CHAPTER XXXI.

THE PATRON’S WIFE.

The following morning, Netta was not well, and did not appear at the breakfast-table.  Howel said she had a bad headache, and did not intend going to church.

Breakfast was hurried over to prepare for a six miles’ drive to church, and the carriage conveyed the two ladies and three of the gentlemen thither, resplendent with fashion and emblazoned prayer-books.  Mr Deep did not go, and Owen determined to remain at home, in order to secure the desired conversation with Netta.

Mr Deep, however, seized upon him first of all.

It had not escaped that keen observer, that Howel had hinted the previous evening that Owen possessed property in reversion; which, indeed, he did, inasmuch as his father was a small landed proprietor, and had several farms of his own, descended to him from his father, and entailed upon Owen.

Mr Deep was reading some racing calendar, and called Owen’s attention to his brother-in-law’s name in connection with the names of men of note on the turf.  Also to his horse, Campaigner as being one of those entered for the Ascot races.

Then he went very cautiously to work to see whether he could not induce Owen to bet; but he, holding up again his nearly empty purse, laughed his merry laugh, and said,—­

’I am not to be caught, Mr Deep.  I hate horse-racing, and never laid a wager of any kind in my life.  That is the only redeeming point in my character.  Wild enough I have been, and roving all my life, but I never gambled.  Excuse me now, as I must go and see my sister.’

He went accordingly to Netta’s room, and after knocking at the door, and hearing that she was still in bed, entered unceremoniously.  He was at once struck with the difference between the Netta of the farm, in her little muslin night-cap, that he had often fairly pulled off, to get her to promise to leave the pretty white-curtained bed, and the lady of Abertewey, in lace and fine linen, reclining beneath satin drapery, in a room furnished most luxuriously.

’Well, Netta, I have you alone at last; and now, if your head is not very bad, we will have a regular old-fashioned gossip,’ said Owen, stooping to kiss the pretty flushed face of the little sister he dearly loved, despite her follies.

’Did you stop at home for me, Owen?  How very kind!  I don’t think any one else would,’ said Netta.

’Oh, yes, many others would if it were necessary; but I wanted to have you all to myself.  Now I know you have been longing to ask me a hundred questions, but have never got beyond “How are they all at home?” yet.’

Netta blushed, and stammered out, as an apology, that she had never been at leisure one minute all the week.

By degrees she began to talk of home and her parents, and Owen was glad to find that as she did so she returned to her old, natural self.  He told her everything that had happened at Glanyravon since she left it, save and except what related to Gladys.  He never even mentioned her name.