It was a Darkness shaping itself out of the air in very undefined
outline. I cannot say it was of a human form, and yet it had more
resemblance to a human form, or rather shadow, than anything else. As it
stood, wholly apart and distinct from the air and the light around it,
its dimensions seemed gigantic, the summit nearly touching the ceiling.
While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. An iceberg before me
could not more have chilled me; nor could the cold of an iceberg have
been more purely physical. I feel convinced that it was not the cold
caused by fear. As I continued to gaze, I thought--but this I cannot say
with precision--that I distinguished two eyes looking down on me from
the height. One moment I seemed to distinguish them clearly, the next
they seemed gone; but still two rays of a pale-blue light frequently
shot through the darkness, as from the height on which I half-believed,
half-doubted, that I had encountered the eyes.

I strove to speak--my voice utterly failed me; I could only think to
myself, "Is this fear? it is _not_ fear!" I strove to rise--in vain; I
felt as if weighed down by an irresistible force. Indeed, my impression
was that of an immense and overwhelming Power opposed to my volition;
that sense of utter inadequacy to cope with a force beyond men's, which
one may feel _physically_ in a storm at sea, in a conflagration, or when
confronting some terrible wild beast, or rather, perhaps, the shark of
the ocean, I felt _morally_. Opposed to my will was another will, as far
superior to its strength as storm, fire, and shark are superior in
material force to the force of men.

And now, as this impression grew on me, now came, at last,
horror--horror to a degree that no words can convey. Still I retained
pride, if not courage; and in my own mind I said, "This is horror, but
it is not fear; unless I fear, I cannot be harmed; my reason rejects