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The Poor Clare by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
page 39 of 73 (53%)
either in its dreadful reality, whatever that might be, or in the
scarcely less terrible reflection in the mirror; but what came of it
at that moment I cannot say, for I suddenly swooned away; and when I
came to myself I was lying in my bed, and my faithful Clarke sitting
by me. I was in my bed for days; and even while I lay there my
double was seen by all, flitting about the house and gardens, always
about some mischievous or detestable work. What wonder that every
one shrank from me in dread--that my father drove me forth at length,
when the disgrace of which I was the cause was past his patience to
bear. Mistress Clarke came with me; and here we try to live such a
life of piety and prayer as may in time set me free from the curse."

All the time she had been speaking, I had been weighing her story in
my mind. I had hitherto put cases of witchcraft on one side, as mere
superstitions; and my uncle and I had had many an argument, he
supporting himself by the opinion of his good friend Sir Matthew
Hale. Yet this sounded like the tale of one bewitched; or was it
merely the effect of a life of extreme seclusion telling on the
nerves of a sensitive girl? My scepticism inclined me to the latter
belief, and when she paused I said:

"I fancy that some physician could have disabused your father of his
belief in visions--"

Just at that instant, standing as I was opposite to her in the full
and perfect morning light, I saw behind her another figure--a ghastly
resemblance, complete in likeness, so far as form and feature and
minutest touch of dress could go, but with a loathsome demon soul
looking out of the gray eyes, that were in turns mocking and
voluptuous. My heart stood still within me; every hair rose up
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