And while I sat there in the twilight-gloom,
Looking at life with my wide-open eyes,
A ghost slipp'd suddenly into the room,
And that ghost was the ghost of Jack Devize!
A shiver ran o'er me from head to foot—
The crisis had come, and fate wrought her worst—
I tried to speak, but my tongue was quite mute,
And I knew that a ghost could not speak first.
O ought I to wake my Harry, or no?
To question the Thing, and let it depart?