CHAPTER XLI.

THE SISTER OF CHARITY.

The following morning, soon after eight o’clock, there arrived a basket from Miss Gwynne, containing various meats and condiments that she thought might be good for Netta and her child, and, above all, a nosegay of Glanyravon flowers.  Mr Gwynne had of late taken to send his daughter baskets of game, poultry, and other country cheer, to which her particular ally, the old gardener always added a tin of well-packed flowers.  These Miss Gwynne was in the habit of tending and treasuring, as people in large cities alone can tend and treasure flowers, until their last odour and colour departed, and these she now gladly sacrificed to Netta.

It was an October morning, dull and misty.  Gladys had kept up the fire, and when Rowland’s friend, Sarah, came to clean the room, she found that her work had been done for her.

‘Oh, Miss Gladys,’ said the girl, ‘why did you?’

’Never mind, Sarah, you get the breakfast things and boiling water, and I will do the rest.’

Netta and her child slept late, and so heavily, that Gladys thought they would never awake.  She had arranged and rearranged the room, the breakfast, everything; and was employed in mending a rent in Minette’s frock, when she heard the little girl say ‘Mamma!’ She went into the bedroom, and found Minette sitting up in bed, and her mother still sleeping.  She washed and dressed the child, who seemed to take to her naturally, and then led her into the sitting-room.  Her delight was so unbounded at the sight of the breakfast and the flowers on the table, that her exclamations pierced the thin partition, and awoke her mother.

‘He is come! he is come!’ cried Netta, jumping out of bed, and hastening into the sitting-room in her night-dress through the door that communicated with the bedroom.

When Gladys saw the wild excitement of Netta’s manner, and the unusual gleam of her eyes, she understood what Rowland meant by saying that her mind was unsettled; when she saw Gladys, she started, and ran back again into the bedroom, whither Gladys followed her.  A fit of depression and pain at the heart succeeded, as they always did, this new disappointment; and it was evident to Gladys that the only chance of restoring her to health of mind or body was by keeping her amused, and distracting her thoughts from her husband.

Minette brought in the flowers, and Gladys ventured to say that they came from Glanyravon, and that Miss Gwynne had sent them.  The flowers, or their associations, brought the tears, which were the best outlets for poor Netta’s hysterical feelings, and when she had minutely examined each—­chrysanthemums, verbenas, salvias, geraniums—­she shook the one carnation from the vase, and kissing it, and pressing it to her heart, said,—­

‘This came from mother, how good of her to think of me.’

Then she let Gladys help her to dress, and went to the well-stored breakfast-table, sitting down on a chair Gladys placed for her.  She seemed to take up the teapot mechanically, and began to pour out the tea; Gladys did not attempt to sit down, but waited upon her and Minette, as if she were, indeed, the servant she professed to be.  Either Netta took this as a matter of course, or was too much absorbed in other thoughts to give it consideration.