"Oh, poor Flower! Poor child!" cried Carolina, weeping unrestrainedly. She cuddled the baby's face in her neck, and Flower watched her apathetically. Flower's face was suffused from stormy weeping, but she had wept herself out.
"And you had to bear this all alone, poor lamb!"
"I wanted to be alone! I wanted her to go. They meant to be kind, but they don't love me, and they don't love my little baby. I would rather be alone. Who could I send for--the priest? When he predicted it?"
"What did he predict?" asked Carolina, quickly.
"He was very angry because we went to New York to be married. He lost fifty dollars by it. That is what he charges even poor people like me. And because I married a heretic, and because I was not married by a priest, he cursed me and my offspring. Then--" she broke off suddenly and cried: "Oh, why do I tell it all? Why do I trust even you?"
"Because you know that I can help you," said Carolina, gravely.
"No one can help me--not even God!"
"Say what you were going to," urged Carolina.
"Well, the child is bewitched. Every time there is a thunder-storm, or if I am even left alone with the baby, like to-day, when I let Aunt Tempy have her afternoon--there she is now!"
With a shriek of terror she pointed to the window, and Carolina looked just in time to see a dark face disappear from view. She ran to the door, but nothing could be seen. Not a sound could be heard.