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           Andlookingroundthathugeshadowyroomwithitsblackwindowbays,itsrecessesandalcoves,itsdustybrown-redhangingsanddarkgiganticfurniture,onecouldwellunderstandthelegendsthathadsproutedinitsblackcorners,itsgerminatingdarknesses. Mycandlewasalittletongueoflightinthevastnessofthechamber;itsraysfailedtopiercetotheoppositeendoftheroom,andleftanoceanofdullredmysteryandsuggestion,sentinelshadowsandwatchingdarknessesbeyonditsislandoflight. Andthestillnessofdesolationbroodedoveritall. 

           Imustconfesssomeimpalpablequalityofthatancientroomdisturbedme. Itriedtofightthefeelingdown. Iresolvedtomakeasystematicexaminationoftheplace,andso,byleavingnothingtotheimagination,dispelthefancifulsuggestionsoftheobscuritybeforetheyobtainedaholduponme. Aftersatisfyingmyselfofthefasteningofthedoor,Ibegantowalkroundtheroom,peeringroundeacharticleoffurniture,tuckingupthevalancesofthebedandopeningitscurtainswide. Inoneplacetherewasadistinctechotomyfootsteps,thenoisesImadeseemedsolittlethattheyenhancedratherthanbrokethesilenceoftheplace. Ipulleduptheblindsandexaminedthefasteningsoftheseveralwindows. Attractedbythefallofaparticleofdust,Ileanedforwardandlookeduptheblacknessofthewidechimney.Then,tryingtopreservemyscientificattitudeofmind,Iwalkedroundandbegantappingtheoakpanelingforanysecretopening,butIdesistedbeforereachingthealcove. Isawmyfaceinamirror—white.