I examined the window, the curtains, but nothing was to be seen, while
the figure still continued its movements; and almost sick, I returned to
bed, to lie and watch the shadow. All sorts of queer stories rushed into
my head; I tried to forgot them and think of something else, but it was
impossible. The movement was slow, regular, and punctual.

At last I could stand it no longer; I rushed to the window, determined
to stay there till the mystery was explained, for I felt convinced that
I should find it there. I directed my eyes piercingly to every part of
the curtains; and at length I perceived that the window had been let
down at the top. I closed it, arranged the curtains differently, and
then, in some trepidation, returned to my shadow. It had disappeared;
and I now understood that the formidable figure was merely a part of the
curtain, which, influenced by the night wind, swayed to and fro,
causing the shadow on the wall.

I do not think I ever experienced a cowardly feeling afterwards; that
night perfectly satisfied me that superstition was the most unreasonable
torture that could be inflicted on oneself; and I was ever afterwards
celebrated for my bravery. Even my father praised my conduct, and said
that it was pretty well for a girl of ten years, under such
circumstances--at the same time representing to me how much more
reasonable such a course was, than screaming would have been, to rouse
the household for nothing. I went quietly to sleep, and dreamed neither
of goblins nor ghosts, but of a dear little spotted kitten with a blue
ribbon around its neck.