ing you're too fine for us now. A
clergy and a rector! oh seure! you'll not be going to see my poor
Howels!'

'Yes, I will, if you will try to be calm. I will see him first, and
prepare him for your coming; I will not even ask his permission but go
to him. I can gain admittance at once, I know, both as a clergyman and
relation.'

'Now! go you directly! tell you my Howels--'

'I don't think I can go to-night. It is too late--but to-morrow I will
go, on condition that you compose yourself, and return with me to my
lodgings.'

'I 'ont be going to your lodgings, I 'ouldn't be leaving my Howels for
the world.'

'You cannot see him to-night, you must not stay with the people of this
house after what you said to-day, or they will take advantage of your
being alone, to make you say more. I cannot remain here to-night, and I
am the only friend you have in town to whom you could go.'

'Treue, for you, Rowland Prothero. There's my Lady Simpson was asking me
to stay with her, when my Howels and I was having money enough to buy
her presents, and her son and doater did go to Abertewey when they did
like--and now, not wan of all the fine folks do come and say, "How was
you, Mrs Jenkins?"'

Rowland ventured to repeat a few verses from Scripture, and to beg her
to turn her mind to better thoughts. Then he induced her to put on her
bonnet and cloak and go home with him, promising to bring her back the
following day, and retaining the lodging for another week.

They passed a miserable evening. It was in vain that Rowland strove to
comfort or advise his guest. She did nothing but abuse justice, and
lament her son's past grandeur.

The following day, Rowland fulfilled his promise. He left her at her
lodging and went to the gaol.

He had previously obtained full permission of the authorities, through
the chaplain, who was well-known to him, to visit Howel when he liked,
and to give him the letters left for him by his deceased wife. The
chaplain had told him that the prisoner was quite indifferent to all
that he said to him on religious subjects, and listened to them, if,
indeed, he listened at all, with a scoffing, incredulous, hardness of
manner, that was more painful than mere carelessness.

When Rowland entered the cell, Howel was sitting with his back to the
door, and did not turn or take any notice of the incomers. He had a
piece of paper before him, and a pencil in his hand, over which he
seemed rather to be dreaming tha