the Sabbath by an unseemly quarrel amidst the most beautiful
works of creation, nor offend my sister's ear by recrimination. If you
have any real regard for her, you will allow her to go home quietly with
me, and remember that we are all relations, and ought to be friends.'

'Friends we can never be. The only friend I have in your family is Owen,
except, perhaps, Netta, who is turned by one and the other of you, like
a weathercock by the winds.'

'I beg your pardon, cousin Howel,' began Netta.

'We have had enough of this,' said Rowland calmly. 'If you choose to
come and see us as a relation, in a straightforward manner, Howel, we
should be glad to see you, but underhand ways are equally disagreeable
to us all.'

'How remarkably condescending!' said Howel with a sneer. 'But I will not
waste time with a canting, Methodist parson like you. I wish you as many
converts as you desire, but not myself amongst them. Remember, Netta!
Good bye. I suppose your most excellent brother will allow us to shake
hands.'

Netta held out her hand, and as Howel shook it, he again repeated the
word 'remember.' Rowland advanced a pace or two, and partly extended his
hand. Howel turned abruptly away, and with a contemptuous glance, merely
said, 'Good day to you,' The brother and sister took an opposite course
to his, and had to cross the brook, whilst he pushed his way through the
briers that had impeded Netta's path. He turned and watched them as they
stepped from stone to stone, and finally ascended the ravine. Netta
looked round, and he kissed his hand to her, to which she responded by
nodding her head; but Rowland neither turned to the right nor left.

'Meddling coxcomb!' he exclaimed, 'what is there in him that commands
the attention and respect that I fail to obtain with ten times his
talents?'

He stood for a few minutes musing, whilst the music of the waterfall
insensibly soothed his irritated mind.

'Why should I care for Netta, who could marry any one I like?' were his
thoughts. 'I suppose because she really loves me, and because they all
oppose me. Well, supposing I do turn over a new leaf, and spend the gold
my father got so usuriously, in doing good! That would be making a use
of a miser's money, rarely, if ever, made before? and might be worth the
trial, if only to work a new problem, whether ill-gotten wealth could
conduce to moral health. I should like to out-Herod that puppy Rowland,
and make a saint of myself out of