Howel laughed in his sleeve when he heard this:  he managed to hear every word that Netta uttered, and gave her an approving glance; he also saw that his friends, Captain Dancy and Mr Horatio Simpson, greatly admired his beautiful young wife, and little cousin Netta rose in his, estimation.

‘We shall soon meet in Paris, I hope,’ said Captain Dancy.  ’Simpson and I are going to run over next week.  I should like to assist in showing you some of the lions, Mrs Howel Jenkins,’

‘Lions! name o’ goodness don’t tak’ her to see them!’ exclaims Mrs Jenkins, now put off her guard by fear.

‘Ah! you have not that Welsh figure; it means—­’ began Miss Simpson, but she was interrupted by Mr Simpson proposing the health of the bride and bridegroom.

The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on the subject of ‘my son Howels,’ when that gentleman gave her a look that silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.

The ladies went to their retiring-room, whilst the gentlemen drank more champagne, and arranged various Parisian amusements.

It was understood that, as Howel had no friends to leave behind him for the final settlement of lodgings and the like, his guests were to depart before he and his bride left.  They accordingly took their leave as soon as Netta reappeared in fashionable travelling costume.  No sooner were they fairly gone than Howel set to work to pay and arrange; this done, he called Netta to look at their wedding cards.  There were a great number directed to different friends, some to acquaintances in their old neighbourhood, and one to David Prothero, Esq., Glanyravon.

Netta quailed but said nothing.

’Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the Welshman, and every one will see it:—­“On the 16th instant, at St James’s Church, Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon.  Sir John Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends."’

‘Father will see that,’ said Netta; ‘he will be in such a passion.’

‘Serve him right,’ replied Howel, and called the page and sent the letters to the post.

The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in.  Mrs Griffith Jenkins was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of champagne, together with a few other confections’ in a stray hamper.

‘Make haste, mother,’ cried Howel.

’Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute.  We must be wishing you joy at home; and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand cake.’