*       *       *       *       *

Madge read her attractive book for some minutes, but failing to get
absorbed in it, put it down and limped across to the window. Though it
was still but little after two, it was but a dim and uncertain light
that entered, for the crystalline brightness of the morning had given
place to a veiled obscurity produced by flocks of thick clouds which
were coming sluggishly up from the north-east. Already the whole sky was
overcast with them, and occasionally a few snowflakes fluttered
waveringly down past the long windows. From the darkness and bitter cold
of the afternoon, it seemed to her that there was like to be a heavy
snowfall before long, and these outward signs were echoed inwardly in
her by that muffled drowsiness of the brain, which to those who are
sensitive to the pressures and lightnesses of weather portends storm. Madge was peculiarly the prey of such external influences: to her a
brisk morning gave an ineffable brightness and briskness of spirit, and
correspondingly the approach of heavy weather produced a somnolence in
sensation that both drowsed and depressed her. It was in such mood as this that she limped back again to the sofa
beside the log-fire. The whole house was comfortably heated by
water-pipes, and though the fire of logs and peat, an adorable mixture,
had been allowed to burn low, the room was very warm. Idly she watched
the dwindling flames, not opening her book again, but lying on the sofa
with face towards the fireplace, intending drowsily and not immediately
to go to her own room and spend the hours, until the return of the
skaters made gaiety in the house again, in writing one or two neglected
letters. Still drowsily she began thinking over what she had to
communicate: one letter several days overdue should go to her mother,
who was immensely interested in the psychical affairs of the family. She
would tell her how Master Anthony had been prodigiously active on the
staircase a night or two ago, and how the Blue Lady, regardless of the
severity of the weather, had been seen by Mrs Peveril that morning,
strolling about. It was rather interesting: the Blue Lady had gone down
the laurel walk and had been seen by her to enter the stables, where, at
the moment, Freddy Peveril was inspecting the frost-bound hunters. Identically then, a sudden panic had spread through the stables, and the
horses had whinnied and kicked, and shied, and sweated. Of the fatal
twins nothing had been seen for many years past, but, as her mother
knew, the Peverils never used the long gallery after dark. Then for a moment she sat up, remembering that she was in the long
gallery now. But it was still but a little after half-past two, and if
she went to her room in half an hour, she would have ample time to
write this and another letter before tea. Till then she would read her
book. But she found she had left it on the window-sill, and it seemed
scarcely worth while to get it. She felt exceedingly drowsy. The sofa where she lay had been lately re-covered, in a greyish green
shade of velvet, somewhat the colour of lichen. It was of very thick
soft texture, and she luxuriously stretched her arms out, one on each
side of her body, and pressed her fingers into the nap. How horrible
that story of Mrs Canning was: the growth on her face was of the colour
of lichen. And then without further transition or blurring of thought
Madge fell asleep. She dreamed. She dreamed that she awoke and found herself exactly where
she had gone to sleep, and in exactly the same attitude. The flames from
the logs had burned up again, and leaped on the walls, fitfully
illuminating the picture of handsome Dick above the fire-place. In her
dream she knew exactly what she had done to-day, and for what reason she
was lying here now instead of being out with the rest of the skaters. She remembered also (still dreaming), that she was going to write a
letter or two before tea, and prepared to get up in order to go to her
room. As she half-rose she caught sight of her own arms lying out on
each side of her on the grey velvet sofa. But she could not see where
her hands ended, and where the grey velvet began: her fingers seemed to
have melted into the stuff. She could see her wrists quite clearly, and
a blue vein on the backs of her hands, and here and there a knuckle. Then, in her dream she remembered, the last thought which had been in
her mind before she fell asleep, namely the growth of the
lichen-coloured vegetation on the face and the eyes and the throat of
Mrs Canning. At that thought the strangling terror of real nightmare
began: she knew that she was being transformed into this grey stuff, and
she was absolutely unable to move. Soon the grey would spread up her
arms, and over her feet; when they came in from skating they would find
here nothing but a huge misshapen cushion of lichen-coloured velvet, and
that would be she. The horror grew more acute, and then by a violent
effort she shook herself free of the clutches of this very evil dream,
and she awoke. For a minute or two she lay there, conscious only of the tremendous
relief at finding herself awake. She felt again with her fingers the
pleasant touch of the velvet, and drew them backwards and forwards,
assuring herself that she was not, as her dream had suggested, melting
into greyness and softness. But she was still, in spite of the violence
of her awakening, very sleepy, and lay there till, looking down, she was
aware that she could not see her hands at all. It was very nearly dark. At that moment a sudden flicker of flame came from the dying fire, and a
flare of burning gas from the peat flooded the room. The portrait of
handsome Dick looked evilly down on her, and her hands were visible
again. And then a panic worse than the panic of her dreams seized her. Daylight had altogether faded, and she knew that she was alone in the
dark in the terrible gallery. This panic was of the nature of nightmare,
for she felt unable to move for terror. But it was worse than nightmare
because she knew she was awake. And then the full cause of this frozen
fear dawned on her; she knew with the certainty of absolute conviction
that she was about to see the twin-babies. She felt a sudden moisture break out on her face, and within her mouth
her tongue and throat went suddenly dry, and she felt her tongue grate
along the inner surface of her teeth. All power of movement had slipped
from her limbs, leaving them dead and inert, and she stared with wide
eyes into the blackness. The spurt of flame from the peat had burned
itself out again, and darkness encompassed her. Then on the wall opposite her, facing the windows, there grew a faint
light of dusky crimson. For a moment she thought it but heralded the
approach of the awful vision, then hope revived in her heart, and she
remembered that thick clouds had overcast the sky before she went to
sleep, and guessed that this light came from the sun not yet quite sunk
and set.