Gladys, the Reaper Part 57

'Only in time for Ascot. I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and shall probably only remain the race week. Mrs Jenkins is not going up, and I shall not like to leave her long alone. Owen, you must come over and see her when I am away.'

'I think you had better stay at home, Howel. You will run less risk in taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.'

'Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.'

'I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence. But although I am going home, I don't know how long I may stay there. Perhaps shall be off to sea in a few days.'

'I will use your own words,' said Madame Duvet, 'and say better stay at home, and take care of--let me see--yourself, I suppose. You will run less risk than at sea.'

Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel's words, as he was not sure that he knew his own business best. But he did not add that he should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.

Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen's opinion of its inmates. French novels and betting-books were their sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any amount of frivolity. Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel a.s.sured her he should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in June, it cleared again.

Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning. Netta whispered 'Give my love to mother,' and had a very large tear in her black eye, as he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after days. Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.

When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him with joyful love. His father came in soon after his return, and greeted him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore patiently, and to which he replied as follows:--

'Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I don't think I deserve it. As I am of age, and a few years past that period, you must let me have a will of my own.'

'I think you have always had one,' roared the farmer.

'Yes, but not at home, father. I was obliged to run away to get it. But now I mean to stay at home if you will let me. Gladys is gone away, so I don't stay on her account.'

'I'm not seure of that. You never stayed on ours.'

'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got them you won't object, I suppose?'

'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements made here.'

'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot, and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.'

Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech, in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh pa.s.sion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down.

'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were; but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so--now, don't be a fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He 'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.'

'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.'

Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future chapters will show whether Owen kept his word.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

THE MAN OF THE WORLD.

Two or three months pa.s.sed, and no particular event happened either at the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless.

Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,--Miss Nugent in particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations were making to celebrate the event.

On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go away, but is too polite to do so.

'You know, Freda,' she says, 'I have been longing to be of age for yearth. Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never dared to thpeak to a gentleman. Now I can do ath I like.'

'And what will you have to say?' asked Freda, bluntly. 'I never hear you venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.'

'Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.'

'Just tell me one or two.'

'Let me thee. Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London, and--and--muthic--'

'Is that all?'

'You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but one cannot think of them all at onthe. Every one ithent tho clever ath you. Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.

Gentlemen didn't like ladieth who talked too much.'

'Indeed! Where was your mamma when he said that?'

'Oh! the didn't hear him. Do you know I think the liketh Colonel Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me. He thaid he would come down when I came of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.'

'To your mamma, or you?'

'To me quite alone. But you needn't look tho croth and fierthe, Freda. I couldn't help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.'

'What compliments?'

'Oh! I can't tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure he made me bluth.'

'Did you believe him?'

'Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.'

'Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and yourself?'

'Well, yeth, of courth.'

'Then why don't you sometimes talk of some one else? Do you like Colonel Vaughan, for instance?'

'Oh! I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland Prothero. He ith younger. Mamma thaith--'

'There again, Wilhelmina!'

'I forgot--you are tho quick, Freda. Don't you like Colonel Vaughan?'

'Pretty well sometimes.'