Miss Halcome still lay on the couch, apparently sleeping, but with her face turned from us. A soft light was falling upon her from above; as we watched, the light appeared to take, as it were, form, till we recognized that a woman clothed in white stood leaning over the girl. Then the woman, taking one of the girl's white hands, raised her up and led her into the centre of the inner room.
Miss Halcome moved at first as though walking in her sleep, with eyes open, yet apparently unseeing. When they thus reached the centre, the figure of the woman again began to fade till the girl stood alone before us, still with that strange light falling upon her. She made a beautiful picture, being one of those who possess a physical and purely sensuous loveliness, which appeals especially to men of lower type. Her hair and eyes were brown; her complexion clear, though rather dark; her lips were full, prettily shaped, and of deep colour; as a rule her cheeks carried, for my liking, too deep a rose tint, but they were now more pale than usual.
As she stood there she lifted her arms towards us, and began to sing. Her voice I had always considered to be her chief attraction, for not only was it rich and tuneful, but unusually well trained. I had not heard either song or tune before.
"Come to me, dearest, with a love
Eternal, strong as death;
Love that but lasts a transient life,
And fades with fading breath,
Can bring to this sad heart no joy,
No ecstasy divine;
Eternity is far too brief
To fill this heart of mine.
Though I should change, as all must change.
My soul shall ever be,
In youth or age, the soul you love
Through all eternity.
The beauty now that charms your eye,
This youthful form so fair,
Shall alter with each passing year.
Is it for these you care?
Go! face the truth! If all the grace
That earth alone can give,
Were turned from one you think you love,
What of that love would live?
A little space--say fifty years,
Or only five, may be,
And all that now you prize so much
Shall change to what you see.'"
The last few lines of the song almost died away, for at the commencement of the last stanza a most extraordinary change began to take place in the singer. The only way in which I can describe it is to compare her to a waxen image that was being melted rapidly by the strong light falling from above. Everything seemed to slip away downward and disappear, except the skeleton, which stood with hollow eye-sockets and moving jaw chattering out the last few words. There was a frightful shriek, and at the same moment the curtains fell together.
We were all, Sydney excepted, far too horrified to move. He, however, got up immediately and drew back the curtains. The room was just as we had left it; Miss Halcome still lay on the sofa in exactly the attitude he had placed her. Lady Todman was the first to speak.
"Just as I said, tempting the devil! And a nice fright he has given us all. Not that I was frightened. I just shut my eyes and said my prayers."
The poor old woman was simply shivering as she spoke, and we must therefore excuse her, for it is possible she did not know what she was saying.
"If any one wishes to talk about what we have seen," remarked Sydney, "he should do so at once, before we bring Miss Halcome out of her trance, as I am sure every one will agree with me that nothing of what has occurred should be mentioned in her presence."
"Oh! for goodness' sake!" cried Lady Todman, whose chattering teeth reminded me of the skeleton, "let's wake her up at once, or we shall be having I don't know what next! It is quite sinful, it really is!"