Beneath this picture were written the words—‘Eustasia Mapleleafe.’
The clergyman looked at this picture again and again, with a curious fascination. As he did so, holding it close to the lamplight, a peculiar thrill ran through his frame, and his hand tingled as if it touched the warm hand of some living being. At last, with an effort, he returned it also to the envelope, which he threw carelessly upon his desk.
It was quite clear that the Professor had dropt the pictures, and Bradley determined to send them by that night’s post. So he sat down, and addressed the envelope according to the address on the card; but before sealing it up, he took out the photographs and inspected them again.
A new surprise awaited him.
The photograph of the Professor and his ghostly familiar remained as it had been; but the photograph of the woman, or girl, was mysteriously changed—that is to say, it had become so faint and vague as to be almost unrecognisable. The dress and figure were dim as a wreath of vapour, the face was blank and featureless, the eyes were faded and indistinct.
The entire effect was that of some ghostly presence, fading slowly away before the vision.
Bradley was amazed, in spite of himself, and his whole frame shook with agitation.
He held the sun-picture again to the lamplight, inspecting it closely, and every instant it seemed to grow fainter and fainter, till nothing remained on the paper but a formless outline, like the spirit-presence permanent on the other photograph.
By instinct a superstitious or rather a nervous man, Bradley now felt as if he were under the influence of some extraordinary spell. Already unstrung by the events of the day, he trembled from head to foot. At last, with an effort, he conquered his agitation, sealed up the photographs, and rang for the servant to put the letter in the post.
Although he suspected some trick, he was greatly troubled and perplexed; nor would his trouble and perplexity have been much lessened, if at all, had he been acquainted with the truth—that the little Professor had left the photographs in the room not by accident, but intentionally, and for a purpose which will be better understood at a later period of the present story.