hit a chance; break the curse--there is only one way!"

"What way, Becky?" Angela was whispering as if she and the old woman
near her were conspiring together.

"Hit mus' go where no one knows--no one ever can know. It's the knowin'
that damns us-all. Folks knowin' an' expectin'--an' helpin' the curse.
Hit's got to start fresh an' no one knowin'."

Becky's voice was sepulchral.

"You mean," Angela asked, "that if Zalie comes back with a child that
you want me to take it, find a home for it--where no one will ever
know?"

"You-all don promised to help me," Becky pleaded, for she caught the
doubting tone in Angela's voice; "you-all ain't goin' back on that, air
yo'?"

The burning eyes fell upon the cross at Angela's side.

"No," she said. "No. Becky, I promise to help you. But suppose Zalie,
should she have a child, refused to give it up?"

Becky's face quivered.

"She won't las', Zalie won't." The stricken voice was as confident as if
Zalie already lay dead. "Zalie ain't got stayin' powers, she ain't. She
don have fever an' what-all--an' she won't las' long--she'll go on The
Ship! But if you-all hide hit--so The Ship can't take hit--if you-all