'Best now, father, whilst I remember. She may stay? You like to have her?' 'Of course, of course, my dear.' Mr Prothero glances rather uneasily at the very lady-like looking young woman, for whom he is thus humbly petitioned, and in doing so spies Owen close behind her. His feelings are too much softened by Netta to allow him to feel angry; still he does not know what to make of if. Mrs Prothero kisses Gladys, and Mr and Mrs Jonathan shake hands with her. 'Nothing like the present time,' thinks Owen; but Gladys declares decidedly that Netta ought to go to her room, and everybody yields to her calm, assured voice. 'Then you will stay with us?' asks gentle Mrs Prothero, looking the while at her husband. 'To be sure she will,' says Mr Prothero. 'Thank you, sir; thank you, ma'am. I shall be only too glad,' replies Gladys, as humbly as if she were really the servant she professes to be. 'Miss Gwynne will allow me to stay, if you wish it.' After they had been upstairs they returned to tea, and Mr Prothero could not quit Netta, but sat watching her with a painful anxiety. She was greatly excited, and her mind and eyes appeared equally to wander on the objects of her childhood. She asked her father a variety of questions concerning scenes and people that she felt were particularly associated with him, and he was quite overcome. When the meal was finished, Owen carried Netta at once to her room, and all the womankind accompanied her. It was then that poor Mr Prothero's wrath and grief exploded. Left alone with his brother he vented both in language which, as Owen had expressed it, needed clerical revision. But Mr Jonathan knew that it must have its course before exhortations could take effect. He paced up and down the room pouring curses loud and deep upon Howel, and bemoaning his unfortunate daughter. At last he sat down and cried bitterly. It was then that his brother drew near to comfort, and that Owen returned to the room. 'So young, so pretty--our only girl! God only knows how I love her--to come to die! Driven mad by that heartless villain--curse him--a thousand--' 'Hush, brother! hush! You cannot alter the past. Home and a father's and mother's love will soon bring her round, poor dear.' 'Do you think so? why, she looks like a corpse. No rose was redder when she went away, when I kissed her the night before. And now! and now! I say again, curse the man! I can't help it, brother,--I won't help it.' 'Come, father, let us hope the best, now we have her home again.' Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder as he spoke, but there was no comfort for that sorrowing parent. While he cursed Howel there, was much self-reproach within him for long-harboured feelings of anger and unforgiveness against his daughter. He even began, to think that if he had been gentle and kind he might have saved her. The proud hearts of parent and child were alike subdued by heavy sorrow.