“Walking along the passage, I was approaching my door when I distinctly heard the rustle of a silk skirt walking down the passage ahead of me. As the hallway was dark, I could not see whether or not the girl was just in front of me, or some distance away. It never for a moment struck me that it was not a flesh-and-blood visitant. My only thought was: One of the boys has been having a little supper, and this must be one of his visitors going home. I called aloud: ‘Mayn’t I strike a light and show you the way along this dark hall?’ And, suiting the action to the word, I struck a match, and held it up over my head. Nothing was visible! I peered into vacancy; no female figure could I see. I listened for the sound of steps, or the swish of a silken petticoat; but not a sound could I hear. I walked along the passage; not a sign of life was anywhere manifest. Everything was dark, lonely and deserted.
“I came to the conclusion that I must have been deceived; and thought no more about it. I went to bed and to sleep.
“It was, perhaps, two nights later when the same thing occurred. Coming home, about 10 o’clock at night, I heard the same swish of the skirt; the same soft, feminine footsteps. This time the hall was light, and I could see that no one was there. I recalled the incident of the other evening, and a cold chill began to creep up my backbone. I entered my room, however, lit the lamp, leaving my door open. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘if anyone passes that door again, I shall surely see them.’ I put on a dressing gown and a pair of slippers, and sat down to read—facing the door.
“Perhaps five minutes had elapsed when I saw the door very slowly open still further on its hinges. A moment later I felt in the room a ‘Presence,’ which I distinctly felt to be that of a young woman, about twenty years of age. So vivid was the mental picture I formed of this person that her very features and coloring were sensed by me—though, of course, I had no means of knowing whether or not I was right.
“The Presence glided across the room, and sat itself upon the edge of my sofa, about three feet distant from where I sat. I looked at the spot intently, and felt that the eyes of my invisible visitor were upon me, regarding me intently, as though studying my character to the best of her ability. She had a comfortable sort of feeling about her, which made me seem at once at home with her; so that, without further ceremony, I said to the Presence: ‘Pray make yourself at home. If I can do anything for you, let me know.’
“I waited, but of course there was no response. Only I thought I caught again the faintest rustle of silk, as the figure seated itself in a more comfortable position. I put down my book, and began to paint. The feeling of loneliness, which I had experienced ever since my removal into the new studio, vanished immediately. I felt that a living, human—if invisible—being was with me, watching my work and keeping me company during the long hours of discouragement and unproductive effort.
“Several times, during the course of the evening, I spoke to the Presence; but received no reply. Only I felt its proximity, and knew when the figure changed its position, as it did once or twice. Once it came over and stood by my side, as though looking at the canvas, and criticising it with me. Then it went back to its seat at the end of the sofa.
“Bed time came. I felt almost abashed to go to bed with this feminine presence in the room! However, as there was nothing left for me to do, I undressed, got into bed, and blew out the light. The Presence came over and sat on the side of my bed. When I went to sleep, it was still sitting there.
“The next morning it had gone. I felt inexpressibly lonely. I missed the Presence, whom I now began to call ‘Her’ instead of ‘It,’ and wished she would return and keep me company! It did not do so, however, until the following evening, when, about nine o’clock, I again felt her approach, felt her entrance through my studio door, and felt her seat herself in my easy chair, and turn her eyes upon me. I knew that she was regarding me intently—perhaps critically—and I felt almost angry that I, in turn, could not see her. I gazed at the chair determined to see her; but nothing save empty space met my gaze! With a gesture of impatience and irritation, I turned away, and went on with my painting.
“Presently, I was aware that She was standing beside me, examining the painting upon the easel. ‘Well, do you like it?’ I said almost caustically. The Presence immediately returned and sat in the chair, and I knew that I had offended Her. I threw my brush and pallet aside and apologized. So she came and stood by me again; and again she remained with me until I closed my eyes in sleep.