f the house, she came out and beckoned me in; and I saw that
something was amiss. I went after her into the little hung parlour and
we sat down.

"I slept very ill, cousin," she said again; and I observed again that
her eyes looked hollow. "And I dare not tell my father my fancies," she
said, "for he is terrified at such things; and has forbade the servants
to speak of such things."

"The tall old woman, then?" I said; for I had not forgotten what she had
told me before.

"Yes," she said, smiling a little painfully--"and yet I was not at all
afraid when she came; or when I thought that she did."

"Tell me the whole tale," I said.

"I awakened about one o'clock this morning," she said, "and knew that my
sleep was gone from me altogether. Yet I did not feel afraid or
restless; but lay there content enough, expecting something, but what it
would be I did not know. The cocks were crowing as I awakened; and then
were silent; and it appeared to me as if all the world were listening.
After a while--I should say it was ten minutes or thereabouts--I turned
over with my face to the wall; and as I did so, I heard a soft step
coming up the stairs. One of the maids, thought I, late abed or early
rising, for sickness. When the steps came to my door they ceased; and a
hand was laid upon the latch; and at that I made to move; but could not.
Yet it was not fear that held me there, though it was like a gentle
pricking all over me. Then the latch was lifted, and still I could not
move, not even my eyes; and a person came in, and across the floor to my
bed. And even then I could not move nor cry out. Presently the person
spoke; but I do not know what she said, though it was only a word or
two: but the voice came from high up, as almost from the canopy of the
bed, and it was the voice of an old woman, speaking in a kind of
whisper. I said nothing; for I could not: and then again the steps moved
across the floor, and out of the door; and I heard the latch shut again;
and then they passed away down the stairs."

My Cousin Dorothy was pale as death by this time; and her blue eyes were
set wide open. I made to take her by the hand; but I did not.

"You were dreaming," I said; "it was the memory of the tale you have
heard."

She shook her head; but she said nothing.

"You have never had it before?" I asked.

"Never," she said.

"You must lie in another chamber for a week or two, and forget it."

"I cannot do that," she said. "My f