those soundless black sleeping-nights that come only to the town-tired
when they have first fled. She ran to the glass to know if the
restoration she felt might also be seen. With unbiassed calculation the
black-fringed lids drew apart and one hand pushed back of the temple,
and held there, a tangled skein of hair that had thrown the dusk of a
deep wood about her eyes. Then, as she looked, came the little dreaming
smile that unfitted critic eyes for their office; a smile that wakened
to a laugh as she looked--a little womanish chuckle of confident joy, as
one alone speaking aloud in an overflowing moment.

An hour later she was greeting Bernal where the sun washed through the
big room.

"Young life sings in me!" she said, and felt his lightening eyes upon
her lips as she smiled.

There were three days of it--days in which, however, she grew to fear
those eyes, lest they fall upon her in judgment. She now saw that his
eyes had changed most. They gave the face its look of absence, of
dreaming awkwardness. They had the depth of a hazy sky at times, then
cleared to a coldly lucid glance that would see nothing ever to fear,
within or without; that would hide no falseness nor yet be deceived by
any--a deadly half-shut, appraising coolness that would know false from
true, even though they mated amicably and distractingly in one mind.

The effect of this glance which she found upon herself from time to time
was to make Nancy suspect herself--to question her motives and try her
defenses. To her amazement she found these latter weak under Bernal's
gaze, and there grew in her a tender remorse for the injustice she had
done her husband. From little pricking suspicions on the first day she