The Turn Of The Screw

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  The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it
  was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I
  remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only case he had met
  in which such a visitation had fallen on a child. The case, I may mention, was that of an apparition
  in just such an old house as had gathered us for the occasion—an appearance, of a dreadful kind, to
  a little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the terror of it; waking her
  not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to sleep again, but to encounter also, herself, before she
  had succeeded in doing so, the same sight that had shaken him. It was this observation that drew
  from Douglas—not immediately, but later in the evening—a reply that had the interesting
  consequence to which I call attention.