Gladys, the Reaper Part 56

'He don't care for what I say, and goes in a pa.s.sion when I advise him.'

'But surely you needn't play yourself as you do, and so late! Only think what my mother--'

'Nonsense, Owen. That would be very fine for Rowland; but you needn't take to lecturing. You never were a pattern brother or son either.'

Owen felt his sister's words more keenly than she intended.

'You are right, Netta, but I hope to mend. I must go away to-morrow in order that I may begin. I mean to make some money this next voyage, and come home, and set up as a steady fellow and good son.'

'And marry Madame Duvet? Do you know she is regularly in love with you?

and they say she has a large fortune in France.'

'There it may remain for me. But I wish you wouldn't play cards Sundays.'

'They all do it in Paris, Owen, and what's the harm? Besides, it was only Sat.u.r.day night; and we never do play Sundays, as you will see to-day. By-the-bye, what's gone with that Methodistical, lack-a-daisical Gladys? Is mother as mad about her as ever?'

'She saved your mother's life when there was no one else to nurse her, and is an angel, if ever there was one!'

Netta opened her large black eyes very wide, and burst out laughing.

'_Ma foi_! is that the last? Well, indeed! I never should have suspected her of making an impression. But she's deep enough for anything. How would father like that? Irish beggar against Abertewey! Come, Howel's better than that any day.

'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Owen, getting very red. 'And Gladys has done well ever since she's been at Glanyravon by every one belonging to us, not excepting yourself.'

'Very much obliged to her, I am sure,' said Netta, suddenly sitting up in bed, and forgetting her headache. 'She needn't trouble herself about me. I fancy we are never likely to cross one another again, unless she chances to come a-begging to Abertewey, and then perhaps--'

'And then perhaps you would give her a penny and send her on to starve.

Oh! Netta, Netta, how were you ever my mother's daughter? But once for all, Netta, I will never hear one word spoken against Gladys. _I_ at least am thankful that I still have a mother, and I owe it to her.'

'Dear me! you needn't be in such a huff directly, Owen. How was I to suppose you were in love with an Irish--I beg your pardon, with Miss Gladys O'Grady, County Kilkenny, Ireland? A very pretty name, to be sure! But if you don't go away I shall never be dressed by the time they come from church. There, go like a good boy. I 'ont offend you any more.'

'I will go as soon as you have told me what you and Howel did in Paris.

I seem to know nothing of your proceedings for ages past.'

'It was dreadfully dull there at first, and I thought I should have died of it. I quite longed to be at home again. Howel was a great deal out, and I was alone; but then he gave me a singing master, and a French and dancing mistress, and made me work as hard as if I was at school again. In about a month Captain Dancy and Mr Simpson came over, and it was much more pleasant. We used to go to the opera and the play nearly every night, and Captain Dancy introduced me to Madame Duvet, and she introduced me to a great many other ladies, English and French, and we had a good deal of fun. I went to b.a.l.l.s and parties, and picture galleries, and the Champs Elysees, and all the fas.h.i.+onable places.'

'But where did Howel meet with Mr Deep?' interrupted Owen.

'Oh! he used to be with him from the first. They are very old friends, Howel says, and have known one another for years; he is a very fas.h.i.+onable man, an attorney by profession. Simpson says that the races couldn't go on without him.'

'I should think not,' said Owen, smiling; 'at all events, Mr Simpson's races would be at a stand still without him. Did you, did Howel play much abroad?'

'Yes, I learned from Madame Duvet? and I think Howel and Mr Deep and the other gentlemen used to play all day. You know they have nothing else to do in Paris. It would be very dull there without cards.'

'Poor Netta! is that what you learned with your little bit of French?'

'I a.s.sure you, Owen, Monsieur Letellier and a dozen other Frenchmen said I had a beautiful accent, and that they would have thought I was born in Paris.'

Owen laughed heartily, and Netta was offended, and told him to go away.

Just as he was in the act of obeying, Howel appeared.

'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you.

Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand!

How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the charmer is!'

'Let me see the direction,' said Netta, trying to get the letter from her brother.

'No, no,' said Owen. 'I must keep my secret for the present when it is all settled you shall know.'

'It makes you blush, however,' laughed Howel.

'Is it Mary Jones, or Anne Jenkins, or Amelia Lewis, or Miss Richards, doctor, or Jemima Thomas--or--or--perhaps it is Gladys. Ha, ha! do you know, Howel, Owen's last is mother's Irish girl, Gladys?'

'Really?' sneered Howel. 'My mother tells me that she ran away from Glanyravon, and report says with somebody we know of. But report was false as usual; and she turns up again as Miss Gwynne's lady's maid.

Miss Gwynne is about as eccentric as the rest of the clique, and I wish her joy of her bargain. The girl is a beauty, certainly, but--'

'Hush, Howel!' cried Netta; 'Owen was nearly boxing my ears about her just now.'

'Not exactly, Netta,' said Owen, smothering rising anger, and looking very red; 'but I won't hear a word said against her either by man or woman. I am going to read my letter now, and you are going to get up, so I won't stop here any longer,' and Owen left the room.

He went at once to his own bedroom, where he hastily broke open the letter Howel had given him, and read as follows:--

'GLANYRAVON PARK, _May_----.

'SIR,--I hope you will excuse my boldness in writing to you; but having heard that you are at Abertewey, I take the liberty of doing so, to tell you that your leaving home has made us all very unhappy. Oh! Mr Owen, if you would only go back and see your dear mother and honoured father, and learn how lonely they are without you, I think you would give up the sea, or at least remain with them for some time. If you would write to the master, or say a few gentle words to him, he would overlook your going to see your sister, I am almost sure; and, indeed, it breaks my heart to know that I was the cause of your going away so suddenly, after you had been so long at home, and so good to your parents.

'Then, dear Mr Owen, you, who have been always so kind to me, a poor orphan wanderer, and beggar at your father's gate, do, I pray you, add this one favour more to the many you have done me, and return to your parents, to take leave of them at least before you go away. Hoping you will forgive my writing to you on this subject, believe me to remain, Mr Owen, your obedient and grateful servant, GLADYS O'GRADY.'

When Owen had read this letter twice, he devoutly kissed it, and exclaimed,--

'This favour, Gladys! ay, and a thousand more, if you will only write to me, and let one little "_dear_" slip in unawares every time you ask one.

I suppose I had better write to father to-day, and follow my letter to-morrow.'

Owen sat down at once, and wrote the following brief epistle:--

'MY DEAR FATHER,--If I have offended you in any way, I am very sorry. I didn't mean to do so, and shall return to-morrow to ask pardon in person; but, remember, I am just as much in love with Gladys as ever, and don't mean to curry favour about her. With best love to mother, I am, your affectionate son, OWEN.'

That day at luncheon Owen announced his intention of leaving Abertewey the following morning.

'To see the fair lady who wrote that neat note?' said Howel.

'Probably so,' replied Owen.

'Where are you going? We shall miss you dreadfully,' said Madame Duvet, with an entreating glance.

'I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,' said Miss Simpson: 'at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet. I have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.'

'We may as well all go together, then,' said Captain Dancy, 'as I must be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday. When are you coming, Jenkins?'