all door.

'Shall we call?' were the words on the lips of all heads of families,
generally settled by the said 'heads' driving in their very best
equipages and gayest clothes, to pay the wedding visit to the reputed
millionnaire and his pretty, elegantly attired wife.

Money, as I have somewhat commonplacedly remarked elsewhere, is the
master-key to most hearts, and Howel found that nearly all the hearts in
his native county were opened by his wealth. The exceptions were
principally those of his wife's family, and even in some of these he
managed to turn the key.

It was shortly after the arrival at Plas Abertewey that Owen and Gladys
simultaneously left the farm, and we find the former on that same
morning, standing at a little distance from this residence of his sister
and Howel, surveying it, and ruminating on the family fortunes.

'Well done, Howel,' he said to himself; 'if money hasn't done something
for you, I don't know for whom it has done anything. I declare I will
try and make some myself, and come back and marry Gladys in spite of the
world.'

Then he began to ask himself, whether it was kind and brotherly to pass
by his only sister's door without saying good-bye to her, and whether
his father had any right to expect all her relations to give her up,
because he chose to do so? His reflections were suddenly cut short by
the appearance of Howel and another gentleman, bound, apparently, on a
fishing expedition.

'Owen, come at last!' cried Howel, hastening up to him with great good
will. 'Better late than never. I am very glad to see you, so will be
Netta. Travelled early to hide your carpet bag, or whatever it is?'

'Knapsack,' said Owen, shaking his cousin's offered hand; 'I'm off to
sea again.'

'A queer road to take; but you come to see us on your way, of course.
Let me introduce you to Mr Simpson, Sir John Simpson's son. My cousin,
Mr Simpson, my wife's brother.

Owen nodded, and Mr Simpson bowed.

'We're going out fishing, but you'll find Netta--in bed, I'm afraid, but
she'll be glad to see you anywhere. Go up the avenue, and let Netta know
you've come. We shall be home to dinner at seven. Good-bye for the
present.'

Owen did not stay to consider, but walked past the handsome lodge, and
up the drive, according to Howel's direction.

'Mighty condescending and very patronising, cousin Howel!' he
soliloquised; 'but I will go and see how Netta gets on, and how your
highness treats her.'

He r