ing, but neither he nor you could
have prevented me at such a time. You cannot turn me from your doors
whilst she is still in danger. When she is out of danger I will go.'

'You turned my mother from yours.'

'Not I, Howel; and I have never injured you. Leave me till to-morrow,
and I will go.'

One of the few people in the world for whom Howel had a small amount of
respect and affection, was Mrs Prothero. The simply good, and
unaffectedly pious, will sometimes command the regard of the worldly and
irreligious.

'If you remain in my house, Mrs Prothero, it is because you have been
consistently kind to me, and received my mother. As to your husband, I
would--'

'Not to me, Howel, if you please I can hear nothing against him. You
must remember the provocation, and try to forgive and forget as I do.
But thank you for letting me stay with Netta. I have so longed and
prayed to see her again, and it has been brought about for me.'

Mrs Prothero remained one clear day and two nights longer at Abertewey.
As Netta was quite out of danger before that time had expired, she
thought it right to go home, both on Howel's account and her own
husband's, whose anger she would have to allay. During her stay with
Netta she lost no opportunity to work gently on the mind of her child,
now opened and softened by her late trials. She found, with grief, what
she had always feared, that Howel and Netta were not happy together;
that he was frequently morose and unkind, and that she was passionate
and revengeful. This eked out in Netta's confessions to her mother, for
Howel was attentive and affectionate during her illness. Mrs Prothero
entreated her to be gentle and obedient. Earnestly did she speak to her
of religion, trying to recall the lessons of her childhood; and with
tears poor Netta promised everything. Particularly she promised to read
her Bible. Her mother was shocked that the Book was not to be found in
her bedroom. She put a little Testament, that she always carried in her
pocket, under her child's pillow. It was lined, and underlined by her
own hand, and she fondly hoped she might read it for her sake.

Netta was so loving, gentle, and teachable with her mother--blamed
herself so severely for having displeased her and her father--sent so
many messages to him, and seemed so desirous of obtaining his
forgiveness, that Mrs Prothero hoped everything.

It was a hard struggle to part again with that dear child, and to kiss
the lit