“Why do you fear the open window, Aunt?”
“The night is dark.” She shuddered and crouched into the corner of the sofa.
“The day is ever dark to me, yet I fear not.”
“Last night the dogs howled and I saw white shapes flitting among the trees where the graves are.”
“What of that? Shapes often flit about me; I call them and they are here; I bid them depart and they are gone.”
“Child,—you are blind and thus cannot understand.—Hark.—Is not that a sound of shouting, afar off?”
“It is but the jackals howling on the hill-side.—The time has not yet come.—But, Aunt,—let me tell you farther of the things I know.”
“Not to-night,—I am in terror enough as it is.”
“What I have to tell you will not terrify you, for you are guiltless.”
“Guiltless,—yes; but God visits the sins of the guilty upon the guiltless. But it is not for myself that I fear.”