'If you could prevail on the mistress to go to bed, ma'am,' said Gladys when she opened the door to her, 'I would be for ever thankful to you; she is much too ill to be about, and she has done nothing but mope and fret all day.' Miss Gwynne went straight into the dairy, where Mrs Prothero was making butter. 'So Netta has taken the law into her own hands, Mrs Prothero. So much the better; I shouldn't grieve about it if I were you. It is a grand thing for her.' 'Not to disobey us and run away, Miss Gwynne? she would be better doing her father's bidding than marrying a lord, much less Howel.' 'But you are not going to make yourself ill and miserable about it. Since it is done, you may as well make the best of it; but you must go to bed and keep quiet, to-day at least. You are not fit to see all the people who are already on their way to condole or congratulate. You will have half the parish here before night; I passed old Nancy, Cwmriddle, hobbling down the lane, and she will be here shortly.' 'Oh, I couldn't see them, Miss Gwynne.' 'Then you must go to bed to avoid it. Do be advised, you look so ill.' 'When Miss Gwynne so far forgot herself as to be persuasive instead of commanding, she was irresistible. She put her hand so gently on Mrs Prothero's shoulder, and looked so kindly into her tearful eyes, that the poor woman began to cry afresh. The sound of a stick knocking at the back door completed the victory, and Mrs Prothero went sobbing upstairs, whilst Gladys opened the door to admit Nancy, Cwmriddle, and another gossip who had overtaken her. Mr Prothero came into the yard at the same time. 'Well, sir, to be sure; only to think of Miss Netta,' began the old woman in Welsh. 'If you're come here to talk about her, I'll thank you to go away again, and tell everybody you meet that they may have their nine days' wonder about us anywhere but here,' roared Mr Prothero into Nancy's ear, who was very deaf. The old crones, knowing Mr. Prothero well, turned away quicker than they came, and soon began to do his bidding, perceiving that he was in an 'awful way.' 'Mr Prothero, do you know I have sent Mrs Prothero to bed,' began Miss Gwynne, advancing towards him; 'she looks so very ill and unlike herself that I am sure you must be careful of her for a time.' 'All that ungrateful, good-for-nothing daughter of ours, Miss Gwynne. What would she care if she were to kill her mother? I know you are a true lady and a kind friend, miss, and have more sense than all the rest of the country put together, so I don't mind telling you what I think. Those that disobey their parents'll be seure to come to a bad end.' 'We will hope the best, Mr Prothero; and you must remember that you have your sons to comfort you.'