Against the snow I saw a slight black figure, a woman, moving
slowly up the glen. She stopped, and turned and looked at me.
She was dressed as a nun. Her face looked pale. I saw her hand
in the folds of her habit. Then she moved on, as it seemed, on a
slope too steep for walking. When she came under the tree she
disappeared--perhaps because there was no snow to show her
outline. Beyond the tree she reappeared for a moment, where
there was again a white background, close by the burn. Then I
saw no more. I waited, and then, still in silence, we returned
to the avenue.
I described what I had seen. The others saw nothing. (This did
not surprise me, for though both have been for many years
concerned in psychical investigation, and have had unusual
opportunities, neither has ever had any "experience," so that
one may conclude that they are not by temperament likely to
experience either subjective phenomena or even
thought-transference.) It was proposed that we should ascend the
glen in her track on the other side of the burn. It was very
difficult walking, the snow very deep, and after two or three
efforts to descend the side of the bank we gave it up, and
followed to nearly her point of disappearance, keeping above the
tree, not below as she had done. We saw no more, and returned to
the house, agreeing not to describe what had occurred, merely to
say that as the factor (who looks about eighteen stone) is said
not to like the avenue at dark, we had been setting him and
others a good example.
In a letter to Lord Bute under date February 25th, Miss Freer
describes this figure with some detail:--
"As you know, these figures do not appear before 6.30 at earliest,
therefore there is little light upon their surface. Like other
phantasms seen at dark, they show 'by their own light,' _i.e._ they
appear to be outlined by a thread of light. It is therefore only when
the face appears in profile that one can describe the features, and
this is somewhat prevented by the nun's veil. 'Ishbel' appears to me
to be slight, and of fair height. I am unable, of course, to see the
colour of her hair, but I should describe her as dark. There is an
intensity in her gaze which is rare in light-coloured eyes. The face,
as I see it, is in mental pain, so that it is perhaps hardly fair to
say that it seems lacking in that repose and gentleness that one looks
for in the religious life. Her dress presents no peculiarities. The
habit is black, with the usual white about the face, and I have
thought that when walking she showed a lighter under-dress. She speaks
upon rather a high note, with a quality of youth in her voice. Her
weeping seemed to me passionate and unrestrained."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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