on
them, 'Netta.' This was better, far better, than that death-like trance.

'Mother, dear mother,' again whispered Rowland, and once more her eyes
opened and fixed on him, with something like consciousness.

At last an opiate which the doctor had given took effect, and she slept;
her pulse was so weak, and her breathing so faint, that at first the
watchers thought she was passing away into that sleep from which there
is no awakening; but it was not so. It was a weak troubled sleep; still
it was a sleep.

By degrees all left the room but Rowland and Gladys. Mrs Prothero's hand
seemed to be clasping that of her son, as if it would not let go; and
Gladys never moved from the bedside.

She saw that there must be hope if real sleep came. As she sat down in a
kind of easy chair that Owen had placed for her by the bedside, she
thanked God for this amount of hope,

'Sleep, Gladys, I will watch,' whispered Rowland.

And truly the poor girl had need of rest. Scarce had she closed her eyes
during that anxious week, and she knew well how necessary rest was to
her. But she felt as if she could not sleep whilst this uncertainty
lasted. All the anxious faces of the household flitted before her when
she tried to compose herself. Her poor master, his brother, Mrs
Jonathan, Rowland, but mostly Owen. He who had said the least, had shown
the greatest self-command and done the most. His large kind eyes seemed
to be looking at his mother or at her, and trying to anticipate their
wants. His hands so brown and sinewy, yet so very gentle, seemed to be
touching hers, as they had done when moving his mother or otherwise
helping in the sick-room. His cheery voice seemed to be telling her not
to weary herself so much, or to be thanking her for the care she
bestowed upon his dear parent. In vain she tried to put aside this kind
of haunting vision. Her mistress and Owen were painted on the
over-strained retina, and she could not efface the picture. She prayed
for them, for all. Then, as the afternoon sunlight faded away, and a
twilight hue crept over the room, with just a flickering streak of light
playing on the wall opposite to her, the death-beds of her father,
mother, sister, and brothers rose up before her with a vivid reality
that made her tremble, and forced tears from her weary eyes. The tears
seemed a relief, and as they flowed quietly down her cheeks, and the
coming shadows dispersed the visions of the living, dying, and dead
faded