The uncertain stream had its fascinations.

There were beautiful shallows over which she had glided smoothly and safely, rocks and rapids over which she had shot swiftly amid attractive dangers, crooked courses that led she did not know whither, landing-places where she could enjoy an hour of the kindly sun.

But all the time she knew she was descending.

The song of the waterfalls was a farewell song to scenes that could never be witnessed again.

Far away perhaps, perhaps near, waited the waters of the gulf that would drink the sparkling stream into its sullen depths, and steep it in its own bitterness.