and it was still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out.

The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned
wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for
which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally
different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness
there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept;
and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees
beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart:

"Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling
in it and to abide there all the days of my life...."

The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir.

Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her
wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake!
Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with
his mouth open, and mother's fat stomach and breasts rose and fell
steadily.

"Mother!"

Nobody heard.

"Mother!!"

And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder
each time: