Then they
gently parted--she saw the long fingers that laid hold of them--and
the form of a person came out, descended the single step, and stood on
the floor before her eyes, in the plain candlelight, not four steps
away.
It was the figure of a young girl, perfectly formed in all its parts,
swathed in some light stuff resembling muslin that fell almost to the
feet and shrouded the upper part of the head. Her hands were clasped
across her breast, her bare feet were visible against the dark floor,
and her features were unmistakably clear. There was a certain beauty
in the face--in the young lips, the open eyes, and the dark lines of
the brows over them; and the complexion was waxen, clear as of a
blonde. But, as the observer had noticed before on the three or four
occasions on which she had seen these phenomena, there was a strange
mask-like set of the features, as if the life that lay behind them had
not perfectly saturated that which expressed it. It was something
utterly different from the face of a dead person, yet also not
completely alive, though the eyes turned a little in their sockets,
and the young down-curved lips smiled. Behind her, plain between the
tossed-back curtains, was the figure of the medium sunk in sleep.
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