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Updated: May 28, 2025
She was crying when she was meeting my Howels; she was crying when she was putting on her wedding gown; she was crying when the parson was preaching that sermon, and when the thunder and lightning did frighten her, seure, and no wonder 'Did it thunder and lighten when they were married? 'asked Mrs Prothero, through her sobs. 'Yes, indeet!
The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on the subject of 'my son Howels, when that gentleman gave her a look that silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.
He, my beauty Howels he forge! Why 'ould he be forging? Annwyl! Fie was innocent, Rowland on my deet, he was innocent. Mrs Jenkins wrung her hands and cried bitterly. 'How do you know this, Aunt 'Lizbeth? said Rowland. 'Tell me calmly, and then we will see what can be done, 'Read you that letter. By to-morrow he'll be in all the papers. He so clever, so genteel, so rich!
'You do see, Mrs Gwillim, that if Mrs Howel was to die, my Howels 'ould be seure to be marrying again. He could have anybody. 'Of course, ma'am of course. 'There don't be a lady anywhere as 'ouldn't be proud to be marrying my Howels. Up in London there's my Lady Sinclairs, and a hundred others; and down here there's Miss Nugent, or Miss Gwynne.
Mrs Prothero was not duenna enough to accompany them upstairs, and consequently Netta gave a note to Mrs Jenkins, cried a little, and helped her to abuse her parents. 'Never you mind, Netta, fach, were the last words, 'Howels don't be meaning to give you up.
When I said I had tried hard to believe that I was at least the literary descendant of Sir James Howels, he corrected me gently with "James Howel," and took down a volume of the 'Familiar Letters' from the shelves behind him to prove me wrong.
Oh, anwyl! my boy! my Howels! What 'ould his poor father be saying if he was knowing all! and how his money was going and all mine too! I shall be going to the Eunion, and then you'll be feeling satisfied, Rowland Prothero! and your mother, and that Gladys, and all so grand! 'll be looking down upon me. And my Howels over the sea!
Mr Rice Rice is telling me there is a 'ditement brought against him for forgery, and now they can be taking him anywhere, and bringing him to trial as soon as they do find him. Forgery! name o' goodness, why 'ould he be forging, as I do say to every one, and his own mother as 'ould be giving him thousands of pounds. My Howels! Ach a fi! for sham to them!
All those fine people and fine things won't make her happy, and her father will never forgive her, never. Oh dear! oh dear! 'What will I tell her, Mrs Prothero, when I do write to my son Howels? 'Tell her tell her that my heart is breaking; but I forgive her. Beg her not to forget her parents, and, above all, not to forget her God.
'Oh, I do be having the best in all London; Prince Albert or Queen Victoria 'ouldn't be having a better; to think of him as was dining with them wanst. 'Don't believe such nonsense, Aunt 'Lizbeth. 'Was you thinking that my Howels is not telling the treuth?
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