Then suddenly
I found myself in an oddly-shaped room with a lofty ceiling, and a
window situated at so great a distance from the black oaken floor as
to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of
phosphorescent light made their way through the narrow panes, and
served to render distinct the more prominent objects around; but my
eyes struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the wall, one of
which inspired me with terror such as I had never felt before. The
walls were covered with heavy draperies that were sufficient in
themselves to preclude the possibility of any save the loudest of
sounds penetrating without.
The furniture, if such one could call it, puzzled me. It seemed more
fitted for the cell of a prison or lunatic asylum, or even for a
kennel, than for an ordinary dwelling-room. I could see no chair, only
a coarse deal table, a straw mattress, and a kind of trough. An air of
irredeemable gloom and horror hung over and pervaded everything. As I
stood there, I felt I was waiting for something--something that was
concealed in the corner of the room I dreaded. I tried to reason with
myself, to assure myself that there was nothing there that could hurt
me, nothing that could even terrify me, but my efforts were in
vain--my fears grew. Had I had some definite knowledge as to the cause
of my alarm I should not have suffered so much, but it was my
ignorance of what was there, of what I feared, that made my terror so
poignant.
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