her frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards the glass.
"There's nobody here!" I insisted. "It was yourself, Mrs. Linton; you knew it a while since."
"Myself," she gasped, "and the clock is striking twelve! It's true then; that's dreadful!"
Her fingers clutched the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes. I attempted to steal to the door with an intention of calling her husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing shriek. The shawl had dropped from the frame.
"Why what is the matter?" cried I. "Who is coward now? Wake up! That is the glass—the mirror, Mrs. Linton; and you see yourself in it, and there am I too by your side."
Trembling and bewildered, she held me fast, but the horror gradually passed from her countenance; its paleness gave place to a glow of shame.
