think of some one else, and make them all happy here, and live with them, and be good and steady.  And I shall be only one sufferer instead of many.  May God bless them all!  I will go away, but never to see him more!—­never, never!’ Thus thought Gladys.  For half-an-hour, whilst she was striving to calm herself, such thoughts and thousands of others flitted through her mind; but she did not murmur again at the sad lot which had been assigned to her by Providence; she had gathered strength in that prayer which she had offered up out of her trouble of heart.  Still she felt aggrieved by her master’s hard words, knowing as she did that she did not deserve them; but she struggled hard to conquer that pride which she knew ill became one in her dependent and friendless state.

When she had sufficiently recovered herself, she went down to prepare the supper, according to her custom.  She found the hall empty, and wondered what had become of her master and mistress.  She glanced into the garden, and saw them walking up and down engaged in earnest conversation, although the hour was late and it was getting dark and chill.  She felt that they were talking about her.  She would not listen, and returned to spread the table for their evening meal; whilst doing so, Owen made his appearance.

‘Gladys,’ he said, ’shake hands with me, and forgive me for causing you pain.  I hope it will be the first and last time.’

Gladys held out her hand, saying ’Oh, Mr Owen, I have nothing to forgive, I am only very sorry’’

As Owen held her hand, in stalked Mr Prothero, followed by his wife.  He was not looking very well pleased when he entered, but finding them together, his dark frowning brow became still darker.

‘Good-night, mother,’ said Owen, ’I don’t want any supper.  Good-night, father,’ he added with a strong effort, but receiving no response, he left the room.

Gladys longed to follow his example, but feared it would not be right.

‘Gladys, I fear you are not well,’ said Mrs Prothero gravely, but kindly, ‘perhaps you would like to go to bed.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Gladys, glancing furtively at her mistress, whose gentle face looked perplexed and anxious.

‘Good-night, then,’ said Mrs Prothero.

Gladys could not speak, for there was something constrained in the manners of her dear mistress, that she could not bear to see.  She did not venture to speak to Mr Prothero, but dropping him a silent curtsey, as she left the room, went to bed, but not to sleep.

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.