account as it were--that terrified her into screaming before she could
collect her powers to prevent. She screamed before she realized what she
did--a long, high shriek of terror that filled the room, yet made so
little actual sound. For wet and shimmering presences stood grouped all
round that bed. She saw their outline underneath the ceiling, the green,
spread bulk of them, their vague extension over walls and furniture.
They shifted to and fro, massed yet translucent, mild yet thick, moving
and turning within themselves to a hushed noise of multitudinous soft
rustling. In their sound was something very sweet and sinning that fell
into her with a spell of horrible enchantment. They were so mild, each
one alone, yet so terrific in their combination. Cold seized her. The
sheets against her body had turned to ice.

She screamed a second time, though the sound hardly issued from her
throat. The spell sank deeper, reaching to the heart; for it softened
all the currents of her blood and took life from her in a
stream--towards themselves. Resistance in that moment seemed impossible.

Her husband then stirred in his sleep, and woke. And, instantly, the
forms drew up, erect, and gathered themselves in some amazing way
together. They lessened in extent--then scattered through the air like
an effect of light when shadows seek to smother it. It was tremendous,
yet most exquisite. A sheet of pale-green shadow that yet had form and
substance filled the room. There was a rush of silent movement, as the
Presences drew past her through the air,--and they were gone.

But, clearest of all, she saw the manner of their going; for she
recognized in their tumult of escape by the window open at the top, the
same wide "looping circles"--spirals as it seemed--that she had seen
upon the lawn those weeks ago when Sanderson had talked. The room once