On  a  wintry  afternoon  at  twilight,  Mrs.  Flint  winch,  having  been
heavy  all  day,  dreamed  this  dream :

She  thought  she  was  in  the  kitchen  getting  the  kettle  ready  for  tea,
and  was  warming  herself  with  her  feet  upon  the  fender  and  the  skirt
of  her  gown  tucked  up,  before  the  collapsed  fire  in  the  middle  of  the
grate,  bordered  on  either  hand  by  a  deep  cold  black  ravine.  She  thought
that  as  she  sat  thus,  musing  upon  the  question,  whether  life  was  not
for  some  people  a  rather  dull  invention,  she  was  frightened  by  a  sudden
noise  behind  her.  She  thought  that  she  had  been  similarly  frightened
once  last  week,  and  that  the  noise  was  of  a  mysterious  kind — a
sound  of  rustling,  and  of  three  or  four  quick  beats  like  a  rapid  step ;
while  a  shock  or  tremble  was  communicated  to  her  heart,  as  if  the  step
had  shaken  the  floor,  or  even  as  if  she  had  been  touched  by  some  awful
hand.  She  thought  that  this  revived  within  her,  certain  old  fears  of
hers  that  the  house  was  haunted ;  and  that  she  flew  up  the  kitchen
stairs,  without  knowing  how  she  got  up,  to  be  nearer  company.
