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AfewIspokealoud,buttheechoeswerenotpleasant. ForthesamereasonIalsoabandoned,afteratime,aconversationwithmyselfupontheimpossibilityofghostsandhaunting. Mymindrevertedtothethreeoldanddistortedpeopledownstairs,andItriedtokeepituponthattopic.
Thesombreredsandgraysoftheroomtroubledme;evenwithitssevencandlestheplacewasmerelydim. Thelightinthealcoveflaringinadraft,andthefireflickering,kepttheshadowsandpenumbraperpetuallyshiftingandstirringinanoiselessflightydance. Castingaboutforaremedy,IrecalledthewaxcandlesIhadseeninthecorridor,and,withaslighteffort,carryingacandleandleavingthedooropen,Iwalkedoutintothemoonlight,andpresentlyreturnedwithasmanyasten. TheseIputinthevariousknick-knacksofchinawithwhichtheroomwassparselyadorned,andlitandplacedthemwheretheshadowshadlaindeepest,someonthefloor,someinthewindowrecesses,arrangingandrearrangingthemuntilatlastmyseventeencandlesweresoplacedthatnotaninchoftheroombuthadthedirectlightofatleastoneofthem. ItoccurredtomethatwhentheghostcameIcouldwarnhimnottotripoverthem. Theroomwasnowquitebrightlyilluminated. Therewassomethingverycheeringandreassuringintheselittlesilentstreamingflames,andtonoticetheirsteadydiminutionoflengthofferedmeanoccupationandgavemeareassuringsenseofthepassageoftime.
Evenwiththat,however,thebroodingexpectationofthevigilweighedheavilyenoughuponme.
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