She seemed to be trying to choke down her weeping, burying her head in her hands, holding back her sobs, wrestling with herself.

Finally she fell forward on her face upon the bench, her hands spread abroad and hanging down, her face on the hard cold wood--and all her moanings ceased.

It seemed to me that she had suddenly dropped dead; for I could not hear from her a single sigh or gasp or breath, though I stepped closer and listened--not a sign of life did she give.

So I put my arm under her and raised her up, only to see that her face was ghastly white, and that she seemed quite dead.
I picked her up, and found that, though she was slight and girlish, she was more woman than child, and carried her over to the well where there was cold water in the trough, from which I sprinkled a few icy drops in her face--and she gasped and looked at me as if dazed.
"You fainted away," I said, "and I brought you to." "I wish you hadn't!" she cried.

"I wish you had let me die!" "What's the matter, little girl ?" I asked, seating her on the bench once more.