The Brightener

								

like a column of fire through the front rooms of the second floor in the
west wing; but the old pet hoped I wouldn't let this idea of hers keep
me awake. The ghost of a nice English young lady was preferable in her
opinion to a German spy in the flesh! I agreed, but I was not keen on
seeing either. My nerves had been jumpy since the last air-raid over
London, consequently I lay awake hour after hour, though Shelagh was in
Grandmother's room adjoining mine, with the door ajar between.
When I did sleep, I must have slept heavily. I dreamed that I was a
prisoner on a German submarine, and that signals from Courtenaye Abbey
flashed straight into my face. They flashed so brightly that they set me
on fire; and with the knowledge that, if I couldn't escape at once, I
should become a Family Ghost, I wrenched myself awake with a start.
Yes, I was awake; though what I saw was so astonishing that I thought
it must be another nightmare. There really was a strong light pouring
into my eyes. What it came from I don't know to this day, but probably
an electric torch. Anyhow, the ray was so powerful that, though directed
upon my face, it faintly lit another face close to mine, as I suddenly
sat up in bed.
Instantly that face drew back, and then--as if on a second thought,
after a surprise--out went the light. By contrast, the darkness was
black as a bath of ink, though I'd pulled back the curtains before going
to bed, and the sky was sequined with stars. But on my retina was
photographed a pale, illumined circle with a face looking out of
it--looking straight at me. You know how quickly these light-pictures
begin to fade, but, before this dimmed I had time to verify my first
waking impression.
The face was a woman's face--beautiful and hideous at the same time,
like Medusa. It was young, yet old. It had deep-set, long eyes that
slanted slightly up to the corners. It was thin and hollow-cheeked, with
a pointed chin cleft in the middle; and was framed with bright auburn
hair of a curiously unreal colour.
When the blackness closed in, and I heard in the dark scrambling sounds
like a rat running amok in the wainscot, I gave a cry. In my horror and
bewilderment I wasn't sure yet whether I were awake or asleep; but
someone answered. Dazed as I was, I recognized Shelagh's sweet young
voice, and at the same instant her electric bed-lamp was switched on in
the next room. "Coming!--coming!" she cried, and appeared in the
doorway, her hair gold against the light.
By this time I had the sense to switch on my own lamp, and, comforted by
it and my pal's presence, I told Shelagh in a few words what had
happened. "Why, how weird! I dreamed the same dream!" she broke in. "At
least, I dreamed about a light, and a face."
Hastily we compared notes, and realized that Shelagh had not dreamed:
that the woman of mystery had visited us both; only, she had gone to
Shelagh first, and had not been scared away as by me, because Shelagh