But I was to have a further taste of the unusual that night and to
experience another thrill before I slept. My room was dark when I
entered it, and, recognizing a condition favorable to the gratification
of my growing curiosity in regard to the neighboring house, I approached
the window and stole a quick look at the gable-end where, earlier in the
evening I had seen peering out at me an old woman’s face. Conceive my
astonishment at finding the spot still lighted and a face looking out,
but not the same face, a countenance as old, one as intent, but
of different conformation and of a much more intellectual type. I
considered myself the victim of an illusion; I tried to persuade myself
that it was the same woman, only in another garb and under a different
state of feeling; but the features were much too dissimilar for such
an hypothesis to hold. The eagerness, the unswerving attitude were
the same, but the first woman had had a weak round face with pinched
features, while this one showed a virile head and long heavy cheeks
and chin, which once must have been full of character, though they now
showed only heaviness of heart and the dull apathy of a fixed idea.
Two women, total strangers to me, united in an unceasing watch upon me
in my room! I own that the sense of mystery which this discovery brought
struck me at the moment as being fully as uncanny and as unsettling
to contemplate as the idea of a spirit haunting walls in which I was
destined for a while to live, breathe and sleep. However, as soon as I
had drawn the shade and lighted the gas, I forgot the whole thing, and
not till I was quite ready for bed, and my light again turned low, did
I feel the least desire to take another peep at that mysterious window.
The face was still there, peering at me through a flood of moonlight.
The effect was ghastly, and for hours I could not sleep, imagining that
face still staring down upon me, illuminated with the unnatural light
and worn with a profitless and unmeaning vigil.
That there was something to fear in this house was evident from the
halting step with which the servants, one and all, passed my door on
their way up to their own beds. I now knew, or thought I knew, what
was in their minds; but the comfort brought by this understanding was
scarcely sufficient to act as antidote to the keen strain to which
my faculties had been brought. Yet nothing happened, and when a clock
somewhere in the house had assured me by its own clear stroke that the
dreaded midnight hour had passed I rose and stole again to the window.
This time both moonlight and face were gone. Contentment came with the
discovery. I crept back to bed with lightened heart and soon was asleep.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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