’Well, I’m of Netta’s opinion, and the sooner they’re married the better.  I must confess, now I know who Gladys is, there isn’t a girl in all the country I like so well.  And Mr and Mrs Jones have written as a gentleman and lady ought to write, owning her, and giving their free consent to her marrying our Owen.  So, Netta, fach, if you can get the young folk’s consent you have mine.’

Owen and Gladys had accompanied Mrs Jenkins part of the way home.  She had particularly asked Gladys to ‘send her,’ and as it was getting dusk, Owen had ‘sent her’ also.  They returned during the conversation respecting their marriage and Mr Prothero who had forgotten, if he had ever experienced, the shyness of affianced lovers, began the subject at once.

’Netta wants you two young people to be married directly, so do I. I shall be glad when ‘tis all over.  What do you say to it?’

They had nothing to say, Gladys blushed, and Owen felt awkward on her account, not his own.

‘There, I always said that lovers were fools,’ said Mr Prothero.

‘We will settle it another time,’ said Netta.

‘Go you and settle it directly,’ said Mr Prothero; ’what my little girl here says, is law in this house.’

Poor Netta always began to cry when her father said anything particularly kind.  She did so now.  There was a reaction on her spirits, and she suddenly became as depressed as she had previously been gay.  The constantly recurring contrasts between herself and Gladys continually affected her, and her father’s readiness for the marriage reminded her of the scenes between him and herself previously to her own.

The topic was given up for that evening, but the following morning Netta renewed it with Owen, who declared himself 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!