“What have you put that lamp over there for?” asked Mrs. Brigham, with more of impatience than her voice usually revealed.  “Why didn’t you set it in the hall, and have done with it?  Neither Caroline nor I can see if it is on that table.”

“I thought perhaps you would move,” replied Rebecca hoarsely.

“If I do move, we can’t both sit at that table.  Caroline has her paper all spread around.  Why don’t you set the lamp on the study table in the middle of the room, then we can both see?”

Rebecca hesitated.  Her face was very pale.  She looked with an appeal that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline.

“Why don’t you put the lamp on this table, as she says?” asked Caroline, almost fiercely.  “Why do you act so, Rebecca?”

Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the room without another word.  Then she seated herself on the sofa and placed a hand over her eyes as if to shade them, and remained so.

“Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you didn’t want the lamp?” asked Mrs. Brigham kindly.

“I always like to sit in the dark,” replied Rebecca chokingly.  Then she snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and began to weep.  Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew.

Suddenly Mrs. Brigham as she sewed glanced at the opposite wall.  The glance became a steady stare.  She looked intently, her work suspended in her hands.  Then she looked away again and took a few more stitches, then she looked again, and again turned to her task.  At last she laid her work in her lap and stared concentratedly.  She looked from the wall round the room, taking note of the various objects.  Then she turned to her sisters.

“What is that?” said she.

“What?” asked Caroline harshly.

“That strange shadow on the wall,” replied Mrs. Brigham.

Rebecca sat with her face hidden; Caroline dipped her pen in the inkstand.

“Why don’t you turn around and look?” asked Mrs. Brigham in a wondering and somewhat aggrieved way.

“I am in a hurry to finish this letter,” replied Caroline shortly.

Mrs. Brigham rose, her work slipping to the floor, and began walking round the room, moving various articles of furniture, with her eyes on the shadow.

Then suddenly she shrieked out: 

“Look at this awful shadow!  What is it?  Caroline, look, look!  Rebecca, look!  What is it?”

All Mrs. Brigham’s triumphant placidity was gone.  Her handsome face was livid with horror.  She stood stiffly pointing at the shadow.

Then after a shuddering glance at the wall Rebecca burst out in a wild wail.

“Oh, Caroline, there it is again, there it is again!”

“Caroline Glynn, you look!” said Mrs. Brigham.  “Look!  What is that dreadful shadow?”

Caroline rose, turned, and stood confronting the wall.