"It can't be true," she cried. "Not
after my struggle--my victory--not now!" But there had been no victory. And
now it was too late. She was betrayed, ruined, lost. That wonderful love
had wrought transformation in her--and now havoc. Once she fell against the
branches of a thick cedar that upheld her. The fragrance which had been
sweet was now bitter. Life that had been bliss was now hateful! She could
not keep still for a single moment.
Black night, cedars, brush, rocks, washes, seemed not to obstruct her. In a
frenzy she rushed on, tearing her dress, her hands, her hair. Violence of
some kind was imperative. All at once a pale gleaming open space,
shimmering under the stars, lay before her. It was water. Deep Lake! And
instantly a hideous terrible longing to destroy herself obsessed her. She
had no fear. She could have welcomed the cold, slimy depths that meant
oblivion. But could they really bring oblivion? A year ago she would have
believed so, and would no longer have endured such agony. She had changed.
A cursed strength had come to her, and it was this strength that now
augmented her torture. She flung wide her arms to the pitiless white stars
and looked up at them. "My hope, my faith, my love have failed me," she
whispered.
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