The voices of his wife and Mrs. Lattinger were heard from the parlor, and had almost lulled him again to slumber when he was conscious of a presence in the room. Without stirring, he opened his eyes, and passing him almost within touch was an apparently old lady, a stranger to him.
She was short in stature and slender, her pale face shaded by gray curls, and upon her bowed head was a lace cap with long tabs of the same costly material. Her dress was of soft black silken goods, and a white kerchief, overlaid by one of black, was crossed upon her breast.
Mr. Farnsworth’s first thought was that a caller had come to the library for a book, but seeing him sleeping was returning quietly without it. He was therefore more than surprised to see her, after gliding through the door, ascend swiftly the steps leading to the attic.
He arose and followed, keeping her in view until she reached a distant corner of the unfurnished back room at the end of the dwelling, when, like a shadow-picture, she disappeared.
Feeling bewildered, Mr. Farnsworth descended to his bed-room adjoining the library, bathed face and hands in cold water, arranged his attire, and then sat down to reflect.
He was not superstitious, but he feared that his conscience-stricken feelings had influenced his brain and he had imagined what was not there to see. Believing this, he joined the ladies in the parlor.
“You are not well, Reginald,” said his wife anxiously, “you are looking very pale; I am afraid the sun was too hot for you.”
“My husband has had several cases of prostration from heat in the last few days,” remarked Mrs. Lattinger, “and one of the men came near losing his life from exposure to the sun.”
“How was he affected?” asked Mr. Farnsworth.
“He was at first unconscious, then delirious, imagining he saw weird, spectral objects, causing him fright and anxiety.”