A minute or two more and the recumbent position had become unendurable
as too passive to correspond with the inward energy. She clambered back,
and, standing upon level ground, turned, facing the width of the bare
clearing and the rough buildings on it, and looked toward the downward
slope and the wild lake, whose cold breath of water was agitated by the
wind. The sky was full of cloud.

She stood up with folded arms, strength and energy in the stillness of
her attitude. She heard the sound of carpenter's tools coming from the
shed into which Bates had retired. No other hint of humanity was in the
world to which she listened, which she surveyed. As she folded her arms
she folded her bright coloured old shawl about her, and seemed to gather
within its folds all warmth of colour, all warmth of feeling, that was
in that wild, desolate place.

A flake of snow fell on the shawl; she did not notice it. Another rested
upon her cheek; then she started. She did not move much, but her face
lifted itself slightly; her tear-swollen eyes were wide open; her lips
were parted, as if her breath could hardly pass to and fro quickly
enough to keep pace with agitated thought. The snow had begun to come.
She knew well that it would go on falling, not to-day perhaps, nor
to-morrow, but as certainly as time would bring the following days, so
certainly the snow would fall, covering the frozen surface of the earth
and water with foot above foot of powdery whiteness. Far as she now was
from the gay, active throng of fellow-creatures which she conceived as
existing in the outer world, and with whom she longed to be, the snow
would make that distance not only great, but impassable to her, unaided.

It was true that she had threatened Bates with flight by foot across the