The strength to clasp Isabel in her arms was leaving her.

She thought that her numbed limbs were gradually turning to stone.

Even her lips were so numbed with cold that she could not move them.

The steam of her breath had turned to ice upon the wool of her coat.
The need for prayer came upon her suddenly as she realized that her faculties were failing.

Her belief in God was of that dim and far-off description that brings awe rather than comfort to the soul.