As Mr Prothero asked this question, he looked Gladys full in the face. She blushed again, but returned his gaze with a quiet, grave look that seemed to wonder at the question. She did not reply at once, and Mr Prothero repeated it, louder than before, with the additional one of 'Do you hear, girl?' 'Sir, I don't like to make promises,' said Gladys; 'suppose the temptation to break it ever came, and proved too strong for me. I might perjure myself.' 'Then you mean to marry my son Owen?' 'No, sir, I don't think I shall ever marry him. As far as I can see now, I am sure I never shall.' 'Name o' goodness, what does the girl mean? You don't mean to marry him, and yet you 'ont promise--what do you mean?' 'I scarcely know myself, sir. But I cannot tell what God may appoint for me in the future, and so I cannot make a solemn promise.' 'Then I 'spose you're going to run off like Netta?' 'No, sir, never.' 'Why, "no, sir," if you 'ont promise?' 'Because I could never do what you and my mistress would dislike.' 'Then you can promise, perhaps, never to marry my son Owen without my consent.' 'Yes, sir, I can--do--that--' Gladys said these words very slowly, and turned very pale as she said them. She clasped her hands firmly together with a visible effort. 'Well, you're an odd girl; you 'ont promise one thing, and yet you as good as promise it in another way. What's the difference?' Again the colour came and went. 'It would be wrong, sir, in me to make a son disobey a father, and I wouldn't like to do it; so I can promise that; and maybe you may change.' 'Then you love the boy? Tell me the treuth.' Gladys began to cry, and was a few moments before she could say, somewhat more resolutely than usual,-- 'Sir, my feelings are my own. Mr Owen has been like a brother to me, and the mistress like a mother--and you--oh, sir! should I not love his mother's son?' Mr Prothero was touched; he could ask no more questions. 'There, there--go you and get ready directly. I promised Miss Gwynne to bring you back to Glanyravon, where she means to make you schoolmistress and lady's maid, and all the rest. I suppose you don't want to go to Ireland?' 'No, sir.' 'Have you any relations there?' 'No, sir.' 'You don't want to leave Glanyravon parish?' 'No, sir. I would rather live and die there than anywhere else in the world.' 'Then go you and get ready; and, mind you, have some ale before you start. I must keep my promise to Miss Gwynne; mind you yours to me. You 'ont encourage my son Owen without my consent' 'No, sir--never. And I do not wish or mean ever to marry any one, if you will only believe me.' 'I don't believe any young 'ooman who says that. You may as well go into a nunnery. But I believe the rest till I find you out to the contrary. Now, go you and get ready.' 'Thank you, sir--thank you.'