A haunted House by woolf

A Haunted House by Virginia Woolf www.world-english.org

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure--a ghostly couple.

\murmured. \wake them.\

But it wasn't that you woke us. Oh, no. \the curtain,\might say, and so read on a page or two. \it,' one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors

standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. \e in here for? What did I want to find?\

apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass.

But they had found it in the drawing room. Not that one could ever see them. The windowpanes reflected apples, reflected roses; all the leaves were green in the glass. If they moved in the drawing room, the apple only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, if the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant from the ceiling--what? My hands were empty. The shadow of a thrush crossed the carpet; from the deepest wells of silence the wood pigeon drew its bubble of sound. \\buried treasure?

A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun. So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burned behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us, coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. \house beat gladly. 'The Treasure yours.\

The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that.

Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain. But the beam of the lamp falls

straight from the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly couple seek their joy.

\morning--\summer came--\distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.

Nearer they come, cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass. Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak. His hands shield the lantern. \\

Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they look and deeply. Long they pause. The wind drives straightly; the flame stoops slightly. Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall, and, meeting, stain the faces bent; the faces

pondering; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hidden joy.

\\laughing, rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure--\light lifts the lids upon my eyes. \wildly. Waking, I cry \? The light in the heart.\

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