She let herself noiselessly into the house. From the kitchen floated the sounds of the cook's evening activities, but otherwise the place was silent, and Ted's hat was not on its accustomed hook in the little hall. She could be alone a while. She stole up the stairs to her bedroom, meaning to lie down in the quiet darkness, but once there, a panic assailed her, a senseless fear of the dim corners, the distorted shadows. Besides, she wanted to see herself; she wanted to see if Ted, promising her beautiful things from motherhood the night before, if Mrs. North, warning her against it to-day, had known that she--that she was going to have a child. She turned on the lights and stood in their full glare before her mirror. Searchingly she inspected herself--the slender figure that was as yet only delicately rounded, the cheek that showed just a softer curve and bloom, the eyes---- And then she caught her breath in a sharp sob and leaned nearer to her reflection. What was it--who was it--that she saw in her eyes? For something--some one--looked back at her that had not looked back at her before; something--some one--ineffably yearning, poignantly tender--looked back at her with the gaze of a mystery--of a miracle. It was as if, within herself, she beheld another self; and this other self was reconciled to life, was in harmony with its divine purpose. Strangely enough, at that moment, her childhood's fancy of another self recurred to her. "Other-Sheila," she whispered, "Other-Sheila, is it _you_?" While she leaned thus, waiting, perhaps, for the answer of that reflected self, she saw that Ted had opened the door behind her. For an instant their eyes met in the mirror, and with that gaze Sheila's heart suddenly fled home to him. He was the father of her child! "Oh," she cried, turning to him with outstretched, shaking hands and quivering face, "Oh, tell it to me again! I _want_ to believe it! _Tell me again that motherhood is the greatest thing!_" CHAPTER IX In that hour when Sheila, flinging herself into his arms, cried out to Ted, "Tell me again that motherhood is the greatest thing. I want to believe it!" she struck a high note that, during the succeeding days and weeks and months, she could not always sustain. And yet, from the moment when she attempted to reconcile her will to Nature's, she did begin to perceive that her sacrifice would have its recompense. Perhaps she perceived it the more clearly because it was given to her to see what motherhood meant to other women. For she was enough like the rest of humanity to value what others held precious.