She concealed the letter; and when his steps died away in
the corridor and the house-door closed, she knew she could slip out
unobserved. Instinctively she thought of her hat and jacket, and, without a
shudder, remembered she would not need them. She sped down the pathway
through the shadow of the firs.
It was one of those warm nights of winter when a sulphur-coloured sky hangs
like a blanket behind the wet, dishevelled woods; and, though there was
neither moon nor star, the night was strangely clear, and the shadow of the
bridge was distinct in the water. When she approached the brink the swans
moved slowly away. They reminded her of the cold; but the black obsession
of death was upon her; and, hastening her steps, she threw herself forward.
She fell into shallow water and regained her feet, and for a moment it
seemed uncertain if she would wade to the bank or fling herself into a
deeper place. Suddenly she sank, the water rising to her shoulders. She was
lifted off her feet. A faint struggle, a faint cry, and then
nothing--nothing but the whiteness of the swans moving through the sultry
night slowly towards the island.
XX
Its rich, inanimate air proclaimed the room to be an expensive bedroom in a
first-class London hotel.
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