But Providence answered his prayers, when his own efforts seemed fruitless, and that through the instrumentality of one of the poor children, for whose benefit he had exerted such talents as God had given him.

Some four years before, a miserable girl of eleven years old had become one of his ragged school children.  I say his, because even his rector allowed him the merit of establishing the school.  Through this child, Rowland became acquainted with her mother, a wretched, starving widow, living in squalor and iniquity.  Miss Gwynne had helped her temporally, Rowland spiritually, and when she had died, about a year ago, he had strong hopes that much suffering had brought forth a sincere repentance.

Her little girl was one of the many examples of the blessed effects of a ragged school.  At her mother’s death she was fifteen years old, teachable and anxious to be taught.  Rowland prevailed on a respectable woman, the lodging-house keeper, in whose house Netta had found a refuge, to try her as a servant, and she had turned out well.

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.