and had borne away one of that loving family,
leaving only her earthly tenement behind!

Another short week, and Glanyravon Farm held no longer even that once
beautiful tenement. Quiet forms moved about in black clothing, and
melancholy faces looked sadly at one another, and spoke low of her from
whom they were parted for an indefinite period.

Such is life!

Death! what know the living of death? Is it not 'swallowed up in
victory?' Death, then, to the believer in Christ is victory.

Such is death!

These were thoughts that presented themselves to Rowland Prothero after
he had followed his sister's body to the grave. It was with such
thoughts, simplified when put into words, that he attempted to comfort
his mother, and to raise his father's mind from a morbid ruminating upon
the past, to the hope that his beloved child had found death victory.
Whilst Gladys comforted Owen and Minette, Rowland seemed to be all in
all to his parents, and devoted himself to them during the period that
he was able to leave his duties in London. The news of the death of his
rector abroad had reached him the day before the intelligence of that of
Netta; and, had it not been for the kind exertions of Mr Jones, he could
not have stayed with his family the Sunday that followed the funeral.

Mr Jones, however, managed everything for him in London, and procured
help in the emergency. Thus Rowland was able to accompany his family to
church, and to be with them a few days of the week succeeding that on
which his dear sister was buried.

It was on the afternoon of one of these few and precious days that he
was sitting alone with his mother. The rest of the family were about
their necessary avocations. Gladys, followed by poor little Minette in
her black frock, was managing the household. Owen and his father were
out of doors, the former doing his best to cheer his poor father, who
had been perhaps more entirely cast down by his loss than any other
member of the family, Mrs Prothero not excepted. As he himself said, he
had not known what an idol he had made of his girl until she was gone
from him.

Rowland and his mother were talking of Netta. It was Mrs Prothero's one
theme when alone with him or Gladys. They could comfort her aching heart
by assuring her that they believed her child's repentance to have been
sincere, and her faith, if at times troubled and confused by the
wandering mind and puzzled brain, placed on the One sole and sure
f