She looked up at the far faint blue of the sky. She heard the joyous
singing of birds among the ivy that clothed the ruins. Oh the cold
distance of the heavens! Oh the pitiless happiness of the birds! Oh the
lonely horror of sitting there, and feeling old and weak and worn, in
the heyday of her youth! She rose with a last effort of resolution,
and tried to keep back the hysterical passion swelling at her heart by
moving and looking about her. Rapidly and more rapidly she walked to and
fro in the sunshine. The exercise helped her, through the very fatigue
that she felt from it. She forced the rising tears desperately back to
their sources; she fought with the clinging pain, and wrenched it from
its hold. Little by little her mind began to clear again: the despairing
fear of herself grew less vividly present to her thoughts. There were
reserves of youth and strength in her still to be wasted; there was a
spirit sorely wounded, but not yet subdued.
She gradually extended the limits of her walk; she gradually recovered
the exercise of her observation.
At the western extremity the remains of the monastery were in a less
ruinous condition than at the eastern.
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