One thing only seemed
certain and that certainty took away my breath for the moment. If
I came to full knowledge of anything at all, it would not be one life
of the soul in Charlie Mears's body, but half a dozen--half a dozen
several and separate existences spent on blue water in the morning
of the world!
Then I walked round the situation.
Obviously if I used my knowledge I should stand alone and
unapproachable until all men were as wise as myself. That would
be something, but manlike I was ungrateful. It seemed bitterly
unfair that Charlie's memory should fail me when I needed it most.
Great Powers above--I looked up at them through the fog smoke--did
the Lords of Life and Death know what this meant to me?
Nothing less than eternal fame of the best kind; that comes from
One, and is shared by one alone. I would be content--remembering
Clive, I stood astounded at my own moderation,--with the mere
right to tell one story, to work out one little contribution to the
light literature of the day. If Charlie were permitted full
recollection for one hour--for sixty short minutes--of existences that
had extended over a thousand years--I would forego all profit and
honor from all that I should make of his speech.
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