"No; it faded from all our minds with the day—Leah's perhaps excepted. But what was the result? On the fourth night afterwards he died. The dream occurred on the Friday morning a little before three o'clock; your father looked at his watch when he got out of bed and saw that it wanted a quarter to three. On Tuesday morning at a quarter to three he died in his study, into which he had been carried after his accident."
All true. The circumstances, to me, were painful even now.
"Well, what do you make of it, Charles?"
"Nothing. But I don't quite understand your question."
"Do you think his wife really came to him?—That she was permitted to come back to earth to warn him of his approaching death?"
"I have always believed that. I can hardly see how anyone could doubt it."
"Well, Charley, I did. I was a graceless, light-headed young wight, you know, and serious things made no impression on me. If I thought about it at all, it was to put it down to fancy; or a dream, as Mr. Penthorn said; and I don't believe I've ever had the thing in my mind from that time to this."
"And why should it come back to you now?" I asked.
"Because," answered Tom, "I think I have had a similar warning."
He spoke very calmly. I looked at him. He was sitting upright on the sofa now, his feet stretched out on a warm wool footstool, the quilt lying across his knees, and his hands resting upon it.