The mystery of the apparition in the summer-house was not cleared up yet. I took my opportunity of approaching the subject.
“You spoke a little while since of dreaming of me,” I began. “Tell me your dream.”
“I hardly know whether it was a dream or whether it was something else,” she answered. “I call it a dream for want of a better word.”
“Did it happen at night?”
“No. In the daytime—in the afternoon.”
“Late in the afternoon?”
“Yes—close on the evening.”
My memory reverted to the doctor’s story of the shipwrecked passenger, whose ghostly “double” had appeared in the vessel that was to rescue him, and who had himself seen that vessel in a dream.
“Do you remember the day of the month and the hour?” I asked.
She mentioned the day, and she mentioned the hour. It was the day when my mother and I had visited the waterfall. It was the hour when I had seen the apparition in the summer-house writing in my book!