Ellen: She calls him, and he follows her out to the moor.
Lockwood: Oh, he's mad. He's like a madman. He seized me by the collar and dragged me out. You see, I had a dream. I thought I heard a voice calling. I reached out to close the shutter and something touched me, something cold and clinging like an icy hand. And then I saw her, a woman, but then my senses must have become disordered, because the falling snow shaped itself into what looked like a phantom...
Ellen: It was Cathy.
Lockwood: Who is Cathy?
Ellen: A girl who died.
Lockwood: [startled] Oh no, I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in phantoms sobbing through the night.
Ellen: Poor Cathy.
Lockwood: I don't believe that life comes back, once it's died, and calls again to the living. No, I don't.
Ellen: Maybe if I told you a story, you'd change your mind about the dead coming back. Maybe you'd know, as I do, that there is a force that brings them back, if their hearts were wild enough in life.
Lockwood: Oh, he's mad. He's like a madman. He seized me by the collar and dragged me out. You see, I had a dream. I thought I heard a voice calling. I reached out to close the shutter and something touched me, something cold and clinging like an icy hand. And then I saw her, a woman, but then my senses must have become disordered, because the falling snow shaped itself into what looked like a phantom...
Ellen: It was Cathy.
Lockwood: Who is Cathy?
Ellen: A girl who died.
Lockwood: [startled] Oh no, I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in phantoms sobbing through the night.
Ellen: Poor Cathy.
Lockwood: I don't believe that life comes back, once it's died, and calls again to the living. No, I don't.
Ellen: Maybe if I told you a story, you'd change your mind about the dead coming back. Maybe you'd know, as I do, that there is a force that brings them back, if their hearts were wild enough in life.
Ellen : She calls him, and he follows her out to the moor.
Lockwood : Oh, he's mad. He's like a madman. He seized me by the collar and dragged me out. You see, I had a dream. I thought I heard a voice calling. I reached out to close the shutter and something touched me, something cold and clinging like an icy hand. And then I saw her, a woman, but then my senses must have become disordered, because the falling snow shaped itself into what looked like a phantom...
Ellen : It was Cathy.
Lockwood : Who is Cathy?
Ellen : A girl who died.
Lockwood : [startled] Oh no, I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in phantoms sobbing through the night.
Ellen : Poor Cathy.
Lockwood : I don't believe that life comes back, once it's died, and calls again to the living. No, I don't.
Ellen : Maybe if I told you a story, you'd change your mind about the dead coming back. Maybe you'd know, as I do, that there is a force that brings them back, if their hearts were wild enough in life.
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