So it was that this girl, having an idea that Rowland could effect wonders, waited for him one Sunday evening after service, and asked if she might speak with him. She told him, with a long preface of apologies, that she did not know if she was right in saying what she was going to say, but that there was a poor lady in her mistress's second floor, who was very ill, out of her mind she thought, and who hadn't a friend in the world. The lady had forbidden her mistress to speak to any doctor or clergyman about her, but she had not forbidden her. And indeed it seemed almost worse to see a lady in such trouble and sickness than it did those who were used to it, as she, and the like of her had been, and would be still, but for Mr Prothero. 'What is her name?' asked Rowland eagerly. 'Mrs Mills, sir.' Rowland's sudden hope fell. 'And she has a little girl, sir, who isn't well either, and who does nothing but cry and moan.' 'What is her name?' 'Her mamma calls her Minette, or some such name, sir.' 'I will come with you now,' said Rowland, in great agitation. 'Make haste; I suppose she has been with you some time.' 'More than a month, sir, and she is always expecting some one to come--and no one comes.' Rowland strode on, fast--faster than he had once before walked with Gladys--heedless of everything around him. In about a quarter of an hour he and the girl reached the lodging house. 'You will tell missus how it was, please, sir. I don't think she can be angry, sir.' 'I am sure she will not be angry; tell her that I want to see her. Mrs Saunders, the landlady, came at once. Rowland inquired into the particulars of Netta's arrival at her house, her illness, etc., and heard what we already know of Howel's sudden departure; and the following account, in addition of the month Netta had spent since he left her. 'The morning after Mr Mills left, sir,' said the landlady 'Mrs Mills did not ring for breakfast, or show any sign of being up. I waited for a long time, and then I went and listened at the bedroom door. I heard a kind of moaning, and was so frightened, I made so bold as to go in. I found the poor lady lying down on the bed, beside the little girl, who was still asleep. She seemed more dead than alive, and looked at me terrified-like, as if she didn't know who was coming in. When she saw me, she tried to get up and look cheerful, and to give account of her never having undressed. I went and made her some tea, and got her to go into the sitting-room by the fire which the girl lighted, for she was as cold as death. Then I dressed the little girl, who awoke and began to cry when she saw how pale her mamma looked, and I told her to try to make her mamma eat and drink. And the little dear, like an angel as she is, began to comfort her mother, and to coax her, and when I saw the poor lady begin to shed tears over the child I went away.