screamed a second time, though the sound hardly issued from her
throat. The spell sank deeper, reaching to the heart; for it softened
all the currents of her blood and took life from her in a
stream--towards themselves. Resistance in that moment seemed impossible.

Her husband then stirred in his sleep, and woke. And, instantly, the
forms drew up, erect, and gathered themselves in some amazing way
together. They lessened in extent--then scattered through the air like
an effect of light when shadows seek to smother it. It was tremendous,
yet most exquisite. A sheet of pale-green shadow that yet had form and
substance filled the room. There was a rush of silent movement, as the
Presences drew past her through the air,--and they were gone.

But, clearest of all, she saw the manner of their going; for she
recognized in their tumult of escape by the window open at the top, the
same wide "looping circles"--spirals as it seemed--that she had seen
upon the lawn those weeks ago when Sanderson had talked. The room once
more was empty.

In the collapse that followed, she heard her husband's voice, as though
coming from some great distance. Her own replies she heard as well. Both
were so strange and unlike their normal speech, the very words
unnatural.

"What is it, dear? Why do you wake me _now_ ?" And his voice whispered
it with a sighing sound, like wind in pine boughs.

"A moment since something went past me through the air of the room. Back
to the night outside it went." Her voice, too, held the same note as of
wind entangled among too many leaves.

"My dear, it _was_ the wind."

"But it called, David. It was calling _you_--by name!"

"The air of the branches, dear, was what you heard. Now, sleep again, I
beg you, sleep."

"It had a crowd of eyes all through and over it--before and behind--"
Her voice grew louder. But his own in reply sank lower, far away, and
oddly hushed.

"The moonlight, dear, upon the sea of twigs and boughs in the rain, was
what you saw."

"But it frightened me. I've lost my God--and you--I'm cold as death!"

"My dear, it is the cold of the early morning hours. The whole world
sleeps. Now sleep again yourself."

He whispered close to her ear. She felt his hand stroking her. His voice
was soft and very soothing. But only a part of him was there; only a
part of him was speaking; it was a half-emptied body that lay beside her
and uttered these strange sentences, even forcing her own singular