It would have puzzled me then to say in what re-
spect it was worth attention. In the first moment of
serious thought that I gave to the matter I recog-
nized the city of my dream as Edinburgh, where
I had never been; so if the dream was a memory
it was a memory of pictures and description. The
recognition somehow deeply impressed me; it was
as if something in my mind insisted rebelliously
against will and reason on the importance of all
this. And that faculty, whatever it was, asserted also
a control of my speech. 'Surely,' I said aloud, quite
involuntarily, 'the MacGregors must have come
here from Edinburgh.'
At the moment, neither the substance of this re-
mark nor the fact of my making it surprised me in
the least; it seemed entirely natural that I should
know the name of my dreamfolk and something of
their history. But the absurdity of it all soon dawned
upon me: I laughed aloud, knocked the ashes from
my pipe and again stretched myself upon my bed
of boughs and grass, where I lay staring absently
into my failing fire, with no further thought of
either my dream or my surroundings. Suddenly the
single remaining flame crouched for a moment,
then, springing upward, lifted itself clear of its
embers and expired in air. The darkness was
absolute.
At that instant--almost, it seemed, before the
gleam of the blaze had faded from my eyes--there
was a dull, dead sound, as of some heavy body fall-
ing upon the floor, which shook beneath me as I lay.
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