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4.

Such strange wild tales, with withering blight,
Came over her mind this long, lone night;
And as she prayed, and the clock struck ten,
It seemed to echo her low “Amen!”
Its last vibration thrilled her ear,
As some sweet, soothing whisper near,—
She thought—“My husband will be here!
Even now, perchance, he's almost home—
I'll open the window and see him come:”
The door was barred where the Indian trod,
And she opened the shutter and looked abroad.