But before she reached the door her little strength was
gone. She felt herself sinking swiftly into a silence that she hoped and
even prayed was death. She did not know when Curtis lifted her.

XVII

During many days Sybil lay in her darkened room, facing, in weariness of
body and bitterness of soul, the problem of life. She was not actually
ill, but there were times when she longed intensely, passionately, for
death. She was weak, physically and mentally, after the long strain.
Courage and endurance had alike given way at last. She had no strength
with which to face what lay before her.

So far as outward circumstances went, she was in good hands. Curtis
watched over her with a care that never flagged, and the innkeeper's
wife from Wallarroo, large and slow and patient, was her constant
attendant. But neither of them could touch or in any way soothe the
perpetual pain that throbbed night and day in the girl's heart, giving
her no rest.

She left her bed at length after many days, but it was only to wander
aimlessly about the house, lacking the energy to employ herself. Her
nerves were quieter, but she still started at any sudden sound, and
would sit as one listening yet dreading to hear. Her husband's name
never passed her lips, and Curtis never made the vaguest reference to
him. He knew that sooner or later a change would come, that the long
suffering that lined her face must draw at last to a climax; but he
would do nothing to hasten it. He believed that Nature would eventually
find her own remedy.

But Nature is ever slow, and sometimes the wheel of life moves too
quickly for her methods to take effect.

Sybil was sitting one day by an open window when Beelzebub dashed
suddenly into view. He was on horseback, riding barebacked, and was
evidently in a ferment of excitement. He bawled some incoherent words as
he passed the window, words which Sybil could not distinguish, but which
nevertheless sent a sharp sense of foreboding through her heart. Had
he--or had he not--yelled something to her about "Boss"? She could not
possibly have said, but the suspicion was sufficiently strong to rouse
her to lean out of the window and try to catch something of what the boy
was saying.

He had reached the yard, and had flung himself off the sweating animal.
As she peered forth she caught sight of Curtis coming out of the stable.
Beelzebub saw him too, and broke out afresh with his wild cry. This
time, straining her ea