'It was my fault, Owen,' said Netta.
'Is that true, Gladys—quite true?' asked Owen, taking Gladys' hands in his, and looking into her eyes.
'Quite true, Owen,' said Gladys, smiling lovingly on the open countenance of Owen, whilst a quiet tear rolled down her cheek.
Owen kissed off the tear.
'You are happy, my love?' again he asked, as if fearing that a shadow should pass over that fair, sweet face, to obscure the light of their spring of wedded life.
Gladys pressed his hands, assured him by a glance true as oaths, and looked at Netta. The hint was taken.
In a moment Netta's were the thin hands that Owen clasped, her's the face into which he gazed.
'Owen,' she said earnestly, 'if I go away, will you take my child, as if she were your own? Will you love her, and bring her up?'
'You are not going away, Netta! But you may be quite sure that I will love Minette, without any going away. We will all keep together now, we are too happy—so happy, my Gladys, are we not?'
There was a strange restlessness about Netta. This resolution to go away had taken such a hold upon her, that she reverted to it again and again. Gladys confided it to Owen and their mother, and they all decided that it would be necessary to watch her night and day, without letting her know that she was watched.