But Rowland suddenly remembered that he was treading on dangerous ground, and must not forget who he was, and who Miss Gwynne was. Those words always came to haunt him, whenever he felt more than usually happy; and how could he feel happy for one moment, with Netta possibly dying, and Howel an exile for forgery. Poor fellow, it was only a passing gleam through the mists of a hard life; let him enjoy it. Gladys returned, and Rowland got a cab for Miss Gwynne, who went home to dinner. Rowland had some tea, and went to his evening service in the church. After tea, Gladys read a story to Minette, which interested Netta, and so the day passed, with but a slight recurrence of Netta's nervous excitement. Gladys asked Netta if she would like her to read a chapter in the Bible, and Netta said yes; so, with Minette on her lap, she read one of the lessons of the day, which she knew to be particularly applicable to her. 'I will read the other with you,' said Netta, when it was concluded taking her mother's little Testament out of her pocket. 'I wish you would teach me to read, Gladys?' said Minette. 'Justine taught me to read French, and to say French prayers, but I can't read English,' 'Perhaps mamma will teach you, darling!' said Gladys, 'and I will help when she is poorly.' 'We will begin to-morrow,' said Netta? 'I meant to get her a governess, but we were always moving about, and so I never did.' They read the second lesson, and when it was finished, Netta asked Gladys to sing her a hymn. 'The Evening Hymn, Gladys. I could sing and play that once, before I learnt to sing French songs.' Gladys' beautiful, clear voice soon began the 'Glory to Thee, my God, this night,' that has been the evening song of praise of so many thousands for so many years. Netta joined at intervals, and her wandering eyes seemed to be steadied, for the time, into a fixed attention, as she gazed at Gladys whilst she sung. When she finished, Minette was crying. Gladys soothed her, and asked her what was the matter. 'It was so beautiful!' she said. 'Your voice was like the lady's I heard at the play, only the words were so solemn. I thought of my papa. I do not love him much, because he was cross to mamma, but I want to see him, that you may sing to him and make him good.' Gladys saw Netta's countenance lose the expression of calm it had worn for a few moments, and regain the bewildered and painful one of the morning. 'We can pray for your papa, my love,' she said, gently. 'Will you, will you, Gladys!' almost screamed Netta. 'Your prayers will be heard, you are so good. Now, before Minette goes to bed, that she, too, may pray for her father.'