s
though relief was nigh. Then she began to think again of her son, but
only for an instant. He was under Major Buckley's care, and must be
safe; so she dismissed that fear from her mind for a time, but only for
a time. It came back to her again. Why did he not come to her? Why had
not the Major sent him off to her at once? Could the Major have been
killed? even if so, there was Doctor Mulhaus. Her terrors were absurd.

But not the less terrors that grew in strength hour by hour, as she
waited there, looking at the pleasant spring forest, and no one came.
Terrors that grew at last so strong, that they took the place of
certainties. Some hitch must have taken place, and her boy must be gone
out with the rest.

Having got as far as this, to go further was no difficulty. He was
killed, she felt sure of it, and none had courage to come and tell her
of it. She suddenly determined to verify her thoughts at once, and went
in doors to get her hat.

She had fully made up her mind that he must be killed at this time. The
hope of his having escaped was gone. We, who know the real state of the
case, should tremble for her reason, when she finds her fears so
terribly true. We shall see.

She determined to start away to the Brentwoods', and end her present
state of terror one way or another. Tom had taken the only horse in the
stable, but her own brown pony was running in the paddock with some
others; and she sallied forth, worn out, feverish, halfmad, to try to
catch him.

The obstinate brute wouldn't be caught. Then she spent a weary hour
trying to drive them all into the stockyard, but in vain. Three times
she, with infinite labour, drove them up to the slip-rack, and each
time the same mare and foal broke away, leading off the others. The
third time, when she saw them all run whinnying down to the further end
of the paddock, after half an hour or so of weary work driving them up,
when she had run herself off her poor tottering legs, and saw that all
her toil was in vain, then she sank down on the cold hard gravel in the
yard, with her long black hair streaming loose along the ground, and
prayed that she might die. Down at full length, in front of her own
door, like a dead woman, moaning and crying, from time to time, "Oh, my
boy, my boy."

How long she lay there she knew not. She heard a horse's feet, but only
stopped her ears from the news she thought was coming. Then she heard a
steady heavy footstep close to her, and s