The dreary weather berating the house reminded me quite vividly of the opening sentence of<span style="font-style: italic">Jane Eyre</span>by Miss Charlotte BrontÃ«. It was indeed bitterly cold and rainy, and seemed to steal much cheer from are household, especially myself.  For all my family and companions of living space, bad weather meant being trapped inside the house, trying to be pleasant to the annoying presence of constant and unchanging company. For me, it meant the<span style="font-style: italic">lack</span>of society to someone I now felt very important to my happiness.<span style="font-style: italic">James</span>.<br/><br/>So when a knock at the door signalled guests, I nearly jumped up in my haste to remove myself from the fireside card game with Anna, George and Henry, much to their amusement. I rushed to the front door to greet the visitor, but when Mr. Fredrick opened the door, it was not a person who stood there, but rather<span style="font-style: italic">light</span>, which hovered and pulsed, bright violet. I stood, unable to restrain a rude gape and dropping of my mouth, when it engulfed me. It tugged me out the door and into the rain by the navel, however the precipitation did not cool or dampen me. I was about to scream for help, when the light restricted around me, like a corset that covered the whole body and was pulled desperately too tight. Suddenly, with a resounding pop, the pressure released, and I found myself on rolling onto the ground.