“‘It is doom! It is doom!’ she answered in an awful voice, without removing her eyes from some object between the foot of the bed and the moonlit window.
“‘Compose yourself, dear wife, and tell me what has happened.’
“‘Look! Look! for yourself!’ she cried, her finger extended, and following the direction of her eyes.
“‘My sweet Alicia, there is nothing there but the tremulous shadow of the vine leaves cast by the moonlight,’ said Mr. Dubarry, persuasively, as he went and drew the curtain before the window, and then struck a match and lighted a lamp.
“But her eyes were never removed from the spot where she had gazed.
“‘It is there yet!’ she cried.
“‘What is there, good Alicia? there is nothing there, indeed!’
“‘Yes, the dead woman and dead child! Do you not see them?’
“‘See! no! you are in one of your nervous attacks; but to-morrow we will leave this place, and you will have no more of them.’
“‘Hush! No! I shall never leave this place again.’