But
it brought Mary Taylor back to a sense of things, and under a sudden
impulse she spoke.
"Is--is anything the matter?" she asked nervously.
"Elspeth is sick," replied Zora.
"Is she very sick?"
"Yes--she has been called," solemnly returned the dark young 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, melancholy eyes
that so steadily regarded her.
"Then you can leave the place, Zora?" she exclaimed gladly.
"Yes, I could leave."
"And you will."
"I don't know."
"But the place looks--evil."
"It is evil."
"And yet you will stay?"
Zora's eyes were now fixed far above the woman's head, and she saw a
human face forming itself in the vast rafters of the forest. Its eyes
were wet with pain and anger.
"Perhaps," she answered.
The child furtively uncovered her face and looked at the stranger. She
was blue-eyed and golden-haired.
"Whose child is this?" queried Mary, curiously.
Zora looked coldly down upon the child.
"It is Bertie's. Her mother is bad. She is gone. I sent her. She and the
others like her."
"But where have you sent them?"
"To Hell!"
Mary Taylor started under the shock.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218