Rowland, meanwhile, watched his mother. During the twelve months that he
had been a curate in a parish in one of the worst parts of London, he
had seen much of the sick and the dying. He had seen poverty,
wretchedness, and sin in their most dreadful aspects, and the peace and
comfort of his mother's present condition were a great contrast to the
riot and squalor of many a death room into which he had sought to carry
the gospel message of mercy. Truly he felt thankful in his inmost soul
that she, over whom he was watching with filial love, was ready at any
moment to appear before the great Tribunal, because she 'believed and
knew in whom she believed.' It was for Netta, his beloved and wayward
sister, the cause of this first great family trouble, that he grieved
the most, because he feared that she had entered upon that downward path
that would lead her far astray from the one in which her mother had so
long and happily trod. But he, too, knew where to apply in all his times
of doubt and misgiving, and thither he went for comfort as the shadows
fell around and night crept on.
Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a
shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the
watchers downstairs.
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