She looked up briskly at the latter, as if sure of sympathy, and if eyes full of tears could give it, she certainly was satisfied.
Mr Rowland Prothero perceived the tears, and retired to his sofa, taking up his book and pretending to read.
'Can I help you, Mrs Prothero?
There does not seem a moment to lose.

I will send for a doctor, or do anything I can,' said Miss Gwynne.
'Thank you, dear Miss Gwynne,' replied Mrs Prothero, 'I will put her in Owen's room.' 'Who can we get to bring her in?
Shall I go and fetch one of the men?
Netta, do get some one to help us.' 'I will help you, if you will allow me,' said Mr Rowland, rising from his sofa, and looking at Miss Gwynne with a glance of warm approval.
'Pray do; now; at once.

I will go with you whilst your mother prepares the room.

You could carry her quite well, for she is as thin as a ghost; I never saw such a wretched girl.' Miss Gwynne hurried to the barn, followed by Rowland.

They found Gladys with a farm-servant by her side, apparently either dead or asleep.
Rowland Prothero knelt down, and took her up gently in his arms, Miss Gwynne assisting.