She was betrayed, ruined, lost.
That wonderful love had wrought transformation in her--and now havoc.
Once she fell against the branches of a thick cedar that upheld her.

The fragrance which had been sweet was now bitter.

Life that had been bliss was now hateful! She could not keep still for a single moment.
Black night, cedars, brush, rocks, washes, seemed not to obstruct her.
In a frenzy she rushed on, tearing her dress, her hands, her hair.
Violence of some kind was imperative.

All at once a pale gleaming open space, shimmering under the stars, lay before her.

It was water.