deceitful up-start! the
pompous fool! t