Gladys, the Reaper

by Anne Beale

'Do you forgive me, father?' asks Netta.

'All—all. God forgive us both!' groans Mr Prothero.

Mrs Prothero lays her head on her hands on the sofa, by which she kneels, and gives way to a passionate burst of grief.

'My poor, poor mistress,' says Gladys, unable any longer to refrain from approaching her. 'All is well; she will be better now.'

'Mother!' cries Netta. 'Don't cry so for me. Come and kiss me, mother.'

Father and mother surround with their arms that wandering, restored lamb, and take it into the fold again.

A little voice from behind is heard.

'Mamma! mamma! think of your poor Minette!'

And in another minute Minette is on the sofa, in the midst of her mother, grandfather, and grandmother.

Blessed are the warm, gushing tears that fall on the child's head—tears of love and reconciliation.