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Rh I did see the light of which you speak, might not this too be the delusion of our own disordered senses? We have both suffered deeply in the loss of that beloved and gentle being,—nor can it be wondered at, if our imaginations were even in the same state of excitement with her own. Besides, that a door should open, though no one enters, can be explained very naturally, and has happened a thousand times ere now.’ ‘On such occasions, one generally closes it again,’ said I, without, however, feeling courage to carry my suggestion into effect. ‘That is very easily done,’ said my father,—he rose and walked a few paces—trembled visibly, and turned back. ‘After all, we had best leave it open,’ added he, ‘for the room has for some time been much too warm.’ Of the light, as I have said, I can give no exact description, nor can compare it with aught that I have seen before, nor since—but had my sister’s ghost entered, I should have flown with open arms to meet her. It was the mysterious and awful uncertainty of that effulgence, that made me look on it with horror. Soon afterwards, several of our servants came with candles to arrange the