it, and through it as a bright example of a young clergyman devoted to
his work. Neither was he less devoted to his mother, dutiful to his
father, or loving to his brother, because they were good, honest, plain
farmers, and he a clergyman; or which was, perhaps, more to the point,
because Miss Gwynne could not, or would not separate him from his
family.
When he and his brother and sister were children, they were constantly
at the vicarage with their uncle and aunt, and Miss Gwynne was their
playmate there, and had not known their inferiority. Now that he really
was a man of education and a gentleman, in spite of all her kindness to
his mother, she knew it full well. Why did he never consider what any
one else in his own neighbourhood thought of him or his family? It was
only Miss Gwynne--always Miss Gwynne.
Early the following morning that young lady came to inquire for Mrs
Prothero, accompanied by Miss Hall. It was Rowland who gave them the
joyful intelligence that his mother had had a good night, and was much
more quiet. The real pleasure that shone from Miss Gwynne's intelligent
and intelligible eyes, showed Rowland how fond she was of his mother.
'And now,' she said, 'Miss Hall and I are come, resolutely bent on
remaining with your mother, whilst your aunt and Gladys go to bed. We
are quite determined, and you know I always have my way.'
Rowland bowed, smiled, and called his aunt, who, after some hesitation
consented, and went upstairs to request Gladys to do the same, but
Gladys was inexorable until Mr Prothero came in, and in his most decided
manner insisted on her taking some rest. Mrs Prothero also murmured a
'Go, Gladys fach!' and she kissed the dear cheek and went at once.
Mr Prothero took her place. He was alone with his wife, and the rough,
loud man became gentle as one of his own lambs, as he bent over her and
thanked God that she was better. A big tear fell from his eyes on her
face, and he made an inward vow, that if her life were spared, he would
never again say a cross word to her as long as he lived.
She felt the tear, heard the kind words, and seemed to understand the
vow, for she looked at him tenderly, and said in her low, weak voice,
'God bless you, David!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account