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‚ÅÝ‚Äîperhaps 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.”
‚ÄúBut the place looks‚ÅÝ‚Äîevil.‚Äù
“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.”