If anybody could find the way there again, it would be Aunt Mary.

_Pause._

And if anybody could show her the way it would be--you.

_She goes on in a different tone, as if to escape from the embarra.s.sment of her last speech._

Her saying just now she saw the sun. She often says things like that.

Have you noticed?

MICHAELIS.

Yes.

RHODA.

_With hesitation._

Her brother Seth--the one who died--has she told you about him?

MICHAELIS.

Yes.

RHODA.

What she thinks happens--since--he died?

_Michaelis nods a.s.sent._

And yet in most other ways her mind is perfectly clear.

MICHAELIS.

Perhaps in this way it is clearer still.

RHODA.

_Startled._

You mean--that maybe she really does--_see_ her brother?

MICHAELIS.

It may be.

RHODA.

It would make the world a very different--a very strange place, if that _were_ true.

MICHAELIS.

The world _is_ a very strange place.

_Pause._

RHODA.

Tell me a little about your life. That seems to have been very strange.

MICHAELIS.

_Vaguely, as he seats himself by the table._

I don't know. I can hardly remember what my life was.

RHODA.

Why is that?

MICHAELIS.

_Gazing at her._

Because, since I came into this house, I have seen the vision of another life.

RHODA.

_With hesitation._

What--other life?

MICHAELIS.

Since my boyhood I have been--

_He hesitates._

I have been a wanderer, almost a fugitive--. And I never knew it, till now--I never knew it till--I looked into your face!

RHODA.

_Avoiding his gaze._

How should that make you know?

MICHAELIS.

_Leans nearer._