"Ian Maclean, what is it?"
"Mary, my kinswoman, he is not alone."
"Not alone?"
"I have seen the other"
She knew now what he meant. He had seen the shadow-self, the phantasm of the living that, ere death, is often seen alongside the one who shall soon die. Mrs. Maclean knew well that this shadowy second-self simulated the real self, and that even all the actions of the body were reproduced with a grotesque verisimilitude. But she was also aware how, sometimes, one may learn from the mien of the phantasm what is hidden in the aspect of the doomed.
"Last night," Ian went on in a dull voice, "I had the sight again. I saw the mist of death as high about him as when a man is sunken in a peat-bog up to the eyes."
"Well? I know you have more to say."
"Ay."
"Speak, Ian!"
With a long, indrawn breath, the old man resumed in a slow, reluctant voice.