Zora was not sure that it had been wise to tell their secret.

"I was going to steal the seed," she said. "I knows where it is, and I
don't fear conjure."

"You mustn't steal, Zora," said Bles, gravely.

"Why?" Zora quickly asked.

But before he answered, they both forgot; for their faces were turned
toward the wonder of the swamp. The golden sun was pouring floods of
glory through the slim black trees, and the mystic sombre pools caught
and tossed back the glow in darker, duller crimson. Long echoing cries
leapt to and fro; silent footsteps crept hither and yonder; and the
girl's eyes gleamed with a wild new joy.

"The dreams!" she cried. "The dreams!" And leaping ahead, she danced
along the shadowed path. He hastened after her, but she flew fast and
faster; he followed, laughing, calling, pleading. He saw her twinkling
limbs a-dancing as once he saw them dance in a halo of firelight; but
now the fire was the fire of the world. Her garments twined and flew in
shadowy drapings about the perfect moulding of her young and dark
half-naked figure. Her heavy hair had burst its fastenings and lay in
stiffened, straggling masses, bending reluctantly to the breeze, like
curled smoke; while all about, the mad, wild singing rose and fell and
trembled, till his head whirled. He paused uncertainly at a parting of
the paths, crying:

"Zora! Zora!" as for some lost soul. "Zora! Zora!" echoed the cry,
faintly.