Presently, opening her eyes, she saw the jewelled shadows playing on the surface, and they so distressed her--yearning as she was for peace and rest--that her eyelids drooped, and she turned her head to avoid a picture which in happier circumstances she would have gazed upon with delight. But she knew the river was there. For full half an hour she lay with her eyes closed, struggling with a horrible temptation. Then she turned to the water, struggled into a sitting posture, and gazed with wild eyes upon it. Not voluntarily and of her own free will; some evil spiritual power within her compelled her to do so. It was quieter now. The gorgeous colors had died out of the skies and the river was in repose. "Come," it whispered, "come to my embrace, and end your woes." But the strong religious instinct within her enabled her to struggle with the frightful suggestion. "No, no!" she murmured, feebly putting her hands together. "Help me, dear Lord, to avoid the crime!" Her appeal did not banish the silent voices which urged her to seek oblivion, and, in oblivion, peace. How the struggle would have ended it is difficult to say, had not her fate been taken out of her own hands. There came to her ears the crack of a whip and the sound of a human voice urging horses up the hill. She bowed her head upon her lap to hide her face from the stranger who was approaching her. He was an old man in charge of a wagon and a team of horses. The cattle were willing enough, and fresh for their day's work, and it was only from habit that their driver was shouting words of encouragement to them. They reached the summit of the hill, and the wagoner, merciful to his beasts, eased them a bit. It was then his eyes fell upon the form of Emilia. He approached her and laid his hand upon her shoulder. She shivered and shrank from his touch. At this human contact, the first she had experienced since her flight from the house of the maiden sisters, there seemed to come upon her a more complete consciousness of the shame and degradation into which she had been thrust. That it was unmerited mattered not. It clung to her, and was proclaimed in her face. How, then, could she raise her head to meet the gaze of any human being? "In trouble, my lass?" asked the wagoner, kindly. With but an imperfect observation of her, he knew that she was young. Emilia made no reply, but let her shoulder droop, so that his hand might not touch her. "Can I help you?" No sound, and now no further movement, from the hapless girl. He lingered a moment or two longer, and then slowly left her. Giving the word, his team began to descend the hill. But at the bottom of the descent, with a level road before him, he pulled up his cattle again, and turned with sad eyes to the spot where he had left Emilia, who was hidden from his sight.