'Why should I live?' she murmured, sadly—'earth has no longer any charms for me; the past brings remorse, the present is most wretched, the future full of impending horror! Death is my only refuge; the only cure for all my sorrows. Take me to thy embrace, thou peaceful river; thou canst end my earthly woes, but thou canst not wash off the stains of guilt from my soul! There may be a hell, but its torments cannot exceed those of this world—'
She mounted upon the topmost rail of the bridge, clasped her hands, muttered a brief prayer, and leaped into the river. There was a splash—a gurgling sound—and then profound and solemn silence resumed its reign.
* * * * *
One more unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!
* * * * *
The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch
Of the black flowing river;
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurl'd—
Any where, any where
Out of the world!
In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it—think of it, Dissolute Man!
* * * * *
Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour!
And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!