by unceasing labor, and lie awake all night with that same suffering for
a bedfellow, and still make no sign that a careless eye can see I look
at that time now with wonder. How did I bear that constant occupation by
day, alternated only with those sleepless nights, without breaking down
entirely? The crisis came at last,--a sort of stupor, a cessation of
suffering indeed, but a cessation, too, of all feeling. I was frightened
at myself. Alas! I had no one to be frightened for me. Could it be that
I was going to lose my senses? But no, I passed through that too, and
then came a more natural state of mind than any I had known since the
blow fell.

My suffering self seemed like something apart from me, which I could
pity and help, could counsel and act for, and this one thing became
clear to me. Some change of scene was necessary to me. I could never go
on so; it was idle to attempt it. I could not live any longer face to
face with my grief. There was the whole world before me. Was it not
possible to go out into it? I had health, strength, ability, I was sure
of it. How often before had I dreamed over the seeking my fortune in
that world which looked to me then so full of excitement! Nothing had
held me back then but the clinging to home-pleasures, to
home-enjoyments, to home-comforts, poor as they were,--nothing but the
sense of safety, of protection. What were these to me now? I cared
nothing for them. I only asked to be away from all that reminded me of
my suffering, to be so forced to struggle with external difficulties as
to have no thought for myself. I did not want to love anybody; I would
rather have nobody care for me. I would go. The only question was how.

A few days and nights of thought solved the problem for me, and, once
roused to action, I took my steps rapidly and well. The first thing
necessary was money, money enough to take me away, and to support me
until I could find employment; and the means of attaining it were
within my reach. I owned a watch that had been my mother's, a pretty
trinket, though somewhat old-fashioned, and which had often excited the
envy of the young wife of one of the head miners. I knew that her
husband was flush of money just then, for he had drawn his wages only
the week before,--and I knew, too, that he would give me a good price
for my watch, were it only to gratify the bride to whom he had as yet
denied nothing.

The sale was made at once. I do not know if I got anything l