'I fear none. Sin is at the root, and as long as the present world lasts, there must be misery with it.'
Rowland spoke these words in an unusually melancholy and depressed tone of voice, which caused Miss Gwynne to look up from the papers, directly at him. He was paler than usual, and his lip quivered. He met her glance, and making an effort to rise, said hastily,—
'Can I have the honour of doing anything more for you, Miss Gwynne. I am sure I can return you the thanks of the committee, indeed of every one concerned for—'
'I want no thanks, I deserve no thanks from any one; are you ill, Mr. Rowland? You have been in some of those dreadful haunts, and they have upset you. May I get you something?'
'Thank you, I am quite well.' Rowland's lip quivered still more and he grew still less calm, as he again met Miss Gwynne's eye fixed on him with evident interest.
'I am sure you are ill; you must allow me the privilege of a parishioner, if not of an old friend, and let me ask what is the matter?'
Her manner was so kind, that Rowland's reserve was for a moment overcome.
'Thank you, Miss Gwynne—my poor sister.'
'Yes, what of her? I assure you I am truly interested for her; poor Netta!'
'I fear she is in serious trouble, I scarcely know what myself as yet; but she, her husband and child have left the house, and Howel's creditors have taken possession of all his effects. No one knows where they are gone, or what is to become of them.'