Belinda, with a modest self-possession quite her own, promptly answered for this Spectre in a low, clear voice:The lights extinguished; by the hearth I leant,Half weary with a listless discontent.The flickering giant shadows, gathering near.Closed round me with a dim and silent fear;All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame,Glancing, lit up The Picture's ancient frame.
