On the night of the 26th of December, Clarence and Martyn, well
wrapped in greatcoats, stole into the outer mullion room; but though
the usual sounds were heard, and the mysterious light again
appeared, Martyn perceived nothing else, and even Clarence declared
that if there were anything besides, it was far less distinct to him
than it had been previously. Could it be that his spiritual
perceptions were growing dimmer as he became older, and outgrew the
sensitiveness of nerves and imagination?
We came to the conclusion that it would be best to watch the outside
of the house, rather than within the chamber; and the dinner-party
facilitated this, since it accounted for being up and about nearer
to the hour when the ghost might be expected. Egress could be had
through the little garden door, and I undertook to sit up and keep
up the fire.
All three came to my room on their return home, for Emily had become
aware of our scheme, and entreated to be allowed to watch with us.
Clarence had unfastened the alarum bell from my shutters, and taken
down the bar after the curtains had been drawn by the housemaid, and
he now opened them. It was a frosty moonlight night, and the lawn
lay white and crisp, marked with fantastic shadows. The others
looked grave and pale, Emily was in a thick white shawl and hood,
with a swan's down boa over her black dress, a somewhat ghostly
figure herself, but we were in far too serious a mood for light
observations.
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