f ready to marry Gladys that
very moment.

The upshot of it all was, that the wedding was settled for New Year's
Day, at Netta's particular request. No one cared, or indeed thought what
the world would say at a marriage taking place during a period of such
heavy affliction. Netta willed it, and to give her pleasure, and an
object for her poor wandering mind, every member of the family would
have made any sacrifice; and this was not a sacrifice at all, but an
event of importance to all.

Mr and Mrs Jones promised to come if only for one clear day, and sent a
box of presents to their niece, which Netta had the pleasure of
unpacking. Amongst them was a simple and pretty wedding dress and
bonnet, that poor Netta wept over, thinking of her own.

On the whole, however, Netta was better and more cheerful, and even
assisted in the preparations that were going forward. She helped to make
that pretty dove-coloured silk dress that was manufactured at home, and
tried to join in the happiness which her apparently improved health
seemed to make allowable.

But Netta's heart was with Howel, and the certainty that she felt of his
return and constant love, alone sustained her. Alas! that poor,
fluttering, uncertain heart!

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE HEIR.

Miss Gwynne returned to Glanyravon on Christmas Eve. She had not visited
it before, since she left it when her father married. She had seen her
father, his wife, and her little brother almost yearly in London,
whither Lady Mary Nugent insisted on dragging her husband annually; but
she had not hitherto had love, or courage, or Christian charity enough
to visit them at home. When last in town, and repeatedly by letter, her
father had urged her doing so, and she had at last complied with his
request, more from a latent sense of duty than from inclination.

It was a bright, frosty night, when the carriage that had been sent to
meet her drove up to the door. If poor Netta had fainted on returning to
the farm, Freda was obliged to brush away gathering tears as she
returned to the Park. Every branch of tree, as it glittered in the
moonlight in its dress of hoar frost, was familiar to her, every pane of
glass in the windows of the old place seemed a friend.

On the lowest step, bare-headed and expectant, were the old butler and
footman she had left when she went away; she shook hands with each, and
they almost rung her hand off. In the door-way stood her father, not
bare-heade