It was doubtful if he would see her from the furthest end of it, but she reflected matter-of-factly:
"If I jump there will be the noise of a splash—and he might do something—he would try to save me, I suppose—or run for help. It wouldn't be safe. If he would only go."
She became irritated. With a sense of despair she determined to circumvent the motionless, watchful figure.
Moving very quietly and almost soundlessly over the soft muddy ground, Alex made her way from the path to the bank, and further and further down it till only a short declivity of shelving mud lay between her and the water.
She could feel the brambles catching in her thick coat as though pulling her back, but she went on, cautiously and steadily. Once or twice she pushed at the low, tangled bushes that impeded her progress, and paused aghast at the rustling that ensued. But from the bridge above her there came no sound.
Within a few steps of the dark water, her feet already sinking ankle-deep into the wet, spongy ground, she stopped.
She realized with wondering joy that, after all, she was not very much afraid. It was as though the self-confidence which had for so long deserted her had come back now to carry her through the last need.
She felt proud, because she knew that for this once she was not going to fail.
She talked to herself in a whisper:
"This one time—just a few minutes when it may be very bad—but remember that it can't last long, and then it'll all be over. And perhaps there'll never be anything more afterwards—like being always asleep, and no one need be vexed or disappointed any more. But perhaps—"