I rang the
bell, and, attended by old Martha, I retired to settle for the night.
While the servant was, as was her custom, arranging the lamp which I
have already stated always burned during the night in my chamber,
I was employed in undressing, and, in doing so, I had recourse to a
large looking-glass which occupied a considerable portion of the wall
in which it was fixed, rising from the ground to a height of about
six feet; this mirror filled the space of a large pannel in the
wainscoting opposite the foot of the bed. I had hardly been before it
for the lapse of a minute, when something like a black pall was slowly
waved between me and it.
"Oh, God! there it is," I exclaimed wildly. "I have seen it again,
Martha--the black cloth."
"God be merciful to us, then!" answered she, tremulously crossing
herself. "Some misfortune is over us."
"No, no, Martha," said I, almost instantly recovering my
collectedness; for, although of a nervous temperament, I had never
been superstitious. "I do not believe in omens. You know, I saw, or
fancied I saw, this thing before, and nothing followed."
"The Dutch lady came the next morning," replied she.
"Methinks, such an occurrence scarcely deserved a supernatural
announcement," I replied.
"She is a strange woman, my lady," said Martha, "and she is not _gone_
yet--mark my words.
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