ence of some supernatural being. Gradually I became
aware of a dark form, apparently that of a woman, close to my bed. My
eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I could distinguish the
various objects in my bed-chamber with greater facility.

I rivetted my eyes on the figure, but all I could discern was a long
black robe and two white hands. I looked for the face, but in vain. It
seemed covered up, for the shoulders merged into the darkness.

Soon, as if to aid my vision, a sort of pale blue light spread a halo
around the figure, and grew gradually brighter, setting it off in
relief. I could now see the whole figure distinctly. I looked for the
head. Oh, horror! _It was wanting._

I shuddered, and felt an intense desire to scream, but my voice was
gone. Had I then really lived to see a ghost? Was there, then, some
foundation for the strange name given to the inn? I had never heard from
my friend Rustcoin that it was reported haunted, and I most assuredly
should have heard about it if he had had any knowledge of it.

Perhaps it was a thing not generally known; perhaps its appearance was
not usual, and it only appeared at intervals to certain privileged
beings. Was I one of those beings? I asked myself. Perhaps so. It might
have something to communicate. I would address it, but my tongue clove
to the roof of my mouth, for now I saw distinctly that the head I had
missed was carried under the left arm of the figure.

I marked well the face; it was extremely beautiful, and I thought I
recognised a likeness to the old portrait I had been looking at; but oh!
how far short that old piece of painted panel fell of the original; if,
indeed, it was ever intended for a representation of the lineaments I
now gazed upon.

I made a second effort to address it, but as I opened my mouth to speak
I heard another most audible moan from the headless figure. I was awed,
but that intense fear which I experienced when I became aware that some
stranger had entered my chamber had all but vanished now that I was
_certain_ that I was in the presence of a denizen of the spirit world.

Awful as this certainty was, it seemed to fade into insignificance when
compared with the terrible feeling of doubt I had before experienced. I
now felt comparatively relieved; so much so, indeed, that I even found
room in my heart for pity--that one so young and so beautiful as she
appeared to be should have suffered such a cruel and ignominious death.