though the man was now only obeying her expressed wishes,
she dreaded the child's coming almost as much as she dreaded her
lover's return. The thought of seeing Vada in this man's arms maddened
her to such a degree that she was well-nigh beside herself.

For two whole days now had she brooded under a cloud of despair. She
had scarcely stirred out of her room; she had eaten scarcely enough to
sustain life. She had shut herself up, a prey to harrowing remorse and
terror--a remorse which she knew to be as useless as her terror was
nerve-racking. Her awakening had come, sudden, awful. And, like all
such awakenings, it had come too late, so that the horror of her
future was written in letters of fire before her mental eyes, a fire
which burnt into her broken heart and left her in the depths of an
unutterable despair.

It was on the morning of her lover's departure for the region of
Suffering Creek that the awakening had come. It had come with an
overwhelming rush of horror which, in the midst of her dressing, had
sent her reeling and fainting upon the bed from which she had only
just risen, and where for two hours she had subsequently lain in a
state of collapse.

She was brushing her hair, her mind busy with the pleasant thought
that shortly she was to have one of her children with her again. She
knew that her appeal to her husband had failed, but James had sworn to
keep his promise, and now he was setting out for that expressed
purpose. And such was her foolish woman's blind faith that she had no
doubts. When he returned he was to bring, at least, little Vada with
him. The fresh mountain air was doubly pleasant to her that morning.
The brilliant sunlight raised her spirits. All qualms of conscience
were thrust into the background, and she was as nearly happy as
earthly interest could make her.

She could see the crowded corrals from where she stood. She could hear
the bellowing of the restless cattle as they pushed and horned each
other in their forceful, bovine desire to get out to the succulent
grass of their beloved pastures. All the men were astir, preparing for
their lawless expedition. The saddle-horses, ready for the trail, were
hitched to the corral fences. Through the open window she could hear
her lover ordering and hectoring, as was his way of dealing with the
ruffians who served under his leadership; and a thrill of excitement,
a subtle sympathy, stirred her. She moved to the window, leaving her
beautiful