The Candle in the Upstairs Window

Every Christmas Eve, a single candle appeared in the attic of the old Hartwell house — lit for a son who sailed in 1871 and never came home.

The neighbours swore no one climbed those stairs. Yet each year, at dusk, the flame returned, steady as a lighthouse. When the house was sold in 1902, the new family found a brass candlestick on the sill, polished bright, and a note: 'Keep it lit. He is nearly here.'