n the courage
of determination which had nearly slipped from me; but I knew that I
must get away, out of sight of this moveless and diabolic figure, which
did not speak, but which made known its commands by means of its eyes.
"Resign her," the eyes said. "Tear your love for her out of your heart!
Swear that you will never see her again--or I will ruin you utterly, not
now only but for evermore."

I think I trembled; my eyes answered "No." For some reason which I
cannot at all explain, I suddenly took off my overcoat, and, drawing
aside the screen which ran across the corner of the room at my right
hand, forming a primitive sort of wardrobe, I hung it on one of the
hooks. I had to feel with my fingers for the hook, because I kept my
gaze on the figure. "I will go into the bedroom," I said; and I turned
to pass through the doorway. Then I stopped. If I did so, the eyes of
the ghost would be upon my back, and I felt that I could only withstand
that glance by meeting it. To have it on my back.... Doubtless I was
going mad. However, I went backwards to the doorway, and then rapidly
stepped out of sight of the apparition and sat down upon the bed.
Useless! I must return. The mere idea of the empty sitting-room--empty
with the ghost in it--filled me with a new and considerable fear.
Horrible happenings might occur in that room, and I must be there to see
them! Moreover, the ghost's gaze must now fall on nothing; that would be
too appalling (without doubt I was mad). Its gaze must meet something,
otherwise it would travel out into space further and further till it had
left all the stars and waggled aimless in the ether. The notion of such
a calamity was unbearable. Besides, I was hungry for that gaze. My eyes
desired those eyes: if that glance did not press against them, they
would burst from my head and roll on the floor, and I should be
compelled to go down on my hands and knees and grope in search for them.
No, no. I must return to the sitting-room. And I returned. The gaze met
mine in the doorway, and now there was something novel in it--an added
terror, a more intolerable menace, the silent imprecation so frightful
that no human being could suffer it. I sank to the ground, and as I did
so I shrieked; but it was a weird shriek, sounding only within the
brain, and in reply to that unheard shriek I heard an unheard voice of
the ghost crying, "Yield!"

I would not yield. Crushed, maddened, tortured, I would not yield. I
want