The fire was thoroughly out
and black, there was no ray of light from the roof, and the
window-curtains being closely drawn, if there was any light outside it
was effectually shut out: the room was as dark as midnight.
He rose, and finding his way to the table groped for a box of matches
that he had noticed lying there, and lighted his lamp, when, looking
at his watch, he found the hour to be half-past three. Before going to
bed again he thought he would see what night it was. Accordingly,
he opened the curtains and shutters and gazed forth. The moon had
disappeared--which was not remarkable, as it was past her hour for
retiring--and the night was very dark and hazy. But a remarkable
object met his eye. But from an angle of the house, and toward the
corner of the field which had been the site of the ancient monastery,
there stood a column five or six feet in height of what through
the haze appeared luminous vapor. It seemed such an altogether
unaccountable thing, standing there, that Edwin pushed the window open
and rubbed his eyes to get a better sight of it. He expected it would
disappear in some way almost immediately, but it did not: there it
stood, perfectly still and perfectly distinct, at the corner of the
field, where there was absolutely nothing to cause it. He watched it
for a considerable time, and as his eye got accustomed to peering into
the darkness, he could see there was nothing near it, and not a sound
disturbed the stillness of the night.
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