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Upon the quiet stole a rustle of leaves, a whisper that carew louder and louder, and so was gone again;

but in place of this was another sound, a le like the

chime of fairy bells, very far, and faint, and sweet All at once

Barnabas knew that his cootten in terror of the unknown He heard a slon,

quivering sigh, and then, pale in the dimness, her hand ca his hand, hid itself in his

warers

stirred and tre in the leaves, but louder now, and drawing

nearer and nearer, and ever the fairy chime swelled upon the air

And even as it came Barnabas felt her closer, until her shoulder

touched his, until the fragrance of her breath fanned his cheek,

until the warh him, until, loud

and sudden in the silence, a voice rose--a rich, deep voice: "'Now is the witching hour when graveyards yawn'--the witching

hour--aha!--Oh! poor pale ghost, I know thee--by thy night-black

hair and sad, sweet eyes--I know thee Alas, so young and

dead--while I, alas, so old and much alive! Yet I, too, must die

some day--soon, soon, beloved shadow Then shall my shade encompass