He felt so bewildered that he scarcely knew what his mother said, when she told him how proud and happy he had made her by his conduct that day.
'All, my dear son, church-people and dissenters were pleased with your sermon, and the way you managed everything.

Your aunt repeated it word for word to me, and it was just what I like.

This is the first comfort I have felt since--' Mrs Prothero pressed her son's hand, and her eyes filled with tears.
'Thank you, mother, I am glad,' was all Rowland could say.
'Mind you, Row, my boy, you must write a good sermon for Sunday.

You've got a character to lose now,' said Mr Prothero, giving him a slap on the back.
'Yes, father.

I will go and write it.' 'Not to-night, Rowland,' said Mrs Prothero, anxiously; 'you look pale and tired.