The eye, wearied of the blackness, begins to imagine forms of light.

How far this is effected by imagination pure and simple I know not.

It may be that nerves have their own senses that bring thought to the depository common to all the human functions, but, whatever may be the mechanism or the objective, the darkness seems to people itself with luminous entities.
So was it with me as I stood lonely in the dark, silent church.

Here and there seemed to flash tiny points of light.
In the same way the silence began to be broken now and again by strange muffled sounds--the suggestion of sounds rather than actual vibrations.
These were all at first of the minor importance of movement--rustlings, creakings, faint stirrings, fainter breathings.

Presently, when I had somewhat recovered from the sort of hypnotic trance to which the darkness and stillness had during the time of waiting reduced me, I looked around in wonder.
The phantoms of light and sound seemed to have become real.