'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 conduct. They had not met for three or four years, and there was much to say. Few brothers loved one another more tenderly than they did, despite the dissimilarity of habits, tastes, and occupations, and when they were together, all the secrets of their hearts were usually unfolded. Although Owen's wild roving nature had caused Rowland much anxiety, still he had perfect confidence in his honest, open character. Owing to early education Owen was not deficient in general acquirements. He knew a little Latin and Greek, and could read, write, and cypher well. Added to this, his knowledge of foreign lands was great, and of men and manners greater. Under a careless exterior, he had a considerable portion of talent and information, and Rowland was delighted to find in his sea-faring, roystering brother, a much more cultivated and sensible mind than he had expected. Rowland was beginning to be conscious of wishing to see all his family superior to what they were. Placed by his own profession amongst gentle-folks, and feeling in himself all the refinement of the class so called, he was often annoyed and pained to be differently situated from those who were nearest and dearest to him. He knew that in London he was received as an equal by men and women of rank and position, as well as by those of talent and learning; whereas, in the country, even Miss Gwynne, at whose house he visited, considered it a condescension to speak to him, whilst she looked upon those who belonged to him as people of another sphere. In spite of all his prayers for humility, and his striving after pure Christianity, Rowland was, and knew that he was a proud man, and all the prouder because his original station was beneath his present one. He felt that he must be humbled before he could be the pastor and disciple of One whose whole life was a lesson of humility. But the world knew nothing of this. He walked before