ordinary circumstances. He had perhaps
noticed both signs in the Wanderer.

She went back to his side and looked at him intently. She had scarcely
dared to do so before, and she felt that she might have been mistaken.
The light, too, had changed, for it was broad day, though the lamps were
still burning. Yet, even now, she could not tell. Her judgment of what
she saw was disturbed by many intertwining thoughts.

At least, he was happy. Whatever she had done, if she had done anything,
it had not hurt him. There was no possibility of misinterpreting the
sleeping man's expression.

She wished that he would wake, though she knew how the smile would fade,
how the features would grow cold and indifferent, and how the grey eyes
she loved would open with a look of annoyance at seeing her before him.
It was like a vision of happiness in a house of sorrow to see him lying
there, so happy in his sleep, so loving, so peaceful. She could make
it all to last, too, if she would, and she realised that with a sudden
pang. The woman of whom he dreamed, whom he had loved so faithfully and
sought so long, was very near him. A word from Unorna and Beatrice could
come and find him as he lay asleep, and herself open the dear eyes.

Was that sacrifice to be asked of her before she was taken away to the
expiation of her sins? Fate could not be so very cruel--and yet the mere
idea was an added suffering. The longer she looked at him the more the
possibility grew and tortured her.

After all, it was almost certain that they would meet now, and at the
meeting she felt sure that all his memory would return. Why should she
do anything, why should she raise her hand, to bring them to each other?
It was too much to ask. Was it not enough that both were free, and both
in the same city together, and that she had vowed neither to hurt nor
hinder them? If it was their destiny to be joined together it would so
happen surely in the natural course; if not, was it her part to join
them? The punishment of her sins, whatever it should be, she could bear;
but this thing she could not do.

She passed her hand across her eyes as though to drive it away, and
her thoughts came back to the point from which they had started. The
suspense became unbearable when she realised that she did not know in
what condition the Wanderer would wake, nor whether, if left to nature,
he would wake at all. She could not endure it any longer. She touched
his sleeve, lightly at f