’DEAR MOTHER,—­I am going to marry cousin Howel.  Father won’t consent, so we are going to London to be married.  I hope you will forgive me for not telling you, but I knew it was no good, as father is so much against it.  I am sure I shall be very happy, only I should like to have been married properly at home; but it is not my fault that father would not hear of it, and that Howel would not wait.  We are going to France and a great many other countries, and it grieves me to think how long it will be before I shall see you again.  I hope you and father will forgive me? as Howel is a gentleman with plenty of money, and we have loved one another all our lives.  I don’t see why we were not allowed to marry like anybody else, instead of being obliged to go so far away; I am sure it would have been better if father had let us.  Dear mother, you were always very good to me, and I am sorry if I ever offended you; but father called me bad names, and was very cross; he will be vexed, perhaps, when he sees how grand and happy I am.

     ’Good-bye for a little time, my dear mother.  Don’t be very angry
     with your dutiful, affectionate daughter, JANETTA.’

The word ‘dutiful’ was scratched through and affectionate added.

When Mrs Prothero had read this letter, she turned very pale, and stood like one in a dream; she could not realise the contents.  That Netta was wilful and obstinate she knew, but she had never known her guilty of resolute disobedience; she felt very faint, and sat down on a chair opposite the open door—­she tried to rise to go downstairs to her husband, but found that her head was too giddy, and she could not move; she put her hand before her eyes, and became unconscious.

At this moment Gladys passed down the passage, and seeing Mrs Prothero in this strange attitude, went into the room and asked if anything was the matter.  Receiving no answer, she put her hand tenderly on Mrs Prothero’s, and removing it from before her face, saw that she was pale, and appeared to have fainted.  She ran hastily downstairs, and finding Owen alone, told him that his mother was ill.  He followed her upstairs, and soon perceived that Mrs Prothero was really in a kind of swoon.  Whilst he supported her, Gladys brought water and such restoratives as she could procure; she begged him to go for his father, and whilst he was gone, succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero.  At the sight of the open letter, however, she sank again into a fainting fit.

Mr Prothero and Owen appeared.

‘Mother, what is the matter?  Name o’ goodness what is the matter?’ said Mr Prothero in great alarm.

Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his father took his wife into his arms.

Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a letter.

‘How can you read now, you unnatural son?’ he said sternly.