A minute sometimes appears a long while; and though I sprang to
him instantly, yet I remember that it seemed as if, during that
instant, the whole face of things had changed. The breeze had
come, the bay was rippled, the sail-boats careened to the wind,
fishes and birds were gone, and a dark gray cloud had come
between us and the sun. Such sudden changes are not, however,
uncommon after an interval of calm; and my only conscious thought
at the time was of wonder at the strange aspect of my companion.

"What was that?" asked Severance in a bewildered tone. I looked
about me, equally puzzled. "Not there," he said. "In the window."

I looked in at the window, saw nothing, and said so. There was
the great empty drawing-room, across which one could see the
opposite window, and through this the eastern piazza and the
garden beyond. Nothing more was there. With some persuasion,
Severance was induced to look in. He admitted that he saw nothing
peculiar; but he refused all explanation, and we went home.

"Never let me go to that house again," he said abruptly, as we
entered our own door.

I pointed out to him the absurdity of thus yielding to a nervous
delusion, which was already in part conquered, and he finally
promised to revisit the scene with me the next day. To clear all
possible misgivings from my own mind, I got the key of the house
from Paul, explored it thoroughly, and was satisfied that no
improper visitor had recently entered the drawing-room at least,
as the windows were strongly bolted on the inside, and a large