I
rubbed my eyes to be sure I was awake, and looked with all my might.
There it was, a long black coffin, and I saw the white plate in the
dusk, for the moon was setting and my curtain was not drawn. 'It's some
trick of the fellows,' I thought; 'I'll not betray myself, but keep
cool.' Easy to say but hard to do, for it suddenly flashed into my mind
that I might be in the wrong room. I glanced about, but there were the
familiar objects as usual, as far as the indistinct light allowed me to
see, and I made sure by feeling on the wall at the bed's head for my
watchcase. It was there, and mine beyond a doubt, being peculiar in
shape and fabric. Had I been to a college wine party I could have
accounted for the vision, but a quiet evening in a grave professor's
well-conducted family could produce no ill effects. 'It's an optical
illusion, or a prank of my mates; I'll sleep and forget it,' I said, and
for a time endeavored to do so, but curiosity overcame my resolve, and
soon I peeped again. Judge of my horror when I saw the sharp white
outline of a dead face, which seemed to be peeping up from the coffin.
It gave me a terrible shock for I was but a lad and had been ill. I hid
my face and quaked like a nervous girl, still thinking it some joke and
too proud to betray fear lest I should be laughed at.
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