o power perhaps, to move or
approach more nearly to the phantom. I was not in the least frightened.
I knew it _was_ a phantom, but I felt paralysed, and as if I myself had
somehow got outside of ordinary conditions. And there I sat--staring
at Maud, and there she stood, gazing before her with that terrible,
unspeakable sadness in her face, which, even though I felt no _fear_,
seemed to freeze me with a kind of unutterable pity.

"I don't know how long I had sat thus, or how long I might have
continued to sit there, almost as if in a trance, when suddenly I heard
the front-door bell ring. It seemed to awaken me. I started up and
glanced round, half-expecting that I should find the vision dispelled.
But no; she was still there, and I sank back into my seat just as I
heard my brother coming quickly upstairs. He came towards the library,
and seeing the door wide open walked in, and I, still gazing, saw his
figure _pass through that of the woman in the doorway_ as you may walk
through a wreath of mist or smoke--only, don't misunderstand me, the
figure of Maud till that moment had had nothing unsubstantial about it.
She had looked to me, as she stood there, literally and exactly like a
living woman--the shade of her dress, the colour of her hair, the few
ornaments she wore, all were as defined and clear as yours, Nina, at the
present moment, and remained so, or perhaps became so again as soon as
my brother was well within the room. He came forward addressing me by
name, but I answered him in a whisper, begging him to be silent and to
sit down on the seat opposite me for a moment or two. He did so, though
he was taken aback by my strange manner, for I still kept my eyes fixed
on the door. I had a queer consciousness that if I looked away _it_
would fade, and I wanted to keep cool and see what would happen. I asked
Herbert in a low voice if _he_ saw nothing, but though he mechanically
followed the direction of my eyes, he shook his head in bewilderment.
And for a moment or two he remained thus. Then I began to notice that
the figure was growing less clear, as if it were receding, yet without
growing smaller to the sight; it grew fainter and vaguer, the colours
grew hazy. I rubbed my eyes once or twice with a half idea that my long
watching was making them misty, but it was not so. My eyes were not at
fault--slowly but surely Maud Bertram, or her ghost, melted away, till
all trace of her had gone. I saw again the familiar pattern