Part 75 (2/2)

Rowland had not told Mr Wenlock that Netta was his sister. When he heard his opinion, so clearly and unreservedly expressed, he was greatly distressed.

'She will not be moved from these lodgings,' he said. 'She positively refuses. Will it do to oblige her to leave?'

'By no means. But I hear that admirable young woman, whom I call _our_ Sister of Charity, Miss Gladys, has undertaken to nurse her. If any one can persuade her to submit to go elsewhere she will do it. It should be into the country. To her native air, if possible.'

Just at this juncture, Gladys returned, and Rowland called her into the consultation. Mr Wenlock continued,--

'Lead her to think of her child, who is also in a most delicate state.

Tell her, that change of air, country air, is absolutely necessary for her--which it really is--but she must not be taken from her mother.

Distract her mind as much as possible from the trouble, whatever it is, that oppresses it. Had she been left much longer to herself, she would have quite lost her reason. Let her see such friends as can be trusted to talk to her cheerfully and to amuse, without wearying her. If you undertake this office, Miss Gladys, you will require all your patience, and more than your natural health; and once undertaken, you must not give it up, for she will get used to you, and depend upon you. Poor thing! poor thing! I have seen many such cases, and never need to inquire much into private history to know their origin. Wicked, morose, unfeeling, cruel husbands are generally at the root, and G.o.d only knows what their victims have to bear. There will be a pretty large account to make up at the Great Day, Mr Prothero, between man and wife, of marriage vows broken, and feelings outraged.'

'And my poor--and Mrs Mills,' said Rowland, 'ought, you think, to be removed at once from London?'

'Decidedly, if she can be prevailed upon to go of her own free will, not otherwise. I will see her again to-morrow, and watch her case as long as she remains here. As regards the poor child, Miss Gladys, she, too, must be nursed and amused, and well fed. I suppose she has been neglected since the measles that her mother told me of, or else she never was a strong child. Poor little lamb! It would kill her mother if she were to be taken! But, really, I couldn't say--however, we shall see. Good morning. I ought to be elsewhere by this time.'

Mr Wenlock took his departure.

'Miss Gwynne is coming directly, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys; 'I suppose I had better tell Mrs Jenkins so. She has been out all the morning, purchasing everything she thought Mrs Jenkins and Miss Minette could want, and is going to bring what she has bought, in a cab, herself,'

'G.o.d bless her!' murmured Rowland. 'Gladys, do say Minette, and not Miss. Why will you not consider yourself as a friend--a sister?'

Why did that quick, bright flush spread so suddenly over Gladys' pale face?

'Thank you, Mr Rowland, I will. But I cannot forget what I really was, and am.'

'You are and have been everything to us all, and now all our hopes seem to centre in you. Can Miss Gwynne spare you?'

'She proposed my coming herself; but even if she had not, my first duty is to my dear mistress and her children.'

'You will receive Miss Gwynne, Gladys. It will be less awkward. I have a hundred things to do. Tell Netta that I will come again.'

Rowland went first of all to his lodgings, and wrote a long letter to his father. He told him boldly and plainly what Mr Wenlock had said; he had already written to his mother the good news of his having found Netta. He asked his father in a straightforward manner to receive Netta, and to forgive her. He made no comments, preached no sermon. He thought that a statement of facts would have more effect on his father than all his eloquence, or all the texts of the Bible, every one of which his father knew as well as he did. He also began to feel it was not for him to lecture and reprimand a parent, even though he knew that parent to be in the wrong. As he folded his manly and affectionate letter, he prayed for a blessing upon it, and went to preach and pray with many members of his flock, who, alas! knew not, like his father, those blessed texts, which teach us to 'forgive as we hope to be forgiven.'

Later in the afternoon he went to Netta again; he found Miss Gwynne with her, cloak and bonnet thrown off, and Minette in full and eager talk on her lap. Netta was looking quite cheerful under the influence of Miss Gwynne's animated manners, and Minette's shouts of laughter. Toys and picture-books were on the table before the child, and all sorts of garments spread about the room. Miss Gwynne had sent Gladys home for a large dressing-gown for Netta, and had expressed her intention of remaining some time.

Minette jumped off her lap when Rowland entered, and ran towards him, with a book in one hand, and a doll in the other.

'Look, uncle, what this kind lady has brought me; and she has made mamma quite well. She has been laughing like she used to laugh. Oh, uncle, I love her very much, don't you?'

Rowland did not say 'yes,' but went up to Miss Gwynne, and with all his heart,--

'Oh, Miss Gwynne, how can we ever thank you enough for all this kindness?'

'By not thanking me at all,' replied Miss Gwynne, stooping to pick up a book, doubtless to conceal a very decided increase of colour.

These were the first genuine and natural words that Rowland had spoken to Miss Gwynne since those fatal sentences under the great oak in her father's park.

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