Presently the scene began to change, and the white formless world about
her began to assume definite shape. She had seen it all before, the
bare trees pointing their naked branches upward, the fringe of willows,
the smooth, glassy sheet of water that was partly frozen and partly
undulating toward the southern shore. The familiarity of it all began
to haunt her. Had she dreamed it--was she dreaming now? Perhaps it
was only a dream after all! Then, as if in a wave of clear thought,
she remembered it all. It was the lake, and she had been there with
the Sunday school children last summer on their picnic.
It came to her like a solution of all her troubles; it was so placid,
so still, so cold. A moment and all would be forgotten. She stood
with one foot on the creaking ice. It was but to walk a dozen steps to
the place where the ice was but a crash of crystal and that would end
it all. She was so weary of the eternal strife of things, she was so
glad to lay down the burden under which her back was bending to the
point of breaking.
And yet, there was the primitive instinct of self-preservation
combating her inclination, urging her on to make one more final effort.
Back and forth, through the snow about the lake she wandered; without
being able to decide. Her strength was fast ebbing. Which--which,
should it be? "God have mercy!" she cried, and fell unconscious.