'Well, I'll go now, Miss Gwynne, and look
after that confounded--I beg your pardon, Miss--after that Irish jade,'
and he went accordingly, leaving the ladies to talk it over with his
wife.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE FRIEND.
Mr Prothero started as soon as his horse was ready, and, it must be
confessed, in a very bad temper. As soon as he got out of the precincts
of Glanyravon, he began to make inquiries of every one he met, and at
every cottage he passed, concerning Gladys. It was evident, from the
replies that he received, that if she had gone that road, it was so
early in the morning that no one had seen her.
At last he fell in with a farmer's wife whom he knew, who was jogging
along on horseback, with a little boy behind her. After the usual
greetings, he said,--
'You never come to Glanyravon now, Mrs Davies. I daresay you haven't
seen any of our folk for a year?'
'Well, not exactly. But I almost fancied I saw that pretty young 'ooman
that lives with you yesterday morning. She was too shabby, or I should
have been seure of the face. Only when she saw me she turned away and
went on.'
'Which way?'
'Oh, down the Carmarthen road, seure.'
'You'll excuse my hurrying on, Mrs Davies; I want to call at Lewis,
Dryslwyn.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351