Better give up trying, and
leave room for those who have something to live for."
Many a stronger soul has known a dark hour when the importunate wish
has risen that it were possible and right to lay down the burdens
that oppress, the perplexities that harass, and hasten the coming of
the long sleep that needs no lullaby. Such an hour was this to
Christie, for, as she stood there, that sorrowful bewilderment which
we call despair came over her, and ruled her with a power she could
not resist.
A flight of steps close by led to a lumber wharf, and, scarcely
knowing why, she went down there, with a vague desire to sit still
somewhere, and think her way out of the mist that seemed to obscure
her mind. A single tall lamp shone at the farther end of the
platform, and presently she found herself leaning her hot forehead
against the iron pillar, while she watched with curious interest the
black water rolling sluggishly below.
She knew it was no place for her, yet no one waited for her, no one
would care if she staid for ever, and, yielding to the perilous
fascination that drew her there, she lingered with a heavy throbbing
in her temples, and a troop of wild fancies whirling through her
brain.
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