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Updated: May 28, 2025
'I am not having no intentions of marrying again, simpered the widow; 'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey. 'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all conscience. The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.
I am thinking you gentlemen 'ould be marrying your grandmothers for the beauty money! Not my son Howels, indeet! He don't be wanting money. He marry his cousin for love. Hush you! There's Pengoch beginning a Penyll! You don't be hearing anything like that in England. Ach a fi! my 'deet, I am sorry. "God save the Queen!" and it don't seem an hour since they began!
But I was wanting to know, Mr Rowland, when you was going to London? Seure, I do think of going to-night, or to-morrow morning. 'Why must you go, aunt? asked Rowland. 'Why must I be going? Why ask such a question? 'Ould I be staying at home, and my Howels in gaol? I do go to tak care of him, to pay for him, to be seeing justice done him, to be near him. Night or morrow morning I do mean to go.
He had arrived in London, and been lodged in Newgate the previous day, the one on which that letter was written. Rowland gently told his mother the contents of it. 'Thank God that my child did not live to see this day! exclaimed Mrs Prothero. 'Better dead, cousin, than to be living as Howels is! sobbed Mrs Griffey. 'In a prison, too, my beauty Howels!
'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his poor father's death. 'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted, then he may have Netta. 'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero! 'Let him marry 'em all, I don't want him. 'Then you won't let Netta marry my Howels?
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.
There's Miss Rice Rice, and the Miss Jamms's, Plas Newydd, and Miss Lawis, Pontammon, and Miss Colonel Rees, and Miss Jones the 'Torney, and Miss Captain Thomas, and I 'ouldn't say but Miss Gwynne, Glanyravon, do be all speaking, and talking, and walking, and dancing with my Howels! There's for you: and yet he do like his cousin Netta best he do say.
Sorrow had so far bowed his spirit as to teach him to forgive her, if not Howel. Mrs Jenkins scarcely gave herself time to say 'How do you do? when she poured out the grief which had brought her to Glanyravon. 'Oh, Mrs Prothero, fach! Ach, Rowland! what will I do? They was finding him in America the pleece was finding him, my Howels! And he do be in jail in London, 'dited for forgery.
Mrs Jones had been endeavouring to prepare the poor mother for the probable sentence, but nothing could persuade her that 'her Howels, so clever, so genteel, who dined with the Queen and Prince Albert, and was handsomer than the Prince, for she had seen him, could be transported for forgery.
All that money that my Griffey was putting by in pence and sixpences and shillings all gone, and he no better, and Howels no better, and I no better, 'scept that I did be seeing London. Come you, Owen, tak you a drop of brandy and water. I do tak it very kind of you to be coming to see me. 'What message shall I give Netta, Aunt 'Lizbeth?
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