“Benefactors!” cried the other, in astonishment; “These rogues and vagabonds?”

In her indignation, she was now at last tempted to relate to him, under promise of the strictest secrecy, the history of her youth; and as Andrew at every word grew more incredulous, and shook his head in mockery, she took him by the hand, and led him to the chink; where, to his amazement, he beheld the glittering Elf sporting with his child, and caressing her in the arbor.  He knew not what to say; an exclamation of astonishment escaped him, and Zerina raised her eyes.  On the instant she grew pale, and trembled violently; not with friendly, but with indignant looks, she made the sign of threatening, and then said to Elfrida “Thou canst not help it, dearest heart; but outsiders will never learn sense, wise as they believe themselves.”  She embraced the little one with stormy haste; and then, in the shape of a raven, flew with hoarse cries over the garden, toward the firs.

In the evening, the little one was very still, she kissed her rose with tears; Mary felt depressed and frightened; Andrew scarcely spoke.  It grew dark.  Suddenly there went a rustling through the trees; birds flew to and fro with wild screaming, thunder was heard to roll, the earth shook, and tones of lamentation moaned in the air.  Andrew and his wife had not courage to rise; they wrapped themselves in their bed clothes, and with fear and trembling awaited the day.  Toward morning it grew calmer; and all was silent when the sun, with his cheerful light, rose over the wood.

Andrew dressed himself, and Mary now observed that the stone of the ring upon her finger had become quite pale.  On opening the door, the sun shone clear on their faces, but the scene around them they could scarcely recognize.  The freshness of the wood was gone; the hills were shrunk, the brooks were flowing languidly with scanty streams, the sky seemed gray; and when you turned to the Firs, they were standing there no darker or more dreary than the other trees.  The huts behind were no longer frightful; and several inhabitants of the village came and told about the fearful night, and how they had been across the spot where the gipsies had lived; how these people must have left the place at last, for their huts were standing empty, and within had quite a common look, just like the dwellings of other poor people; some of their household gear was left behind.

Elfrida in secret said to her mother:  “I could not sleep last night; and in my fright at the noise, I was praying from the bottom of my heart, when the door suddenly opened, and my playmate entered to take leave of me.  She had a traveling-pouch slung round her, a hat on her head, and a large staff in her hand.  She was very angry at thee; since on thy account she had now to suffer the severest and most painful punishments, as she had always been so fond of thee; for all of them, she said, were very loath to leave this quarter.”