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.
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