Gladys, the Reaper. Anne Beale
'You frightened me, and why were you not here sooner? I have been waiting an hour,' was the rejoinder, in a tone of voice that belied the radiant joy of the young face.
Suddenly Netta seemed to recollect something that brought a shadow over the sunshine.
'Cousin Howel, I—I am very sorry for you. Poor Uncle Griff! How is aunt?—and you—you look ill, Howel; what is the matter?'
It was difficult for Netta to know what to say about the death of the miser. She was not sorry, and she could not tell how her cousin felt.
'Oh, yes; my mother is pretty well. I have been ill, but shall soon be all right again. Netta, how long is it since we met?'
'A twelvemonth next Friday.'
'You remember the day, dear Netta. Then you do not hate me, although they have done their best to make you do so, by calling me gambler, spendthrift, drunkard, and all the charming etceteras.'
'Oh no, Howel.'
'Take off that bonnet, and let me see if you are altered.' He unfastened the strings, and let the long black curls fall over the girl's neck. 'No, you are only prettier than ever, cousin Netta. How would you look in lace and pearls, and all the goodly array of a fine lady?'
'I don't know, Howel; but tell me what you wanted me for.
'Just let me twist this bunch of roses into your hair first, to see how an evening toilette would become my pretty cousin Netta.'
Howel had torn a spray from the rose-bush at their back, and he inserted it carelessly amongst the curls.
'How well you look, Netta. I should like to see you in a ball-room. We will go together to plenty of balls, if you will only consent.'
'I don't like those roses, cousin,' said Netta hastily, 'they are unlucky I think,' and she tore them from her hair, and threw them, as she had done the previous ones, into the brook. 'Now let us see where they will go.'
'We have not time, Netta, and I do not know why I am fooling away the hours. You must answer all my questions truly and plainly. I am become a rich man, how rich I do not myself know; and I mean to let every one belonging to me see that I can spend my money like a gentleman, and be as grand as those who have hitherto lorded it over me.'
'Particularly the Rice Rices and Lady Mary Nugent,' interrupted Netta.
'Would you like to be grander than they, Netta? have a finer carriage, more beautiful clothes, a handsomer house, plate, jewels, servants, and all sorts of magnificence?'
'Oh, yes, of all things in the world.'
'Then you shall be my wife, Netta, and we will soon see whether we cannot be as grand as the grandest.'
'Oh, cousin!'
'Well, dear Netta; tell me, are you changed?'
'No, cousin.'
'If I ask your father's consent, and he gives it, will you marry me?'
'You know we settled that long ago, cousin Howel; but father will not consent, unless—unless—'
'Pshaw, but if I ask his consent, and he refuses it, will you marry me then, dear Netta, dear, dear cousin?'
Howel fixed his large, piercing eyes upon Netta, who coloured and trembled, and murmured, 'Oh, Howel, I don't know—how can I?'
'How can you? Who is to prevent you? We can marry and go abroad, and return and ask pardon, and I will take a fine house, and they will be only too proud to own us?'
'Not father, Howel, unless—'
'Unless I become a steady fellow, and settle down, as I mean to do, if you will marry me. But if you refuse me, I shall just go on as I am, or put an end to my wretched life perhaps.'
'Howel, don't be so wicked,' cried Netta, bursting into tears.
'Then, Netta, you must give me your promise to be mine, whether your father consents or not, whenever I write you word, through my mother, that I will have a carriage ready at the corner near the turnpike. But I can settle all particulars at the proper time, provided only you promise. Remember, you have told me hundreds of times that you will be my wife, and neither father nor mother should prevent it.'
'I do not know—I cannot tell whether it would be right.'
'Not right to save me from destruction, to make me what I ought to be, to cleave to your husband as if he were yourself, in spite of parents or relations! I am sure, Netta, that you are taught to do all this; besides, you cannot help it, if you love me. You know that I would have married you when I had nothing, as readily as I will now that I have tens of thousands, and surely this deserves a return?'
Netta began to sob.
'You know how it is, Howel. I am afraid of father, and could not bear to annoy mother, but—'
'But you love me better still, Netta; so do not cry, and we will be as happy as the day is long. Will you promise me?'
Netta sobbed on and hesitated.
'I am going to London to-morrow, cousin Netta, to pay debts, and make myself clear of the world. If you will promise, in a few months I will return for you; we will travel, we will do anything in the world you like; I shall have plenty of money, I shall probably write a book when we are abroad, which will make me famous as well as rich; we will come home and astonish the world. If you do not promise, I shall never come here again, and shall probably live a gay, wretched life on the continent, or elsewhere, and be really the good-for-nothing fellow I am thought to be;—will you promise, dear cousin Netta?'
Howel knew well how to assume a manner that should add force to the feelings he expressed, and rarely did he employ his powers of persuasion in vain, particularly with the fair sex, never with his cousin, to whom he was really attached, and who was wholly devoted to him.
'Netta,' he added, in a low, sad voice, 'I fear, after all, you do not love me, and I have very few who care for me in this world.'
'Do not say this, cousin,' sobbed Netta, 'you know I always promised—I always said—I—I—will do anything in the world you wish me, cousin Howel.'
'Even if your father refuses?'
'Yes, I will not care for any one but you.'
'Thank you, dear Netta; now I know that we shall be happy, and you shall have everything you can desire.'
'Stop, cousin; I shall not marry you because you are rich, or great, or likely to be as grand as other people—though I should like to put them down, just as well as you—but because we have loved each other ever since we were little children, and I could not care for any one else—not even if Sir Hugh Pryse were to ask me.'
Howel was both touched and amused.
'You are a good, kind, little cousin, Netta; but what can you mean about Sir Hugh?'
Netta tossed her head, and looked vain-glorious.
'Oh, I dined at Glanyravon on Thursday, and the Rice Rices, and Nugents, and Sir Hugh were there; and Sir Hugh was very attentive to me, and said a great many things to me. And he has been at our house since, and has met me in the road, and been as polite as possible.'
'But he is desperately in love with Miss Gwynne, or her fortune; so you need not alarm yourself, my little cousin.'
'You need not alarm yourself, you ought to say,' and Netta again tossed her head.
'Well, I am not jealous. Sir Hugh, with his loud voice, vulgar manners, and stupid fat face, could not light a candle to me, and as to his title, I will back my fortune against that.'
'It sounds very grand to be called my lady.' Netta said this to pique her cousin, and she succeeded; but she did not expect to provoke the storm that she raised. The dark brow lowered, and he said—
'Netta, I am in no mood