"I come here--in this storm. Hear it! Hear that! I want shelter. I want comfort. And what do you say to me!... Well, then I take comfort from you. You thought I was your husband. You called his name. Well, I saw him this afternoon. He drove out. I called to him from the roadside. 'Let me tell your fortune! Only fifty cent!' But he whipped up his horse and drove away. You are all alike. But I see him now--in Woodman's Narrows. It rains there, same as here. Thunder and lightning, same as here. Trees fall. The wind blows. The wind blows!" The woman had tilted her head and fixed her eyes, shining and eager, as if on some invisible scene, and she half intoned her words as if in a trance. "I see your husband now. His wagon is smashed by a tree. The horse is dead. Your husband lies very still. He does not move. There!"--she turned to them alert again to their presence--"there is the husband that you want. If you don't believe me, all I say is, wait! He is there. You will see!" She ended in a peal of laughter, which itself ended in a weary moan. "Oh, why can't you help me!" She came toward them, her arms outstretched. "_Don't_ be afraid of me. I want a woman to know me--to comfort me. I die to-night. It's calling me, outside. Don't you hear?... "Listen to me, you women!" she went on, and tried to smile, to gain their favor. "I lied to you, to get even with you. You want your husband. Well, I lied. He isn't dead. For all you tried to shut me out. Do you never pity? Do you never help? O-oh--" Her hand traveled over her brow, and her eyes wandered. "No one knows what I need now! I got to tell it, I got to tell it! Hear that?" There had been a louder and nearer crash outside. "That's my warning. That says I got to tell it, before it's too late. No storm like this for forty years--not since one night forty years ago. My God, that night!" Another heavy rumble interrupted her. "Yes, yes!" she turned and called. "I'll tell it! I promise!" She came toward her audience and said pleadingly, "Listen--even if it frightens you. You've got to listen. That night, forty years ago"--she peered about her cautiously--"I think--I think I hurt two people--hurt them very bad. And ever since that night--" The two women had once again tried to fly away, but again she halted them. "Listen! You have no right to run away. You got to comfort me! You hear? Please, please, don't go." She smiled, and so seemed less ugly. What could her two auditors do but cling to each other and hear her through, dumb and helpless beneath her spell? "Only wait. I'll tell you quickly. Oh, I was not always like this. Once I could talk--elegant too. I've almost forgotten now. But I never looked like this then. I was not always ugly--no teeth--gray hair. Once I was beautiful too. You laugh? But yes! Ah, I was young, and tall, and had long black hair. I was Mollie, then. Mollie Morgan. That's the first time I've said my name for years. But that's who I was. Ask Bruce--he knows."