“It was a terrible reality.”
“You were asleep, my friend.”
“I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?”
I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart I did believe in the possibility.
“What passed between you?” I asked.
“It is a very simple and very natural story. I was reading, expecting my father—for I knew if any danger threatened that he would appear to me—and at midnight the lamp burnt low, the door opened slowly, and my father appeared.”
“In what form?” I asked.
“Just as if he were alive—dressed in his usual manner—only he was very pale, and his eyes were without expression.”
“Good heavens!” I ejaculated.
“He slowly approached my bed. I raised myself with my elbow, and said, ‘You are welcome, father.’