One brilliant star hung above the ridge, and danced on her tears.
'Will he forgive me ?' she murmured.

'Oh, my God! I wish we were dead together!' Her weeping ceased, and she closed the window, and undressed as far away from the mirror as she could get; but its force was too much for her, and drew her to it.

Some undefined hope had sprung in her suddenly.

With nervous slow steps she approached the glass, and first brushing back the masses of black hair from her brow, looked as for some new revelation.
Long and anxiously she perused her features: the wide bony forehead; the eyes deep-set and rounded with the scarlet of recent tears, the thin nose-sharp as the dead; the weak irritable mouth and sunken cheeks.

She gazed like a spirit disconnected from what she saw.