hirst was upon her at this
moment. It had driven her down to the village that afternoon at the
moment of John's arrival. But she had no money. She had not dared to
unlock the cupboard again, and she could only wander up and down the
bit of dark road beyond the Spotted Deer, suffering and craving. Well,
it was all done--all done!

She had come up without her candle, and the only light in the room was
a cold glimmer from the snow outside. But she must find a light, for
she must write a letter. By much groping, she found some matches, and
then lit one after another while she searched in her untidy drawers for
an ink-bottle and a pen she knew must be there.

She found them, and with infinite difficulty--holding match after match
in her left hand--she scrawled a few blotted lines on a torn piece of
paper. She was a poor scholar, and the toil was great. When it was
done, she propped the paper up against the looking-glass.

Then she felt for her dress, and deliberately put it on again, in the
dark, though her hands were so numb with cold that she could scarcely
hook the fastenings. Her teeth chattered as she threw her old shawl
round her.

Stooping down, she took off her boots, and, pushing the bolt of her own
door back as noiselessly as possible, she crept down the stairs. As
she neared the lower door, the sound of two or three loud breathings
caught her ear.

Her heart contracted with an awful sense of loneliness. Her husband
slept--her children slept--while she----

Then the wave of a strange, a just passion mounted within her. She
stepped into the kitchen, and, walking up to her husband's chair, she
stood still a moment looking at him. The lamp was dying away, but she
could still see him plainly. She held herself steadily erect; a frown
was on her brow, a flame in her eyes.

"Well, good-bye, Isaac," she said, in a low but firm voice.

Then she walked to the back door and opened it, taking no heed of
noise; the latch fell heavily, the hinges creaked.

"Isaac!" she cried, her tones loud and ringing, "_Isaac!_"

There was a sudden sound in the kitchen. She slipped through the door,
and ran along the snow-covered garden.

Isaac, roused by her call from the deep trance of exhaustion which only
a few minutes before had fallen upon his misery, stood up, felt the
blast rushing in through the open door at the back, and ran blindly.

The door had swung to again. He clutched it open; in the dim, weird