Her sins had been too great.

All the world had deserted her, and the sooner she was dead and out of the way the better.
She sat in the misty June twilight thinking this, with a sad, hopeless kind of resignation.

It was the fifth of June.

Could she forget that this very day twelvemonth was to have been her wedding-day?
Poor Jules--poor Kate! Oh, what a wretch she had been! She covered her face with her hands, tears falling like rain through her thin fingers.
"I wonder if they will be sorry for me, and forgive me, when they hear I am dead ?" she thought.

"Oh, how I live, and live; when other women would have died long ago with half this trouble.