It overtaxed her courage with a smothered cry of fear she sprang upright, and her shaking hands struck a flame to bring light into the room.

Not once, but again and again, did the chill of terror pass through her whole frame.

She caught a passing glimpse of her image in the glass, and was fascinated into regarding it closely.
'You, who stand there in the pitiless night'-- thus did thought speak within her--'you, poor human thing, with the death-white face and eyes staring in all but distraction, is this the very end of the rapturous dream which has lulled you whilst destiny wrought your woe?
Is it even now too late to struggle?
Is this the wild sorrow of farewell to love, the beginning of an anguish which shall torture your soul to death?
Have you lost _him_ ?' For moments it was as though life fought with the last and invincible enemy.

On the spot where she had been standing she sank powerless to her knees, clinging to the nearest object, her head falling back.
The clock outside her door struck one; how long the dull vibration seemed to endure.

She was conscious of it, though lying with all but palsied faculties.