Rowland, and put her hand in his--Owen came to
him--his uncle--all were there.

But as soon as he had recovered from his temporary emotion, he went to
his father's side, who had seated himself on a chair behind the curtain
of the bed, and tried to comfort him. The presence of his second son was
in itself a consolation to poor Mr Prothero; but he could not listen to
his words.

'Pray for your mother, Rowland,' was all he could say.

Rowland knelt down with all those present, except Gladys, who joined in
spirit and prayed. Never before had he known what it was to use the
prayers of his church for one so dear to him; never before had he felt
the great difficulty of reading them when his emotion nearly choked his
utterance. But as priest and son he prayed fervently for his mother.

Mr Prothero seemed calmer after he rose from his knees, and ventured to
lean over his wife to assure himself that she still breathed. There was
an occasional slight pulsation scarcely to be called breath.

The doctor came in and felt her pulse. It was not quite gone, and whilst
there was life there was hope.

They stood round her bed watching the calm, pale face with a love and
anxiety so intense that they could neither speak nor breathe. Gladys
looked almost as pale as her mistress, and as the light fell upon her
when she was leaning over her, she might have been the angel of death
herself.

Mrs Jonathan Prothero drew Rowland from the room and insisted upon his
taking some refreshment. He had travelled all night, and Mr Gwynne, at
his daughter's request, had sent his carriage to meet him.

Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall were still waiting downstairs. They asked Mrs
Jonathan if they could be of any use in taking Gladys's place whilst the
poor girl got some rest; Mrs Jonathan said it was useless to urge her to
leave her mistress for a moment.

Rowland thanked Miss Gwynne for her kindness, and she said she would do
anything in the world for Mrs Prothero.

She and Miss Hall went away in the carriage that brought Rowland,
promising to return again in the afternoon.

When Rowland had swallowed some coffee, he went back to his mother's
room. As he walked from the door to the foot of the bed, she opened her
eyes, and seemed for a moment to look at him; a thrill of hope shot
through him. He went round and took her hand, and whispered, 'Mother!'
Did she smile? He thought she did.

Shortly afterwards her lips moved, and Gladys heard the name ever