But here he was prepared for me. It seemed that, on seeing the
two figures, Severance had at once left the piazza, and, with an
instinct of common-sense that was surprising, had crossed the
garden, scaled the wall, and looked in at the window of Paul's
little cottage, where the man and his wife were quietly seated at
supper, probably after a late fishing-trip. "There was another
reason," he said; but here he stopped, and would give no
description of the second figure, which he had, however, seen
twice again, always by moon-light. He consented to let me
accompany him the following night.

We accordingly went. It was a calm, clear night, and the moon lay
brightly on the bay. The distant shores looked low and filmy; a
naval vessel was in the harbor, and there was a ball on board,
with music and fire-works; some fishermen were singing in their
boats, late as was the hour. Severance was absorbed in his own
gloomy reveries; and when we had crossed the wall, the world
seemed left outside, and the glamour of the place began to creep
over me also. I seemed to see my companion relapsing into some
phantom realm, beyond power of withdrawal. I talked, sang,
whistled; but it was all a rather hollow effort, and soon ceased.
The great house looked gloomy and impenetrable, the moonlight
appeared sick and sad, the birch-boughs rustled in a dreary way.
We went up the steps in no jubilant mood.

I crossed the piazza at once, looked in at the farthest window,
and saw there my own image, though far more faintly than in the
sunlight. Severance then joined me, and his reflected shape stood
by mine. Something of the first ghostly impression was renewed, I
must confess, by this meeting of the two shadows; there was