Gladys pressed his hands, assured him by a glance true as oaths, and looked at Netta. The hint was taken. In a moment Netta's were the thin hands that Owen clasped, her's the face into which he gazed. 'Owen,' she said earnestly, 'if I go away, will you take my child, as if she were your own? Will you love her, and bring her up?' 'You are not going away, Netta! But you may be quite sure that I will love Minette, without any going away. We will all keep together now, we are too happy--so happy, my Gladys, are we not?' There was a strange restlessness about Netta. This resolution to go away had taken such a hold upon her, that she reverted to it again and again. Gladys confided it to Owen and their mother, and they all decided that it would be necessary to watch her night and day, without letting her know that she was watched. They resorted to every possible means of amusement, but in vain. She was quite preoccupied, and even her child failed to attract her attention. Again she became nervous at every sudden sound, and started at every footfall. She told Gladys that she knew that Howel would either come to her during the course of that week, or that she should go to him. Her mother assisted her in going to bed that night, and before she laid down, she said,-- 'Dear mother! do you remember that you used to come to this dear room when I was a child, the last thing at night, and, sleeping or waking, to kiss me before you went to sleep? and do you remember that I always said my prayers at your knee, in that very corner by the little table? Sometimes I feel as if I was a child, or quite a young girl again. It was so good of you to give me my own room, and my own bed, that I love so well. If I go away, I should like Minette to have this room. It will make her think of me. I pray she may be a better child than I have been.' 'Will you not get into bed, dear, and try to sleep?' said Mrs Prothero. 'I think I should like to say my prayers again alone with you; so, at your feet. You shall pray for me, and I will join with you.' Netta knelt, as if she were, indeed, once more a child, at her mother's knees, and clasped her thin white hands together. 'Will you pray for Howel, mother?' asked Netta. Mrs Prothero laid her hand on her kneeling daughter's head, and uplifting her tearful eyes to heaven, prayed aloud for Netta, for Howel, for all. Netta repeated each sentence after her mother, and when the prayer was concluded, threw her arms around her, and thanked her for praying for Howel.