then joined me, and his reflected shape stood by mine.
Something of the first ghostly impression was renewed, I must confess,
by this meeting of the two shadows; there was something rather awful in
the way the bodiless things nodded and gesticulated at each other in
silence. Still, there was nothing more than this, as Severance was
compelled to own; and I was trying to turn the whole affair into
ridicule, when suddenly, without sound or warning, I saw--as distinctly
as I perceive the words I now write--yet another figure stand at the
window, gaze steadfastly at us for a moment, and then disappear. It
was, as I fancied, that of a woman, but was totally enveloped in a very
full cloak, reaching to the ground, with a peculiarly cut hood, that
stood erect and seemed half as long as the body of the garment. I had a
vague recollection of having seen some such costume in a picture.

Of course, I dashed round the corner of the house, threaded the
birch-trees, and stood on the eastern piazza. No one was there. Without
losing an instant, I ran to the garden wall and climbed it, as
Severance had done, to look into Paul's cottage. That worthy was just
getting into bed, in a state of complicated deshabille, his
blackbearded head wrapped in an old scarlet handkerchief that made him
look like a retired pirate in reduced circumstances. He being accounted
for, I vainly traversed the shrubberies, returned to the western
piazza, watched awhile uselessly, and went home with Severance, a good
deal puzzled.

By daylight the whole thing seemed different. That I had seen the
figure there was no doubt. It was not a reflected image, for we had no
companion. It was, then, human. After all, thought I, it is a
commonplace thing enough, this masquerading in a cloak and hood.
Someone has observed Severance's nocturnal visits, and is amusing
himself at his expense. The peculiarity was, that the thing was so well
done, and the figure had such an air of dignity, that somehow it was
not so easy to make light of it in talking with him.

I went into his room, next day. His sick-headache, or whatever it was,
had come on again, and he was lying on his bed. Rutherford's strange
old book on the Second Sight lay open before him. "Look there," he
said; and I read the motto of a chapter:--

"In sunlight one,
In shadow none,
In moonlight two,
In thunder two,
Then comes Death."

I threw the book indignantly