No; she had had her passionate and desperate moments, but she had not meant things like this.

She had almost hoped that disaster might befall, she had almost thought it possible that she would do nothing to prevent it--almost.

But some things were too bad.
She felt small and young and hopelessly evil as she walked in the dark along a grass path to a seat under a tree.

The very stillness of the night was a horror to her, especially when once an owl called, and again a dreaming bird cried in its nest.
She sat under the tree in the dark for at least an hour.

The thick shadow of the drooping branches hid her in actual blackness and seclusion.
She said to herself later that some one of the occult powers she believed in had made her go out and sit in this particular spot, because there was a thing which was not to be, and she herself must come between.
When she at last rose it was with panting breath.