"It is all before me," she muttered, "the riches, the honor, the glory. I shall also, if I am dressed well, be beautiful.  Mine is the sort of face that requires good decoration; mine is the figure which needs the best clothes.  I shall have everything, everything.  I ought to be happy; I wonder I am not.  I ought to be very happy.  Oh, I wish this fire did not burn in my heart, and that horrid, scorching, intolerable feeling, I wish it did not consume me.  Oh, I suppose I shall get over it in time; and if life lasted forever I should be the happiest girl in the world; but of course it won't--nothing lasts forever, for age comes even to the youngest, and then--then there is illness and--and perhaps death.  And I may not even live to be old.  Rich and lucky and fortunate as I am, I may die.  I should not like to die a bit--not a bit; I should not be prepared for the other world.  Oh, I must shut away the thought, for there is no going back now."