was Henry Mortimer Smith. . . . Henry Mortimer Smith,”
He looked about him. “Mountains,” he said, “sunshine, white narcissus. Of course, we walked up here this very morning. Sunray splashed me at a waterfall.... I remember it perfectly... . And yet I was in bed—shot. I was in bed... . A dream? ... Then I have had a dream, a whole lifetime, two thousand years ago!”
“What do you mean?” said Sunray.
“A lifetime—childhood, boyhood, manhood, And death. He killed me. Poor rat!—he killed me!”
“A dream?”
“A dream—but a very vivid dream. The reallest of dreams. If it was a dream.... I can answer all your questions now, Sunray. I have lived through a whole life in that old world. I know....
“Tt is as though that life was still the real one and this only a dream.... I was in a bed. Five minutes ago I was in bed. I was dying.... The doctor said, ‘He is going.” And I heard the rustle of my wife coming across the room. . . .”
“Your wife!’ cried Sunray.
“Yes—my wife—Milly.”
Sunray looked at Willow with raised eyebrows and a helpless expression.
Sarnac stared at her, dreamily puzzled. “Milly,” he repeated very faintly. “She was by the window.”
For some moments no one spoke.
Radiant stood with his arm on Firefly’s shoulder.
“Tell us about it, Sarnac. Was it hard to die?”
