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Updated: May 12, 2025
'We had better go downstairs now, said Lady Simpson. 'Bridegrooms are very impatient at these times. Lady Simpson took the blushing, frightened Netta by the hand, and led her into the drawing-room. Truly the poor child did look like a lovely country rose, as Miss Simpson had not inaptly called her.
The white profile on the dark sofa cushion was of a most delicate perfection, and as Victoria helped to remove her hat she saw a small dark head covered with short curls like a boy's. Netta Melrose looked round the beautiful room, its pictures, its deep sofas and chairs, its bright fire, and then at the figures of Victoria and the housekeeper in the distance. Victoria was giving her orders.
'What! not up, Netta? How's the head? Owen, there's a letter for you. Llanfach post-mark, and from a lady? such a neat, pretty, ladylike hand! How sly you are to have lady correspondents, and not let us know who the charmer is! 'Let me see the direction, said Netta, trying to get the letter from her brother. 'No, no, said Owen.
It was not to be thought of. Victoria tried gently to investigate what skeleton might be lying in the Smeath closet, whereof Mr. Melrose possessed such very useful information. But Netta held her tongue. "Papa had been very unfortunate, and the Government would like to put him in prison if they could. Edmund had been always so cruel to him." Beyond this Victoria could not get.
'Poor mother, she would scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta. The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's bewildered imagination.
'Whatever right your father may have, sir, to prevent my seeing your sister, at any rate you have none, was Howel's indignant reply. 'Then I shall take a brother's right, and in the absence of my father, assume his place. Netta, you know you are doing wrong; come with me. Netta hesitated, but her brother's manner was authoritative, and she felt that she dared not disobey.
'No, Netta dearest Netta! it is I, Rowland your brother, said Rowland, supporting his fainting sister back into the room. 'Uncle! Uncle Rowland! I am so glad! exclaimed a little voice, as Minette ran towards him and clasped his knees.
The light of the candle awakes Mrs Prothero, and she is out of bed in a moment. 'Netta has fainted, mother; she has one of her spasms, says Owen, turning his pale face to his mother. 'My God, it is death! cries the stricken mother, falling on her knees by the bedside of her child. And it is death. Without a groan the spirit has quitted its dwelling of clay to enter upon its eternal rest!
French novels and betting-books were their sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from the contamination of such society. But she came downstairs after luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any amount of frivolity.
All withdrew but his wife. He is on his knees before his poor penitent daughter. Her arms are round his neck, and she strives to rise but cannot. Oh! the depth, agony, remorse of that long, silent, paternal, and filial embrace. 'Do you forgive me, father? asks Netta. 'All all. God forgive us both! groans Mr Prothero.
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