ary to describe how Mr Prothero wandered over this
hill for hours, without finding those he sought. As the said hill was a
short cut to the road to Swansea, whither he was persuaded they were
gone, it is not much to be wondered at that he was taken in, and that he
went on as fast as his good horse would go for many a long mile; but he
found neither Owen nor Gladys, and all his inquiries after them were
fruitless.

Towards evening he returned home, tired and very cross, and found his
good wife looking anxious and unhappy, and ready to say at any moment,
'Dear, dear, how I do miss Gladys.'

A messenger from the Park was awaiting him, with a note from Miss
Gwynne, inquiring whether he had found the poor girl or not. He was
obliged to write a few respectful lines in reply, to inform her of the
failure of his search.

'I wish we had never set eyes on the girl,' he muttered, as he was
writing the note with much pains and some difficulty. 'To take off Owen,
too, just as he was getting euseful, and he such a good writer and
accountant.'

Still more heartily did he repeat that wish several times during the
night. Mrs Prothero could not sleep, and what with her anxiety about
Gladys, sorrow for the departure of Owen, and longing to see her own
daughter, her mind was excited beyond its wont. As is often the case
under such circumstances, she fancied she heard all kinds of noises in
the house; once she was sure some one was coming upstairs, and another
time that there was a tapping at the front door. She crept softly out of
bed, and half fancying she should find Gladys without, went downstairs,
and opened it. Nothing was visible but the flickering moonbeams amongst
the trees, or audible save the tinkling of the brook through the
farm-yard.

'Name o' goodness, what's the matter now?' ejaculated the farmer, as
the creaking of the bedroom door awoke him.

'Don't be angry, Davy, bach, but I can't sleep for thinking of that poor
girl; maybe she's without a roof to cover her.'

'Owen'll see to that. 'Tis a hard case a man mayn't sleep in his bed
because of a good-for-nothing wench like her.'

The next morning, after breakfast, when Mrs Prothero was urging him once
more to look for Gladys, and he was vehemently refusing, Miss Gwynne and
Miss Hall again made their appearance.

Mr Prothero had to swallow a very broad expression of disgust, as well
as to listen politely to that young lady, who persisted in saying she
would continu