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Slowly the sun was darkened, and plaintive h the wood The oppression and fear of the swa seen her She stood tall and still, and the little golden-haired girl still sobbed in her gown Mary Taylor looked up into Zora's face, then paused in awe It was a face she did not know; it was neither the beautifully irl, nor the pain-stricken face of the woular and cohty cal behind itself depths of unfathomed misery and wild revolt All this lay in its darkness

"Good-, Miss Taylor"

Mary, ont to teach this woman--so lately a child--searched in vain for words to address her now She stood bare-haired and hesitating in the pale green light of the darkened ather itself from the mysterious depths of the swamp, and drop like a pall on the black portal of the cabin But it brought Mary Taylor back to a sense of things, and under a sudden i the matter?" she asked nervously

"Elspeth is sick," replied Zora

"Is she very sick?"

"Yes--she has been called," sole woman

Mary was puzzled "Called?" she repeated vaguely

"We heard the great cry in the night, and Elspeth says it is the End"

It did not occur to Mary Taylor to question this mysticism; she all at once understood--perhaps read the riddle in the dark, arded her

"Then you can leave the place, Zora?" she exclailadly

"Yes, I could leave"

"And you will"

"I don't know"

"But the place looks--evil"