Receiving no answer, she put her hand tenderly on Mrs Prothero's, and removing it from before her face, saw that she was pale, and appeared to have fainted.

She ran hastily downstairs, and finding Owen alone, told him that his mother was ill.

He followed her upstairs, and soon perceived that Mrs Prothero was really in a kind of swoon.
Whilst he supported her, Gladys brought water and such restoratives as she could procure; she begged him to go for his father, and whilst he was gone, succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero.

At the sight of the open letter, however, she sank again into a fainting fit.
Mr Prothero and Owen appeared.
'Mother, what is the matter?
Name o' goodness what is the matter ?' said Mr Prothero in great alarm.
Gladys pointed out the letter to Owen, who glanced at it whilst his father took his wife into his arms.
Gladys put vinegar to her temples and nostrils, and begged Mr Prothero to take her to the open window; as he did so he saw Owen reading a letter.
'How can you read now, you unnatural son ?' he said sternly.
'Oh, father! father, Netta!' he exclaimed.
'Never mind her; think of your mother, ten thousand times as precious.' At last Gladys succeeded in restoring Mrs Prothero to consciousness and when she found herself in her husband's arms, with Owen bending over her, she burst into a flood of hysterical tears, which partially relieved her.
'Oh, Netta! Netta!' was all she could say, when they asked her what was the matter.
'Never mind her, mother, but get better,' said Mr Prothero, his usually rosy face almost as pale as his wife's.
'If you please, sir, we will lay her on the bed,' said Gladys.
'Not here--not here,' gasped Mrs Prothero.
They took her to her own room, and Gladys said,--'Perhaps, sir, if you would leave her to me a little I could get her into bed, I am used to illness.' Mr Prothero looked at the girl, and saw her eyes full of tears, but her face was calm and pale, and seemed to indicate a self-possession that no one else present had.
'I will come back again soon, mother,' he said as he left the room, followed by Owen.
When they were gone, Mrs Prothero gave way to an uncontrollable grief, and threw herself upon the neck of the girl Gladys.
'What will he say?
what will he do when he knows it all ?' she sobbed.
'If you only hope and pray, ma'am, perhaps all will be right that troubles you now,' faltered Gladys.
'My only girl! to be so wilful, so disobedient!' 'May I ask what has happened to Miss Netta ?' 'She has run away with her cousin, and her father will never forgive her--never!' 'Ah! that was what my poor mother did; but she was happy with my father; and Mr Jenkins is rich and kind.

Take comfort, ma'am, it may not be so very bad.' Gladys managed to get Mrs Prothero into bed, who, happily, did not see the effect produced by Netta's letter on her husband.