. I feel a strange kind of
elation, but from no visible cause. Aunt Janet rather queered it by
telling me, as she said good-night, to be very careful of myself, as she
had seen in a dream last night a figure in a shroud. I fear she was not
pleased that I did not take it with all the seriousness that she did. I
would not wound her for the world if I could help it, but the idea of a
shroud gets too near the bone to be safe, and I had to fend her off at
all hazards. So when I doubted if the Fates regarded the visionary
shroud as of necessity appertaining to me, she said, in a way that was,
for her, almost sharp:

"Take care, laddie. 'Tis ill jesting wi' the powers o' time Unknown."

Perhaps it was that her talk put the subject in my mind. The woman
needed no such aid; she was always there; but when I locked myself into
my room that night, I half expected to find her in the room. I was not
sleepy, so I took a book of Aunt Janet's and began to read. The title
was "On the Powers and Qualities of Disembodied Spirits." "Your
grammar," said I to the author, "is hardly attractive, but I may learn
something which might apply to her. I shall read your book." Before
settling down to it, however, I thought I would have a look at the
garden. Since the night of the visit the garden seemed to have a new
attractiveness for me: a night seldom passed without my having a last
look at it before turning in. So I drew the great curtain and looked
out.

The scene was beautiful, but almost entirely desolate. All was ghastly
in the raw, hard gleams of moonlight coming fitfully through the masses
of flying cloud. The wind was rising, and the air was damp and cold. I
looked round the room instinctively, and noticed that the fire was laid
ready for lighting, and that there were small-cut logs of wood piled
beside the hearth. Ever since that night I have had a fire laid ready.
I was tempted to light it, but as I never have a fire unless I sleep in
the open, I hesitated to begin. I went back to the window, and, opening
the catch, stepped out on the terrace. As I looked down the white walk
and let my eyes range over the expanse of the garden, where everything
glistened as the moonlight caught the wet, I half expected to see some
white figure flitting amongst the shrubs and statues. The whole scene of
the former visit came back to me so vividly that I could hardly believe
that any time had passed since then. It was the same scene