The giving vent to her misery in half-audible whispers followed involuntarily on her intention to pray.

She knew not why she thus poured out her heart; she hardly realised what she said or wished to say; yet, because some expression of her helpless need was necessary, and because, through fear and a rugged sense of her own evil, she sedulously averted her mind from the thought of God, her action had, more than anything else, the semblance of an invocation to the dead man to arise and save her, and take vengeance on her enemy.
Daylight was in the room.

The girl had knelt at first upright; then, as her passion seemed to avail nothing, but only to weary her, she sank back, sitting on her feet, buried her locked hands deeply in her lap, and with head bowed over them, continued to stab the air with short, almost inaudible, complaints.

The dead man lay still.

The dog, after standing long in subdued silence, came and with his tongue softly lapped some of the snow-water from her hair.
After that, she got up and went with him back into the kitchen, and lit the fire, and cooked food, and the day waned.
There is never in Nature that purpose to thwart which man in his peevishness is apt to attribute to her.