As she turned away from the gate, a feeling of loneliness and misery overcame her; it was as if she had lost the one treasure of her life—nothing was left but loneliness and emptiness. Then gradually she grew more composed. The dog marked her trouble, and fawned on her; she came to herself, and realized that it was time to return home.
She stood for a little, gazing with wet eyes at the dark outline of the homestead; there slept her lover, never dreaming she was near. Surely, surely in some mysterious way he must feel that she was there, and come to her? Not to speak to her, no—that he should ever speak seemed to her like a thing so distant as to be almost unreal—an entering into paradise. But come he surely must—if only that they might see each other—that he might realize how she loved him.
But she must go.... With bowed head she turned in the direction of home. The long road was covered, she hardly knew how, and, without once waking to conscious thought of the way, she found herself in the house once more.
Silently she undressed; her head was aching, and it was long before she could sleep. At length she fell into a heavy slumber.
When she woke next morning it seemed as if the journey of the night had been a dream; she had to go out and convince herself that the lamb was really gone.
Once sure, however, she felt an indescribable joy—so near she had been to her heart’s desire that night. And none to know of it but God.... She could not understand now why she had felt sad at parting with the lamb; the night stood out now like a gleam of brightness in her life.
One of her garters was missing—she could not remember what she had done with it. Fallen off somewhere, perhaps, and lying out on the road. It would be hopeless to try and find it now, though, among all the rocks; she might as well give it up for lost.
But it was a pity, for it was a nice one, neatly embroidered, and with her name worked on so prettily....
CHAPTER VIII
While Bagga was thus busy with her daydreams, Guest the One-eyed was deep in earnest talk with her mother, who confided to him the story of her life—the story of her heart.