away, a mist fell on her eyes and she slept.

Rowland, meanwhile, watched his mother. During the twelve months that he
had been a curate in a parish in one of the worst parts of London, he
had seen much of the sick and the dying. He had seen poverty,
wretchedness, and sin in their most dreadful aspects, and the peace and
comfort of his mother's present condition were a great contrast to the
riot and squalor of many a death room into which he had sought to carry
the gospel message of mercy. Truly he felt thankful in his inmost soul
that she, over whom he was watching with filial love, was ready at any
moment to appear before the great Tribunal, because she 'believed and
knew in whom she believed.' It was for Netta, his beloved and wayward
sister, the cause of this first great family trouble, that he grieved
the most, because he feared that she had entered upon that downward path
that would lead her far astray from the one in which her mother had so
long and happily trod. But he, too, knew where to apply in all his times
of doubt and misgiving, and thither he went for comfort as the shadows
fell around and night crept on.

Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a
shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the
watchers downstairs. Her step, light as it was, awoke Gladys. She
started up, and looking on her mistress, clasped her hands, and
fervently thanked God.

'She is sleeping as calmly as a child,' she said. 'I am sure the worst
is past.'

Mrs Jonathan went out to tell the good news, and to beg the brothers to
go to bed, which they did, after some demur. Gladys and Rowland watched
on for about an hour longer, when Mrs Prothero opened her eyes and fixed
them upon Rowland. She smiled as if she knew him, and when he bent over
her and kissed her, murmured some faint words which he could not
understand.

Gladys gave her some jelly which she swallowed, and soon afterwards she
slept again.

'The crisis is over, she will recover, I hope, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys.
'You can go to bed, sir--you had better. The mistress will want you
to-morrow, and you can be of no use to-night.'

Rowland felt the force of this, and again kissing his mother's forehead,
and shaking Gladys by the hand, he went downstairs to Owen, who he found
asleep on the sofa in the parlour. Supper was awaiting him, and Owen and
he were soon seated over the fire, discussing their mother's illness and
Netta's cond