‘I know nothing--I mean, I can tell you nothing,’ cried Nell, suddenly rising to her feet. ‘I am weary. I must go to my own room. It will take me days to recover the fatigue I have gone through. Good-night. Don’t think me rude, but I cannot talk to you of such things now.’ And with a curt nod Nell went off in search of her mother, leaving him alone, and somewhat disconcerted at the abrupt ending of their conversation. Mrs Llewellyn was almost as puzzled as Hugh Owen at her daughter’s strange behaviour. She could not understand her. The next day dragged itself disappointingly away. Nell continued in the same passive, indifferent disposition, and when some neighbours, who had heard of her return home, called at Panty-cuckoo Farm expressly to welcome her, she locked herself into her bedroom, and refused even to answer Mrs Llewellyn’s entreaties that she would make an effort to come down and see them. Towards evening, however, she became feverishly excitable again, and seemed impatient to find some vent for it. ‘What can we do, mother?’ she exclaimed as they rose from the tea-table. ‘Isn’t this the night for Hugh Owen’s preaching? Let’s go and hear him. It’ll make me scream with laughter to see old Hugh stuck up as a minister.’ ‘Ay, but, dearie, you mustn’t laugh when you get there, or there will be a scandal, and poor Hugh will be main hurt. Besides, you had better rest in the garden; the field’s more than a mile off, and I’m afraid you’ll feel tired before you get there.’ ‘Not a bit of it,’ cried the girl. ‘I’m just in the humour for walking this evening, mother. I couldn’t remain in the garden; it’s too slow, so, if you don’t want to hear Hugh, I’ll go by myself.’ ‘Oh, no, you don’t do that,’ replied Mrs Llewellyn hastily. ‘I’m too proud of getting my handsome daughter back again after so many years to let her go tramping over Usk by herself the first day she is at home. The Owens are sure to be there, and Hetty will be main glad to see us. So put on your hat, Nell, and we’ll be off. I wish you’d something a bit smarter to wear than that big black thing; however, I can’t deny but it suits you all the same.’