The sound was unmistakable.

I started from my seat, looked round, amazed to discover no one,--no living thing! The windows were closed, the night was still.

That sigh was not the wail of the wind.

But there, in the darker angle of the room, what was that?
A silvery whiteness, vaguely shaped as a human form, receding, fading, gone! Why, I know not--for no face was visible, no form, if form it were, more distinct than the colourless outline,--why, I know not, but I cried aloud, "Lilian! Lilian!" My voice came strangely back to my own ear; I paused, then smiled and blushed at my folly.

"So I, too, have learned what is superstition," I muttered to myself.