She fell half-fainting--moaning with white lips that she could not bear it and live.
Must she die?
Must she part with the sweet, warm life that filled her veins?
Must she seek death because she could no longer live?
No, she dare not.
"I cannot live and I dare not die," she moaned.

"I am utterly wretched, utterly hopeless and miserable.

Life and death alike are full of terrors for me." What should she do?
Through the long, burning hours, through the long, dreary nights, she asked herself that question--What should she do?
Her husband, alarmed at her white face and altered manner, talked of summoning a physician to her.

Her friends advised change of air, but there was no human help for her.
Then, when mind and brain alike were overdone, when the strained nerves gave way, when the fever of fear and suspense rose to its height, she thought of flight.

That was the only recourse left to her--flight! Then she would escape the terrors of death and the horror of life.