perstition seized on her mind as suddenly as the new day had
burst on her view. The premise of release which she saw in it from the
horror of her own hesitation roused the last energies of her despair.
She resolved to end the struggle by setting her life or death on the
hazard of a chance.

On what chance?

The sea showed it to her. Dimly distinguishable through the mist, she
saw a little fleet of coasting-vessels slowly drifting toward the house,
all following the same direction with the favoring set of the tide. In
half an hour--perhaps in less--the fleet would have passed her window.
The hands of her watch pointed to four o'clock. She seated herself close
at the side of the window, with her back toward the quarter from which
the vessels were drifting down on her--with the poison placed on the
window-sill and the watch on her lap. For one half-hour to come she
determined to wait there and count the vessels as they went by. If in
that time an even number passed her, the sign given should be a sign to
live. If the uneven number prevailed, the end should be Death.

With that final resolution, she rested her head against the window and
waited for the ships to pass.

The first came, high, dark and near in the mist, gliding silently over
the silent sea. An interval--and the second followed, with the third
close after it. Another interval, longer and longer drawn out--and
nothing passed. She looked at her watch. Twelve minutes, and three
ships. Three.

The fourth came, slower than the rest, larger than the rest, further off
in the mist than the rest. The interval followed; a long interval once
more. Then the next vessel passed, darkest and nearest of all. Five. The
next uneven number--

Five.

She looked at her watch again. Nineteen minutes, and five ships. Twenty
minutes. Twenty-one, two, three--and no sixth vessel. Twenty-four, and
the sixth came by. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight,
and the next uneven number--the fatal Seven--glided into view. Two
minutes to the end of the half-hour. And seven ships.

Twenty-nine, and nothing followed in the wake of the seventh ship. The
minute-hand of the watch moved on half-way to thirty, and still the
white heaving sea was a misty blank. Without moving her head from the
window, she took the poison in one hand, and raised the watch in the
other. As the quick seconds counted each other out, her eyes, as
quick as they, looked from the watch to the sea, from t