That night, Mrs Prothero went to her son, Owen's room, and heard the history of the evening. He told her that he loved Gladys, but that she did not care for him; and that his father would not believe him when he said so. Mrs Prothero gave him a maternal lecture on his conduct, and the impossibility of his marrying Gladys, particularly whilst his father was so irritated against his sister. She rallied him, in a quiet way, on his various previous loves, and said that she had no doubt he would forget his present one in the same manner. She was struck with the unusually grave tone of his reply, as he simply said, that if Gladys were like his other loves, he might forget her in the same way; but as she was quite different from any one he had ever liked before, so he should remember her as he had never before remembered any one. She was also struck with his manner of wishing her good night, and of recommending Gladys to her care, entreating her not to be less kind to her than she had always been, because he had the misfortune to love her. Mrs Prothero promised all he desired, scarcely believing, as she did so, in the depth of his affection. 'And, mother, fach,' he said, 'you must not be vexed if I run away again to cure myself. There is nothing like sea air for my disease; and if I do, I promise to write regularly, and to come home at the end of my voyage. Only be kind to Gladys, and don't let her go away.' Owen had a presentiment, that if he did not leave Glanyravon, Gladys would. 'And you must try to bring father round by degrees. I don't want to annoy him; and I know you are as fond of Gladys as if she were your own daughter, and father likes her, too. Will you try, mother?' 'Anything to keep you at home, and steady, my son,' said Mrs Prothero with tears in her eyes, 'but you must not go away again, we cannot do without you.' 'Only this once, for change of air; I assure you it is best' 'Well, we will talk of this again, Owen; good night, and God bless you.' 'Just tell father not to be angry with me or Gladys, and that I can't run away with her, because she won't have me. Good night, mother dear.' Again Owen kissed his mother, more lovingly than usual, and so they parted for the night. CHAPTER XXV. THE FUGITIVE.