When love was shaken all things moved, but
now, at last, for the first time she seemed to know the real and mighty
world that stood behind that old and shaken dream.
So she looked on the world about her with new eyes. These men and women
of her childhood had hitherto walked by her like shadows; today they
lived for her in flesh and blood. She saw hundreds and thousands of
black men and women: crushed, half-spirited, and blind. She saw how high
and clear a light Sarah Smith, for thirty years and more, had carried
before them. She saw, too, how that the light had not simply shone in
darkness, but had lighted answering beacons here and there in these dull
souls.
There were thoughts and vague stirrings of unrest in this mass of black
folk. They talked long about their firesides, and here Zora began to sit
and listen, often speaking a word herself. All through the countryside
she flitted, till gradually the black folk came to know her and, in
silent deference to some subtle difference, they gave her the title of
white folk, calling her "Miss" Zora.
Today, more than ever before, Zora sensed the vast unorganized power in
this mass, and her mind was leaping here and there, scheming and
testing, when voices arrested her.
It was a desolate bit of the Cresswell manor, a tiny cabin, new-boarded
and bare, in front of it a blazing bonfire.
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