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148 BLACK SHEEP.in reality — went home.She ascended the stairsto her room, and looked at her face in a glass asshe took her bonnet off, and thought, " Iwonderif people can see in my face thatIam turninginto a coward, and am going mad?Icould notknock at that door and ask that simple, naturalquestion for myself — 7" could not; ancl a littlewhile ago, since — ay, long since — Icould havedone anything. But not now — not now. Whenthe time comes, when the waiting is over, whenthe suspenseis ended, thenImay be strong again,if indeedIam not quite mad by then; but now— nowIcannot do anything— Icannot evenwait."The fixed look had left her face, and yvas succeededby a painful wildness, and an expressionalmost like that of some present physical terror.She pressed her hands upon her temples androcked herself to ancl fro, but there was no yvildabandonment of grief in the gesture.Presentlyshe began to moan, but all unconsciously; forcatching the sound after a little, she checked itangrily. Then she took up someneedlework, butit dropped from her hands after a few minutes.