'Milly! Milly! Milly! Milly!' I went on crying, like one struck with idiotcy, and unable to say anything else.
In a panic, Milly, who had seen nothing, and could conjecture nothing of the cause of my terror, jumped up, and clinging to one another, we huddled together into the corner of the room, I still crying wildly, 'Milly! Milly! Milly!' and nothing else.
'What is it—where is it—what do you see?' cried Milly, clinging to me as I did to her.
'It will come again; it will come; oh, heaven!'
'What—what is it, Maud?'
'The face! the face!' I cried. 'Oh, Milly! Milly! Milly!'
We heard a step softly approaching the open door, and, in a horrible sauve qui peut, we rushed and stumbled together toward the light by Uncle Silas's bed. But old Wyat's voice and figure reassured us.
'Milly,' I said, so soon as, pale and very faint, I reached my apartment, 'no power on earth shall ever tempt me to enter that room again after dark.'
'Why, Maud dear, what, in Heaven's name, did you see?' said Milly, scarcely less terrified.
'Oh, I can't; I can't; I can't, Milly. Never ask me. It is haunted. The room is haunted horribly.'